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brain-amoeba · 4 years ago

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I already get a good vibe from your profile oh my god- could I have narancia trying to tell his crush he likes her thank you ❤

hello! thank you so much, i’m so happy that I've passed the vibe check!! here's some orange juice for you! i based this off the song bombastic love by britney spears, so read the lyrics or give it a listen!

bombastic love . (narancia confessing to a fem crush)

narancia was always a late sleeper, usually the last of bucciarati’s gang to dredge his way out of the bedroom while still wiping the sleep from his eyes. when he started waking up later and later, though his dedicated capo started to worry.

“narancia--” bruno set a firm hand on his shoulder, causing the shorter man to jump before facing his superior. “b-bruno! is something wrong?” he asked, doing his best to sound alert and awake, despite having barely woken up but a few minutes prior. “narancia, i know you like to sleep, but you’re mistaken if you don’t think i haven’t noticed you waking up later each day. i’m sure you--”

“bruno, it’s okay, i’ve just, uh, been heading to bed a little late these days. and i know, i know, go to bed sooner. don’t worry, bruno! i’ll be up and at ‘em tomorrow for sure.” narancia interrupted, not giving bucciarati the slightest chance to lecture him for something he just wouldn’t understand. bruno furrowed his brow, giving narancia a warning glare before walking off with a sigh.

no, of course he doesn’t understand, because bruno’s not the one seeing visions of you taking his hand while lying under the stars in his sleep, no. bruno’s not the one dreaming of you cupping his cheeks before going in for a kiss, whispering sweet nothings he would do his damndest to remember throughout the day. of course he doesn’t understand, so narancia gave him the most half-assed excuse he could understand--get off my back.

when it came to you, narancia had only thought of you as a friend, a damn good one at that. you two had amazing chemistry on the battlefront; it was almost as if your stands were tied to each other by the red string of fate. he wasn’t the only one who took notice of that of course. hell, even bruno would be impressed by how well the two of you worked together which is why he started partnering you up on missions more and more. narancia hadn’t really realized, though, that the more time he spent with you--learning about your favorite color all the way to how you ended up alongside him in passione--he developed feelings for you. he simply brushed it off as the fact that since he worked with you the most, you became his closest confidant.

his subconscious was desperately trying to get a hold of him, trying to make him realize not to compromise his true feelings, the fact that he and you should be--

“nara!!” you eagerly bounded up to him, greeting him with the bright smile he loved so much. “o-oh, y/n! what are you up to?” the faint blush on his cheeks deepened the longer he looked at you. your voice lingered in his head, and for the first time since meeting you, narancia felt nervous around you. why? why now?

“up to finding you, sleepyhead! i just got this from bucciarati-” you waved a manila folder in front of him which ended up snapping him back from his thoughts--all of you, of course. “oh! what’s this?” you gave him an exasperated look as you landed a playful punch to his chest. “all that sleeping is turning your brain to mush, nara. what else do you think it is?” you waved the folder around again, this time a little too wildly, and its contents fell to the floor with an almost inaudible thump. instinctively, both you and narancia dove for the papers; however, when both of your hands met, he mindlessly entangled his digits with your own smaller ones. “n-nara, it’s okay, i got it--”

“OH, Y/N, I,” he coughed, trying to calm the rising panic in his voice, “I, uh, didn’t even realize i did that! d-don’t worry about the papers, i-i got it.” his lean figure visibly trembled as he quickly gathered the folder messily, clutching it tightly before his chest to keep the slipping papers from falling once more. “narancia, are you alright?” you asked, noticing the flush coloring his cheeks and the sheen of sweat accruing at his brow. the soft pads of your fingers ghosted along his arm and made all the hairs on hid body stand on end. “y-yes! yes, y/n, i’m fine! don’t worry about me, just a little, uh, sleepy.”

you blinked at him while trying you hardest not to break into a fit of laughter. “narancia...you’re sleepy?!” narancia took a step back, now holding the folder with two hands. “uh, yeah, i think im g-gonna go splash some cold water on my face,” he took a few steps in the other direction before spinning right back around again, “oh, right! y/n, don’t you need this folder?”

you barely had a second to even register all that transpired within the last 5 minutes, the sight of the folder being thrust back in your direction snapping you back with a start. “ah, n-no, actually, nara, bruno told me to give it to you. he told me there was something in there he wanted you to get a chance to look over before i did...something about needing you to devise a plan on your own so you can start taking the lead a little more, i dunno.” you shrugged, giving him an awkward smile before you stepped back. “well, uh, i think i’ll leave you to your planning, nara. come get me when you’re done, okay? i’ll just be in my room waiting for you.” before he could say another word you hurriedly found solace in your bedroom.

you hadn’t noticed the burning in your cheeks and the faint tremor of your hands, but they became achingly apparent the second you shut your door behind you. was nara always that cute? your mind was racing, going a mile a minute. even when he was acting like a total klutz, you couldn’t help but subconcsiously admire the way his raven hair messily framed his face--youthful, yet prettied with age. the way his hand felt around yours lingered on you like a phantom, causing you to slide down your door like a lovesick teen. have you always cherished him this much?

meanwhile in the bathroom, narancia splashed his face with freezing cold water nearly 5 times. what the hell was wrong with him?! first those damn dreams, then the way the heat in his cheeks would radiate to his reddened ears when your visage hung in his mind, now the tremble of his voice? “merda, narancia...pull yourself together!” he cursed under his breath. as he crashed back upon his bed with a groan, his violet gaze met with the folder lying limp on the bedside table; of course, he forgot to even see what the hell bruno’s deal was. taking the lead? planning without his partner? it made less and less sense the more he replayed your words in his mind--though, that could be because he was too focused on remembering the harmony that was the sound your voice.

with an exasperated sigh, narancia sat up and leaned over to snatch the folder, emptying its contents carelessly across the bed. “cosa diavolo sta succedendo?!*” in his tremblng hands was--bruno’s credit card? and with a note attached:

“narancia,

i see the way you smile aorund y/n, the way you lose yourself in her gaze and your undeniable dedication to her partnership. i think your oversleeping will resolve itself once you finally take the lead.

take her out tonight--that’s an order.

-bruno.”

narancia nearly fainted. too much was happening and too many thoughts raced into his mind as he struggled to even hold the card still enough to remove the sticky note. “so a date..he wants me to ask her on a date--”

“nara?”

narancia’s head snapped to the doorway, and seeing your figure frozen in the doorway made his blood run cold. when the hell did you get there? “y/n! wh-what’s up?” he asked, the tremor of his voice only making your own panic worsen. “uh, i came to see h-how you’re doing, but...who are you asking on a date? i-if you dont mind me asking!” your heart pounded in your chest as your mind pleaded not to hear another girl’s name, not to hear anyone but you. narancia glanced back to the note-- take her out, that’s an order--then back to you. “uh, y/n...” he set the card aside, getting up to close the distance between the two of you, then gently held both of your hands.

“n-nara, i--!” he shushed you, thumb gliding gently across the back of your hand. “y/n...i’m going to take the lead now. i’m going to make sure you never have a doubt in your mind about my next move ever again!” with newfound confidence he gave your hands a careful squeeze, before continuing, “y/n, cara...well, there’s no better way for me to say this, but,” your heart burned with desire, trembling body nearly melting as narancia took you into his surprisingly strong embrace.

“i love you, y/n. and i want to show you just how much i love you...how does tonight sound, carina?”

*what the hell is going on?

#jojos bizarre adventure #jjba #jojo part 5 #jojo vento aureo #vento aureo #narancia ghirga #narancia #narancia ghirga x reader #narancia x reader #bruno bucciarati #fem reader #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #fic #tomitara

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cheezlogerratum · 7 years ago

Text

A Persuasive Essay

☼

The two duos of half-plastic half-rubber wheels have remained, for the past thirty seconds or so, at rest. Kurtis Spottiswoode, preferably to him Kurt, the owner of the pack, has been repeatedly, over and over, scanning a sign off to the side of the asphalt path. In yellow, it's been telling him:

ATHLETIC EVENT

... with an appropriate arrow pointing to the left. Still, in that same spot, he stands. He can't necessarily tell whether he's trying to understand something he's missing or if he's just spacing out, knowingly looking like a moron, but too afraid to break out of what he believes is a commitment. Even still. Eventually, Mr. Spottiswoode catches onto the fact that the sun has long been set and that there are no "ATHLETIC EVENT"'s in session at this time. His feet succumb to the decline and start stepping across into the parking garage wondering if the sign was placed for a past "ATHLETIC EVENT" or a future one? This is all he seems to think about in the structure, the halides buzzing above and the rumble of the little wheels on his backpack don't even register in his mind. He unlocks and enters his used Camry automatically and realizes he's driving, somehow unable to shake the image burned into his eyes or maybe his head:

ATHLETIC EVENT

←

Mr. Spottiswoode arrived at his apartment complex at around 9:23pm, around a minute or two later than he usually remembers, and follows the rut path up to his apartment on the second floor. The residents on the first were shrieking, almost with no words, but it soon shifted into laughter and niceties he couldn't quite make out. He went to the bathroom, where he unzipped and went about his business looking at himself blankly in the mirror mysteriously installed right above, maybe a little crooked, the toilet. Kurt had small beady eyes and a large forehead mapped out by rows of remnants of brow folds and a receding hairline, brown and faint. The rest of his torso was adorned by a sport coat and a wrinkly plaid shirt, the rest is invisible. It was a lingering revelation in Mr. Spottiswoode's mind that he was wasting away, not really doing much, but he never wanted to address it head on in fear of possible sadness... but, as he undresses getting ready for bed, he wasn't feeling much now? Just sort of following what he'd always been doing and doing at as succinctly as he can, probably to occupy his mind from that "possible sadness".

