#also as I’ve been to ithaca not that many years ago

[alicepao13]

So I was like, let’s remain spoiler free about Epic. And I missed:

Jorge Rivera-Herrans and most of the cast coming to Greece.

Them getting into all sorts of trouble trying to get to Ithaca to do the livestream, including a storm. I mean, the meta of it is too funny.

Now, dear cast of Epic, I’m Greek. Not mad I’ve missed the social media fun, love that you cared enough to make this trip. I just want to ask, since this is the worst Christmas weather we’ve had in a while, what kind of gods' wrath did y'all awaken?

[theglassesgirl]

Thank you for your insightful tags @a-bottle-of-tyelenol !

And I hope you don’t mind me using this opportunity to mention Calypso because i refrained from doing so in my initial response, after having written a whole thing about her a few months ago, but I do understand it being a polarizing creative choice to make it ambiguous.

A brief (for me at least) analysis of Sexual Assault in terms of Calypso and its parallel to the suitors under the read more:

My thoughts on it on this specific subject compared to what I’ve talked about before are as follows and serves as a parallel to what Penelope went through on her own island while her husband was trapped in another;

To be fair, I don’t think it’s necessarily sexist of Jorge to have removed the assault aspect of Circe and Calypso (as some are saying in the OPs own post which…is a take, I guess)

I DO think it was absolutely a choice he made because he did not feel equipped to broach the subject that way and I’ll explain that a little bit, but he still absolutely understands the necessity of it throughout the musical and works to make HIS choice work for the overall arc - and well! Mind you! I think he succeeded even when he held back.

If we look at the source material, it’s certainly intriguing that the MAIN character of the story is a victim or assault by two different gods across the years, who essentially imprison and abuse him. Because of this, I feel it ADDS to the terror and fear by the time we the readers make it to Penelope and Telemachus’s POV in the poem. Because by that point, we have SEEN the antagonists “win” - Odysseus, like his family, has been a prisoner strip of any agency and options, and if HE has suffered sexual violence, it becomes a very real possibility for his WIFE to face

(in a lot of ways, we could also view Oddy killing the suitors be a sort of catharsis for him in that aspect, to be able to kill these violent men the way he couldn’t the goddesses who did all that do him, before they could hurt his wife and son)

Jorge’s musical is MUCH tamer, because he himself might be uncomfortable with depicting that subject matter as a physical action, but it still has a similar vibe.

We see Odysseus was able to respectfully reject Circe, but she still came onto him (albeit to kill him, but he had to account for all possibilities) so when he’s faced with Calypso, it’s VERY shocking and upsetting that he isn’t able to do the same with her.

The ambiguity of the seven years has caused so much discourse yet I argue, and trust me I’ve argued about it so much, that in some ways it’s exactly the ambiguity that Penelope and Telemachus faced.

We will never know what EXACTLY happened to Odysseus on that island, and we will never know what EXACTLY happened on Ithaca either.

As far as we do know, Antinous and who knows how many others feel very comfortable using sexually violent language to Penelope’s SON. She’s clearly put up a strong and unaffected front that Telemachus admires her for, but I’m sure it’s taken a heavy toll on her - the same her husband has faced, and that Athena has seen. And as far as we know, whatever calypso has done, given her words (like Antinous’), made Odysseus openly suicidal at least once!

While one spouse has to look strong, the other is visibly very weakened. This dynamic is missed when we don’t see both Penelope and Odysseus as complimentary partners, even after two decades of being apart!

But anyway. Having said this, Jorge’s version still provides a sense of urgency and plays on the audiences psychological need for Penelope to get a happy ending.

Because we’ve seen Odysseus successfully turn down one goddess, and we’ve seen him suffer under another without the privilege of knowing the depth of what he went through - for Penelope, its once again utterly inverted.

She CANNOT turn down any of the suitors successfully (hence the impossible task being her last ditch high stakes gambit, because SHE knows none of them can do it, but also doesn’t know how violently they will react to discovering that) and Antinous and the other suitors have completely cast aside pretense and are planning to assault her - no more ambiguity.

Where her husband has survived his own assaulters (though not unscathed) we are made very aware that Penelope’s situation is far more dire and her options much more limited. We are made to feel RUSHED, urged to see her helped (by Athena, her son and FINALLY her husband)

Jorge’s creative choice is still true to the integrity of this arc, Circe and Calypso still represent a parallel and an inversion to Penelope’s own plight.

Is it frustrating that not having a definitive answer to the boundaries Calypso pushed Odysseus - very much, I personally DO see her as someone who got physical based on much of her lyrics but I don’t mind people who don’t. As I have oft said, even without her “successfully” assaulting him, even if all she did was stand in front and look at him for seven years straight - it’s a violation of his autonomy and truamatizinggggg

but we’re not talking about her so much as how her role now fits/changed in the story. Mostly it hasn’t, is my point! If we really take a step back and follow the thread of this particular arc, it serves its purpose as well as when what Calypso did WAS explicit. Which again is why I feel Jorge made the creative choice to make the suitors intention MORE explicit.

For me, at least, it’s a careful balance that makes you LOOK at these two storylines and forces you to consider their similarities. We might not approve of the change, but unlike the heinous suggestion that the suitors should be innocent victims and Penelope be made their pal, Calypso’s role STILL works and fits the narrative.

Nevertheless, it’s perfectly fine if you still feel that way about it, because lord knows I’m constantly debating several aspects of Calypo’s character with other people across social medias lol and I’m sooo sorry this response went beyond the scope of your initial comments (please let me know if you’d rather untag you! 😭)

[gisellelx]

Since the last time I was super active on tumblr a decade ago when it started, tumblr has changed a bunch and now people pin posts? This is a thing? You have a post with info about you? Okay. Here is one. I shall pin it. 

“giselle-lx” is a phonological pun on a username I’d been using forever and I didn’t want fanfic to get tied up with any other online identity of mine but didn’t feel like making something new up so...yeah. I’ve been writing my whole life, and reading fanfic almost my whole life, but I stumbled into writing fanfic when a certain blond vampire dad walked into my life in this silly book my friend had loaned me. 

I write twific almost exclusively, and post it as giselle-lx on FFnet and AO3 and my website and I keep writing weird ficlets on this hellsite, too. I wrote a fic that many people seem to have heard of called Ithaca Is Gorges. Stregoni Benefici is my magnum opus. I also wrote three novellas and a whole slew of one shots because I think short fiction is fun. 

Carlisle is my one and only. He is so gloriously complex and twisty and he makes all my writerly senses wake up. As I read things, Edward is the center of his world, so Edward comes along in mine. I don’t begrudge anyone loving Edward/Bella; they’re just not my cuppa. I don’t take the movies as canon; again, they’re not my cuppa, but I see why other people think they’re fun. I *do* love the Cullen movie house, though, so you’ll see #always reblog the Hoke house pop up on occasion. 

I also view fanfic, especially canon fanfic, my fave, as one big writing exercise. I’ve always loved doing it because of the writing challenge first and because of the fan part second. So in this day of “I’m x years old and I use these pronouns and here’s all the deets about me” I’m choosing to keep my tagline as “Writing, Life, and Other Things at Which I Don’t Always Succeed.” This is mostly a Twilight blog but not exclusively a Twilight blog, I write about and reblog writing stuff as well as Carlisle stuff and then sometimes other Twilight stuff, and sometime stuff about fandom and fan culture more generally. And the lx is jargon shorthand for “linguistics” so sometimes I post about that, too. But since I’m keeping that other tagline: I use she/her pronouns, and I’m now old AF.  Ask me writing things, or Twilight things, and especially Carlisle things. And give money to the Quileute Move to Higher Ground project because for some reason Meyer and every other author who has made mega bank off the backs of a story that flagrantly and racist-ly appropriates a very specific indigenous culture aren’t already bankrolling the whole thing. 

Anyway, hi again.   And if you’re wondering, this is why I called this blog “Fenced-In Acre.” 

[ravenforce]

Ithaca Pt. 2

Word Count: 2031

Warning/s: None

A/N: Hey loves, a deal is a deal. You got part one to over a hundred notes, so here’s part two. Natasha’s playing a huge part on this arc. So, I thought it’ll be good for you to get to know her in this alternate universe. Let me know what you think of it in my inbox or the comment section. Xx

PS. If there are any grammatical mistakes I’ve still overlooked, I apologize.

Parts: 1 | 3 | 4 | 5

***

5:30 AM

The alarm clock on Natasha’s bedside table reads. She blinked twice at it before sighing. She woke up earlier than her alarm again, not that she’s actually excited to go to school. Today, she’s actually supposed to tour the new transfer student, which is, by the way, is not her job as the Student Council President but Clint is out of commission for the week for some Intercollegiate archery competition in Washington DC. So, as President, she had to step in and do it.

‘At least, this is gonna be different from yesterday’, she thought to herself as she rolls out of bed.

Living in Ithaca since she’s a child meant Natasha knew the city like the back of her hand, knew almost every single family in town and went to school with the same kids since the beginning of her existence. It also meant being friends with founding family kids like the Odinsons, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, and Steve Rogers since forever ago. She was the only girl in their group until Carol Danvers moved in when they were eight. Maria transferred to their school and was easily adapted to their crew when they were thirteen. The last addition to their gang was Valkyrie and Wanda, who migrated somewhere from Europe when they’re fifteen.

Six years after, a new person arrives in Ithaca. The school didn’t give her a lot of information regarding the new student, only that it is a woman and Stark level intelligent. She tried to dig up info on her own, and thankfully she didn’t have to go far for a source since apparently the new girl is close friends with Tony and best friends with Maria. Maria is one busy nerd to track down though, and they don’t share a lot of classes together. So, Natasha wasn’t able to get too many details from her aside from a departing comment.

“Relax, Nat. She’s amazing; smart but not obnoxious like Tony,” Maria said before practically running towards her next class. She considers herself pretty intrigued.

‘How can someone be as smart as Tony and not be obnoxious? That sounds like an oxymoron,’ Natasha thought to herself.

***

6:00 AM

Natasha is the only founding family kid who liked being awake at the wee hours of the morning. She likes getting ahead of everybody, and she thinks better when the world is still asleep. So, being in school at the crack of dawn isn’t new too for anyone. Even the groundskeepers let her nowadays.

“Good Morning, Miss Romanoff,” the old security lady at the studio greeted her. 

“Good Morning, Mrs. Miller,” Natasha smiled before logging in her credentials. 

“Early start today?” Mrs. Miller asked politely and jovially. 

“Yes, Clint is away for a tournament. So I have to give the grounds tour to the transfer student later,” Nat explained with a smile. Mrs. Miller didn’t respond and just waved Natasha inside.

Natasha’s been doing ballet ever since she can remember. At first, she was doing it because her family wanted her to and all of the founding family children are doing one extracurricular activity every after school. Thor has been sailing since he learned how to walk, Loki, on the other hand, preferred fencing. Clint tried equestrian for awhile but his heart and talents were really in archery. Steve got so good in lacrosse that he ended up with a sports scholarship playing one. Tony chose chess because he deemed contact sports barbaric; he believes the battle of the wits is better than a physical brawl, which Steve always take as an offense. 

Being the only girl in their group, Natasha decided that ballet is her yoga. The boys know not to come within a hundred yards of the studio whenever Natasha’s practicing. Ballet has become Natasha’s sanctuary away from the noise and the usual ruckus of the boys. She shed everything inside the studio but today, Natasha finds it nearly impossible to focus on the movements and the music. Her thoughts keep drifting to the conversation she had with Tony the day prior about the new student. 

“Nat, what are you fuzzing about? It’s just a school tour,” Tony complained. He was tinkering around his home lab when Natasha arrived and being a regular visitor, she was allowed to roam and look for Tony herself. 

“I just wanna know what she looks like. So I know who to look for in the morning crowd,” she whined. 

Tony put his stuff down, pull the safety goggles off his face and looked at his friend. If Nat has been any other girl, she would have melted in the way Tony was looking at her. 

“Oh, trust me, you won’t miss her,” Tony said simply before smiling and walking out of his lab. “She’s breathtaking, in more ways than just physical.”

Natasha groaned and scrambled to follow her friend and bug him for more information.

***

7:00 AM

Natasha cut her practice short since she couldn’t focus. She showered and got ready in record time. She was leaning against the handrail of the front steps of the school, scrolling through her Instagram feed when she looked up and saw a face she didn’t know. Her fingers hovered over her phone mid-swipe, thankfully she had enough grace at that moment not to have her mouth hanging open as she gaped at the transfer student. She’s wearing a very preppy outfit, which wasn’t really Natasha’s style or the style girls she usually goes after but something about this girl that makes her stomach flutter with nervous butterflies.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” she asked, all trace of her nervousness gone when the girl came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.

“Who’s asking?” the girl asked.

Natasha watched the girl take her in. She reined in the urge to squirm under the Y/N’s eyes. For God’s sake, she’s Natasha Romanoff. Various girls all over town wants her, she’s by no means gonna squirm under a stranger’s beautiful eyes.  

“Natasha Romanoff. Student Council President,” she introduced herself confidently to take back control. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Natasha smirked as the new girl blushed profusely before smiling up at her. “Pleasure is all mine,” she said.

‘Breathtaking is an understatement’ she thought to herself when she saw Y/N’ smile. Natasha’s not a sap, she doesn’t plan on being one but at that moment, she thought she’d do anything to make you smile at her every day.

“I’m here to give you the grounds tour,” Natasha explained before pulling the door open and prompting you to walk with her.

Usually, when she had to cover grounds tour for Clint, Natasha almost always wraps it up under forty-five minutes. She just points which buildings houses which classes, where the important areas are such as the library and the mess hall. Today, with you by her side, Natasha found herself giving her first, in-depth school tour. Literally giving out facts and even stupid trivia when she remembers it.

Natasha walked as leisurely as possible to prolong her time with you but she knew you have a 9 AM class. And she might not be as nerdy as Tony but she’s not gonna skip class, let alone make you on your first day of school.

***

8:30 AM

Natasha’s one of the quiet ones in her crew that’s why she get along spectacularly with Maria. Both of you filled the walk towards the art building with polite small talk about which classes you two take, how you finished a degree at eighteen and in one of the toughest schools in the country at that, and how you’re friends with Maria and Tony. God, Natasha didn’t want the tour to end. She didn’t want you to stop talking, which is new because Natasha finds it annoying when people don’t know when to shut up. She wants to get to know you more.

Her heart sunk a little when she caught you discreetly glancing at your watch but by the number of kids watching the two of you in the hallway, she knew that class is fast approaching. She decided to be a little playful.

