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jawnkeets · 5 years ago

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How are you so clever??? I’m new to your blog and I’ve been looking at your posts (not in a stalkery way but because they’re so cool) and you seem super intelligent! Like you always reference things I’ve never heard of and use fancy words and it’s just really awesome. How did you get so clever? Do you read a lot or are you just naturally clever? If it’s from reading then what books would you recommend to someone who’s interested in literature and also broadening their general knowledge? Thanks

awwww. well thanks for the lovely ask!! this is way too much detail bc i’m procrastinating work but

i read a ton as a kid, mostly horror books - i was obsessed with the supernatural, and especially vampires, and the idea of things changing into other things (in a magical way, but also stories where characters develop and end up very different, tales of betrayal etc). my favourite series when i was little was the spiderwick chronicles, followed a little later by the saga of darren shan. i didn’t read any classic literature at all though, as i’d decided i hated it for some reason. as a kid i always prided myself on my creativity/ imagination rather than my intelligence (it’s a distinction i’d always drawn and still do after a fashion), but i was and have always been obsessive, and also used to sit and play memory games for hours, too; i remember one where i’d have a list of cards and i’d put one down, say what it was, turn it over, add another one, say what the previous one and this one was, turn them over, and continue until i couldn’t remember every single card in order, and then i’d start again. i wrote a lot, especially poetry, and used a thesaurus often because i loved words. i had a very very vivid imagination and refused to live in the real world until the age of about 11 or 12. then from 14 onwards i read almost nothing (apart from like idk two of the hunger games books) until i was 17, when i finally started reading classic literature, triggered by the great gatsby, which changed my attitude to learning completely. until then i’d despised secondary school partly because of the way learning was presented (i got good grades at gcse but went through the syllabus and exams mechanically with little genuine love) and partly for… other reasons, and had almost given up on taking academics seriously. but i got very lucky and had an incredible english teacher throughout sixth form, who encouraged me to take risks and break from methodical, formulaic writing. at the end of the first essay i had to do for him i still remember that he wrote ‘literature is for you. now and always. carry on.’ at the bottom, and that changed my life. he also introduced me to philip larkin and romantic poetry outside of class. after that, i was gripped by the desire to read and discover as much about the humanities as i could, make links between works, discover new ones, recover the feeling that i was possessed by after finishing gatsby. tumblr genuinely helped with art, literature quotes, and making it all seem accessible, e.g. seeing text posts making jokes about shakespeare, keats, etc helped to demystify a bit. yes, dark academia, i’m also looking at you for making learning seem exciting, but tentatively and with narrowed eyes. general knowledge-wise, it helped me to begin to break down the barriers between ‘subjects’ at school (even if you’ve left school, it’s pretty branded into our brains); they’re sometimes very fuzzy and even arbitrary, and to separate into strictly-defined categories like this is not the only way learning can or should happen.

a work that i thoroughly recommend to everyone who asks where to start is letters to a young poet by rainer maria rilke. he relates so perfectly this idea that the first step is to let yourself be filled with how amazing and vast the world is, and how much there is to read, listen to, and see. that’s not something you can learn from reading, and it’s not something you can be taught by anyone (unless being inspired by someone counts). it’s instrumentally important because it will drive you, but i also think it’s inseparable from understanding (and to me, it is understanding, just understanding without the right words yet). this is the highlight, and it was the mantra stuck up on my wall at 17 when i decided i wanted to learn, and learn seriously:

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.

i was relatively articulate before i started reading the classics/ reading widely, but not exceptionally articulate. here’s an example of two essay openings - one i wrote when i was 16, and one i wrote during my first term at university (2 years apart):

i’d say that since then my essays have probably improved by a similar proportion, as i’m as embarrassed to read the second as i was the first when i wrote the second, and the typos r annoying me (am too embarrassed to post recent writing :’( - doesn’t count if over a year and a half ago, hence posting the second :p). obviously, then, this isn’t natural intelligence (everyone has to get knowledge, big words, etc from somewhere, right?), this is natural receptivity and willingness to learn, which i genuinely believe anyone can gain at any point, coupled with A LOT of reading the opinions of others (i.e. literary criticism and theory), and reading literature from many different periods to discover how language is moulded by individual poets and by ‘eras’ more widely. but this is also synthesising everything i absorb into a personal vision (this is the hill i will die on soz i don’t think theory should be ‘objective’ like what does that even mean). you can and should put yourself into it!