☼

Kurt was traversing through the input and output population of students in flux all around him, talking into headphones and trading glances back and forth, when he realized—the sign was still up! "ATHLETIC EVENT". He felt a minuscule rush inside of him, slightly increasing the speed of his pace, and making him aware of his breath, of his life. He looked around with his head at anything and everything of interest, impulsively, excited. ECSTATIC! He thought he might be forcing this adrenaline onto himself, but he told himself to shut up. Shut up! He was loving it, and would remain loving it all the way to class, his wheels rumbling at a higher pitch.

Höffus Hall, room 488, was unlocked, dark, cold, and alone for the past thirteen hours or so. Mr. Spottiswoode, with his newfound motivation to live, flicked on the lights and plopped his computer bag onto the table offset at the front of class. He thought of himself as a bearer of life to the once dead or perhaps unborn room, mentally patting himself on the back as students came in at different intervals of time and frequency, totally unaware of their professor's enthusiasm. He unzipped his bag and brought out his old Dell laptop, gray and void of any personal touch. He logged in and fired up Microsoft Outlook, twiddling his fingers as more students populated the room. Outlook revealed itself, updated its folders, and notified the user of an "important message" he received. WOW! Kurt clicked the alert and he was brought to an e-mail sent by an unfamiliar address containing the following:

dear professor,

ive been thinking about alot of things like the paper we were made to write a few weeks ago. i know i haven't finished it and i bet its too late to turn it in now for any grade and i know im failing the class, but i cant fail this class and i think this paper is the only thing that will save me. i hope you understand. ill have the essay done by the start of class on thursday but if you dont accept it or give me a high enough grade to pass the class im going to kill you. i dont want to kill you but i also dont want to fail. i hope you understand.

best, your student

Kurt Spottiswoode read the message over a few more times, just to make sure, again, not knowing what he was feeling, but whatever it was it wasn't exciting. Before he even had the chance to reply, or give the message a sixth reading, or to think about what the hell, just what the hell he was going to do? he looked at the clock in the bottom right and saw it change from 11:13 AM to 11:14 AM right before his eyes, four minutes late. He looked up with a buzzy sharp air behind his eyes, at a loss of what to even do. What to say? Most importantly, WHAT?

"Uhhh," Spottiswoode emitted, "who was it that sent me an e-mail this morning?"

Blank. The look on the students' faces suggested that he had said absolutely nothing. Instead of reading the students for any kind of response, he started to read for any clues, any telling thing coming from any of their persons that might inform him of the presence of a possible murderous psychopath enrolled in his class. There were only 19 students on the registrar but only, after doing the math with his eyeballs for a few seconds, 11 students present. Both the fear of the anonymous student's absence and the regret of not making attendance mandatory via a sign-in sheet and a significant percentage allotted to "Attendance" in the final grade struck him like headlights he wasn't aware he was invading the path of. He quietly surveyed those present in class and what he knew of them. To his knowledge, only 3 students were failing the class, and one of them, Mehi Georgensen, was present, but he knew for a fact she turned in the last assignment. The prompt, by the way, was to write a persuasive essay supporting their opinion on the scientific studies surrounding the spike in American crime rates in the 1970s and 1980s and how experts believe that the trace amounts of lead found in gasoline sold during this time is directly related to the uptick in violence and aggression in people who are exposed to automobiles on a regular basis if not daily. Mehi's essay was roughly 85% blockquotes, 5% topic and concluding sentences, and another 10% dedicated to an enlarged, pixelated image of a red, turned dark gray by the printer, gasoline jug. No, Kurt thought, it can't be her. The other two names failing the class were Eloy Hewitt and Harold Skouras III, both with zeros in the gradebook, but that's all they were to Mr. Spottiswoode. He tried forcing himself to remember who these boys were, what they looked like, who the sick culprit could be. He started to sweat and realized so when a droplet fell from his nose and onto his knuckle belonging to his right hand cupping his mouth out of a side effect of vigorous thought, if you could even call it that. It was now 11:19 AM and Kurt stood back up, hands at his side, eyes open, looking again trying to recognize anyone. He knew who some of the kids were but couldn't remember others because of, what he thought was, a lack of in-class participation. He did, however, recognize Kevin, hands clasped together resting on the table up front, good posture, beaming at Mr. Spottiswoode. Kevin, politely responding to Kurt's gaze, cracked open a smile, unimaginably ready to learn. What a good egg Kurt thought, and looking at this kid, this bright and utterly innocent young man smiling undoubtedly at him, his spirits were lifted by a fraction of security, but that was enough. Kurt breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, clearing his throat, coughing, and began the day's belated lesson.

Sitting in his assigned corner of office room number 528, populated by a desk, a shelf, a disconnected phone with the cord bunched up, various handbooks on MLA, APA, and Chicago format, yesterday's ¾ eaten Subway sandwich, a stack of filled manila folders, a photo of Bruce Springsteen printed out on an 8.5 x 11 inch sheet of paper taped to the wall, and a lamp—Mr. Spottiswoode sat leaned back in his office chair borrowed from the downstairs supply closet, staring, arms crossed, eyes serious, at his computer screen. The e-mail shone through the screen, he couldn't stop thinking. He followed a tangent marveling at the screen itself and its thousands of little pixels made by three columns, red, blue, green, each flickering at him performing as one chunk of some incomplete illusion, creating the image of something that is anything but. Kurt, at a loss, followed multiple tangents like that, perhaps, in a kind of unconscious fashion, trying to find some external excuse or explanation for all this. Surely, surely, it can't be real right? It made no sense, absolutely, completely, totally no sense whatsoever, that this array of pixels that have orchestrated themselves in varying degrees of dimness onto his laptop screen could spell out so plainly and absent of reality his own eventual fate. Well, it doesn't have to come true, does it? Kurt Spottiswoode couldn't believe that he didn't just think of giving in and offering the perp the grade he so desired. Yes. Yes! That was it! He didn't even take into account the circumstance of his academic honor, he had his life! Once again, "LIFE!" He was up, his fists were in the air, his legs were spread apart, and his breathing had escalated into a pant. Yu Quoque, or Professor Quoque as she vehemently prefers, in the opposite corner saw him and witnessing this side of Kurt she had never seen before, she stared, on the phone, mouth slightly agape.

"Where are you," over the phone, "what was...?"

"Nothing," Yu whispered, "just work."

☼

It was Wednesday, the next day, game day! Kurt missed whatever athletic event that happened the day before due to the fact that he was fearing for his life, but now, having found out what to do about the whole situation, he decided to treat himself to a nice, relaxing, athletic event, which happens to be a weeklong championship. Mr. Spottiswoode arrived at the makeshift ticket booth, which was a plastic table with a print out of ticket prices taped to the front side and a cheap cash box guarded by two girls, both with one earbud in whatever ear was facing away from each other, and inquired, "Hello! One ticket for the athletic event and please!"

"Eight dollars please," the girls in unison, almost in harmony.

Kurt immediately took to his various pockets in his coat, pants, and satchel, where he finally found a dilapidated ten-dollar bill with a frowny face drawn on Hamilton's face. The girl on the right snatched it, the girl on the left gave him the ticket, and the girl on the right gave him one dollar in change, but he was so ecstatic and overwhelmed by the butterflies in his stomach that he didn't even realize. He wobbled right up to the bleachers taking it all in, smiling, just like Kevin, and started down the steps. The sun was blaring but the air was freezing, a paradox Kurt pondered on fairly often before, but not today, game day! He found a nice spot just above half way down and sat down next to an incredibly buff guy with, who Kurt assumed was, the man's son wearing a black hoodie and buggy glasses. "Isn't this just great," Kurt broke the ice, "this is just... agh! It! You know?"

"I don't."

"What's your name?"

"... I'm Kurt! Err, Professor Kurt to you though, haha!"

"Goodbye Kurt."

And the big man got up, even more ginormous than he... holy shit—walked down the bleachers, stomping between other attendees and their picnics, to another spot. Kurt stared a while at the man and thought of his nerve, how someone can be so mean and... rude? but he caught himself in the act of negativity and tried to snap out of it, clamping his eyes shut as a reset mechanism of sorts. Upon opening them, he saw the faded green field, but the longer he looked, the more green it got. He started getting the hang of it and tried it on the trees, the bleachers, and even the jumbo man. The spark of an auxiliary cord boomed through the stadium and was shortly followed by T.I.'s "Bring Em Out" featuring Jay Z. "BRING EM OUT BRING EM OUT" The players jogged onto the field and started warming up, running around preset patterns of cones over and over. Just beneath the song blaring throughout the entire area, echoing off the apartments just next door, Kurt heard a voice, "What's today." Kurt felt it to his left and realized the voice was coming from the kid in the hoodie, still sitting where he first saw him.