“Oh,” Natasha gasped and frowned. “Am I boring you?” she asked quietly.

“What?!” you exclaimed, earning a few curious looks from students in the hallway.

Natasha watched the emotions play out across your face, and she thought you’re even more fascinating. She’s been friends all her life with Tony, another Mensa student, another genius. She thought you’d be obnoxiously cool and a little indifferent like him but in the past hour and a half, Natasha found you brilliant but not condescending, warm, and empathetic.

“No, no, you’re not boring. I was just wondering if I’m allowed to skip the first period on my first day of school because this is by far the coolest school tour I’ve ever done,” you rambled on.

Natasha couldn’t help but grin. If she paid attention to anyone else other than you, she would have noticed several students openly gawking at the toothy smile on her face. Natasha’s reputation was not built on being chummy with just anyone, especially new kids. But she wasn’t looking, she could only look at you. She will be caught dead before she admits to having a school girl crush at first meet but at that moment, in that crowded hallway, she decided she definitely likes you. She just has to find out if she has a fighting chance.

“You’re cute when you ramble,” she said matter-of-factly. “And no, you’re not allowed to skip the first period because you’re here.”

“Oh,” you said before glancing at the classroom door.

Natasha took a step towards you and tucked a stray hair behind your ear. “See you later, Y/L/N,” she said slowly, watching the blush crept up from your neck before dusting your cheeks.

‘Beautiful, so beautiful,’ she thought before turning on her heels and gracefully walking away.

“Blushing doesn’t mean she’s gay. Maybe she’s just the shy type, I can work with that,” she murmured to herself while walking to her classroom. She looked up when she heard soft muttering in front of her.

“Danvers!” she growled. Carol’s pressing a girl between her toned body and the wall.

Carol didn’t even have to look to know who it is that interrupted her. She knows that voice anywhere. “Tasha,” she said sweetly.

Natasha didn’t smile, she only continued to glare until the girl pushed Carol away and scrambled to get to her classroom. Carol swipe a hand through her hair before turning towards her friend. Natasha glanced at her watch.

“You’re ten minutes late already,” Nat started. “And your class is on the other side of the campus.”

Carol ignored the fact that Natasha still knows her schedule. She walked towards the redhead until she’s toe to toe with Natasha. Natasha didn’t step back, she’s used to Carol always invading her personal space.

“I got that class in the bag, Tasha. Relax,” Carol whispered before leaning in, kissing Natasha close to her mouth, and running away.  

[spelljack]

Hello Friends

Hello to everybody who still reads this blog on this platform, anon or not. After responding to the previous anon question, I took a look back into some of my older posts and had a brief reflection moment on why I chose to write.

Honestly, I was a bit surprised to see all that I've put on here, and how honest I've been with an invisible audience. Now that this blog is roughly 11 years old and almost a teenager, it's an interesting record of my life and the things I've learned along the way. I started doing all of this in part because I wanted to have a way to reflect as well as share my life with others. I have especially been surprised by the amount of anon interactions I've had and the reach of what was intended to be mostly a non-descript friends-only blog; I assume those people were true anons in the sense that I've never met you, and that thought intimidates but also encourages me a lot. Thanks to the many of you who have left kind comments in various forms, as it lets me know that there are those of you out there who's lives are impacted, perhaps just a little, by what's left behind by my ramblings.

I hope this blog has blessed and continues to bless those of you who stumble onto it, however that may be. I especially hope that to anybody who is struggling in life that my reflections would be an encouragement to you.

P.S.: Just as a brief life update, we've hit the 1 year mark of COVID shutdown at Cornell now. It's kind of wild to imagine that about 1 year ago, the March Meeting conference in Denver got shut down, and I had to figure out a way to get back to Ithaca and then everything shut down. Grocery stores were empty and people were leaving in a panic. Yet here we are still living our maskful lives as if its normal.

Personally, life has been a bit of a struggle. Most recently, I am wrestling with disillusionment with people, just feeling tired and exhausted after all these years. I didn't really have any intention to write or to share; in fact, I kind of wanted to stop engaging people altogether. God has other plans, however, so here I am writing.

I can't promise that I'll be super consistent in writing. PhD and life in general has robbed me of the 2-hour blocks that I usually spend writing and condensing my thoughts to be somewhat presentable. But to anybody who is still reading, and also to my future self, thanks for being here.

[noheroes-allowed]

I hate how volatile my moods are. like I woke up feeling stressed on wednesday bc of my assignments. but then it started raining and I got out of bed really late after listening to a song I loved and the ambiance of that against the rain lifted me. and then he asked me to get dinner with everyone and I got so excited. but thursday I was tired for no reason and ate caffeine in the evening so I could enjoy dinner, which I did. and I was fine until literally midday friday when this intense sadness just washed over me. and why? friday was so non-stressful on paper. why? all I did was lay in bed and read. and then in the evening I had a slight breakdown but I didn’t let myself go through it and started doing homework instead bc I suddenly felt like I just needed to be productive and I was wasting time. this morning I tried to be functional. I went to ithaca tofu hoping to buy mooncakes but I should’ve known they would’ve been out of stock by now and bought snacks to try to make myself feel better that weren’t really worth the price. and this snack I loved when I was in china at 12 years old was on sale, and I haven’t had it since 2017 probably and I bought it for myself and yet I felt nothing. no excitement. 

the guy directing the covid test this morning asked me if I was having a good day and I said ‘I guess.’ he asked what would make it better and I don’t know. I didn’t even do anything today. all I did was cook and eat and read and walk around and do the things I supposedly enjoy and yet nothing. what’s wrong with me? why did I feel so fucking down for no fucking reason? I’m trying to understand it but it doesn’t make sense. nothing even happened. nothing fucking happened. I just. can’t fucking function and be a normal human being. 

on thursday, dhanush said something offhandedly to sergio that this was our final year and sergio better treat us well. jokingly. and idk maybe that stirred something in me. and on friday I had a dream about someone I cared about who’s no longer in my life and even in my dreams we were distant and awkward. and how jenny applied to segc and I feel like she was trying to catch me up with things about her. and how ivy made me feel like she didn’t actually expect me to take up on her offer of hanging out. and how I called maggie last saturday and we were talking about jobs and interviews and where we’ll be in a year. and maybe I’m thinking about how as the years go on, it just seems like I’m losing people so quickly. not to be dramatic but my circle just keeps dwindling, and if not dwindling, shifting in the nature of our relationships, and who do I even feel comfortable around anymore? and maybe I’m thinking about how my life is going to look like in a year. and just. what is the goddamn point of it all? these people in my life right now holding on by a string, I won’t even know them in a year. maybe I’m thinking about how transient and circumstantial everything is and ‘in this terrifying world, all we have are the connections we make.’ but what the hell are my connections? how many will I have remaining? 

I’m retroactively lonely and I’m proactively lonely. I’m goddamn lonely. there’s no one I can talk to about my day. I want to talk about stupid shit that goes on during my day. like my monday interview when my interviewer said ‘maybe I’ll see you in a conference call one day’ or the puppy wrapped up in a blanket I saw or the string lights that were hung up on the suspension bridge for one day that would’ve made it so pretty for next thursday but they’re no longer there now or the book I’m reading and how I think it may be contributing to how sad I am lately bc it’s about this group of four friends and just their relationships with other people and each other and how their bonds have changed over time and how fragile even their relationships are when they were so fucking strong in the beginning or the snacks I bought this morning and how I should be so happy eating those dumb potato chips I used to love as a kid that I haven’t had in years but I just felt like shit bc I’ve been eating and eating all day. 

I have been trying really hard lately to enjoy the little things and try to find things I love and letting myself do the things I love. but it’s hard when the thing I really want is people in my life. good people, good relationships, meaning to my life. I hate how intensely I’m feeling things right now. I think this is who I truly am. I’ve been trying to be more laid-back recently not just for school, but for life things too. and I think part of me was trying to fit into this fake it until you make it mentality. I faked it but I didn’t make it. I feel like there’s a timer on my life right now. maybe I’m thinking about that a part of me was probably trying to protect myself by concluding I didn’t want an actual relationship just bc of the timing of everything and. idk is a part of me holding back bc I’m scared? bc he’s told me what he wants. and what if I trying to de-intensify myself so I can fit into that mold. when he told me how the girl he went out with on a thursday, wanted to facetime him on a sunday and in the moment I truly thought, and said ‘that’s a lot.’ (although, maybe part of me thought that way bc they had just met.) but today, I was walking to campus to read at the grassy part above the bookstore and I just wanted to talk to him and see him. and I was acting exactly the way I thought was too much. so what does that say? am I like her? do I want what she wanted? do I want more of him then I let on? I don’t know what I want. and I don’t know what a fucking relationship is. and I can’t sort out or process my feelings and I can’t tell what’s platonic or romantic or real or fake. everything is just a fucking jumbled mess in my head. bc he’s my friend and I already want him in my life and what the hell else do I want. I think this breakdown is so poorly timed bc I can’t compound this with his rejection next thursday. but I need to tell him so I can fucking move beyond it. even though a part of me, a large part of me honestly, will miss speculating if he likes me back. bc then everything will be crystal clear. and I know this sounds fucking insane bc a part of me feels like the other time I felt this way was my last month at umd when I felt like there was a timer on my life. and objectively this timer is longer and I should still be able to enjoy the time I currently have without thinking about their endings. but I guess. I think keith is one of my closest friends right now, just due to the sad nature of my life I’ve hung out with him the most these days, but I don’t think he would consider me the same just given what I know about his circle. but I think I’m missing him already. are we going to be friends in a year? him with his (and mine) dislike for texting and his feeling that facetimes make him feel like he could be doing something else instead. I think our connection is circumstantial (like maggie’s, and ivy’s, and anyone in segc) and we will lose touch so quickly. and fuck how did I think I could do anything casual? we’re not even in a fucking relationship and I’m fucking thinking about how much I’ll miss him in a year. and now I keep second guessing asking to see him bc I don’t want to be too needy and I know he doesn’t like that but. I want to talk to him. it’s a good thing he was busy today bc I might’ve dumped like half of this post onto him in person and that would’ve been embarrassing. I’m mourning something I haven’t lost yet but I know I’m gonna lose. also a part of me can’t stomach the idea that there’s a chance he’s gonna distance himself from me so I can ‘move on’ but. that will literally hurt me more than him just not liking me back.

idk everything just piled on and I just want to stop thinking about the meaning of life and what my life is going to look like in a year, five, twenty, and my fucking relationships and my fucking lack of relationships. I just want to stop thinking so much and getting caught in my head and just be carefree and happy. why is it I can never just be content and satisfied? why do I make up these inane problems in my head? like, was I not happy two days ago at dinner? three days ago with the rain and the texts and finishing my assignments an hour and a half before I expected? five days ago when I felt like my interview went well? I was happy right? why can’t I just hold onto that?

[octaviadblake]

Ὀδύσσεια + τό ἑκᾰτόν

OR The Odyssey + The 100, an in-depth look at parallels to Homeric canon in season 6, and how the themes and motifs present on Sanctum mirror Odysseus’s 10-year journey back to Ithaca.

DISCLAIMER: I was a Russian Lit major, not a Classics major, so I’m not an expert on this. I did study Ancient Greek and Ancient Greek Drama for 6 and 2 semesters in college, respectively, though, but my expertise is more on The Iliad than The Odyssey so just...cut me some slack lol

If you’re not down for this 2.7k word mini-dissertation, here’s your chance to turn back.

So for those of you who don’t know me, I’m a major Classics nerd. I studied The Iliad in the original in college (and yes, I will be writing a series of metas about how s1-5 are The Iliad so keep an eye out for that), but The Odyssey remains, arguably, Homer’s most prolific epic. I’ve never parsed the text in the original, so I’m not going to be doing any sort of text-to-quote analysis because I think using a translation would be a disservice to the text (major Classics nerd. cannot stress this enough.), but I’m gonna be doing a rundown of all the major stops on Odysseus’s journey and how The 100 has mimicked each and every one of those stops in season 6 thus far.

Still reading? Cool, let’s do this thing.

Some of you may have already read my theory on the anomaly and how I think what lies inside is something like the Island of the Lotus Eaters. If you haven’t read it, you can check it out here, but brief summary: the Lotus Eaters is the first stop Odysseus and his crew make. The Lotus plant is so entrancing that it makes people forget all about their lives outside the island and coerces them to stay there, stuck in a sort of opiate-like blissed out haze of chillness for the rest of their lives, and I think that may be what’s happening in the anomaly, not time travel like others have theorized. Cool, moving on.

The next stop of Odysseus’s journey is the island of Polyphemus, the cyclops who intends to eat him and his men. 

(Giulio Romano, Polyphemus)

They manage to escape when Odysseus (using the fake name of “Nobody”) blinds Polyphemus and they hide under the bellies of his sheep in order to avoid detection as they escape his cave.

Let’s think, how does this relate to our heroes? What’s happening right now on the show, going into episode 6x12? 

(gif credit: @commander-anya)

Clarke is pretending to be Josephine in order to blindside the Primes and help her people escape.

In The Odyssey, this is a continuation of the theme of “hosting” or “guest-friendship” (a term I’m borrowing from wikipedia since I’ve been out of school for over a year and don’t feel like actually thinking for this pseudo literary analysis). We saw this with the Lotus-Eaters, and we see it again with Polyphemus. But the Cyclops is a bad host. So are the Primes. 

Polyphemus’s host gift to Odysseus is that he tells him he’ll eat him last. He won’t spare him, but he’ll give him longer to live than the rest of his men. One of the drawbacks, is that means Odysseus is going to watch all of his people die, one by one, until he meets his demise. 

God, how many times have Clarke and Bellamy watched their people suffer? And now the Primes have a way to make nightblood. They’ve turned Echo into a nightblood. Who’s next? Presumably all of them, one by one, until all the Primes are brought back to life. And with Clarke masquerading as Josephine, how many of her people is she going to watch be tortured? How many might she lose in tonight’s episode and in next week’s episode before they manage to beat the Primes and escape? How much have they lost? How much more must they lose?

We also get our first hint of the theme of “cunning over strength” (a term I’m borrowing from SparkNotes because, again, I really don’t feel like putting more effort into this than I already am lmfao) at this point in The Odyssey. Odysseus devises a plan to escape the Cyclops that involves very little violence compared to the blood-soaked battles that we saw in The Iliad. Rather than brute force, he uses his cunning to escape. 

