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blackswaneuroparedux · 3 years ago

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Anonymous asked: I have always appreciated your thoughtful views on the defence of the British monarchy, and as a university historian it’s reassuring to see someone using history to make invalubale insights to a controversial institution. I wonder what are your own thoughts on the passing of Prince Philip and what his legacy might be? Was he a gaffe prone racist and a liability to the Queen?

I know you kindly got in touch and identified yourself when you felt I was ignoring your question. I’m glad we cleared that up via DM. The truth is as I said and I’m saying here is that I had to let some time pass before I felt I could reasonably answer this question. Simply because - as you know as someone who teaches history at university - distance is good to make a sober appraisal rather than knee jerk in the moment judgements.

Contrary to what some might think I’m not really a fan girl when it comes to the royal family. I don’t religiously follow their every movement or utterance especially as I live in Paris and therefore I don’t really care about tabloid tittle tattle. I only get to hear of anything to do with the royal family when I speak to my parents or my great aunts and uncles for whom the subject is closer to their heart because of the services my family has rendered over past generations to the monarchy and the older (and dying) tight knit social circles they travel in.

Like Walter Bagehot, I’m more interested in the monarchy as an institution and its constitutional place within the historical, social, and political fabric of Britain and its continued delicate stabilising importance to that effect. It was Walter Bagehot, the great constitutional scholar and editor the Economist magazine, who said, “The mystic reverence, the religious allegiance, which are essential to a true monarchy, are imaginative sentiments that no legislature can manufacture in any people.” In his view, a politically-inactive monarchy served the best interests of the United Kingdom; by abstaining from direct rule, the monarch levitated above the political fray with dignity, and remained a respected personage to whom all subjects could look to as a guiding light.

Even as a staunch monarchist I freely confess that there has always been this odd nature of the relationship between hereditary monarchy and a society increasingly ambivalent about the institution. To paraphrase Bagehot again, there has been too much ‘daylight’ shone onto the ‘magic’ of the monarchy because we are obsessed with personalities as celebrities.

Having said that I did feel saddened by the passing of Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh. After the Queen, he was my favourite royal. Anne, Princess Royal, would come next because she is very much like her father in temperament, humour, and character, so unlike her other brothers.

I have met the late Prince Philip when I was serving in the army in a few regimental meet-and-greet situations - which as you may know is pretty normal given that members of the royal family serve as honorary colonel-in-chiefs (patrons in effect) of all the British army regiments and corps.I also saw him at one or two social events such the annual charitable Royal Caledonian Ball (he’s an expert scottish reeler) and the Guards Polo Club where my older brothers played.

I’ll will freely confess that he was the one royal I could come close to identify with because his personal biography resonated with me a great deal.

Let’s be honest, the core Windsor family members, born to privilege, are conditioned and raised to be dull. Perhaps that’s a a tad harsh. I would prefer the term ‘anonymously self-effacing’, just another way of saying ‘for God’s sake don’t draw attention to yourself by saying or doing anything even mildly scandalous or political lest it invites public opprobrium and scrutiny’. The Queen magnificently succeeds in this but the others from Charles down just haven’t (with the exception of Princess Anne).

However, many people forget this obvious fact that it’s the incoming husbands and wives who marry into the Windsor family who are relied upon to bring colour and even liven things up a little. And long before Kate Middleton, Meghan Markle (very briefly), or Lady Diana Spencer, were the stars of ‘The Firm’- a phrase first coined by King George VI, Queen Elizabeth II's father who ruled from 1936 to 1952, who was thought to have wryly said, "British royals are 'not a family, we're a firm,” - it was Prince Philip who really livened things up and made the greater impact on the monarchy than any of them in the long term.

Prince Philip’s passing belied the truth of a far more complex individual: a destitute and penniless refugee Greek-Danish prince with a heart breaking backstory that could have been penned by any 19th Century novelist, and also eagle eyed reformer who tried to drag the royal family into the 20th century. At the core of the man - lost scion of a lost European royal dynasty, a courageous war veteran, and Queen’s consort - were values in which he attempted to transform and yet maintain much older inherited traditions and attitudes. Due to his great longevity, Philip’s life came to span a period of social change that is almost unprecedented, and almost no one in history viewed such a transformation from the front row.

Prince Philip would seem to represent in an acute form the best of the values of that era, which in many ways jar with today’s. He had fought with great courage in the war as a dashing young naval officer; he was regularly rude to foreigners, which was obviously a bonus to all Brits. He liked to ride and sail and shoot things. He was unsentimental almost to a comic degree, which felt reassuring at a time when a new-found emotional incontinence made many feel uncomfortable. Outrageous to some but endearing to others, he was the sort of man you’d want to go for a pint with, perhaps the ultimate compliment that an Englishman can pay to another Englishman. This has its own delicious irony as he wasn’t really an Englishman.