"Wednesday?"

"And tomorrow?"

"... Thursday."

The kid hadn't even turned his head to Kurt, in fact, Kurt hadn't even seen the kids' lips, only his eyes bulging out of the edge of his hood. "I need you to proofread something for me," the glasses said.

"Do I know you?" Kurt inquired.

"It's important, it's my life's work."

"I can give you my office hou-"

"I feel twisty, I can't move correctly... I'd appreciate this greatly."

"... Ha ha, come on now, let's just enjoy the game?"

"It's only if I express what I mean and get my point across in a certain perfect way and if I have a clear thesis and purpose to the essay and I make myself believable to the reader that I will get an A."

"... Harold?"

"I just need a professional opinion."

"Eloy!?"

"It's not done yet I'm sorry."

And the glasses dropped 8 loose sheets of what Kurt can already make out as a poorly formatted essay and strode his way up the bleachers as swiftly as possible. The sheets were lifted by the wind and flew up down left right forward back, all directly away from Mr. Spottiswoode. Kurt scrambled to follow all of the sheets at once while the image of that hood and those lenses and his voice seared into his mind, playing in a loop, all floating in a superposition playing at the same time, over and over and over again. Kurt caught one of the pages, repeating, "one, one" and so on in his head, adding to the jumble, now worried, now realizing, all at once, that death was way too near. "Two, two two two" but what? He felt silly again, remembering he had a plan, a master one you could call it, but he still felt petrified, sad, wasting away, stumbling over people at an athletic event reaching desperately for pages of an essay a kid is threatening his life over. He lost track of all the remaining pages, looked around, drenched, and saw a page in the middle of the field. He ran down the steps, head bobbing, eyes on the sheet, feeling utterly lightheaded, and sprinted into the field, tunnelvisioned, and bonked heads with a girl swerving out of a row of cones. The audience's collective shocked, "Ooooohh" and a girl nearby's inhaling hissing sound of pain only made everything worse, and he felt like a kid. Mr. Spottiswoode reluctantly opened his eyes and looked at the girl rubbing her head and only thought of himself, how he looked, how people must think of him now, and, somewhat noticing, his stomach sunk. He tried, "I didn't... I'm sorry I'm sorry," under his breath. He grabbed the piece of paper, now grass stained, and made his way up the stairs, eyes down, only wanting to leave, only wanting to go home, and as the girl got up, ready to rumble, the audience broke out in applause.

←

Kurt couldn't even look at Sally Pilckner and her glasses without shuttering somewhat, or feeling some sharp sweat incoming, so for the remainder of her presentation, he looked down at her converse pretending to be following along when really, truly, he's completely lost. He had already taken attendance to no avail, had sort of thumbed through the essay, but hasn't been able to read it, not even knowing if he should or not. So here he is, Kurt, sat, in the back of a classroom, looking at shoes and contemplating his chances of life or death. The ginormous mega man played in his head over and over, torturing himself somehow just for fun, relatively. "Observe," he remembered "Listen, yes!" So he tried, forcing his brain to latch onto everything happening in the room, which—well, he didn't know—wasn't working. He attempted to consciously meditate on the PowerPoint slide stricken on the pull down screen, bleeding off to the edges onto the whiteboard, infuriatingly so, and thought about the words without reading them:

HUMANOID.

CORN.

BC.

And he just thought, tried to imagine. He pictured a humanoid in his head and saw wiggles and a form blinking, on and off. The harder he tried the faster it disappeared. Okay uhh, the corn! He saw a kernel, a nugget, perfectly formed, so well imagined he was impressed with himself. Mr. Spottiswoode sat with that little kernel suspended in his mind, projecting it in front of his eyes, over the words, bouncing it around the room, putting it over Sally's face. "UuuaAAAGGHHHCHOOOO!!"

"Bless you," in unison, harmonious monotone.

Kurt, looking at the culprit's face a bit too long finally realized the kernel had been erased from his mind. The panic struck him and the sweat kicked back in, trying and trying, squinting and bubbling his mouth. Mr. Spottiswoode needed a plan B, so he remembered:

BC.

Okay, this can do. He chugged into his noggin the image of rocks... rocks? And monkeys, for some reason, a wheel? He was doing his best, breathing in and out. "Knowing what uh... how corn was the main commodity in indigenous cultures, what would the world look like right now if we used corn for money?" Dead flat silence, but Sally didn't seem to mind. The class willingly sat in the hoisted dead noise of the room, adding to it every millisecond, everyone thinking someone else will talk, they have to, why aren't they? Why is everyone doing this? And Pilckner, Sally stood face to face to the excruciating silence, swaying, hands clasped behind her back, sniffling, heard a cough, grounding the silence to the utmost potency of bad participation skills. Kurt felt himself walking but didn't remember doing so, and somehow decided to stop right beside Sally, too close, she steps back, and those monkeys are still in his mind, swinging and hooting until they come across a kernel, a big one, glowing in the shattered sun shooting through the tall grass, or the banana leaves, either or? staring at this weird yellow coconut. It's here that they stop moving, their personalities and characteristics put on hold, freeze framed, with the class waiting and peeking under the rim of the table trying to be sneaky superimposed atop the scene before Christ, now at the same time, both immobile, not moving, freeze framed and dead. Kurt stood there until the clock struck 11:58 AM, close enough, and the irresistible sound of ruffling papers and backpack zippers filled the room, sparking some kind of Pavlovian response in the students telling them, "it's time to go", which was probably for the best.

Kurt Spottiswoode decided to keep on driving tonight, not a clear decision but merely allowing himself to do so. Millbrae now, by the BART station, the monumental Chase Bank shining blue up the columns, credit card slots blinking and egging him on, that Peter's Café across the street, still open, still not much business... but boy, oh boy... Kurt took a leap of faith and pulled an illegal U-turn across the yellow line, the toast in his sights. He parked haphazardly and sat for a minute or two, looking at the fog grow on his windows, and waited for it to completely shell his car. He was now encased, in his own little world he thought, free of anything and everything except him and the essay, now sort of dead within the new realm of his. It was only paper, just neatly formed, digitally stamped stains of ink on a page, saying nothing in particular. He wanted to marinate in this, get the feeling then go, and he went. The wet chill struck him as he left the stratosphere he created, and, with the essay in hand, walked into the snoozy joint.

A song he couldn't recognize right away was wrapping itself up, and right when he thought he knew the song, "HI welcome to Pete's Café!" She popped up from right behind the circular bar, knowing he was going to be there somehow. She slapped down the menu, the cocktail menu, and a freshly laminated dessert menu. "Freshly laminated!"

"Yep," Kurt sniffed the menu, "That's fresh for sure, hahahaha!" laughing more for himself than her.

"What can I start you off with tonight?"

"Just toast, please."

"Sweetie, just toast?"

"Yep just toast."

The look on her face spelled imminent harm, then immediately transformed into unconditional hospitality. "Vikas! Toast! Sure thing sweetie," snatching the menus in one swoop.

"Thanks uhh," trying to read her name tag but only caught a V.

He looked around the place, at the lighting hung in trios across the sloped ceiling, the booths hidden by CLINK... Kurt looked down and saw a plastic tumbler, blue and chipped, filled with water and weak ice cubes, but no V in sight. Noticing this, he noticed everything, which wasn't much, just a diner open for business, no patrons. He sat tapping his fingers in a kind of rhythm when "Is That All There Is?" by Peggy Lee jumps on the overhead speakers.

I remember when I was a very little girl, our house caught on fire I'll never forget the look on my father's face as he gathered me up in his arms and raced through the burning building out to the pavement I stood there shivering in my pajamas and watched the whole world go up in flames And when it was all over I said to myself, is that all there is to a fire

Is that all there is, is that all there is If that's all there is my friends, then let's keep dancing...

Once that chorus kicked in he was humming along, eyes closed and drinking out of the mini cup. He opened his eyes and there before him was the essay, off to the side, right where he left it. He was lost in looking, only thinking about reading it, telling himself he wasn't afraid, and then the glasses appeared again, knowing that they belonged to the student, that the student typed this and printed it out, touched it, the net total of his movements to that moment of delivery resulted in the crimps and creases in the pages, the same on every page, again and again.

Let's break out the booze and have a ball If that's all there is...

His hand shot out at the pages and smacked them once, not knowing what to expect, just a release? Kurt looked up and saw V staring at him before she broke out into strides in his direction. He grabbed the paper and started reading it vigorously.

professor Spottiwoods

Rough Draft

Pedagogyy is the study of how tot each a class in school, anywehere, like elementary school or college. I have been in school for almost all of my life and I feel like I have a big say in how I should be taught in school. There has been much discusssion on what progressive pedagogy might look like, but it has always been discussed and taught in regressive pedagogical systems, which is something liek a paradox isn;t it? we seem to think education is the greatest good, it keeps us young, that's what Aristotle thought, but these systems are old, the teachers are old, and theyf ail to realize that they they are only apart of an institu

"SPOTTISWOODE?" Kurt froze in the middle of that word he knew was going to be 'institution', maybe spelled wrong, but couldn't help but feel several shots of adrenaline pumping through his body, his heart trying to compensate. "PROFESSOR SUPERWOOD IN THE FLESH!!"