Clarke is going in as Josephine. She's not going for brute force. She’s not barging in with an army (that part comes later). This move is pure Clarke, all head. Going with the most cunning plan, not the most direct, not the most violent, the most strategic. 

Clarke Griffin is Odysseus.

GODDAMN IM LOVING THIS. I digress.

The next major plot point in The Odyssey is Odysseus running into Aeolus, the god of the winds. 

(source unknown by me, but this image is public domain)

He gives Odysseus a bag containing the four cardinal winds which, when opened at the right time, will send him straight home to Ithaca. His men think that the bag secretly contains a treasure that Odysseus is hoarding for himself and they open the bag, releasing the winds, and sending their ship even further off course than before, prolonging their journey.

I stumbled over this one for a second because it could be a few different moments in season 6. Gabriel giving Clarke info on how to take down the Primes? No, where’s the sabotage there? Murphy attempting to help Josephine to get mind drives for him and Emori? No, he ends up doing the right thing and puts them on the right track. Spacekru & friends devising a plan to defeat the Primes and Madi attacking them, sending them off the proverbial course? Hmm, sounds about right.

To make this easier for me, let’s call Bellamy, Echo, Emori, Murphy, Jordan, Miller, and Madi Spacekru 2.0. Well, they’re trying to make their plan to “work with” the Primes so they can get a compound, a home, for them and their people. But Madi is the crew to Spacekru 2.0′s Odysseus. She has her own agenda. She wants the treasure, she wants her revenge. 

She attacks the Primes, releases the winds as it were, and all hell breaks loose.

(gif credit: @bellamyblakepositivity)

They’re thrown off course. How will they ever get their compound now? How will they get their home? 

[Fun etymology fact break: Homecoming is stylized in The Odyssey as “νόστος” (nostos), when an epic hero returns home via voyage by sea, aka the MAIN theme in this epic. We get the word “nostalgia” from nostos, mixed with άλγος (algos) which means pain. Nostalgia is the pain of yearning for the past or for home. Is nostalgia/homecoming not one of the key themes of The 100? Is it not one of the key themes of The Odyssey? (also you could probably write an analysis of how nostos is a hero returning by sea and the way that space and the sea are often visually/metaphorically compared, the way you navigate both domains in a ship, the way you have an odyssey and a space odyssey....but that’s a discussion for another time)]

Next up on the journey? Aeaea, Circe’s island. 

(gif credit: ? if anyone knows, hmu so i can give credit please!)

Circe was a witch who turned men into animals (mainly pigs in The Odyssey, but in another myth, into a woodpecker, which isn’t relevant, I just think it’s funny). Here we get the motif of transformation and false appearances, a continuation of the Nobody plot, and a motif that we also see with the Primes taking over other people’s bodies, constantly transforming their appearances. 

While climbing a mountain to reach Circe’s palace, Hermes points Odysseus to a plant which will make him immune to Circe’s transformation magic. Why does this sound familiar......

The neural mesh in Clarke’s head gives her resistance to the mind drive allowing her consciousness to survive the “transformation.”

 Like the Island of the Lotus Eaters (and the anomaly) Circe has the ability to manipulate the passage of time, or rather, the perception of the passage of time. Odysseus loses quite a significant amount of time trapped on her island. (It’s not actually 5 years, the mini-series fudged that bit a little since Homer never specifies how long it is, but I’ll forgive you, The Odyssey mini-series, because I love you so very much that I cried when I found you on DVD in a tiny Wal-Mart in the backwoods of Tallahassee two years ago)

We also get another look at the complicated theme of guest-friendship on Circe’s island. She is, quite simply, a terrible host. She traps Odysseus’s men, just like the Primes trap Spacekru 2.0. Odysseus frees them. It’s on Clarke to free her people from the terrible hosts that are the Primes. There’s a joke in there about the Primes bodies being hosts to the mind-drives. Anyway.

Odysseus’s next stop is the land of the dead. He descends into Hades (a very perilous feat) to talk with the blind prophet Tiresias. He also talks to Anticlea, his deceased mother.

My god, if that stop isn’t exactly 6x07 Nevermind. 

Clarke talks to Jake Griffin, and tells him she thinks she’s dead, she’s ready to give up, she’s ready to let go. Odysseus tells Anticlea he feels the gods are against him, his journey is fruitless, he’ll never make it home. I don’t think that parallel could be more obvious if it punched you in the face.

I think maybe Monty is Tiresias in this scenario, giving Clarke advice and helping her navigate the mindspace so she can send a message to Bellamy that she’s alive which will give her the advantage of having an ally on her side. Odysseus promises Tiresias he’ll make a sacrifice to him once he gets back into the world of the living bc the dead feast on blood or something like that, but that’s like Clarke promising Monty she’ll do her best to continue to honor his challenge to her to do better. So cool. Love it.

(gif credit: @janemichaels)

Thematically, this mimics the theme of “testing” that’s present in The Odyssey (thank wikipedia again for helping me on this one lmao). You get Odysseus’s men’s loyalty being tested, and you get Odysseus’s identity itself being tested.

Clarke is tested when she is faced with the option of giving up and letting go. Spacekru 2.0 (and particularly Murphy and Emori) are tested when they learn Clarke is gone, then learn she’s alive. Will they be loyal enough to her to save her? Hint: yes, obviously, because Spacekru 2.0 is way better than Odysseus’s crew. Will Clarke decide to push forward and fight for her life? Hint: yeah, duh, because she’s just as badass as Odysseus. 

Next comes the sirens. 

Odysseus’s ship sails through the isle of the sirens, whose song lures sailors to their deaths. Odysseus makes his men stuff their ears with beeswax so they won’t be tempted by the song, but he ties himself to the mast, wanting to hear it. I kinda struggled with this one, but then I realized, at this point, we’re not looking at Clarke as Odysseus.

We’re looking at Octavia as Odysseus.

Octavia is faced with her greatest fear. She ends up running into the anomaly after Diyoza. If I’m right about the anomaly being sort of the Lotus Eaters, then we could assume that the anomaly holds Octavia’s deepest desires; that might have been what she’d have seen if she’d chosen the green box. She hears the call, and resists. The temptation and the overcoming thereof. 

I think that’s clear enough, so I’m gonna skip ahead to the passage between Scylla and Charybdis.

Earlier, Circe had warned Odysseus of this choice he would have to make. Choose the 6-headed monster on the left and lose at best, 6 of his men. Choose the whirlpool on the right, and lose them all.

[Sidenote: how interesting is it that the anomaly is associated with a spiral shape, mimicking that of a whirlpool? Should we believe that if they enter the anomaly it is, in fact, certain death that awaits them? Or is it a metaphoric whirlpool, and they’re just being sucked in, never to return to their original mission of returning home (*cough* Lotus Eaters again *cough*)?]

(gif credit: @aryastarktheshewolf)

So I think this choice is reminiscent of Octavia’s choices of the red box versus the green box. Presumably, face her greatest fears or her deepest desires. She chooses the red box. Better to face her fears and risk dying that way than face her desires (the same green of the anomaly anyone??) and risk getting sucked in like Diyoza was, never to return. 

She never saw her deepest desires in the forest (from what we saw) so it makes sense that she would choose the red box. She knows she can escape her fears. Blodreina no more. But if she faces her desires, who’s to say she could ever turn back? 

(gif credit: @daeneryskairipa)

Cool cool, so freaking cool, I love these parallels so much, y’all. 

Now we get to explore the most Prime-like example of “guest-friendship” in The Odyssey.

Ogygia. Calypso’s island. 

[Fun etymology fact break: “Kαλύπτω” (kalupto), the word that lends its root to Calypso’s name, means “to conceal” or “to deceive.” Calypso is “the one who conceals,” she’s “the deceiver.” “Ὠγύγιος” (ogugios), which lends its meaning to Ogygia, means “primeval” or “primal.” The Primes...the first settlers of Sanctum...the ones from the earliest ages (another interpretation of the word). The Primes, the deceivers. The Primes, the primeval ones. Hmmm.]

(screencap from The Odyssey mini-series, 1997. btw, Vanessa Williams will ALWAYS be Calypso in my mind)

Calypso offers Odysseus a home on Ogygia, but he will have to abandon his dream of returning to Ithaca, to his home, to his wife, Penelope, and to his son, Telemachus. She actually prevents him from leaving for seven years (more warped passage of time a la the anomaly), effectively keeping him prisoner. But he wants for nothing there. He is fed and clothed and bathed and sheltered. 

Our heroes are offered a home on Sanctum, but it’s not all it appears. It’s not the paradise they’re lead to believe it to be. They’re deceived. 

[EDIT: Leah @braveprincess offered an interesting take on Calypso, which I absolutely HAVE to share with y’all:

Anyway, let my rant continue]

In order to stay, they must sacrifice Clarke, Madi too, and well, now, all of their people the Primes want to make into nightbloods. They’re prisoners in Sanctum. They can’t leave, not only because the Primes won’t let them, but because what awaits them is the Children of Gabriel and the mysteries of this new planet. Their best chance at survival is with the Primes. But that also means compromising and losing people they refuse to be without.

Bellamy is Odysseus now. Clarke is his Penelope. 

(gif credit: @bellarkedaily)

He won’t negotiate with the Primes. He won’t sacrifice Clarke. Shut up, I’m not crying, you’re crying. 

Athena asks Zeus to intervene, so he sends Hermes to tell Calypso she must release Odysseus. Odysseus leaves to continue the next, and last, part of his journey. His return home. 

Bellamy leaves Sanctum to save Clarke. Once he has her back, they can continue their final journey, building a home on this new world. Or so we hope. 

But who knows? We haven’t seen the finale yet. Maybe they’ll stay on this world. Maybe not.

Some people have been theorizing that they’ll return to Earth (via time travel or whatever it is, which I don’t really buy but whatever), which would be a really nice conclusion to the theme of nostos, but the problem with that is right now, there is no Earth to return to. Nostos only works if there’s a home to go back to. And that home, usually, must be unchanged from when the hero left to fit into the proper meaning of the word.

So, what would be the best way for The 100 to get our heroes back to Earth to fulfill this Odyssey-esque narrative that they (probably unwittingly) have set up? 

SEND ‘EM INTO THE ANOMALY!

Let them chill there, enjoy a little bit of paradise, let time pass super fast in the outside world while it passes normally for them, let Earth recover, and send ‘em back. But that bit is more of a pipe dream than anything else and I doubt that’s what they’ll do. I’m not a big fan of most anomaly theories, but I think that could be a cool one. Who knows.

Anyway, that’s all I have for today. Next week post-finale, I’ll probably work through the rest of The Odyssey, with Odysseus’s return to Ithaca, defeating the suitors, and winning his wife back, if all goes to plan with beating the Primes. So if you liked this (admittedly rambling half-cocked mini thesis paper), keep an eye out for that one. 

After this season, I’m gonna be doing a series on how seasons 1-5 are actually The Iliad, so if you wanna scream about Classics & The 100 with me, just drop a line in my ask :)

[forestwater87]

201X in Review: A journey of cringe and regrets

Realizing 2020 is really close and wanted to look back at the second (full) decade I’ve actually been alive for. I feel like either a huge amount of stuff has happened, or basically nothing’s happened, but there’s no middle ground.

2010: 

Cringy 2010 photo: High school prom (in middle, dark green dress and...a face)

Junior in high school. 

Had my first-ever Real Boyfriend(TM). (Pictured in above cringy photo.)

Had just ended an extremely toxic 12-year relationship and was still figuring out how to have friends. 

Chemistry fucking SUUUUUCKED and I don’t miss it.

Had a super intense love for Megamind. I saw it minimum of 4 times in theaters and had a major crush on that blue lil nerd. (Began a personal grudge against both Tangled and Despicable Me for taking away its deserved spotlight, a resentment I have not yet gotten past 10 years later.)

Most regrettable 2010 memory: Getting way too intense about a new boyfriend and lowkey abandoning my friends. Not cool.

Most awesome 2010 memory: I have friends from back then I still love and keep in touch with (despite my abandoning them for a bit there). That’s pretty dang awesome.

2011: 

Cringy 2011 photo: High school graduation with one of the most beautiful women in existence. (We’re still friends, and she’s still gorgeous.)

Graduated high school! (Gym fucking SUUUUUCKED and I don’t miss it.) 

Fell in love with the college that was supposed to be a “safety school” and didn’t apply anywhere else, which means I can brag about having been accepted into 100% of the colleges I applied to. 

Started at Ithaca College -- don’t say “it’s gorges,” it gets so old so fast -- and had a miserable first semester and an incredible second. 

Started getting . . . uncomfortably involved in religious groups. (I mean, I’d been doing that since I was a kid, but it got kicked up to 11 in college.)

Most regrettable 2011 memory: Dressed as a “g***y” for Halloween. Fucking yikes.

Most awesome 2011 memory: Figuring out what I want to be when I grow up.

2012: 

Cringy 2012 photo: Modeling first successfully completed knitting project. With bamboo needles because Ithaca is a hippie paradise.

Learned how to knit, entirely out of boredom in long lectures.

Technically started my tumblr experience, though it was only for a few months while I worked through some Shit by being in love with Loki from the Avengers (and THiddleston in general). Stayed on here just long enough to discover Achievement Hunter and Rooster Teeth, and never went back.

Broke up with first-ever Real Boyfriend(TM) and handled it so well I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety disorder.

Got very deep in a religious group at IC, which was . . . not very healthy and could perhaps not inaccurately be described as “cultlike.” (I owe a major apology to everyone who knew me back then; I was very much a major bitch.)

Despite the previous two bullet points, this was the best year of my life up until that point. I lived next door to my two best friends in college, loved my major, and pretty much was confident that I had everything figured out.

Most regrettable 2012 memory: Writing a fan letter to Tom Hiddleston, which included a photo of me and my phone number. I was convinced my charm and wit would totally make him fall in love with me.

Most awesome 2012 memory: Pretty sure this is the year my love affair with RiffTrax began, too. I had a posse and we’d go see live shows together.

2013-2014:

Cringy 2013 photo: A blanket that I made and sent to Jennamarlbes for her dogs, because it was too small for people. Pretty sure it showed up in a video at one point.

Cringy 2014 photo: My awesome college roommates and I dressed up to give out candy to people’s dorms on Halloween. Reverse trick-or-treating: very fun, always recommended.

HA. So much for having anything figured out.

I don’t actually remember much of this period in my life, because I was navel-deep in a major religious crisis that would continue until . . . a couple months ago, basically? There was a lot of freaking out and trying to reconcile culty fundamentalism with the freewheeling pinko that lived deep inside and was trying to break free.