in terms of what to read - if you like the rilke (really hope you do!!) then depending on what you like about it, you can search from there. try some of rilke’s poetry. or if you like that ineffable feeling it brings, try the romantics (keats’ ‘ode to a nightingale’ and blake’s songs of innocence and experience are good to start with!), or larkin’s ‘high windows’ and ‘the mower’. also try shakespeare’s hamlet, because that is INCREDIBLE (watching it is always easier, and the more shakespeare you watch/ read the easier it gets! andrew scott’s hamlet is the best imo). from there it’s a question of asking what you liked about what you just read (time period/ vibe/ themes/ subject/ style of writing) and finding things similar - often google works and i made use of it a lot to start with, tumblr too, otherwise ask people who you know (on the internet/ teachers/ friends etc). this is a personal journey, especially to begin with, i think (you have to jump in somewhere), and there’s no one who can give you a list of books to read in the order best for you, because - annoyingly, i know - that’s something it’s best if each individual works out through trial and error, and part of the fun in truth. there are western canon lists out there, e.g., which contain some fabulous works, but have very obvious problems.

a really really rough chronological development of english lit: beowulf, any of the canterbury tales, hamlet, paradise lost, pope’s satire, romantic poetry, victorian novels (e.g. david copperfield, jane eyre), the waste land, waiting for godot (it would also help to read the iliad, the aeneid, and metamorphoses too, and as much of the bible as you can, especially genesis, exodus, isaiah, job, and the gospels, but genesis and the gospels first if ur stuck/ overwhelmed). this is the lightest of pencil sketches, but if they’re works that go some way towards defining each ‘era’ or ‘period’, then it becomes a little easier to search for works branching off from these that are influenced by or chafe against them. you can always come back to me if you’re struggling with what to look for next :+) also, i have a list of my poetry favs, if you want to check that out (it includes the stuff mentioned in the previous paragraph, as well as others).

hope this helps (?!) ❤️

#asks

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breitzbachbea · 8 years ago

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You’re an asshole but I love you [FrUK Drabble]

Preface: This drabble was born out of @crispyliza‘s tags for another FrUK fanfic where she expressed her love for Francis centered Fruk. It’s just a drabble and needs editing but I’ll hope it’s what you wished for nonetheless. Also the title is taken from True Love by P!nk, fight me Summary: François’ best friend is once more disappointed by her favourite Englishman and comes to him to rant about it. She’s not alone with her feelings. Warning: This is an Human AU and set in my Mafia!AU series. It contains major human OCs and minor aph OCs. Ships: FrUK, Tarielle or Arielle&Tahir, mentioned ScotFra, mentioned UltsterScot, mentioned Railey.

„I hate him so much sometimes, I wish I would have in first place,“ Arielle said after she came into François’ office. Sun was setting over Paris and soon enough, the street lamps outside would turn on and chase the grey-ish blue away. No one could however probably chase the kind of blue away Arielle felt. François smiled faintly while his eyebrows arched upwards. “What did Tahir do now? Anything in particular?” “He exists and rubs me the wrong way!” Arielle said and let herself fall onto one of the armchairs in his office. He sighed and chuckled quietly, then got up from his office chair and sat next to Arielle. “So it’s just another day of you regretting what is instead of what could be.” Arielle shot him a suspicious and miffed look; she still didn’t like it when people said she had a crush on Tahir instead of just appreciating him as a friend. Since that one evening in Germany however, she had been opposing those kind of comments less vehemently. François suspected it had something to do with jealousy, especially after the stunt the Englishmen had pulled. Speaking of Englishmen, it reminded him of the text he had received earlier this day – and tried to forget ever since.