Mr. Spottiswoode craned his shoulders around to see Zip Baltgalvis—he thinks? —and can only widen his eyes. Zip skips over to Kurt's seat lugging what might be three backpacks at full capacity while Kurt creeps back at the paper, wide eyed, blank, stuck on the same word. Zip spins into the seat next to Kurt's and side hugs him, not responding. "Duuude what's good Spurt? ... It's me!" Kurt turns his head, zonked out, to Zip, frozen in a smile with his fingers turned inwards into his chest. "Zip..." Kurt emitted.

"Ziiiff!" exasperated, "Ziff Baltgalvis! Twenty-fourtee-" leaning in closer for the whisper-shout, "Twenty-fourteen man! Duude! You're here!!"

"I'm... here."

"Yes! Yes!"

"Hey where's my toast..." slurring and directed in the direction of unseen employees.

Ziff looked down at the essay through the blonde frizz hanging in front of his face. "State huh? State huuuhh!!? MAN in the flesh! Front and center, late night!! You know, I've been working on things..."

"Things."

"Things mmhm... some futuristic things," nodding slowly almost to hypnotize Kurt.

"What things..."

"I've been thinking about those things, like to help the future out. Man, Kurt, your mind will be buhlown."

"Uhh... toast," again at the ghost place.

"Yeaaah man toast! You're brain'll fry man right on!"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh you just gotta come and see."

"See what Zip?"

A plate of burnt toast lands and swivels down onto the table in front of Kurt, on top of the essay.

"The future man..." nodding.

☼

Kurt Spottiswoode didn't even know he was fast asleep until his own drool cooled by the leather returned to his cheek, sliding his face into consciousness. Wriggling his fingers, cracking them, still on his side, his arm slept along with him. He was awake, but only with his eyeballs. Everything else was testing the waters. Every few seconds the interior would illuminate, sometimes yellow but most times teal-ish, and Kurt was in it and apart of it, an honorary component of the car. Kurt inched his head up off the seat to get a better look at the LED clock up front. It was 12:02, most likely AM. He plopped his head back down, scrunching his mouth to avoid the drool as he tried making sense of the situation he was in. This wasn't his car, he wasn't driving, he wasn't tied up, he was stagnant yet rumbling across asphalt barely any more than two feet from his wet cheek, as the crow flies. Mr. Spottiswoode liked it here, liking the most being able to pretend to be invisible, or to transcend the state everyone thinks you're in, knowing something no one else in the world knows. It was also the quiet of the interior which implied a disappearance of everything outside and anything in the future, just being able to lay... wait... future...

"COCKADOODLEDOO TEACH! Un-conked?"

"Muh... Zip,"

"Hahyeah,"

"Zi-," stuck on a clog in his throat.

"Honest man, be honest,"

"Where are we going?"

"Dude, you remember this!"

"I...?"

"You can think it man, you can access this,"

"Why was I..."

"If you just reaaally think,"

"Is it... Thursday?"

"Unrelated inquiry, unrelated inquiry,"

"Zip come on-"

"Patience is a virtue,"

"This is fuckin-"

"Woah, woah,"

"This is frankly, fucking stupid Zip!"

"WOOOAH WOOAH,"

"I wanna know! Where am I going? Where am I being taken to?"

"I w-"

"ZIP my foot is down it's being put down right now you got to tell me,"

Ziff looked back over his shoulder at Kurt, now up in his seat drenched in sweat, eyes locked and loaded. The light outside illuminates the car in red for a split second, distant honking. Ziff looks back and forth hoping he isn't seeing and hearing correctly.

"I don't like the way you look right now man,"

"Zip,"

"I don't friggin' appreciate those looks man!"

Ziff is nearly done pulling the car over to the side of the road into the grassy overflow of an empty lot next to them once he says this. The back of Ziff's head jerks about, trying to put the car in park while storming out of the car at the same time. "Jesus... ZIP!! ZIP!" Kurt yells at Ziff with the foggy passenger window in the way, trying to unbuckle himself. "ZIIIIIP!!" It was Thursday, it was without a doubt Thursday, and it all came crashing into Mr. Spottiswoode's stomach. Kurt didn't even consciously think these thoughts, but he knew somehow by the way his neurons scrambled to ignite, scrambling together as one, but the buckle is jammed. Kurt sits back and processes the vagueness of himself at this moment, unconsciously looking around, widening his eyes, tuning out everything in order to tune out himself, and the door closes. He looks up and sees the long hair splitting out from Ziff's head. "Zip, where are we,"

"Mr. Spottiswoode, it'd be really sick if you said sorry,"

"I'm sorry, now-"

"For what?"

"For yelling at yo-"

"And?"

Ziff turned his head around to look through the gap under the headrest, eyes worn and wet.

"And."

"..."

"Ziff."

"No, no no, slip of the tongu- er the mind. I'm sorry. My-"

"I really wanted you to see what I made Mr. Spottiswoode,"

"Sure-"

"When I saw you at Pete's tonight I thought that it was like fate, like that dramatic shit... right?"

"Sure yea-"

"I thought 'Hey Kurt's here, I bet he'd like to hang with me' you know? See me..."

"Yeah,"

"I thought you were gonna be like the guy who pretends he didn't make eye contact or something, and I was bummed out Mr. Spottiswoode. You were like the first guy... to uh... like really, you know, get me stoked on learning shit. And you were eating and I knew that it was like that fate happening maybe, like the universe collapsed on itself for that one time right?"

"Sure,"

"Do you get the same emotions too?"

"Maybe, I don't really know,"

"Cause like, the universe likes us...? Like it doesn't stop turning. It's like it keeps wanting us to know something, like..."

And Ziff stopped, seemingly lost in that universe that led him to what he thought was right now, but Kurt, on the other hand, was back on the paper. "Ziff, I need to sleep I'm sorry."

Ziff dug into one of the three backpacks he dropped in front of his front door to fish out the keys. Kurt was keeping his distance considerable out in the middle of a parking lot, by the car. Ziff tumbled the keys into the lock and cracked open the door, creaky to the point of filing a complaint with whatever de facto powers that be. The place was lit by strung lights around every edge, ceiling, doorway, floor, but only out of necessity of upholding the common courtesy to the household. Ziff lifted his arms in introduction of the place, "Uh, you can crash on the couch probably."

Pots and pans brought Kurt back to the waking world, seamlessly too. What amazed Kurt's brain, the first thought in his head this morning, was how shrill these utensils ringing off each other were and how, somehow, that comforted him. He rubbed the sleep off his eyes and got up to mull. He scuffled towards the kitchen a few feet away and stood in the doorway, drawing a blank at the kid with pleasingly messy hair, jammies, bare feet, flipping a piece of bread with a hole in the middle occupied by an egg. The kid felt his presence and gave a half-nod half-smile, what Kurt came to hypothesize as a newly evolved human instinct. Kurt leaned on this doorway, scanning the room for a clock or any other furnishing that might give him a clue of some kind. A group of kids passed by him, recalling, "...ea and his brother was a raccoon in the firs..." and further down the hall a burst of "pffff" and laughter bounced back to him as he tried logging the series of events in his brain. Looking, still standing, invisible again, superposed in this doorway and periodically thrusting his body off enough to fall back onto the wall. A printer fired up in a room somewhere reciting its rhythm of obeying the data it's been fed, music to his ears but merely instinct to itself. But now the printer was approaching...? It was getting louder and louder, its rhythms becoming more complex, fading into Kurt's range of comprehension, but the closer it got the less he knew, the more it wasn't printing anything. Kurt leaned his torso over to peer through the commons area and into the main hallway, footsteps thrown into the mix now too. An upright arrangement of plastic and spinning metal emerged from behind the opening to the room, then a rubber foot inched down onto the wood floor, and the robot was now recognized by Kurt alone. It continued forward, stopped, made minor adjustments to the placement of its feet, and made way straight towards Kurt. His stomach sank and kicked into some kind of action backwards and to his left feeling his way towards some cover of sorts. Kurt crouched behind the side of the fridge, peering out at the rest of the kitchen. The whirring got louder, again, and the robot emerged, again, stopped, repositioned, continued in Kurt's direction. Kurt stayed put this time only because he couldn't think of anything else other than the fact there was a fucking robot walking straight towards him. The robots innards became clearer and clearer as it approached, stopped, repositioned, and reached for the fridge handle, and pulled it, pinching Kurt's fingers. He freaked out for a split second but didn't want to make any sounds in an effort to preserve the invisibility thing that the robot may or may not have seen right through. The door closed and revealed a jug of soylent in the robot's plastic nubs, repositioning away, and inching back out of the kitchen. Kurt stood up and stared at the robot, mouth wide open, sweat flowing, trying to think of its thoughts and what it must be conscious of to do what it does, where it's stored, what it means to it, does it feel what Kurt feels, does it know? A poke arrived on Kurt's left shoulder and he spun around clockwise to whoever it must be, who turned out to be... "Sorry,"

"Nono I'm sorry," Kurt rattled out.

"Just getting the uh," she reached up to the cabinet above Kurt's head, which he dodged as it swung open.

"Woo heheh,"

"Wanna sit?"