Lots of therapy, though. And med adjustments. Eventually figured out something that worked. Free campus counseling was the bomb though.

I do remember living in an apartment and cooking for myself for the first time, and also playing a lot of tabletop games with my roommates. (Also drinking. Lots of drinking.)

Oh shit, was this when I started that Drunk Librarian blog? I was trying really hard to be The Nostalgia Critic for books (ew), but I remember having a lot of fun with that. That was when my lifelong vendetta against John Green began.

Most regrettable 2013-2014 memory: Did I mention that the blanket I sent to Jenna included a letter? Did I mention that letter included some bible verses I thought she would appreciate????

Most awesome 2013-14 memory: Started a knitting club. It was just like 4 people hanging out and not knitting.

2015:

Cringy 2015 photo: Me being emaciated, makeup-smeared, and proudly showing off a collarbone piercing. That piercing has since rejected, but was in fact cute af.

Graduated college! Summa cum laude, bitches. (And an unfinished minor because I didn’t feel like taking the one (1) class I needed to graduate.)

Started library school and moved back home with parents. That was . . . an adjustment.

Changed library school “majors” halfway through my first year, after a lot of soul searching and panic attacks.

Had a short but catastrophic relationship with a man 9 years older than me (who was my pastor. Awkward). Religious crisis continued.

Got really skinny and hot because I was too miserable to eat. Dyed my hair red for the first time and looked basically like Ariel.

Discovered Party Hard and got really good at killing people.

Remembered how much I fucking love my parents’ dog:

Most regrettable 2015 memory: Being that person who “thought I could change him.”

Most awesome 2015 memory: Did you see how cute that dog is? His name is Oscar, after Oscar the Grouch.

2016:

Cringy 2016 photo: I had this huge thing for 1950s dresses for a while, complete with petticoats.

Grad school continued.

Religious crisis continued.

Therapy happens to deal with Things, is quickly dropped due to money and lack of shrink-chemistry.

Discovered a dumb little web cartoon with a teensy fanbase and no love for my favorite ship. Began work on a fanfic to correct this.

Finished a long-form fanfic for the first time in my entire life.

Virtually abandoned every other fandom to hyperfixate on this for the rest of my life.

Got super political, then super depressed. Quit Facebook because I realized I hate everyone I’m FB friends with.

Discovered Stardew Valley and never got anything done ever again.

Found Tumblr again (needed it to keep in touch with my first-ever beta reader, @raenbowsofficial) and turned into fandom and politics trash.

Most regrettable 2016 memory: Man, was I cocky about that Hillary Clinton winning the election. Oops.

Most awesome 2016 memory: I mean, CAMP CAMP. Obviously.

2017: 

Cringy 2017 photo: My first day of work as a very bisexual-in-denial librarian.

Finished grad school and became a certified librarian (in NYS anyway)!

Got a job at a local college, including my own office!

Shaved half my head!

Moved into my own apartment and adopted a cat, fulfilling a goal over 7 years in the making!

Became friends with two of the most important people I’ve ever met. Visited one of them on a semi-impromptu 9-hour drive to Virginia and met IRL for the first time. First ever all-night solo trip, one of the best days of my life.

This might’ve been the year I got the VFD eye tattooed on my ankle, though I can’t swear to that.

Was part of my first long-form tabletop RPG with friends from college (and friends-of-friends). Was very emotional and also quite gay.

Rediscovered Megamind thanks to excellent fanfiction. That shit is still great.

Currently the best year I’ve ever had. 

Most regrettable 2017 memory: I should’ve attended my graduation from library school instead of deciding it didn’t matter. It mattered a lot.

Most awesome 2017 memory: Seeing the-artist-formerly-known-as-ciphernetics in person.

2018:

Cringy 2018 photo: Um, apparently we don’t get one, because there’s an image limit to these posts. Lame.

Was laid off and took 6 months to find another full-time job. Spent most of that time depression-napping.

Said full-time job lasted 4 months before I ran like my shoes were on fire, because it was morally . . . suspicious and left me borderline suicidal.

Got very fat because I was too miserable to stop eating.

Had to cut my hair so I would look “professional.” Looked like my ex-boyfriend. My mom said I “looked like a Trump supporter.” To-date the meanest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

Moved back in with my parents due to not-having-job-ness (got to bring the cat, though).

Lost parents’ health insurance and had to pay for my own. Discovered health insurance is ridiculously expensive.

Became super left-leaning thanks to the power of Tumblr and Youtube (and possibly that super expensive health insurance thing). 

Writing came to a virtual standstill, though I managed to organize and actually finish participating in all of Gwenvid Week (for the first time).

Two weeks after quitting the job from hell and three weeks after moving back in with the parents, I was offered my old position back. Accepted. Was once again a college librarian.

Most regrettable 2018 memory: Knowing I didn’t want the nightmare job and accepting it anyway. Might’ve been the only choice, but it caused a lot of unhappiness.

Most awesome 2018 memory: The day I was laid off, I hopped on a plane and went to fucking Disney World. Because why not?

2019:

Started work again. Finally (mostly) stopped having panic attacks about being fired/laid off out of the middle of nowhere around 8 months into new job.

Fewer paper cuts than expected.

Accidentally became associated with dinosaurs at work, despite not having any sort of special affinity for dinosaurs.

Did develop a deep and abiding affinity for octopus. Also elephants.

Took cat to doctor. Cat didn’t enjoy doctor. Cat is now 8 lbs. and 14 oz. She is big girl.

Rediscovered the joy of reading again. Newly discovered that mysteries actually can be pretty awesome, and read barely anything else all year. (Personal recommendations: The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle by Stuart Turton and Waisted by Randy Susan Meyers.)

So. Many. Youtube. Video. Essays.

Discovered Stardew Valley mods and eventually broke 3k hours of playtime. 

Napped frequently. Panicked less frequently. It’s a step in the right direction.

Most regrettable 2019 memory: This post sure is long and over-share-y, isn’t it? Didn’t even include a cut so you could more easily scroll past my face. Inconsiderate, is what that is.

Most awesome 2019 memory: This one is pretty good. Right now.

2020: 

??? 

Profit.

[finnlynnisms]

{ ariana grande, female, she/her } - hey look it’s { ithaca finnlynn “finn” st. james-williams }!! i heard they are working as { singer & owner of a record label } at { finnland }!! someone also told me that they are { 26 } but i don’t buy it!! but i heard they are {+enthusiastic, +trustworthy } and { -secretive, -stubborn } but it could be just a rumor!

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mention of death, a bombing, mention of anxiety, depression & ptsd

hi everyone, i’m katy! i was at this rp once before as ithaca and i’ve missed her and the rp so much, i had to come back! she’s a bit different this time, but still the same crazy personality. you can read more about her HERE! and if you wanna plot, just hit me up!

this cutie is ithaca finnlynn st. james, named after none other than the finn hudson. she the oldest st. james child and holds her title proudly as the big sister. she’ll do anything to protect her siblings and keep them safe and she’s always there when they need her, whether it be physically or over the phone

she’s been in the public eye ever since she could remember, but she was noticed by a talent scout at 8 years old during a playhouse production of annie. that got her started in acting, which mostly consisted of musical themed projects. at 12, she started a vlogging channel on youtube and started posting covers of songs she loved to sing. those covers, along with her talent in acting landed her a role on broadway in the original broadway production of 13 the musical, where she played the secondary lead role. a creative producer was in the audience during one of her performances and contacted her manager, who let her know that the producer was interested in her playing a co-lead in a new tv show for teens that was in development. he agreed to wait until she was finished with the show before the show started filming when she was just 15 years old. she became a household name and by the time the show’s series contract was up, she had a record deal and a spin-off show of her own that she starred in. she’s been worldly known as a top popstar since she was 18 years old, she’s won several grammys and moonmen (the mtv award), she’s had three world tours, and she owns her own record label

the only people that really call her ithaca are her family, but even most of them call her finn. worldly, she’s simply known as finnlynn, but a lot of her fanbase know her real name and it warms her heart when fans call her ithaca

she’s a sweetheart, but she’s also hot tempered. when she gets mad, she gets extremely mad

during one of her concerts a few years ago, a bomb went off and killed 22 people, two of which were one of her best friends carly and carly’s daughter loona. talking about the attack upsets her and she never brings it up. she has ptsd, depression and anxiety from the attack and she’s still in therapy to maintain it and she’s on medication for the mental issues she has. it was definitely the most tragic thing to ever happen to her, but she doesn’t let it stop her from living her life. she kept performing in honor of carly and loona 

carly and loona aren’t the only people she’s honored. although she didn’t know finn hudson, she knows he was a very important person in her mother’s life, and to honor him as well for her mother, she named her record label ‘finnland’ and anytime she performs in lima for a concert, she always has a seat reserved for him with his picture and a pair of halloween costume angel wings

if you see her eating anything, it’s probably one of four things; takis, blue popsicles, licorice (red or black), or green apple & caramel flavored lollipops. she’s a snacker and those are her go to snacks

although she’s mostly a good influence, she has been in physical fights, in and out of the public eye. it’s almost always because she’s defending her family against someone’s toxic words, or defending herself

finnlynn is a married woman. happily married, in fact. although it was the most unconventional and nontraditional marriage that’s ever happened, she loves that she has a funny story to tell her kids in the future. the story: she and travis met one night in vegas, got drunk, and got married. instead of getting it annulled or having to go through the divorce process, they decided to stay married and see how it went. on christmas, they’ll celebrate their one year anniversary. fun fact: her friends and family don’t know she’s married yet

she’s on tour for another couple of weeks right now, but she’s going to be home just in time for the holidays and she’s so excited to spend this year with her family because she was drunk in vegas last christmas and missed the family celebration

finn is a very complex girl. she has many emotions and will cry at the drop of a hat depending on what’s going on

she cries at aspca commercials (she’s very mad at kim rhodes and alyssa milano for making her cry anytime she watches freeform)

if something said can be turned into something dirty.... she’ll turn it into something dirty

[missolivialouise]

St. Paul-based cartoonist Andy Singer has never owned a car, even though he's lived, over the last 47 years, in places as diverse as New York City, Ithaca, Oakland, Boston, and now the Twin Cities. He's clearly a minority among Americans, but he's made a career out of using art to convince others to rethink their romance with the automobile.

His latest is Why We Drive, a book released late this summer that uses political cartoons and historical photos to make the case. Many of his main arguments are familiar: he's anti-sprawl, pro-public transportation, pro-biking, and against the types of hidden government incentives that make these policies difficult to put in place.

But Singer takes a more visual approach to advocate for sustainable living. He chatted with Cities about his new book and how he's used his work as a cartoonist to make arresting visual arguments in favor of alternative transportation.

How did you become interested in issues of sustainability, transportation, and auto culture?

I had a moment in high school, going to a concert in Nassau County, Long Island. I bought tickets off a scalper, which turned out to be bogus, but the people whom we had driven there with got into the concert. So we spent three hours just trying to amuse ourselves walking around the parking lot [at the Nassau Coliseum]. And it was just this moment of realizing that everywhere you looked there was nothing but concrete and cars. And I think that was the first moment where I realized, wow, there are too many dang cars.

How were you inspired by some of the urban and suburban forms you see around you in St. Paul, where you live now, and other places you’ve made home, including New York and Boston?

I’ve just noticed in different places that I’ve lived that people like to visit old places. When you go to New Orleans, for example, people want to see the French Quarter, the older parts of it. Or when people are in Boston they want to walk the Freedom Trail and see Paul Revere's House and Beacon Hill and the old parts of Boston. There are historical reasons for that because they want to see the history behind something. But I think that people also like those spaces, and they like those spaces in part because they're walkable.

The first cartoon in the book — across from the title page — shows the 'Goldilocks' version of mixed use development. How did you come up with this idea, and how does it map onto how you view the discussions about density and urban development?

Another peeve I have is that there is pretty much a common awareness among people in New Urbanist circles that low-density sprawl, car-oriented sprawl is a bad thing — environmentally, socially, economically, etc. But there's also this non-agreement as far as how much density is too dense.

And there's this idea that we can have hyper-density that is somehow much more environmentally efficient than this low-density sprawl. I think that it could well be more efficient than low-density sprawl, but is it the most efficient level of density?

And you see when there’s a power blackout, in a lot of these hyper-dense cities, a lot of these buildings become uninhabitable because they require electric elevators and water pumps and all sorts of mechanical stuff to make them usable. You're not going to be able to get up to the 25th floor of your building and back down on a regular basis. And they require much more energy-intensive materials to build and to take down than, say, a three or four-story walk-up.

You write that you are "an advocate of car-free cities, car-free city sections and car-free living." How do your drawings try to illustrate how people should think about these possibilities?

I’m trying to encourage people to look at the pre-automotive sections of their own cities as a guide or an envisioning of what their city, or sections of their city, could look like without cars, at what life would be like without cars. I think a lot of times when you see something or you envision something, you understand it more. A lot of people see a freeway, for example, in the Twin Cities, and they think that that freeway has always been here. And maybe for their entire lifetime it's always been there. But they don’t realize that, wow, there used to be townhouses and apartment buildings and homes on that land before that freeway was put in, and people lived in a very different way 100 years ago.

Any last words?

If there’s a takeaway that I want people to have, for lay people or people who are not steeped in all this, it is to appreciate some of the ways that automobiles impact our landscape and impact our lives and our environment and economy.

But I think for people who are more into these issues, I want people to think about the tax structures, the way that in almost every state we have all of our motor vehicle fees and gas taxes being dedicated to highways. This tends to cause states to choose highway solutions to transportation problems, even when another solution using transit or better land use would be more appropriate. There are systemic forces that tend to drive highway building.

These "before and after drawings" represent Singer's visions of the different kinds of land development and sprawl that accompany rail vs. highway infrastructure.

Cars revolutionized transportation, but when we started to design cities first-and-foremost for cars, we put other travelers’ safety at risk, and even made it impossible or impractical to get around any other way. There are people who can’t easily travel except by car, so I’m not all about eliminating cars, but rather dramatically reducing their use.

Some of the ways we can do that is by eliminating government-mandating parking minimums, and legalizing “mixed-use” zoning, and “missing-middle” density. The most comfortable, livable, pedestrian-friendly cities in the world are mostly mid-rise.