Thankfully, Arielle drew his attention to the one that worried her, not him. “He’s just – ugh! Working, working, working, always fucking working!”

This is business only François, keep that in mind.

“Sometimes I wonder if he thinks he’s being paid by hour like every other office worker, I can’t explain this bullshit any other way!” Arielle says. “But what he can shove even more up his ass are his snide comments about how I’m apparently never working! Fuck him!”

Sometimes I think, you strike yourself, just for fun. You’re the fucking boss François, how can you slack off like that?! Nothing comes from nothing, get your arse up, frog. “I can definitely see where you’re coming from,” he said. “Although I really can’t see our Gentleman making snide comments towards you.” “Gentleman! Manners are fine but a stick up one’s ass this size is not!” Arielle declared. “Speaking of that, the snide comments surprise you?! Sometimes I think he’s nothing but biting and belittling comments! I like myself a tall man, but not when they are on a high horse!” Don’t you want to maintain the good old French traditions and just give up? Sometimes, I think I should write you a poem, but I haven’t found enough poetical words for hate in thesaurus yet. One day I’m sure. I’ll put off my usual level of sarcasm when you get an unusual level of spine. “Oh, and speaking of snide, if I’ll ever have to get into another argument about people I like, I’m going to start listing off every single trait which makes them better than him! I’ve had it with the weird looks, and snorts and ‘Arielle, you can’t be serious!’” Just go back to this blasted Scotsman if you like him so much more than me! You two are plotting my downfall behind my back already, anyways! I can’t believe how you can even remotely trust someone like the Russians, let alone like them. I swear to God, one day I’m going to go on a suicide mission just to kill this Spaniard. If you try to help him, I guarantee for nothing.

“I can’t be serious?! I’m having none of that of the man who’s hanging around someone like Robert! Robert, out of all people! Tahir must have flushed his common sense down the toilet somewhere along the last two years!” “Well, first of all, they’re colleagues and I know Dési can drive you up the wall as well, but you still love her, too”, François said. Though it was hard to sort his sorts when a certain Englishman was hijacking them. Arielle leant in to him with a jerk. “Well, Dési might me a total nutcase, but Robert is one of the worst wankers I’ve ever met! And it’s not like Tahir had much sympathy for him all the years they worked together before!” François sighed and rubbed his eyes. “You have to admit though that Robert has changed for the better over the last two years.” “He’s still a jerk!“ “You know what, I can’t actually deny that.” And Arthur’s still an asshole, he thought to himself.

“God, sometimes I think Hannah is right when she says that any kind of feelings for this man are forsaken and unjustified,” she hissed, more to her herself than to François, gazing, or rather contemptuously squinting, into space. “You’re telling things like these Hannah but not me?!” François asked. His offended look was only met with a tired one by Arielle. “Hannah isn’t a little snitch who holds things like these against me” “She could tell Gavin! You know how close these two are to each other!”