"Wuh,"

"Down?"

"Well okay yeah sure heheh,"

And he looked underneath and around himself and settled on sitting on the tile, criss-cross applesauce. "Do you go here?" she asked, eyes on the readymade pancake mix.

"A- me? No I uhhh... I don't, no. I uh don't. Do you?"

"Yes I go here."

"Pretty cool, pretty cool uhmm... for what?"

"Literature, but I'm thinking of changing,"

"To uhh... ?" shrugging, nervously laughing.

"Electrical engineering,"

"And uh, why's that?"

"I'm working on a project of my own right now with a team of people so I sort of just want time to work on it and E.E. offers independent study in their labs so,"

"What's the something?"

"I've been studying the stichomythia of reading common literature. Technically it isn't stichomythia, but it sounds nice to me for some reason and for what I do. So I study that stuff, the ups and down of laughter, contagious at moments and absent the next. Could you read a book or get its sense and flow from the mere knowledge of the progression of chuckles? Or guffaws? What does a 'guffaw' suggest in a story? This depends on the reader, though, which makes my job complicated. There's a flaw in studying and observing these things with people, who read and re-read, the speed increases and decreases, and this warps and distorts the nature of my work, the laughs and chuckles. Me and my team are now looking at developing a system which reads a book at an average pace, its text, and pinpoints or detects the humorous areas to give us a controlled, concise, perfect result of this landscape, the musicality that might be objective to itself and its language that the common subjective emotional someone simply lacks the capability of experiencing. This is what I do,"

Teams? Landscapes, chuckles, this was all he could pick up on knowing the robot was walking around the place with soylent in its hands. He tried to be interested, but his mind was firing on other cylinders and sputtering out in the process. He was looking at the pan, sometimes focusing in on his periphera and the figures wearing mute colors walking in and out and past in silence—but what was silence to him, Kurt Spottiswoode thought, might have been a universal language to them that he was left out of. "What do you think of that?" He forgot.

"Sounds pretty cool to me!" looking for something to catch his attention.

"Do you read?"

"I uh read lots of things every day yep,"

"Enjoy it while you can,"

"Well, you too heh! I'll uh see you around," offering a small wave and some kind of mouth movement he hoped would come off as normal. As he shuffled his way out, she started to mumble and hum the words to a song, loud and proud, making pancakes. He didn't know, he couldn't know if this was just himself projecting, but it sounded like she was humming the words to "Is That All There Is?", pushing himself away now, embarking himself into the house keeping his ears out for the bot. He stepped softly in hopes of the robot not hearing him, and he waddled and peered around and down the halls, doors open, now releasing lots of machine noise, almost every room. He walked up the stairs with his eyes locked on the chandelier which was smothered in webs and dust blocking the way of any light that might be wanting to pass through and offer itself. He was feeling his way upwards, and at the top he saw another commons area with a few couches riddled in no pattern whatsoever, and on one sat the robot, with its soylent in hand. Kurt sleuthed his way by way of his back to the wall down the hallway, soft stepping. "GOOOOOOD MOOORNIIING PALO ALTOOO," Kurt's body scrunched and searched for Ziff's whereabouts, leaning, dodging nothing, and finally finding it, papers and clutter reaching the ceiling and Ziff sitting in it all like a throne with his soylent in hand. "Where ya been buddy?"

"Ziff listen I have a lot of papers to-"

"Next on the program we have none other than English Composition extraordinaire-"

"Ziff,"

"Bonafide rager-maestro and chug champ 2000,"

"Ziff that rob-"

"AND honorary member of the fun boys themselves, Kurt 'Spurt' Spottiswoode!" as he started clapping by himself, clapping rang out from the rest of the second floor. He wheeled himself on his rolly-chair, stood up, and took Kurt by the shoulder leading him back down the hall. "We are utterly stoked to have you on this morning,"

"Heh I-"

"Mup, I'm asking the questions, I'm the teach... what is the future to you?" holding the air-mike up to Kurt's mouth.

"It's soon,"

"Would you say it's now?"

"No cause... now's the present?"

"But the now always changes right?"

"I guess, but-"

"Have you ever seen the future?"

"No,"

Ziff was now jogging over into the commons area, Kurt already knowing what the punchline would be. "Would you-"

"Ziff, I need to go home,"

"I gotta introdu-," taking the soylent out of the robot's hands.

"Ziff. I'm going," backing down the stairs.

"Kuuurt... Dude..."

And everything seemed to fade out, leaving only Kurt's mind reeling in place. He got out onto the street and started following it wherever it went, freezing cold outside. He replayed that robot in his mind a long while and kept zooming in on its soylent trying to find a semblance of a clue that would lead him to some peace of mind, but he couldn't, just stuck in replay. Whatever direction Mr. Spottiswoode was heading in, there were trains.

Kurt was staring while his mind rambled out the window. The train, he thought, was way too quiet, an environment that discouraged the cocoon of isolation he loved putting himself into. The tracks might as well have been non-existent, leaving Kurt the sole pleasure of listening to his own ears, ringing to themselves to avoid insanity, an instinct. For a moment, Kurt believed that the window his head was leaning on was nothing but another screen, extremely high definition, millions of pixels perfectly and spectacularly calibrated to fool passengers of any scenic route that might have been perceived. It had to be a conspiracy against the senses. What if the screen was hiding something grim and evil? Like an unforgivable violation of human's rights? Dwindling shacks, bodies slogging around awaiting their doom—if his eyes were to penetrate this screen, he wondered, maybe his eyes would meet someone else's, and maybe he would see something rapturous and impossible there in the shared misery, if that's what it was, only to witness it being cloaked by the train's comfy encasing, vanishing behind perspective.

The corridors of Höffus Hall, human activity simmering down to bathroom breaks and "bathroom breaks", stood in preparation of fulfilling its intended purpose. Direction, visibility, transportation, criss-cross applesauce. Kurt lunged himself up through the stairwell, leaning into the curves of the railing for momentum, his rolly-backpack skipping on the steps, and jumped at the last step for the 4th floor, expecting another. He nearly jogged down the hallway mouthing, "Thursday Thursday, this," as he exhaled every other step. He kept his eyes on his door, erasing anything else from his perception to maximize efficiency. The door opened and out came, rushing, faceless, a slew of students escaping Room 488, breaking off into different directions, unsure if their rut is scheduled correctly or not. The students walking towards Mr. Spottiswoode passed with no regard, purposeful or not, either being plausible he thought. His legs and tiny wheels kept on chugging, though, traversing the hallway renewed with activity indifferent to its origin. Kurt swung open the door and immediately saw Kevin hunched over, shuffling with something. Mr. Spottiswoode moved into position at the front of class, behind his tabletop podium, faux-mahogany desk, and in front of the broken projector screen hanging askew, whiteboard neglected by former courses teeming with information, and sat down in his plastic mold desk chair, which let out a rubbery whine as he landed. Kevin turned around revealing his backpack, filled with five 2" wide binders and what sounded like a load of pencils Kurt assumed were infused with varying increments of graphite intensity, pooling underneath the organization. Kevin became pale as he met Kurt's eyeballs, both of them caught in the act of something untold, implied. The kid, his face tense and vulnerable, who Kurt couldn't believe was the same one who beamed joyous respect at him every single day of class, a scholarly constant, dislodged the frog in his throat.

"Thank you for the semester Professor Spottiswoode. I wrote you a reflection highlighting how this course improved my ability to critically think about the world and how it presents itself to us and how I can express my personal perception of it through concrete argumentation and healthy sentence structure," digging into one of his binders from the top, sniffling, "I learned that writing a good essay will help you throughout the rest of your life, establishing pathos, logos, and ethos in order to engage the reader is key to allowing anyone to take what you say seriously, perhaps because deep down these elements and rules that go into a well written essay, like relevant topic sentences, presentation of evidence, and analysis of that evidence..." wobbling exasperation, "perhaps these are the fundamentals of life itself and why we love one another and why we make the decisions we make, even our mistakes. It's all one cosmic engaging, insightful, organized essay that we just can't read quite yet," carefully placing the quarter-inch thick packet on the table, "I learned that from you, and it's something I hope to pass onto my children and their children, and I hope to pursue a Master's so I can teach this truth to the next generation of students like you have. This is a part of my essay, I know it and can't control it, I can only proofread it," he picks up and rushes out the door, teary and red-faced, "You're the best teacher ever!" tripping on the door-stop, his sobs bouncing down the hallway in every direction, the most emotional energy this building has ever experienced, undoubtedly seeping into the firmament of the place, dormant and undisturbed, stored in a feedback loop.

The clock nailed into the wall above the doorway rotated into 11:29 AM, followed close behind by the internal clock in Mr. Spottiswoode's laptop, tucked away in sleep mode inside of Kurt's rolly-backpack. Kurt unzipped the biggest pocket and logged into his laptop, Outlook opening on its own, following orders. The inbox updated and there, waiting, was an e-mail from Ziff with the subject line, "vid of my creation!!!! ;D" Kurt Spottiswoode sat and waited, leaving the e-mail unopened, watching the screen, hand curled into a fist at rest supporting his head, eyes forward. Had he been paying attention, he would've heard the uproar of footsteps outside, vague murmuring, screeching chairs and tables in neighboring rooms to the left, right, upstairs, downstairs, the beeping of high-powered turbo-toasters, motorized longboards whizzing by, trucks backing up, something custodial collapsing, honking, keys jangling to each step, someone quietly running late to class, electrical cars humming, mysterious whooping, and a burst of applause amplified by the valley of dorms just outside the classroom window. Both clocks hit 12:00 PM at almost the same time. Kurt dragged his finger across the trackpad to click the refresh button. Nothing. He hit refresh again. Nothing. He hit refresh. Over and over and over.