[borrowedfeathers]

Ten years ago today, on March 18, 2009, I was three days into an involuntary weeklong stay at the psych ward at Cayuga Medical Center in Ithaca, NY. I had been forcibly taken from the Cornell student health clinic after I admitted to a psychiatrist that I was so beset with horrific thoughts of killing people close to me that I thought the only solution was to kill myself, and instead of treating me for what was very obviously OCD, she thought I was a legitimate danger to myself and others and had me escorted into an ambulance while I begged her not to, screaming and crying. I felt immensely betrayed at the time and still am highly traumatized by hospitals.

Then why, you may ask, am I commemorating this particular day of such a horrible time in my life? Well, the day after I was hospitalized my mom flew out from Illinois to be my advocate, and in response to the doctors wanting to give me what would've been the wrong diagnoses for my condition, she mentioned that she'd had notions of my having (at the time) Asperger's but up until then had insufficient proof of going further with it. I was thoroughly unaware of this, and even her first mention to me of the idea catalyzed my brain with an energy it had never felt before. The doctors had me take the MMPI (Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory) diagnostic test, and after I had answered as candidly as possible, the results were in - I more than fit the criteria. While I did have to take it again in Illinois since the hospital lost my results, and thankfully the redo was no different in its results, so I didn't get my Official diagnosis (as well as that of OCD) until a few weeks later when I'd been put on leave, moved back with my parents and gotten a local therapist, I consider March 18 to be my autiversary since that was the day I first knew that I was autistic, that there was an actual reason why I was so "different" and ridiculed growing up, and as someone who had just only become an adult eight months prior my whole life finally made sense for the first time ever.

It's a little bit bittersweet looking back at my first decade of autism for a multitude of reasons - not just because of the awful circumstances that surrounded my diagnosis, but also because even at 28 I wrestle with a lot of the same social difficulties I did at 18 and that often makes me worry that I'm just going in circles when it comes to interacting with people. And ten years ago I had no way of knowing that by now I'd be dealing with a health problem that made the ones I had at the time look like chicken feed - and it's a particularly grim irony that in the psych ward, upon receiving my first MRI, I half-wished that my intrusive thoughts would all be due to a brain tumor that would be cut out and make them go away forever.

But would I prefer to still be in the dark about my neurotype, or worse, not be autistic at all? ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT. Autism has been one of the greatest sources of joy in my life, something that my knowledge of has made my twenties a vast improvement over my teens, and a means of meeting and connecting with some of the most important people in my life right now. My dear friend @metapianycist has credited me with helping them start their own autism journey, and since they're honestly twice the autism advocate I am it's an immense honor to have been able to play such a role. And based on the testimonies I've heard from people, they're not the only one who's considered the possibility of being autistic because of me, and that's literally all I want, to help questioning autistics discover and feel more comfortable with themselves, and come to autism in a less traumatic way than I did - it may have "all worked out okay" for me in the end in that regard but I didn't deserve any of that and neither does any other autistic who doesn't yet know they're autistic.

So cheers, autism. Here's to a decade and hopefully many, many more.

[mr-mellow-dj]

Taughannock Falls

Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters are the property of Andrew W. Marlowe and ABC television. All others are the product of my imagination. Any resemblance with any person, living or dead is purely coincidental.

Transcriptions and some background information comes from seriesmonitor dot com slash castle slash transcripts slash index dot html. Other information comes from wiki dot castletv dot net.

All mistakes are mine. I have no beta for my story.

A/N: Semi AU post 4x07 Cops and Robbers (episode aired October 31, 2011)

Beckett had been driving for a while. She glanced over at her partner and friend reading his phone. She turned back to the road stretching in front of her and yawned. While it was not a long drive and it wasn’t late, she still had planned for a quiet Sunday of rest after the emotional rollercoaster of a case that just completed.

Suddenly, Castle said, “Oh yeah! Finally!”

“What?”

“I finally beat that level on ‘Angry Birds’,” Castle answered. “I’ve been trying to beat it for months.”

“Really,” Beckett said rolling her eyes.

“Well, it seems that way,” Castle answered.

“Hmm.”

They then sat in silence for another few miles on the interstate. They were going through Binghamton in upstate New York on their way to Ithaca.

Kate looked back on how she and her partner had ended up on a road to Ithaca.

 The Captain had called them into her office late on Friday.

“You wanted to see us, sir?” Beckett asked.

“Yes,” Captain Gates responded. “Both you and Mr. Castle need to be in Ithaca Monday morning for Ron Brandt’s hearing. Apparently the judge and local DA want to have a hearing before they grant a transfer to NYPD.”

“Sir?” Beckett asked.

“The DA in Ithaca wants to be convinced that the kidnapping and assault charge he has on Mr. Brandt aren’t the only charges. He wants to have the lead investigator and a witness to what happened give a statement in front of a judge. Further, the attorney for the defendant is also asking for statements.”

“What time do they want us there, Captain?” Castle asked.

“Mr. Castle, the judge wants you in chambers at 9:00 am Monday morning.”

“Drive or fly?” Beckett asked.

“There isn’t any budget for flying you up there, Detective. You’ll need to drive your NYPD car.”

“Beckett, we’ll need to drive up on Sunday.”

“No budget for hotel, either.”

“Don’t worry,” Castle said. “I know a nice bed and breakfast near the lake. My treat.”

“Alright, Mr. Castle. And thank you.”

“Thanks, Castle.”

“I can call them right now. I’ve taken Alexis and mother there a couple of times. Great couple that runs the place.”

 The rolling hills of upstate New York provided a welcome relief from the monotony of the urban canyons of the city and the rows and rows of houses in the suburbs. The fall leaves had just passed their peak but there were enough hold-outs that there were some splashes of color amongst the evergreens and barren trees.

Castle had convinced her to drive up early on Sunday morning. She came by the loft at 8 to leave.

 “We cannot go on a long car ride without sustenance,” Castle said. “Let me fix you some breakfast.”

“Alright, Castle,” Beckett said. “Thanks.”

 Shortly afterward he put in front of her scrambled eggs and toast, pancakes and bacon almost like she had when she stayed at the loft after her apartment was blown up.

She ate her fill while Martha and Alexis had come down to share in the breakfast and then the pair left with hugs and goodbyes.

Beckett could feel herself getting closer to the Castle family almost like she was already a part of his inner family circle. She wasn’t resisting as much as waiting to be healed. Her talks with Dr. Burke had helped her to understand the myriad of feelings she had about her mother, her life, her loves and most importantly, Castle.

They made their way through the town, Castle giving the final directions to the B & B.

Entering the B & B reception, the owner looked up and said, “Rick Castle! It’s been a long time. How are Martha and Alexis?”

“Doing great, Ron,” Castle answered. “Martha has an acting school going and Alexis is now a senior.”

“Alexis a senior? I can’t believe it.” Yelling toward the back, “Jane, guess who’s here?”

A lady in a colorful apron walked from the dining room. “Rick, oh it is so great to see you.”

“And you brighten my day, Jane,” Castle answered as she hugged him.

Looking at him Jane said, “You look great, Rick. And who is your friend.”

“I’m sorry,” Castle answered. “Ron and Jane Seymore, this is NYPD Detective Kate Beckett. Kate, Ron and Jane.”

As they shook hands, Jane looked over at Castle, “NYPD hmm. Have you been a bad boy, Rick?”

Castle laughed, “No, Beckett keeps me in line.”

“As if that was even possible,” Beckett snarks.

Jane laughed, “You know Rick well, Detective.”

“Call me Kate.”

“Okay, Kate.”

Jane pondered for a minute then asked, “Kate Beckett. Hmm. KB. Are you the ‘KB’ Rick dedicated those books to?”

“Well …,” Beckett stammered.

“My wife is a big fan of Rick’s work,” Ron interjected. “Every time he’s here she’s trying to get scoop on the next book or his next project. I think she’s a pest sometimes. Poor Rick comes here to relax and unwind and he has my wife all over him. I suppose I could get jealous but Rick told me he met someone extraordinary.”

“Ron, Jane isn’t a pest,” Rick disagreed. “She’s just a fan and I love my fans.” Chuckling he continued, “Platonically, of course.”

“Castle, you’ve been here before?”

“Oh yes,” Jane rejoined. “He’s come up here every summer for many years. You came last year but not the year before.”

“I was getting back with Gina at the time,” Rick answered. “She’s not big on B & Bs.”

“For many years it was just you and Alexis in adjacent rooms,” Ron continued. “I thought she would be with you this time.”

“Nope. She’s in school.”

“What grade is that cute redhead in now?” Jane asked.

“Oh, she’s a high school senior.”

“Senior?” Jane asked dumbfounded. “I can remember that precocious little girl asking about this and that. Has it been that long?”

Chuckling, Castle answers, “Yes it has. But imagine how it is for me seeing it up close.”

“Hmm.”

“So what are you up here for?” Ron asked.

“We’re here to see a judge,” Castle answered.

“Are you two getting …?” Jane continued.

Simultaneously Beckett and Castle answered.

“No,” said Beckett.

“Not yet,” said Castle.

The partners looked each other in the eye smiling and then Castle turned to Ron and Jane.

“So what ARE you here for?” Jane asked.

He started the story of the case that ended with the explosion at the New Amsterdam Bank. As Rick weaved his story for Ron and Jane, she stood there watching his movements punctuating points. His movements letting the couple focus on him instead of his muse. He understood the healing that Kate, the introvert, was still going through and how painful being the focus of attention would be for her. She was thankful for his intuitive actions to meet what her still healing psyche wants and needs even though they weren’t a couple.

“Yet,” she thought. “Aren’t a couple yet, I hope.”

While he continued with how he sent Morse Coded messages to the NYPD outside the bank, she looked at the man that she’d grown to respect and appreciate. She wondered at how he could make anyone feel at ease. And how he was “down to earth” with these people who would never have the money or fame that he had. How he didn’t act like some pretentious ass. But he never acted that way at the precinct either. He treated this couple who could do nothing for him like the most important people in the world right now. While he had his faults, he is a good man, a gentleman.

Then she remembered, when he was a child he was a person that had little. He wasn’t rich and famous, he was just an un-rich, un-famous illegitimate child of an unmarried, underemployed actress. For most of his childhood, he was very poor.

He treated unknown people kindly because it wasn’t that long ago, he was one of them, too.

She came out of her reverie as Castle said, “We were hoping to drop off our bags in our rooms.”

“Sorry, Rick,” Ron answered. “They’re not ready yet. We can hold your bags while you go out.”

“Yeah,” Castle answered. “That would be great. I wanted to show Beckett the falls before the light fades too much.”

“Okay,” Ron responded. “You leave them here and either Jane or I will put them up in your rooms.”

“Thanks Ron. Jane. Beckett, let’s go exploring.”

Castle turned to his partner and extended his arm toward the door. His hand laying on the small of her back directing her out of the B & B back to the car. As they walked to the cruiser Beckett asked, “Exploring Castle? Where are we going?”

“Not far, I’ll direct you,” He responded.

Beckett started the car and Castle instructed her where to go until they came to Buttermilk Falls State Park. Castle paid the parking fee and Beckett found a place to park. They walked the short distance to the lower falls area. There they found a large pool roped off for swimmers to enjoy the water in the summertime. Being fall, the pool and lifeguard chair was empty. People in singles and small groups walked the stairs on the far side of the falls.

“I’d come here just to for a change in perspective,” Castle answered Beckett’s unsaid question. “This was a place that mother would take me to when she was in plays in one of the nearby playhouses. It’s cheap and a good place for a young boy to play without getting into too much mischief.”

“I’d say it didn’t stick,” Beckett replied smirking.

“Touché, Detective,” Castle smiled. “Touché.”

They crossed the stream coming out of the pool and climbed the steep stairs on the other side. At each of the several landings, they caught their breath as they watched, mesmerized, the water cascading down the multiple steps of the falls.

“There’s something peaceful about falling water, isn’t there, Beckett?”

“Hmm.”

“It returns us to something in our prehistoric forerunners,” Castle mused. “Water is essential to life. Its movement shows a passage of time reminding us of our finite existence but still shows us we all have a promise for the future.”

They continued up the stairs silently. Castle scanned the scene before him. Beckett could hear him breathing deeply not entirely due to the strenuous climb.

Castle sat down on the wall beside the staircase and watched the water cascade down. Beckett climbed a few more steps above him and also sat on the wall. They sat in silence, watching. Beckett dividing her gaze between the falls and the man she was having growing feelings for.

The pair sat in silence for a few minutes, the water gurgling as it trickled down. Then, Castle finally stood up. Smiling, he turned to his partner, “I want to show you another place that Alexis and I like, too. Come on.”

He hesitated, wanting to hold his hand out to her to hold but realizing part way that they weren’t there yet for that type of intimacy.

To break the awkward moment he diverted, “I remember when Alexis was 2 or 3 she jumped down each one of the stairs here. I held her hand as she jumped but she jumped nevertheless. I can remember her saying ‘Daddy, look how high I jump’ as she leapt from one step to the next. There are times when I miss that little girl full of joy and wonder.”

Beckett smiled at him but did not speak as the pair went down the stairs. She knew any words she said would just spoil the moment with Castle. Part of her was frustrated with herself that she hadn’t fully healed from the shooting. But then she could hear Dr. Burke’s voice saying she needed to be patient with herself, that the healing process takes time and cannot be rushed.

“There were times that it was just the two of us, Alexis and me,” Castle started as they reached the bottom of the steps and crossed the footpath to the parking lot. “I can recall a time, it may have been the first time we came here, she was in her little two piece bathing suit, one shoulder strap falling down, running from me, excited to get into the water. Another time, maybe when she was 9 or 10, she came up to me where I was sitting, her arms wrapped around herself, her lips blue and her whole body shivering after swimming in the cold water.”

“You have pleasant memories of being here. And you loved being a dad.”

“Yeah,” Castle mused sadly. “The memories are reminders of the parts that I miss. Now she’s too old to have a ‘daddy’. Now it’s just ‘dad.’ And in just a year, she’ll be going away to college.”

“You’ll always be a ‘dad’, Castle,” Beckett answered as she unlocked the car. “Daughters still need their dads, even when they are adults. I still need mine.”

“Thanks, Beckett,” Castle smiled ruefully. “Good to know.”

As they sat down in the cruiser Beckett asked, “Where to now?”

“Another falls just to the northwest.”

Beckett drove through Ithaca to the northwest on highway 89 along Cayuga Lake. They went a couple of miles before they passed a parking lot.

“Stop here, Castle?”

“No, keep on going just a little while. The next left.”

Beckett drove up a steep incline and wove around the curving road until another parking lot appeared.

“Park here,” Castle said.