“She won’t tell Gavin” Arielle said. “This is a thing between two friends. Friend talk stays with friends and girl talk stays with girls.” “I can’t believe you think I’m not trustworthy,” François said and pouted. His thoughts had went astray again, however. So that’s why Arielle and Hannah had taken a walk all alone the last times they had met their Scottish allies and friends. He remembered his talk with Gavin as well even when the topics slipped his mind right now. It was filled with his laughter, his sweet smile and the way his deep green eyes sparkled when he grinned. The reassurance, the well-meant jokes and the compliments he gave him. Gavin McAlistair had grown into quite the man and right now, François thought he had become even more charming than he had been as young adult, when the two of them had been boyfriends. What a lucky woman Hannah was to be his fiancée. “François.” Arielle’s firm voice – and the snap of her finger in front her face – jolted him out of his thoughts. “Earth to François, listen to me when I try to comfort you. It’s not that I don’t think you’re trustworthy … I just needed someone like Hannah this time.” “Alright,” he said. “I forgive you.” He grinned at her and she grinned back. After a moment of silence, they simultaneously sighed. “I don’t know what to do with him, though,” Arielle said. “Then I’ll look him and he smiles at me as if he was one of Disney’s Prince Charmings and flirts with me.” She snorted, a thin smile on her lips. “With his basic French skills. But I don’t care, my heart will always make a jump when he says ‘Ma belle’. No matter how much I rant, I’ll always be a lady to him, no, he loves me for my temper, too. And he listens like no other, with the most attention and politeness I’ve ever seen in a man.” She chuckled. “I hate how I can’t hate him at the end of the day. Not one single bit.” François stared at the ground in front of him as he listened to her say that. Here, let me help you. A gentleman’s ought to do that. I hate your hair for being so perfect. One day you’re going to wake up bald because I’ve made a wig out of it. Dear lord, no one should look this good. You want to speak French? Bon d’accord! I wish I could catch the smell of your cooking and of your clothes sometimes and fill the house with it whenever I need it. Sometimes it’s good to know I’m not alone. The door opened with a loud bang and both Arielle and François started at the sound. “Yoooo, I brought waffles,” Désirée said after she walked into the office, a small shopper basket in her hand. “Where did you get waffles from?” Arielle asked mistrustful. “That’s a secret.” “Désirée, tell me immediately where you get those from or I’ll have to throw them out and evacuate the office”, François said. “One can never be too sure with you.”

“You’ll never get me to sing out,” Désirée said and kept staring him straight into the eyes while she fished a waffled from the basket and took a bite. “I’m still not eating any of these,” Arielle said, shaking her head. “Your loss,” Désirée said with her mouth full of waffle. “Don’t you have better things to do than go around and make … or find waffles?” François asked her. “Don’t you two have better things to do than Arielle moaning how her favourite piece of ass is totally making heart eyes at Robert and … why ever you are down?” “Would you stop clinging onto that rumor?!” Arielle said. “I’m its originator, if I would deny it I’d stand there like someone who only says scandalous things to start shit,” she said and shoved the last piece of the waffle into her mouth. “And since that is my reputation already, no need to reinforce it. “How can someone be so full of shit?!” Arielle asked Désirée but François only halfheartedly heard her answer. Instead he stared at his phone. At the reason he had been down. ‘There’s a new French restaurant that opened up in my borough’ Arthur had wrote to him this morning. ‘Oh, did you go there yet? Or is this an invitation for a date?’ ‘No, I thought of taking you there because if there is one thing I need is Frenchman arguing over food, loudly and preferably in French.’ He rolled his eyes when his phone started to vibrate and Arthur’s name and picture appeared on the screen. “Allô?” “Oi Frog, you didn’t answer me.” “You don’t answer me for weeks on end sometimes, so I really don’t see how you’re one to talk here.” “I’ll always answer when we try to make plans, though, but that’s too much to ask for when it comes to your irresponsible ass!” Arthur said, causing confusion to François, who thought he was in the wrong movie. “Plans?! What kind of plans?! I thought you don’t need me around or did I misread your last message?!” “Learn to speak sarcasm!” “Usually sarcasm is reserved to you being a dick! And I speak it fluently, thank you, otherwise you’d look like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum to me most of the time!” “Fine! Do you want to go now or not?!” François bristled. “On one condition.” “You better be reasonable about this,” Arthur hissed. “Be a gentleman and apologise.” “I hate you, frog. But I’m sorry for not being clear what I wanted from you . I’ll tone my sarcasm down next time.” “Oh really, I’d like to see you try,” François said. “Only when I really do want to say something nice and affirmative, not the rest of the time, don’t get your hopes up.” “I can’t wait for the next time you’ll spare a compliment for me to prove this. I’d only have to wait roughly fifty years!” “You’re exhausting me,” Arthur said and François leant back, crossing his legs. “I can’t remember you saying this outside of the bedroom, chér, this must be a first.” The streetlamps turned on outside and raised the grey-blue veil that had been drawn over Paris’ streets. François felt the one drawn over his own hear disappear as well.

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