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#big #writing #short story #fiction

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v-le · 7 years ago

Text

Kmusic: My Decade-Long Journey with Kpop

Foreword: I had been working on this post for a few weeks now, in between university and everything else. In the middle of its composition, Kim Jonghyun of SHINee passed away and shocked the world. I, too, was appalled, and I don’t think I will ever properly recover from his death. I want to dedicate this post to him. This story is about how kpop has grown with me in life. This story defines everything I have ever thought or felt about kpop and that now, very much includes Jonghyun’s passing. 수고했어, 종현아.

Book 1

I can’t really recall it, but the very first kpop song I’ve ever listened to was either “Nobody” by Wonder Girls, “Genie” by SNSD, or “Gee” by SNSD. I was about seven years old around then. My cousin had shown my sister these songs and she, too, quickly got swept into the music. For the first years of this exposure, I had heard a myriad of songs ranging from Super Junior’s “Sorry Sorry”, SHINee’s “Replay” & “Ring Ding Dong” & “Lucifer”, Taeyang’s “Wedding Dress”, Big Bang’s “Gara Gara Go”, Infinite’s “BTD” & “She’s Back”, 2NE1’s “Fire” and many many manyyyy more. These songs would waft out of my sister’s speakers whenever I was using my computer next to her’s in the computer room. And during those first years, I flat out hated these songs. I didn’t understand anything they were saying. They sounded obnoxious. And these boys that my sister was obsessed with weren’t even that good looking. I can recall that she was specifically infatuated with Donghae of SJ during that time. I can also recall going as far as to mock some of these songs, especially “She’s Back” by repeating “cheese pack” in an annoying tone back to her. Despite my detest for kpop during these several years, I unknowingly picked up a lot of knowledge on it. I could name many groups and recognize many of their songs, all from the fact that my sister played so much of it and I had seen her computer screen many times. Nonetheless, I complained to my mom, that I didn’t understand why she listened to that stuff when she couldn’t even understand it. My mom had told me that it was totally fine, it’s simply about the beat of the music, and that you didn’t have to understand it to like it. I remember feeling a little upset because she defended my sister. All in all, during these years of premature kpop exposure, I was petty, unrelenting, and simply immature. I didn’t like kpop.

Book 2

I remember for some reason, reasons unknown, one day when I was at my friend’s house in 5th grade, I decided to show my friends “Ring Ding Dong” for fun. I remember a few days before that, I had watched the “Wedding Dress” MV for the first time on my own and I cried, too. During these next months, my pettiness towards kpop began to dampen and I started to get pretty good at recognizing groups and songs, and maybe even some faces. The only issue was that I tried immensely hard, as if my life depended on it, to not let my sister see what I was up to. I knew that I would receive massive backlash from her, for being such a hypocrite. So throughout 5th grade and a little bit of 6th, I started to dip my toes in a little, into the infinitely large pool that is kpop. I slowly and secretly, grew minuscule fondness for some songs, but not enough to want to add them to my music library. I kinda liked kpop.

Book 3

In the early days of middle school, a really good friend of mine loved Super Junior to death. Another friend of mine listened to some kpop, but only a little bit here and there. One day they showed me a song from LEDApple and I can officially say that they were the first group I completely fell for. LEDApple had such a different, dynamic and unique vibe to them, that I almost felt like I had triumphed over my sister. I had found and enjoyed a group that she probably did not know at all, and their music was actually really really really good. Personal favorites include “Time’s Up” and “Someone Met By Chance”. Much later, they released “Sadness” and I was even happier with that song. I quickly learned the names of all the members and I considered them my favorite group of all time. LEDApple was my introduction into this “fangirling” gig that kpoppers lowkey highkey have to keep up with. With LEDApple, I learned:

How to memorize members

That MV meant “music video”

How to watch every single video of them that existed on youtube (although for them, it was minimal because they were so unknown)

That subbers were a thing, and for specific groups, too

How to watch variety shows of them

How to memorize birthdays

That Koreans have a different age system than internationally

That they wear excessive makeup

And much, much, much more

I would consider LEDApple to be my “first” for everything. I really did cherish them as a group, along with their music, and I slowly learned the do’s and dont’s of kpop during this phase. More than LEDApple though, I quickly became even more aware of more groups and songs, and I started to favor some more than others too. I liked kpop.

Book 4

My love for LEDApple started to dwindle as I discovered and started to really like more groups like MBLAQ, Big Bang, SHINee, SNSD, B.A.P, B1A4 and especially Infinite. I completely fell for Infinite as I listened to songs like “Paradise”, “Be Mine”, and “Can U Smile”. And yes, as I listened to more of their discography, I recognized some songs as the ones my sister had played in the past as well. Then, they released the Chaser and it was game set from there. I remember searching up Infinite’s profiles, comparing the images with their MVs and matching their names with their faces. I remember when I first saw Woohyun in Be Mine, I thought that he looked like Harry Shum Jr. AHAH how wrong I was…. I also remember struggling a little bit because the profile pictures I used were from their debut, with their slicked back hair and white button shirts and suspenders :’). Soon enough, I became very familiar with everything Infinite-related and I eventually claimed them to be my favorite group of all time (and to this day, they have remained as so). I really liked kpop.

Book 5

This book becomes a little hard to explain, simply because I feel like my emotions seemed to be mundane externally, but inside, I know that they were deep with a sort of affection that words can never fully explain. My love for Infinite was immense, driven, and completely pure. I did not have a favorite member, because no really, I just couldn’t choose one. All their songs were absolutely amazing; Infinite taught me how to fall in love with even the non-title track songs. Their entire discography is the only discography of any artists that I know like the back of my hand. Their choreography was always on point; they prided in being 99.9% synchronized with knife-like moves. I really, truly thought that they were all handsome in their own, unique way. Their personalities were genuine and interactions were always hilarious and the brotherhood between the boys ran as deep as blood. Their early days were the brightest ones that I can recall, and I am so grateful to have watched them develop since. They were extremely relevant within the industry, and “The Chaser” lifted them to even newer heights. I clearly remember their 2nd anniversary as well. I remember thinking to myself, that they were “SO YOUNG!!”, with Sungjong being just 18 years old at that time (which is exactly how old I am now, YIKES). Awaiting a comeback after The Chaser era was definitely an eventful one because I was so expectant and excited and it was the first (of many) that I experienced as a full-fledged fan. It took them nearly a year, but they eventually returned with “Man in Love”, and then “Destiny” immediately afterwards, and then on November 11th, 2013, I had the miraculous blessing to see them live in concert. It was my first concert ever and it was during their first world tour, as mere 3-year idols. 2013 was a year of big feats for Infinite and it all really was just a blessing. A mere five months later, I would again, see them, at the LA Kpop Festival on April 12th, 2014. Boy, was it a time to be alive as an Inspirit. During these few years, everything I did, in my life, really did revolve around them. My school projects, artwork, everything, had to relate to Infinite somehow. I made poems about them, I had collected a total of 24 posters of them on my wall, and I had also racked up physical copies of their albums, my first one being Infinitize on July 29th of 2012. When they posted fan events like the Infinite Love Letter Contest, and when the members used Google+ and when every little thing happened, I was there, and I was supporting them endlessly. As I transitioned into high school, Infinite released more and more things, and my love for them never dwindled, even for a second. When I went through rough times, in all the ways imaginable, Infinite was always there. In the beginning, I had made folders for photos of each member, otps, and the complete group on my computer. I even named the OT7 pictures folder “What I Live For ~”. My passwords all had to do with Infinite. I named all my devices like my computer and such “IFNT7”. The phrase “My love is Infinite” was my favorite of all time. Just the sight of some colors translated into Infinite to me. Every. Little. Thing. My heart belonged to Infinite more than ever. I loved and cherished them, and still do (but maybe not as blatantly), with a burning passion. And not just them, but I really did like other groups like ZE:A and T-ARA to name a few, during these times, but Infinite truly meant the world to me. I loved kpop, especially Infinite.