Beckett parked the car and the pair got out. They walked a short distance to the visitor’s center and beyond was a stone paved path way leading to some steps down.

As she approached she looked over the wall and saw it, “Oh my god, Castle. That’s magnificent.”

“Yeah,” Castle said looking directly at her for her expression. “That’s the same look Alexis had the first time we came here.”

He turned away from her and started for the overlook. In front of the pair was the impressive Taughannock Falls.

“These are one of the tallest single drop falls east of the Rockies,” Castle described. “It’s more impressive in the early spring with the snowmelt.”

“It’s still magnificent, Castle.”

“I’m glad I could be here when you saw it for the first time,” Castle smiled.

Being late fall, the leaf peepers had moved south for the autumn leaves. There were still a few stragglers around but there weren’t as many people as there would be in the summer or fall color peak.

Beckett stood in awe of the 215 foot tall falls, a few evergreens framing the top around the barren deciduous trees. A few still had some color but it had definitely faded by this early November Sunday.

The pair was silent for a while. Then the giggling of a group of women was heard. Castle turned to look up at the eight women descending the stairs to the overlook.

“Jason Bateman?” one of the group asked.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Castle chuckled.

Looking closer, the woman said, “No, I guess not. But while you’re here, could you take our picture? We’re a bachelorette party.”

“Sure,” Castle said as the woman handed her phone to him.

Castle walked up a few of the stairs so to get the women and the falls in the picture without it looking like the falls was dumping on their heads.

“Okay, on the count of three say ‘fuzzy pickles.’”

The women laughed.

“1, 2, 3,” Castle said as he took the picture. He took a second one for good measure for the women and handed the phone back.

As the women climbed the stairs, Beckett asked, “Fuzzy pickles?”

“Yeah, Alexis picked that up from someone in preschool and it has stuck with us since. Something different from the pedestrian ‘Cheese’.”

Beckett smiled and thought how this was just another little indication on how much a good dad, a great man he is.

Smiling, Beckett teased, “Perish the thought that you’d do something pedestrian, Castle.”

“You wound me, Detective.”

Turning to look down at the gorge Beckett asked, “How do you get to that viewing area?”

“We passed it on the way here. We go back to that other parking lot and the trail starts there.”

Shortly they were at the parking lot at the end of the gorge. They started to walk up the trail when they saw a couple, obviously just married, in their wedding attire. Two other men in tuxes were beside the couple. Two still camera men and a videographer were taking their pictures in front of the lower Taughannock Falls.

“They’re so obviously in love,” Beckett said looking at the happy couple. “You can tell when they look into each other’s eyes. Their body language shows a level of comfort of a couple in love.”

Beckett turned to Castle and looked into his eyes. Anyone with half a brain would look at Beckett and Castle and see the exact same thing.

As she turned away from him, embarrassed, Castle said still looking at Beckett, “Yes, you can.”

They continued down the trail toward the main falls walking close enough to hold hands but not doing so. Their shoulders bumped occasionally but neither minded in the least.

They reached the clearing on the trail where there was a footbridge crossing the river to the viewing area. A couple of photographers were snapping away at the falls. The pair walked the few feet to the end of the trail. A short wall around the viewing area had couples taking each other’s pictures with the falls as a backdrop.

“Beckett,” Castle asked. “Why don’t you sit on the wall and I’ll take your picture.”

Beckett looked at Castle and turned sideways so he could get an almost profile picture of her.

“Could you take one with my phone, too?” Beckett asked as she handed it to him.

Castle stepped back and took another picture of Beckett. He handed it back to her, saying, “Here.”

“Thanks, Castle.”

Castle smiled at her with an understood and unsaid, “You’re welcome.” Then he sat on the wall and breathed in the fresh fall air. The pair sat in silence for a few minutes and then got up.

“Let’s go, Castle,” said Beckett. “I’m hungry.”

They proceeded back to the cruiser and Beckett unlocked the doors. Looking over at her partner, she said, “Thanks, Castle. For showing me these places that are special to you and Alexis.”

Smiling over the hood of the car, Castle answered, “Always.”

A/N: Just a one-shot. I was at both of these falls recently. This story is based on what happened while I visited them. Also, I took the pictures.

[phoenixflames12]

18 and 20 for the writing meme!

For this writers ask meme. Thank you, friend! 

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.

I think that Faith was going to marry Johnny at one point during Vergangenheit?  I abandoned that one pretty quickly after realising what a slob he was (I created him as a character and characterised him that way and I couldn’t stand him!) so created the wonderful Albert instead, who still has a little piece of my heart locked away somewhere. 

During the writing of Finding Home Again, I think I toyed with the chance to kill Richard Sharpe off? That was very, very quickly abandoned, because I don't think I could have gone through the emotional agony of watching Teresa and Antonia deal with it.

Something else that I thought about last summer was an AU of the Finding Home Again ‘verse where Ben’s parents don’t die horribly and Ben doesn’t get adopted by the Moreno-Sharpe’s. He still gets to know Richard and the chosen men through his Dad’s connections with the army, just in a more roundabout way. i still may write something in that ‘verse, just give me until my sister’s wedding is over and I’ve finished my MSc dissertation!

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

Classical references in The Terror, when I’m writing from John Bridgens’ POV. *Cracks knuckles- buckle up everyone *

Diving back into classical references have transported me back to studying Latin and Greek literature (both in the original (thanks Latin GCSE!) and in translation. There are so many classical references in the show anyway, but really drawing those out and making them work for John when Henry’s ill, or comparing the battlefield of France to the burning of Troy during the retreat from Arras in Soldier From The War, Returning  or John to Odysseus feeling lost when he returns to Ithaca was something that just felt appropriate. It heightens the sense of loss and pain and grief that all of my characters feel at some point during my writing and it also works really well for the time period. Xenaphon and Anabasis were core elements of every boy’s education at that point in time, so it would have been known to pretty much everyone (especially the officers, but that’s another rant.)

Just classical references in fanfiction generally. Letting a modern version of storytelling that’s told online call back tropes that were written over 2000 years ago and told and embellished in an oral culture before being written down is just something that makes me so happy. It makes me so happy to reference Homer or Virgil, because as a former Classicist, I know how important their storytelling has been to the development of fiction generally. So much of what we read nowadays is built upon the Classical Epic form, and the three major poems (The Aeneid, The Illiad and The Odyssey) have formed the backbone to so much of our present-day thinking about literature that we don’t even think about now. 

Thank you! 

[correspondencearchive]

5. Naomi Kawanishi Reis & Alex Paik

Naomi Reis and Alex Paik discuss childhood survival mechanisms manifesting in their work, in-between-ness, their labor-intensive practices, and Naomi’s recent body of work which was shown at Transmitter (Brooklyn, NY).

Alex Paik (AP): You’ve been thinking about camouflage in an ongoing series of your work, and it strikes me that this idea of hiding and/or being invisible is central to your work. Now that I think of it, even your work in grad school, which was about these sort of hybrid utopic (or dystopic) architectures had this silence in them. There were no figures and no real record of anyone having lived or living in those imagined spaces, like they were erased or hidden. When you started talking about camouflage in recent years it really was an a-ha moment for me in understanding your work. I’d love to hear your thoughts more on the invisibility of Asians in general in the art world and the ways in which that feeling might be a part of your work.

Naomi Kawanishi Reis (NR): Camouflage was something I started using about eight years ago, in a series called Borrowed Landscape. The series was based on photographs I took in the tropical biomes of conservatory gardens, a take on landscape painting where the “nature” being depicted was a highly curated by-product of Western colonialism. Plants that were highly useful/exploitable/profitable/exotic and beautiful, collected in a place that existed outside of time, secreted away from the effects of weather and death. I translated those photographs onto printed wallpaper, upon which was placed a framed mixed-media painting that replicated a portion of the wallpaper behind it.

Naomi Reis, Borrowed Landscape II (Tropics of Africa, Asia and the Amazon via Brooklyn), 2013. Digital print on vinyl and handcut washi and mylar cutouts in maple frame, 13.5 x 14 feet. Installation view at Susan Inglett Gallery, New York, NY in “American Beauty,” curated by William Villalongo. Photograph by Jason Mandella.

NR: I was thinking about how landscape has been used in image-making throughout history to depict idealized places—like Pure Land paradise in Buddhist mandalas, the Taoist spiritualism of Chinese or Japanese landscape paintings, and the glorification of nature found in Romantic landscape paintings.

The title “Borrowed Landscape” comes from a 7th-century Chinese garden design concept (shakkei=借景,  a technique of “borrowing” the view of a distant scenic element, like a mountain or lake, into the design of the garden), which felt like a fitting title for where we find ourselves today in relation to landscape. Living on borrowed time, on stolen land: ignoring the reality of our responsibilities to the land, the indigenous people it was stolen from, and the debt owed to stolen Black bodies and labor in service of white supremacy. The handmade framed painting, I suppose, is a stand-in for us as immigrant settlers on this land here in America; we’ve camouflaged ourselves into our surroundings to fit in, to survive. The land we are attempting to fit into, is itself “borrowed” (aka stolen).  

These choices weren’t made consciously when I started the series; it’s only now eight years in that I’m beginning to understand the why, and finding the words to explain it. As a diasporic, racialized person both in America as well as in Japan, I’ve needed to navigate complex social and racial situations. My father’s side of the family is white and doesn’t speak Japanese, so as a kid I knew that in order to survive and be “liked” by that side, or maybe even just to be understood, I needed to downplay my otherness and be as “normal,” aka white English-speaking, to them as possible. Conversely, my mom’s side of the family is Japanese and doesn’t speak English, so to them I needed to be as Japanese as possible. Of course as a kid you get a pass to a degree and are loved anyways, but I do remember this feeling of anxiousness, that my survival and ability to be loved and cared for depended on this ability to code-switch.

Being the oldest in a family of three siblings, and because my experience was so different from my parents’ monocultural upbringing (Japanese in rural Japan for my mom, white American in suburban NJ for my dad), code-switching was an essential survival tool. Kids instinctively figure out how to protect themselves at a very young age, even before they learn how to express themselves verbally. Immigrants adapt similar survival tactics, the art of blending in. Though “blending in” is a way to survive, it also is an act of self erasure. How to survive, while not annihilating yourself in the process? You camouflage.

The reason for the absence of figures in my work probably comes from feeling absent from my own narrative, feeling a bit unmoored from belonging to any one culture. I didn't see myself being reflected in the context of mainstream Japan or in America or anywhere except for maybe sci-fi or fantasy. Growing up I often felt like a ghost, like I didn’t exist in the real world. While I had learned how to integrate enough to survive, as I was getting up to speed with my fluency and literacy in English and Japanese while going back and forth between the U.S. and Japan, I often felt I was on the sidelines watching other people live their lives and not feeling comfortable enough to fully participate. When my family moved from Ithaca, NY to Kyoto in the ’80s when I was 9 for my dad’s teaching job at a Japanese university, I was often called 外人=outside person by strangers on the street. As a sensitive kid, I internalized that othering a lot.

The architectural work I was making in grad school was a kind of perverse take on modernist architecture, multiplying and ornamenting the hell out of the piloti and flat roofs of the International Style, a style that aimed to strip all ornamentation and color to become a “pure” architecture. The absence of figures became like the blank-slate of a dollhouse, a place I could imagine roaming around in.

Naomi Reis, Vertical Garden (weeds), 2007. Hand-cut ink and acrylic drawings on mylar, 53 x 45 inches. Photograph by Etienne Frossard.

AP: I can relate so much to this, being the first-born child of immigrants. It is interesting to think about these survival mechanisms in relationship to our work. I have been reflecting recently on my site-responsive installations, how they adapt and change depending on the size, time, and location of the piece, and how this is a metaphor for how one can rearrange the parts of the self depending on the social context. Code-switching would be one aspect of this. One of the feelings I remember most from childhood, perhaps because of moving a lot as a kid, perhaps because of being Korean-American and not quite feeling Korean or American, is that of constantly feeling like I need to assess the room and adapt to it. So while you are drawn to the idea of hiding/camouflage in your work, I am drawn to the idea of constantly adapting and rearranging the different components of the self. Two sides of the same coin I guess.

NR: Ah that’s interesting. Your strategy is to go on defense, which maybe is connected to your training in martial arts, and your attraction to building communities like TSA, whereas mine is an introvert’s tendency to self-isolate, to find a way to take up space while remaining hidden—yang vs yin.

To return to your question about why work made by Asian artists seems hidden behind some kind of invisibility cloak: that’s a reflection of where we’re at culturally in America generally. Asian stories remain largely unknown; they are insufficiently featured in mainstream media and curricula, so Asians have largely remained the consummate “other” whose experience is hidden and therefore not relatable to many Americans on a heart, gut level. White America tends to project an expectation of whiteness onto others, so when your actions or motives aren't matched in a way that’s relatable to a white audience, you confuse expectations and can be seen as an unknowable other that’s doing things wrong or badly. When you are seen as an other, it makes you vulnerable to either being too too visible—a target that needs to be taken down for taking up space that we don’t deserve, as we’ve seen play out recently in the attacks against Asians in America—or not relatable/relevant and therefore invisible, an easy target for cultural appropriation or the butt of a joke.

American culture likes extremes. Black or white, good or bad, democrat or republican, man or woman. Personally I feel most comfortable in the in-between, where everything is still in the process of forming, and reforming. Queer spaces. Because they encompass, in theory, all shades of ambiguity. Going back to the idea of binary space, people tend to be attracted to things that either remind them of themselves, or on the opposite extreme, that provide a projected escape into the exotic “other.” In movies you often see Asian-ness as an alienating backdrop to heighten tension for the central white characters you are meant to identify with: Asian bodies as embodiment of a dystopian future (both Bladerunner movies, Artificial Intelligence, Minority Report); as nonsensical foreigners in their own country (Lost in Translation); as hapless natives who need saving (Last Samurai).

AP: What aspects of your work do you see as talking about the in-between?

NR: My work is maybe less aiming to talk “about” the in-between, and more just wanting to “be” in the in-between. The process of making “it,” whatever “it” ends up being—is itself what creates the space and time to occupy an in-between—a wordless space that exists for the interval while engaged in the act of making.  The 間 space: a Japanese word that refers to the in-between, both spatially and temporally. This is the space in which all artists work, falling into that pocket of space-time where things are in flux.

It’s a way to give yourself permission to inhabit space—”to be” without having to translate that state of being into a binary (English/not-English; American/not American; male/female; young/old). Even now, writing this out, and to you, Alex, I am inhabiting my English-speaking self who is translating the self into a form that is legible to an English-speaker. Talking to my mom, I am inhabiting my Japanese-speaking self and all the historical cultural gendered background that goes into being that particular self. Talking to my siblings or bilingual friends, fluidly switching between English and Japanese, is a way to occupy the in-between for that interval of time, then returning to the binary world of everyday life. Didactically speaking, I suppose my work is “in-between'' in that it is kind of painting, kind of drawing, kind of collage, kind of abstract, kind of representational, kind of naive, kind of sophisticated. Kind of American? Kind of Japanese? Kind of good? Kind of bad? A physical thing that takes up space, and that space can encompass all the ambiguous in-between mushy-ness.

I didn’t feel able to pursue being an artist until I was in my mid-20s. I had a lot of shame about not being good enough, of not deserving to do it. Still do. I hadn’t gone to art school, and wasn’t encouraged to be a creative person by society or parentally. It was something I wasn’t open about, I drew and painted alone in the privacy of my room. So by the time I was in my mid-20s and realized working a normal job was killing me (I was a human resources representative at the NY office of a Japanese printing company), and that I really had to give artmaking a go, I didn’t know what I was doing.

At the time, I was fascinated by architecture. The idea that you could take a philosophy, a belief system, and turn it into a permanent structure that’s inhabitable, that can last for centuries. Maybe that fascination came from growing up in Kyoto around buildings that had been around for 1,200+ years. So when I started in the MFA program at Penn Design and was making architectural sketches in 3D-modeling programs, it came from a feeling of: if I can imagine an inhabitable place within which I can exist, I can open up a non-binary space to work within. Anytime I can overcome my inner demons or lack of talent or confidence or imposter syndrome, etc. long enough to crack open some space and just make the work, that’s a victory. Generally, in the year ahead I want to make work that comes from a place of joy. Worrying less about how my work fits in, and just focussing on creating the conditions within which I can feel more exuberant, and free. When you allow those conditions for yourself, I think you can do the same for others.  

AP: Another exciting thing about your work is how it is busting out of the rectangle more! Obviously I am all about that :) Can you talk more about how that happened and how you are thinking about it?

NR: Ha! I think it comes from a desire to to be more joyful, bust out of the seams, take up more space. Allow for messiness, draw outside the lines. I want to make more space for weirdness. It must come from a desire to push against the narrowly-defined rules for acceptable female behavior that I grew up with in Japan, and the kind of bubbling rage I felt for the myriad of ways women and their bodies are policed, undermined, silenced, and funneled into serving a capitalist nationalist patriarchal system, where the myth of ethnic/racial purity is perpetuated through the education system. Harm and denial begets harm and denial, and I wanted to get out and find a different way.

AP: I love the idea of the work taking up more space than it is given. It goes back to the idea you talked about earlier of becoming an artist to create a space that didn’t exist for you previously, and of pushing against/beyond essentialist and reductive readings of art based on identity.

NR: How about you, Alex? I’ve always sensed there’s a reticence in you to talk more directly about what your work is about, to not allow yourself that level of vulnerability. For example, sometimes you refer to your time in the studio as being boring repetitive labor, and I was wondering if there might be a connection there between the type of labor involved with the work your parent’s did as owners of a dry-cleaning business. Can aspects of your work be seen as a kind of penance, or perhaps tribute, to the kind of labor that was available to Asian immigrants when you were growing up? You are the artist, so you get to dictate the terms. Why limit yourself to a mode of making that you say is repetitive and boring? Maybe there’s something important there in that repetition and boredom that you are committed to, and I want to know what it is, and why. What do you want and dream about for your work?

AP: I am becoming more comfortable with it recently. While I hesitate to draw a direct connection between the type of menial labor that my parents did and the type of work I am making, I do think that my upbringing shaped my personality and interests for sure. Seeing them work so hard and feeling the pressures of being the first-born (pressures stemming from my parents, from Korean culture, my own guilt in wanting to honor their work, my own internalized capitalism) definitely has instilled an appreciation for labor. I have always been drawn to things that require discipline and repetition—classical music, martial arts, cutting strips of paper over and over again.

I was thinking about my work through a very narrow lens for a long time, trying to keep it in the lane and lineage of the art history I was taught. Once I opened up my thinking about my work as an extension of the totality of my life experience and interests including but not limited to my Korean-American identity, it allowed me to see things in my work and myself that I hadn’t been willing to explore. That being said, I am hesitant to make my work only or primarily about my racial identity. I feel a lot of external and internal pressure that I am supposed to be making work about my racial identity.

Your work is also very labor intensive. Can you talk about how you think about that in your studio practice?

NR: I think it goes back to the in-between space, to the relief I get when I release into the labor of work; there I am temporarily free from the anxiety of not-belonging. So the more labor intensive it is, the more I get to be free. In the past several years I also have been spending more time trying to heal: learning how to meditate, and in various forms of therapy like EMDR and somatic experiencing. A healer I’ve worked with who specializes in somatic experiencing mentioned that a lot of people who’ve experienced trauma engage in repetitive labor, that there is release and relief, a self-soothing, in that labor. It makes me nervous to think that the labor-intensive nature of my work can be explained away as a form of self-medication, but on some level the creative impulse always comes from some kind of unnameable necessity.

AP: It’s such a gift to been friends with you for over 15 years and also to have  seen your work grow for that long. It’s exciting to see a lot of these ideas coming together in your most recent body of work that you showed at Transmitter. Can you tell me more about this recent series?

Naomi Reis, 71229 (9:17), 2021. Acrylic on washi paper and mylar cutouts, 93H x 55W inches. Photograph by Carl Gunhouse

NR: In my most recent work, I worked off of photographs my mom has been sharing of her flower arrangements on our family group chat, which is the primary way we all keep in touch (my mom, brother, and his family are in Japan, and me and my sister and her family are in NY). My siblings post photos of their young kids, I post photos of my work, and my mom posts photos of her cooking and flower arrangements. Photos of the domestic realm. This new series is an attempt to bridge the ruptures that distance can bring: geographical, generational, and cultural/philosophical. There’s definitely a lot of tension in our different ways of thinking about gender roles, so the thought was to translate those gaps of expectation into a form that heals and transforms, through the labor and care that goes into the process of making. Maybe this work is my version of a quilt or weaving piece—a labor-intensive process that is meditative, with all the analogies and histories of weaving, knitting together, mending—embedded within.

Naomi Reis, 111119 (90˚W), 2021. Acrylic on washi paper and mylar cutouts, 48H x 37W inches. Photograph by Paul Takeuchi

Born in Shiga, Japan, Naomi Kawanishi Reis makes mixed-media paintings and wall pieces that focus on idealized spaces such as utopian architecture, conservatory gardens, and still life. She has had solo exhibitions at Youkobo Art Space, (Tokyo) and Mixed Greens, NY; she has also exhibited at Brooklyn Academy of Music and Wave Hill. In 2018 she received a Joan Mitchell Foundation Painters & Sculptors Grant, and in 2015 was a NYFA Finalist in Painting. Residencies that have supported her work include Yaddo and Robert Blackburn Printmaking Workshop. Reis also is a Japanese to English translator; recent publications include the chef's monograph “monk: Light and Shadow along the Philosopher’s Path” (Phaidon Press, 2021). She received an MFA from the University of Pennsylvania, and a BA in Transcultural Identity from Hamilton College.

www.naomireis.com @naomikawanishireis

Alex Paik is an artist living and working in Los Angeles. His modular, paper-based wall installations explore perception, interdependence, and improvisation within structure while engaging with the complexities of social dynamics. He has exhibited in the U.S. and internationally, with notable solo projects at Praxis New York, Art on Paper 2016, and Gallery Joe. His work has also been featured in group exhibitions at BravinLee Projects, Lesley Heller Workspace, and MONO Practice, among others.

Paik is Founder and Director of Tiger Strikes Asteroid, a non-profit network of artist-run spaces and serves on the Advisory Board at Trestle Gallery, where he formerly worked as Gallery Director.

www.alexpaik.com @alexpaik

[brewyork]

Thoughts on a thousand breweries

You never forget your first brewery. I was 21 and working in radio sales at the time, and my boss at the time took me out for a liquid lunch at Empire Brewing Company’s brewpub in downtown Syracuse, New York to celebrate a sale I had just closed. I took interest in his suggestion, since I had recently discovered craft beer from Saranac and Ithaca that was enjoyable and flavorful — I had graduated from the Labatt Blue and Natty Light I usually had at college parties. It was my first time drinking fresh beer at the source, and it set me on the adventure I’m on to this day.

According to the Brewers Association, over 4,500 breweries have opened since I visited my first, so the options grow larger and larger. Many cities that had a lone brewpub in 2003 now boast of dozens of breweries, each offering a unique beer lineup and taproom experience. There are plenty that mimic the most successful breweries, but no two experiences are the same.

There’s Brooklyn Brewery (#3), where I recall having my first barleywine, Monster Ale, in 2003. Since then, they’ve grown from a local brand to a global name in beer, drawing in visitors from all over the world (particularly Scandinavia, where they’re practically ubiquitous with craft beer). But their taproom experience is largely the same as it was then, because it works.

Many of the old breed of breweries who opened in the 1990s craft beer wave and chose to stay small stick with the same taproom formula today. Lucky Labrador’s Hawthorne brewpub in Portland, Oregon (#37) is much the same today as when I first visited nearly a decade ago. While brewers and approaches have changed at San Francisco’s Thirsty Bear (#9), the ambiance is largely the same as during my first visit in 2005. Colorado brewpubs like CooperSmiths’ Pub & Brewing (#23), Wynkoop (#25), and Bull & Bush (#26) were still familiar on recent visits, still sticking to some of the same beer formulas as they did when I first visited ten years ago.

But more common these days as the massive expansions of once-small breweries that mirrored the rapid growth in craft beer in the past few years. There’s Surly (#314), where even in three short years they’ve grown into the massive facility they moved into in Minneapolis, Minnesota, adding a dozen fermentation tanks and a world-class restaurant. There’s 21st Amendment (#8), whose small San Francisco brewpub is now accompanied by a cavernous production brewery (#579) across the bay in San Leandro. Breweries like Greenport Harbor Brewing Company (#73), Revolution Brewing (#100) and Nebraska Brewing Company (#112) are just a few I’ve visited that have added large production facilities, often increasing the amount of beer they make by factors of ten. The growth feels unstoppable.

But for every brewery that’s expanded, there’s many more that want to stay small and true to their roots. Oxbow Brewing Company (#393) added a blendery in Portland, Maine, but still brews their beer in the woods of Newcastle, Maine. Many breweries have chosen the route of staying small and local, even in the face of popularity. That’s likely the only way the industry’s recent rapid growth will be sustainable.

A more recent trend in my travels is the birth of the cult brewery. An early example, Hill Farmstead (#96), sent beer geeks into a tizzy as Shaun Hill started making beautiful esoteric beers in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont, drawing crowds to a barn miles away from cell phone reception. Not far away, The Alchemist (#13) has grown out of its brewpub after wild reception for its Heady Topper Double IPA set the bar for Hazy IPAs, a style that drove most of this trend. Now, Trillium Brewing in Boston (#289), Tilted Barn in Exeter, Rhode Island (#375), Bissell Brothers in Portland, Maine (#388), and Tree House in Charlton, Massachusetts (#958) draw hours-long lines for beer releases, to the point that I often find myself avoiding them (unsurprisingly, that’s the reason Tree House is so late on the list). Personally, I prefer the more civilized environment of sitting down to drink a beer, striking up conversation with the bartender or the drinkers around me.

Heck, I could even do that at Cantillon (#646) in Brussels, Belgium, a brewery that has a similar cult-like following among Americans for its amazing Lambics. Naturally, nearly everyone I drank with in their small tasting room had ties to the US — an indication of how craft beer culture has enlightened Americans to great beer. We’re not just exporting our beer geeks, though. American beer culture has infiltrated Europe’s cities in both the styles of beer produced and the taproom culture. Brussels Beer Project (#647) stands in stark contrast to Belgium’s long-standing beer culture, pouring hoppy IPAs in a polished taproom. Nya Carnegiebryggeriet (#263) in Stockholm was Brooklyn’s first foray into Europe, brewing with the same house yeast used stateside. Fourpure (#401) in London and Magic Rock (#833) in Huddersfield are breaking with English beer tradition and pouring hop-forward, higher alcohol brews in taprooms that wouldn’t feel out of place in a suburban Seattle industrial park. Geisinger Brau (#667) in Munich may stick to German brewing traditions, but its branding and taproom would seem familiar to American beer drinkers.

Speaking of traditions, some European beer drinkers would probably argue American beer traditions are rooted in cheap, light beers. I am not above visiting the large, corporate American breweries, and I find their long histories and growth patterns fascinating. It’s helpful, in that respect, that Coors (#10) and Miller (#85) are as much museums as breweries for visitors. I’ve never visited an Anheuser-Busch facility where Budweiser is made, but the company’s buying spree resulted in visits to several breweries acquired by the company before their sale, including Blue Point (#68), Devil’s Backbone (#60), Golden Road (#172), Camden Town (#406), Elysian (#42), Wicked Weed (#207), and Four Peaks (#20). I visited both breweries in the US purchased by Constellation Brands prior to their sale: Ballast Point (#276) and Funky Buddha (#500). Two breweries I visited later took up Heineken on offers of investment, Lagunitas (#221) and Brixton (#939), the latter occurring just this week. Even with signs that some of these buying sprees are dying down, there’s likely more on my list that will see outside investment.

There’s also the possibility some will close. That’s already been the fate of 20 breweries on my list, there would probably be many more if I had been of drinking age in the 1990s. 2% is a pretty record, but over three-quarters of New York City’s 1990s-era brewpubs closed by 2002, leaving the city with hardly enough breweries to count on one hand until 2011. Now, the city boasts 35 breweries, with more to come. It’s hard to tell what the future holds.

In the meantime, I’ll visit brewery #1,000 on Saturday: Jester King in Austin, Texas, and will still only be able to claim I’ve visited one of every six breweries in the US. I’ve got a lot of hard work to do.