Book 6

During those fangirl days, I was not completely blinded by love to a point where I was oblivious to the future; rather, I was apprehensive in a way in which I knew that when I got “older”, I “wouldn’t love them as much”. I didn’t doubt that I wouldn’t stop listening to kpop, but I knew that i couldn’t be a diehard fangirl forever. And so, around 2015 ish is when school started to kick my butt, and i really did completely disconnect. Disclaimer though: I was still endlessly thankful for and in love with Infinite. I was so proud of them no matter what, and I supported them from the sidelines with a burning heart. In fact, despite the fact that the amount of attention I dedicated to them decreased, my love for them grew nonetheless. I was so so so thankful that they were just alive, whole, and still doing music. Together. However, I was physically and mentally incapable of keeping up to date with everything, not only Infinite-related, but kpop-related, during that time. I had realized that this was probably time to prioritize things in my life, and not feel so obliged to the whole kpop thing anymore. And so, with Infinite, I tried my best, but of course I did not try hard enough. I did enough to keep up with kpop releases and such, but that was about it. I had no time for shows and small activities and interviews, and all the things that I was an expert on in the past. I no longer had time to check thru all the infinite tumblr blogs I had bookmarked. Instead, I began to turn to the simpler things, as in the music. I realized that if there was one thing that was worthy of putting effort into, it was the music. I began to only care about the music that the kpop industry was churning out. And let me just say, that during this time was probably the beginning of the death of 2nd generation kpop as well. I started to dislike the style of music that Kpop was turning towards, and I noticed how saturated it was with random groups that couldn’t even leave a mark. I also noticed its immense rise in overall popularity: Kpop was becoming more and more mainstream at a rapid rate, and I was having none of it. Instead, I began to venture into k-indie, acoustic, soul, and simply put, healing songs. I turned to artists like Eddy Kim, Davichi, Baek Jiyoung, Kim Feel, Echae En Route, Roy Kim (one my truest loves), Ggotjam Project, Clazziquai Project, Urban Zakapa, Kassy, Fromm, and many, many, many more. I have had the blessing to watch these almost-nobody artists grow, release more music, gain a tad bit more recognition, and simply become even more amazing than they already were back when I discovered them at their early stages. (Sam Kim would debut later, in 2016, and blow me away as well. In fact, all the Antenna Angels). The music from these artists, kept me alive in a similar, yet different way, than Infinite had in years past. I didn’t need to know their faces or ages or personalities or honestly, anything, about them, to feel instantaneously better. These artists and their songs were healing, in a way where the only thing that truly mattered, was their voice.

A quick story about Kim Feel, who has come to be my all time favorite artist whom I would die for: I came across a song from Younha called 없어, and it blew me away. It was gorgeous. A hip hop duo, named Elupant featured in this song and I simply became aware of their name through this track. A few months later, Elupant would release the single Crater featuring. Kim Feel. I gave the song a chance because I vaguely knew of them, and I was once again, blown away. I did not know who this vocalist, Kim Feel, was, but I knew that he was indescribably amazing at singing, and something about his voice was just so different. For months, I wouldn’t even know what Kim Feel looked like. I barely knew that he was a singer because I had only seen his name from that one song, and his WIkipedia page didn’t even exist at that time. Then, in mid-June of 2015, I saw somewhere on Facebook that Kim Feel was releasing his first mini album, and that’s when I finally got some decent exposure to him. I finally saw what he looked like, how he placed second on SSK5, and how he had released several singles here and there in the past. His mini album, Feel Free, was everything I didn’t know I wanted, and I loved it to death. Later, he would go on to perform on Immortal Songs 2 and literally make me cry ugly tears from just one performance. Kim Feel is an artist that I got to know and fall in love solely through his voice and music and nothing else. That is the true beauty about singer-songwriters. He is an absolutely amazing artist and has come to be my most cherished one. Unfortunately, he is currently serving in the army right now, but my soul will always belong to Kim Feel and his music.

I didn’t really like kpop anymore.

Book 7

I want this part of my story to simply be about my current thoughts on kpop, in this moment in time, over a decade after first being exposed to this entire culture. In this book, I will pick apart the sort of darker sides in the Korean pop music industry, which are easily overlooked amidst the fervor of fans and idols and flashing lights. This is a perspective that I have come to hone throughout years of observance and trials and growth, and simply maturing into an adult alongside the ever-changing industry itself. My view of kpop has come to change in a way in which I no longer support several aspects of it. There are simply things that go on within the industry that I want nothing to deal with. Things that I have may have enjoyed in the past are now things that I do not need in my life any longer. Please remember that kpop goes beyond music and idols. It is a lifestyle. For many people, it is a way of living about their daily lives: listening to their favorite group’s music, watching countless videos and shows of them, keeping up with their daily whereabouts and activities, knowing their birthdays and family members and personal details, and simply associating themselves with their favorite group in any way possible, as much as possible. For many kpop fans, it goes beyond liking a group’s music: it is liking their looks, personalities, habits, style, affiliations, it is liking everything. It is true that this isn’t the case for nearly every fan in kpop, but I think it is safe to say that it is a common practice amongst many kpop fans. People come to live for these groups, but of course, there is nothing wrong with that. No one knows how to breathe and wake up every day and live for a kpop group better than I do. But I want to make one very important point clear: Kpop is a market and everything is a concept. Now, let me elaborate a little bit more.

1) It is a factory.

I do not recall it being this bad in the past, but nowadays, I can say for sure that groups are debuting left and right, nonstop, almost every week, or even every day. It’s just too much. Too saturated. Talent is exploited.

2) Most of these kids lack talent.

I know that every single new rookie isn’t completely talent-less, but in such a relentless industry, and especially nowadays with the sheer amount of people trying to break through, all these girls and boys look the exact same to me. Long ago, I gave up on getting into and keeping track of rookies. I decided that they I preferred my golden groups, the ones that defined that my own kpop era, and that they were the only ones I really had time for anyway. I am not saying this applies to all of them, because of course there are always exceptions. Take the latest show, The UNIT, for example. These people are supposed to be already debuted idols, looking for another shot at fame. Yet, the most jarring thing I noticed, especially with the females, is that they can’t even sing. Is that not a basic? These girls were out there on stage belting flat notes left and right and it was atrocious. It blew my mind, because even on P101, trainees who haven’t even had “experience” like those idols had, could sing significantly better. I don’t remember when the standard to become an idol dropped so low, but it is outright disappointing to me. For me personally, a nice face or some cool dance moves or a wholesome personality is not going to make you worthy of being an idol. You have to be a performer. And if you can’t even accomplish the basics, as in pull off the right notes, then why even try?

3) There is a lack of self-expression.

This is something that could be argued from several angles, and I am glad to agree that the stereotype has been changing more and more these days, towards a better direction. But if we are to speak straight from the debut days of Boyfriend or Infinite, or even SNSD for example, then the story is a little bit less complicated. It is simple: many of these groups are forced to do things that they do not necessarily want to or choose to do. Although it varies, almost every aspect of these people’s lives is controlled by their companies. The songs they sing, the dances that they dance to, the clothes they wear, the places they go to, the food they eat, the people they have to meet, and sometimes, even the things they say. These are very frequently not 100% under the artists’ complete control. And that is simply… pretty hard to grasp, but certainly true in most situations. Hence the “everything is a concept”. Because it really is. Many of the things that these artists do are a part of a concept that they must pull off, an image that they must present to the public, whether that is their true self or not, little do we ever know. Hoya’s talk about his departure from Infinite and Woollim does a really good job of exposing this sort of culture that goes on behind the scenes. Of course, nowadays at least, many artists are receiving more musical freedom and even the opportunity to partake in the very creation and composition of their own music.

4) Kpop idols are HUMAN.

This is one that I want to emphasize as if my life depends on it. Time and time again, I think the fact that kpop idols are human is something that people seem to completely disregard. I have never seen a fanbase as cruel and scrutinizing as the kpop fanbase. It almost downright scares me. Sasaeng fans are a reality that I wish did not exist, because they are just so rude, inconsiderate, and intense. Those manic, excessive fans really make me fear for idols’ wellbeing. Furthermore, there are so, so, soooo many incidents in which a Korean artist would do this or do that or say this or that and the situation is completely, totally, blown out of proportion. I have read articles about complaints that made absolutely no sense. I want to make this clear: Nobody's perfect, and neither are kpop stars. They will make mistakes, more than once if anything. But how, in the world, in any universe, does that give people permission to write hate comments at them? To bash on every little thing about them? To write petitions for them to leave their respective groups completely? Why do people think that is okay? Why do people not understand that, just like you and me, and anyone else, kpop stars have feelings. Is that so hard to believe? That no matter how small of a word or phrase you use to hurt them, you are instilling hate regardless. And that is not okay. It is never okay. Because they are human. The world, fans, no one, will never really know what is going on in an idol’s life. I do not want to make this part solely about Kim Jonghyun, but I think it is only right to mention him here. It was stated time and time again that Jonghyun was suffering from severe depression, to an extent where he took his own life. And the entire kpop world fell into complete shambles since then. Does this make it more transparent for everyone? That hate comments, that inner feelings and emotions, that all of these things are very real aspects of idols’ lives. It is so extremely hard, for me personally, to watch these idols become decreased to shoddy titles and names over the smallest of incidents. The hate needs to stop. Kpop idols are humans. Please.

5) The exhaustive work schedules.

This basically stems from the whole humanizing kpop idols thing. But I absolutely despise of the fact that is it common for idols to faint on stage, become hospitalized for over-exhaustion, or take breaks to recover. I have one simple question: Why do we have to work them until they reach that point? Are their bodies and capabilities expendable objects or something? Why is it okay? Why is it common for crying out loud? These people are literally worked to their limit, for several weeks on end. Once again, I’d like to point out that they are not invincible gods with undying strength. They are humans. There just has to be something done about the ridiculous work schedules that these people have to deal with. It just is not okay.

6) Companies are milking fans for their money.