[noheroes-allowed]

boston baby

aka I’m a dumbass

I literally deleted all the text of my old post bc I’m a fucking idiot. so now my idiocy stems from not only my inability to stop liking this boy but also my fucking incapability of navigating this site. and my stubbornness in having this post to look back on so I have to write it again which sucks bc I spent like 3 days on the last one. again --- I hate that I put so much weight on our interactions. I hate that I have this need to remember it all. I remember in freshman year when I liked this guy I wrote little clues to myself and I was sure I would remember them. and I liked that it was something I knew but no one else could really guess if they just saw single, independently floating words. but I looked back on them last fall and I had no idea what half of them were. I suppose it’s a good sign that I’ve officially moved on, no ache in my heart that I couldn’t remember, only a little nostalgia. and then when I found the clues I wrote in my notes app about keith from the first segc social I went to in like 2018, I didn't know what was going on either. in this case, it’s purely from bad memory. although I did write down that his favorite candy was sweet tarts, which he mentioned again this trip. I’m sure at one point in my life I will look back on this with only nostalgia and sentimentality and appreciate how much I’ve grown since the time of me writing this, at least I hope so. but for now, I know I want to remember these days. not just bc of my horrendously irrational crush on keith, but bc this trip was really fun. it might be the highlight of my semester. and at the end of it all, I did grow closer to these people and one individual in particular. even though I doubt he would like me back, at the end of the day, I still really enjoy his company and knowing more about him even in the friend capacity. so this is my completely rational justification, and I will try not to feel bad about myself.

I looked back on an unsent letter I wrote about him over winter break just now. it’s crazy how much closer we are now than we were just two months ago. a lot of the content was actually about how I wish I could get to know him more. to hear his laugh and see his smile, listen to his stories and adventures. to know more about him and for him to want to know more about me. it’s amazing. I actually got to do exactly that this weekend. 

there were so many little moments I appreciate and don’t want to forget. when he picked me up, he said something in the car that I couldn’t hear bc I was outside. but I think it was something like ‘do you want to sit in the front.’ but my mind was so set on sitting shotgun that I went for the door and when I asked him what he said he said he just couldn’t get the door open since it was locked the first time I tried. we were talking about behavioral econ since class was cancelled and serena asked me if I liked it and I said that I had been wanting to take it since applying to colleges. keith was surprised. and he said how he didn’t know why he picked the 9am discussion. and I said he could always go to a later one. but then he was like no it’s too late bc jaja is in it and you’re in it. even though jaja never shows up to class. ‘do you want to help me navigate?’ when we left Ithaca, maxwell and I were talking about Iceland, and I said all I wanted to do was see the northern lights. maxwell wanted to go snorkeling. then when everyone started doing their work since our car was deemed the work car, he turned to me and ‘tell me a story.’ literally I lit up inside when he said that bc he wanted to hear about me, and he never reciprocated back this question when I asked him the few times before our trip, and the specific wording bc that’s exactly how I ask him. everyone loves talking about themselves, even me. and I thought making the story-sharing a thing would make him happy since he could think back on some memories and I could learn more about him. it’s a win-win really.  

we talked about maryland a lot. I think the first story I told was in 8th grade when we went to a museum in dc and we ran into neil patrick harris and our grade bothered him so much that he left. and then we got onto the topic of field trips and going to st. mary’s to learn about colonies. he thought it was weird that I took the school bus to school bc he only ever rode buses on trips. we talked about the aquarium and the science center and crabs and ocean city beach trips and just md. stupidly it made me appreciate md more.

anyway I told him about the trips I went on in high school, and how I slipped in the rain in disney and fucked up my elbow for weeks afterwards, and getting to see the backstage of the parks, and having to drive all the way there and sleeping on the bus, and how we went to london and nola. he asked me who I spent most of my time with in marching band. I asked him about his trips. his school took so many camping and hiking trips with everyone in the grade and that’s when he would pull his pranks. they went out to the eastern shore of maryland once and camped out in the grass next to the sand to learn about biomes. and this guy brought a hoverboard even though no electronics were allowed. and they started building a trench in the sand for no reason. he asked me if I ever had gone camping. I told him I camped on a beach in china when I was 12. and that my family used to go every year until my brother was born. apparently on another school trip two seventh graders were making out next to everyone sleeping bc they didn't even separate the boys and the girls. he said one time his friends and him ate really greasy foods and a milkshake from dq and he felt really gross afterwards. 

we talked about books too, like what we read as kids. and I asked him about all the books I read in high school. he read hamlet and the great gatsby and tried to read pride and prejudice and not frankenstein and not the crucible. he watched the lion king in class too after hamlet. I told him I cried, and during the great gatsby, and was haunted by the clip from the crucible where everyone gets hung. he made a reference to percy jackson I didn't understand. I asked him his favorite movie but he didn't know. mine is beautiful boy. he said he saw little women but I wanna read it first. also we talked about friends and how I grew up with it and it would be on the same time as hannah montana at 7:30. he said he watched a lot of hannah but not actually bc of his sisters since they were a bit older than the target audience so I guess he just watched it bc he wanted to? also I said drake and josh was the only children’s sitcom my dad would watch bc it was funny to him too. it reminds me of when we were at mango mango and he pointed out the mangoes and said they reminded him of the pear ipads from icarly and victorious.

we stopped at Panera and he didn’t get the sandwich I recommended. he got a plain turkey sandwich instead, but mine was literally the same except it had really good bread. when we were waiting for maxwell to figure out the drink machine, a jeremy song came on and I said I went to his concert in philly and got the sweatshirt I was wearing from there. he said it was a sign. during lunch annie brought up coronavirus and how a girl got back from abroad and went to mixers. and they talked about traveling in europe. keith said he had family he visited in some European country that I don't remember at this point, and that his most recent immigrant was one of his grandfathers. I wonder what his parents look like. on our way out I asked if we could go to petco and he said for a few minutes. and we got to see lizards and snakes and geckos and gerbils and birds. and then on our way out I said ‘omg a turtle’ really loudly and he turned around and smiled. later I asked him if he had any pets and he said he used to have a dog. he asked me and I said I didn't. he said it seemed like I really want one though. his sister is a vet and the other works for a pet store company. 

we talked about college and how well our semesters have gone. he said his freshman year was rough and he didn't feel like himself and was lazy sophomore year and didn't have good friends until sophomore spring I think. and that cornell was good for him bc he’d grown up in such a small school his entire life and he needed the change. I feel like I would’ve felt a greater sense of belonging if I went to a liberal arts school just bc of its size. he liked 4th and 8th and this year. I liked 3rd 6th 9th and freshman year and this year. he was surprised that I liked them for meeting new people, but I think it has to do with the fact that I met a lot of people in those years who I grew to really care about. even though trying to meet people in that time was hard. and freshman year was just really transformative for my growth. ‘wait tell me more about umd.’ I kept it vague and told him how I was a nerd and was really scared about grades and went to office hours and studied a lot. we stopped at a gas station then so the topic kind of died down. he left the door open for a few minutes after getting out then popped his head back, ‘sorry about that’, and we were all confused but it was just him apologizing for the cold getting in. there was a convenience store inside and his favorite candy is sweet tarts. I liked kit kats a lot, and he does too but he eats them too quickly. I pointed out the cookies and crème, which he’s never had before, but I mentioned that I gave him the option last Halloween when I had candy from work. 

he asked me to put on music but I was scared I would get judged for my music taste and we didn’t have an aux cord and he said we should get one at a rest stop but we never ended up doing that. we turned on the radio and it felt like such an early 2010s thing to do, and I mentioned in middle school there were only two radio stations people listened to. ‘wait name them.’ and he fucking knew 106.5 and 104.3 and gosh. when he said ‘wait we have so much in common’ with that damn smile. I know he was just talking about common experiences we’ve had just living somewhat close to each other, but what initially drew me to him was that we have the same major and both came from md. I always felt a stronger connection to him and I feel like he appreciated our similarities too. it was so fun bc I associate all those md things with people from high school but to have this in common with a friend from college is just so surreal. it’s like two worlds colliding in a wonderful way. 

there were moments when I felt like it was just us, away from segc and just traveling together. when he asked me to look at the Airbnb info. when he asked me to find parking for him bc he’s never parallel parked. but that one time when everyone was in the car and he did it perfectly and everyone cheered. memorizing where our car was. his smile when I would anticipate what he needed and tell him I already have a parking lot set in maps as our destination. when he gave me his wallet to pay the toll. when I left that note in the car bc we were blocking other people. when the windows fogged up and I had to check if he could merge. and when we had to both roll down the window bc the ac was broken. when I checked to make sure he parked between the lines. when everyone else was rushing off to dinner and we stayed behind to make sure we didn't have to pay for parking. and then the next day figuring out the machine. and figuring out the rates. and paying for our parking in the lobby. when he couldn’t get the card in and asked me to try. and in the morning too. when we woke up before everyone else. and I was still in bed working and he was surprised to see me awake and dabbed bc we were talking about that in the car. and just ‘can I use your room’ ‘can I take a shower’ ‘I’m gonna brush my teeth’ ‘wait can I pee first’. cleaning up the Airbnb and stripping the sheets and throwing everything out and taking out the trash and setting the coffee table back and arranging the couch pillows. ‘can I put this here for a second’ when he left his jacket in my room just when he was in the bathroom. but the second night he kept it there for hours. I loved it when we were just talking on our own too. like on the road when he pointed out the baseball and basketball hall of fame and the chesapeake watershed. when he tricked me by calling a random stream the susquehanna, then ‘it’s the susquehanna’ ‘really?’ ‘oh idk’ when I got him back, and then joking that the river we were crossing by harvard was it too, but we actually saw it on the way back. and in the kitchen when he dropped the clif bar wrapper and I said his name in a disappointing way so when we were cleaning up he joked and said we gotta make sure there were no more wrappers lying around. ‘I’m going to go into that room for a while.’ I gave him a weird look so he explained he was gonna do push-ups and didn't want to fall behind and put his finger on his lips. and when I told him I was meeting a friend sunday morning with just us in the kitchen, he said he was jealous. I think bc he wanted to see his best friend from brown. this shit seems miniscule and dumb but. idk it just made me feel happy and light and dumb inside.  

edit 3/21: I’m finally back to finish this post, hopefully. it’s definitely been a weird past week, and so much has changed since the boston trip that I’ve been reluctant to come back and finish this bc of how different I feel compared to how “happy and light and dumb inside” I was a mere two weeks ago. life is definitely weird now. and I didn’t want to taint this post with that. but I think inevitably I am less excited and happy about this trip and probably forgot some the small things. but I needed to finish this eventually, so here I am.

on our way there, I asked him if he was close to his high school friends. and he said he saw a bunch of people last summer. and his friend like inspired him a bit bc he acts with no shame in that he won’t let small doubts hold him back. and that made him want to reach out to hs people. and I said I wanted to talk to some people from home but it was hard bc I didn’t know if they’d want to talk to me too, but then ‘would you be happy if they reached out to you?’ ‘it’s not the same.’ I asked him about his segc application and the issue he talked about. he talked about racism and his perspective. the radio said south by southwest was cancelled, our speaker that week was on the board for the event. the radio also talked about virus cases in boston on our way there. also on our way into the city the second day, there was a sign that said something like ‘caution’ ‘coronavirus cases’ or something and he said it felt like we were in the beginning of an apocalyptic movie. 

when we got to the Airbnb, the others spent literally two hours trying to find a dinner place for us. but we were just chilling. he complimented my shoes. and said butterflies when I was doing stretches on the ground. we went to get water from the kitchen and he got some from the tap but I found a water filter in one of the cabinets and pointed it out to him. ‘oh it tastes fine though’ but I needed it for me. ‘oh that was selfish of me.’ and then ‘lucy what’s your fourth favorite day at cornell’ but we were back in the living room. and he corrected himself to ‘well everyone’ but it was directed at me. and he was asking me. and it made me feel special. in the car he asked me my fourth favorite year and I think that’s how we started talking about umd, and fourth favorite ice cream. his number one is chocolate. at dinner, we were at the thai place and he got chicken curry but ‘why don’t you try something new.’ he said it was too risky given how spicy the menu was and how hungry he was at the moment. he mentioned the md state fair bc annie talked about the ny state fair. and seriously. I fucking need to know if the timonium state fair grounds are legit state fair grounds. like is the fair actually a state fair or do they just call themselves that. omfg I’ve been wondering this for years and I need answers. on our way to dinner, my shoe came untied and I said I could catch up but he waited for me anyway. and as we were jogging he was like ‘remember disney’ bc I told him I fell. we saw a bunch of bunnies in the yards of the houses and I said watership down kinda traumatized me. he said his sister had to read or watch (?) it but he didn’t but he knew it was gruesome. after dinner though we all walked to the tower. that we saw in the distance while we were driving and walking to the restaurant. but it just ended being an academic building with a weird tower top. and it started snowing and was extremely cold. and maxwell told this story about how his brakes got cut on his bike.

after dinner we got back and they were figuring out a movie to watch on netflix. and couldn’t decide so I suggested the office s5 ep14 bc stress relief is iconic. and it made me happy that everyone was enjoying the episode. divya was like ‘keith and lucy look like you’re having fun’ bc we were both sitting on the ground I guess in her like camera’s direction? idk. I thought it was weird she pointed out us two specifically. bc before she asked him how the car ride went and he said everyone was doing work. and she was like wait what so what did you do. ‘I talked to lucy a lot actually.’ ‘oh what’d you guys talk about.’ but he had to fix the car parking and then she asked me from across the room in front of everyone what we talked about. also at dinner saturday she sat down and then literally changed seats to sit next to him. and also ‘shivani, we should visit dc over spring break.’ right after he said he was gonna do a 10k there. it’s a little sus is all. they played some card games after the episodes but I took a shower instead. I think keith and mahdia were partners. after they played I was standing in the living room and everyone was figuring out the sleeping situation and he tapped me on my shoulder. but he kinda messed up bc he tried to trick me but he tapped the wrong one bc he overthought it. 

lucy take your pick, are we there yet, ice cream cake, diners, tufts, 75 state st section 3k, green tea latte, lucy is so funny, magnet, pics in the comic store, questions to ask, salt water taffy, waiting for us by the elevator, crocs store, circle push door???, vineyard vines, bookstore, racing up the stairs, printable stories, ideal Friday night, lucy just takes shotgun, parking for harvard, stopping in pokeworks, looking back at me, the moon and the sun, you know what you need to do, can you get us home, keith st, what’s new, tell me how this morning went, how’d it go, i’m glad you got to go, band and art and classes and sports, my brother, never being at whole foods before, are there tongs, md grocery stores, my phone is messed up, fucking up on the highway, clif bar flavors, first crush, dating, umd, dances and prom, parties, selfie, canoe trip, ipods and mp3 and ds and psp, being dropped off last, his dorky ok, great Gatsby soundtrack, it doesn't really come up in conversation