This one is a big statement. It is not necessarily completely true for every single company, but it is definitely not wrong in any way at all. Think about why a company would start up a group in the first place. To give these hard working people a chance in the limelight out of generosity because they totally deserve it? No, of course not lol. There is a win-win situation within a lot of these groups, or at least the more successful ones. They earn lots and lots of money, a large portion of which goes straight to company, while also becoming famous and etc etc everything else they’ve always wanted. But companies are playing a game at the same time, marketing these groups to any extent possible. Ever wonder why groups frequently venture into the Japanese market? Ever wonder why groups have to release 4952548 different versions of one simple album (which is totally a newer-generation-of-kpop trend. groups in the past never did this)? Ever wonder why Lee Soo Man purposely created a multicultural group when it probably would’ve been much easier to just make a purely Korean one? Everything in the kpop industry, and I mean everything comes down to money. That is the reality of it. It is a market.

6) The music no longer sounds like kpop to me.

With the massive rise to global stardom that a lot of current day groups have acquired has come the musical shift into which, in my opinion, the overall sound of kpop is very much more westernized. Many groups are following the trend of releasing music that is edm, trap, tropical house, dupstep, etc -oriented. And for me, I’m not digging it. I fell in love with kpop because of sounds like Big Bang’s and Infinite’s older music. But now, the music is so completely different. A lot of these songs honestly just sound like something I would hear playing on the American radio. Which may just be the goal anyway. But for me, if kpop just sounds like everything else now, why would I listen to it? I originally liked it because it was different, and didn’t sound like everything else I was already hearing. But now it just does. Sigh.

7) There has been a complete generation shift.

This is something that I talk about extensively to my friends and peers. I’d like to say that it is something that I am very passionate about. There isn’t a day in which a part of me isn’t internally mourning about the death of my kpop generation. I think the generational shift becomes more and more apparent as time goes by: look at the groups that were active 5 years ago, and compare them to now. Are any of them even the same? Probably not. And that sort of reality pains me a lot. I understand that it’s simply about growth, getting over it, and moving on. But I’ll always reminisce from time to time. Here are the groups that defined my generation of kpop, and what happened to them:

Big Bang: indefinite hiatus (TOP is in the army, w/ the others well on their way)

SHINee: active (this one breaks my heart even more because not only did I constantly commend SHINee for staying whole and active, despite their apparent downfall in popularity and relevance, I was just always thankful for their undying perseverance as an older generation group. The loss of Jonghyun completely broke my heart because it was a reality I never wanted to believe in. I’m still in shock and it really does hurt to think how SHINee’s name will now forever go down in tragedy rather than legendary)

SNSD: indefinite hiatus (this one is a little hazy. It has been stated that the name of SNSD lives on, despite the members being in different companies. A sliver of hope remains for them)

2NE1: disbanded (first they lost Minzy, and then they completely fell apart)

LEDApple: disbanded (or at least i think so?? The members moved around all over the place and I’m pretty sure no one is left)

2PM: indefinite hiatus (Taec is in the army, while the others are doing their own thang for now. I have faith that they’ll return as 6 one day, though. Fight on, 2PM <3)

B1A4: active (i got to see them in feb, too, bless up)

ZE:A: indefinite hiatus (all the members are in separate companies. Minwoo & Taeheon returned from the army already while Kwanghee, Heechul, and Siwan are currently serving. The rest have been doing their own things as well. In fact, Kevin resides in Australia now. They have stated several times that despite being in different places and companies, the group has not officially disbanded yet. It warms my heart to think that there is still hope for them.)

U-KISS: active (they lost Kevin and AJ and Dongho in the year past and I know they’re still managing to stay alive with the addition of Jun as well)

Teen Top: hiatus (L.Joe was caught up in some messy legal stuff with his company and seemed to have left the industry as a whole in a rather ugly way… it definitely hurt to watch this pan out in the way that it did… nonetheless, Teen Top is basically still irrelevant anyway, despite the multiple comebacks they’ve had in years past.)

4Minute: disbanded (;__;)

Super Junior: active (this is such a blessing, honestly, to have Super Junior alive and active, despite alllllll the shit they’ve been through these past years. I know they’re definitely on the older side, but these guys are absolute legends and it makes me so happy to see them still together, even if just partially)

f(x): indefinite hiatus (their last release was in 2015 which means it’s almost been 3 freaking years since we last saw them active as 4, after Sulli’s departure. Wow… I really do hope to see them soon)

Apink: active (but barely relevant…They were also once 7, until Yookyung left in 2012, I believe.)

Girls Day: active (but not as relevant as they were before, either. Their recent, occasional releases have been decent, but not good enough to be big. They also technically lost a member before, too.)

BEAST: active as Highlight (They lost Hyunseung, and then they all left Cube. Miraculously, these boys kept themselves afloat and even established their own label together, as five. I am honestly so happy for what they have accomplished and even though it sucks that we’ll never hear the name BEAST in same way or affiliation anymore, these five guys are still going strong. I think they proved to me that they really do enjoy being idols, which is kinda rare considering how long they’ve been active in the industry)

VIXX: active (and probably one of the most relevant idols out of this list)

Miss A: disbanded (it was unclear for a while, but also pretty obvious because each member went their separate way. But JYP recently declared their disbandment official)

Sistar: disbanded (they were active for exactly 7 years, debuting and disbanding on the same exact day. This one definitely hurt)

BAP: active (they took a long hiatus somewhere in between, but it was well-deserved considering how ridiculously active they were back then. They still come back quite often nowadays, but it is unfortunately safe to say that they no longer leave the same impact as they did years before)

KARA: disbanded (despite adding Youngji after Nicole and Jiyoung left, they couldn’t last long enough. this one also hurt because of how spot-on their music always was for me.)

MBLAQ: indefinite hiatus (the name itself still lives on, and they never officially declared disbandment. but MBLAQ is probably one of the only groups that will go down in pure tragedy in my heart because I really did, truly, love them to death at one point. The departure of Lee Joon and Thunder threw this group into shambles and they barely managed to come back once as a trio, until their company disintegrated before our eyes and screwed them over even more. These boys used to be top of the top, dominating the industry in every way possible, musically and in variety shows, too. But lately, in fact, not even that recently, G.O. had taken to his personal social media to reveal the mistreatment and basically the complete shit they had to go through as idols. He was utterly traumatized by his experiences in the industry, to a point where he never wanted to sing again. But he talked about how the other 2 members gave him strength, as well as the few fans that were left to support him. MBLAQ literally dissolved into ashes right before my eyes, yet no one, and I mean no one, has been talking about this. They honestly just went through so much and have lost a lot as well. It hurt so bad to watch such an amazing group fall apart so fast, without even making a sound. Fuck the industry.)

Wonder Girls: disbanded (these legendary girls first faced the departure of Sun, and then Sohee. Sunmi was added into the mix after a very long hiatus, but they lasted for about 2 years until they officially disbanded)

T-Ara: indefinite hiatus (this group has faced a ferocious path of ups and downs. First with Hwayoung, and her departure, then with Areum and her departure as well, and then the very sudden departure of Soyeon and Boram. The four remaining members have decided to not renew their contracts with their current agency, but it is unclear if T-Ara still really exists at all at this point.)

Block B: active (and thankfully pretty relevant, I think)

Boyfriend: hiatus (Donghyun is on the Unit right now. I know they haven’t been super active in the past years, but when they tried, it was lackluster. They’ve definitely lost a lot of the momentum they once had years ago :( )

After School: indefinite hiatus (so many members have “graduated” in the past years, that only five are left now. I honestly can’t recall the last time they released music, but I can tell it’s been a very long time…)

CN Blue: active (but unfortunately very irrelevant anyway. They celebrated their 8th anniversary recently though! Congrats (: )

Rainbow: disbanded (so so so sad…)

Infinite: active (bless the heavens. Hoya’s departure shattered my world and I was admittedly a sobbing mess for several days on end. But their impending comeback is going to warm my heart and ears, I just know it. It’s been a good one whole year and a third since I last saw them come back. I have definitely missed their once steadfast presence. Welcome back, my loves <3 )

Welp, that was quite refreshing, to take a quick peek at the histories of these groups that once defined my middle school years. It definitely hurts to count how many times I had to write “disbanded” or “indefinite hiatus” because of how unclear and shaky a lot of these groups’ futures look. It has been pretty obvious for a while, that with the progressive crumbling of this once sturdy, strong, and seemingly invincible gang of groups, a new era of groups has been ushered in to take center stage and render the rest of the once-legends weak and irrelevant. Groups that used to make headlines on the daily basis and smash charts consistently are now barely hanging onto existence in the industry. It is quite painful to watch. There are many times where I just want to go back to those days where the names and faces and songs that were “mainstream” were the ones that I could actually recognize and enjoy. Now, it is quite the opposite. Adieu, my generation of kpop.

I just really don’t like kpop anymore. (but I still like Korean music! :) )

#kmusic #kpop #korean pop music #the untold story #this took a really time tbh #but it has been on my mind a lot #maybe this is like my final farewell to my once beloved kpop days aha #it will always hold a special place in my heart #but ive just kinda moved on from that phase #it's just not the same #but at least infinite is coming back!!#(:

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