There are 4 takeways I would suggest in my appraisal of Prince Philip that stand out for me. So let me go through each one.

1. Prince Philip’s Internationalism

It may seem odd for me to say that Prince Philip wasn’t English but he wasn’t an Englishman in any real sense. He was a wretch of the world - stateless, homeless, and penniless. That the Prince of Nowhere became the British Monarchy’s figurehead was more than fitting for a great age of migration and transition in which the Royal Family survived and even flourished. That he was able to transform himself into the quintessential Englishman is testimony not just to his personal determination but also to the powerful cultural pull of Britishness.

He was born on a kitchen table in Corfu in June 1921. A year later in 1922, Philip, as the the great-great-grandson of Queen Victoria and nephew of Constantine I of Greece, was forced to flee with his family after the abdication of Constantine. He grew up outside Paris speaking French; ethnically he was mostly German although he considered himself Danish, his family originating from the Schleswig border region. He was in effect, despite his demeanour of Royal Navy officer briskness, a citizen of nowhere in an age of movement. From a very young age he was a stateless person, nationally homeless. Indeed, Philip was an outsider in a way that even Meghan Markle could never be; at his wedding in 1947, his three surviving sisters and two brothers-in-law were not permitted to attend because they were literally Britain’s enemies, having fought for the Germans. A third brother-in-law had even been in the SS, working directly for Himmler, but had been killed in the conflict.

Even his religion was slightly exotic. He was Greek Orthodox until he converted to Anglicanism on marrying Elizabeth - what with his wife due to become supreme head of the Church and everything - but his ties with eastern Christianity remained. His great-aunts Princess Elisabeth of Hesse and by Rhine and Tsarina Alexandra are both martyrs of the Russian Orthodox Church, having been murdered by the Bolsheviks; Philip’s mother went on to become an Orthodox nun and a “Righteous Among the Nations” for saving a Jewish family during the Nazi occupation of Greece, spending much of her time in squalid poverty.

His parents were part of the largely German extended aristocracy who ruled almost all of Europe before it all came crashing down in 1918. When he died, aged 99, it marked a near-century in which all the great ideological struggles had been and gone; he had been born before the Soviet Union but outlived the Cold War, the War on Terror and - almost - Covid-19.

The world that Philip was born into was a far more violent and dangerous place than ours. In the year he was born, Irish rebels were still fighting Black and Tans; over the course of 12 months the Spanish and Japanese prime ministers were assassinated, there was a coup in Portugal and race riots in the United States. Germany was rocked by violence from the far-Left and far-Right, while in Italy a brutal new political movement, the Fascists, secured 30 seats in parliament, led by a trashy journalist called Benito Mussolini.

The worst violence, however, took place in Greece and Turkey. Following the defeat of the Ottoman Empire, what remained of Turkey was marked for permanent enfeeblement by the Allies. But much to everyone’s surprise the country’s force were roused by the brilliant officer Mustafa Kemal, who led the Turks to victory. Constantinople was lost to Christendom for good and thousands of years of Hellenic culture was put to the flames in Smyrna.

The Greek royal family, north German imports shipped in during the 19th century, bore much of the popular anger for this disaster. King Constantine fled to Italy, and his brother Andrew was arrested and only escaped execution through the intervention of his relative Britain’s George V. Andrew’s wife Alice, their four daughters and infant son Philip fled to France, completely impoverished but with the one possession that ensures that aristocrats are never truly poor: connections.

Philip had a traumatic childhood. He was forged by the turmoil of his first decade and then moulded by his schooling. His early years were spent wandering, as his place of birth ejected him, his family disintegrated and he moved from country to country, none of them ever his own. When he was just a year old, he and his family were scooped up by a British destroyer from his home on the Greek island of Corfu after his father had been condemned to death. They were deposited in Italy. One of Philip's first international journeys was spent crawling around on the floor of the train from an Italian port city, "the grubby child on the desolate train pulling out of the Brindisi night," as his older sister Sophia later described it.

In Paris, he lived in a house borrowed from a relative; but it was not destined to become a home. In just one year, while he was at boarding school in Britain, the mental health of his mother, Princess Alice, deteriorated and she went into an asylum; his father, Prince Andrew, went off to Monte Carlo to live with his mistress. "I don't think anybody thinks I had a father," he once said. Andrew would die during the war. Philip went to Monte Carlo to pick up his father's possessions after the Germans had been driven from France; there was almost nothing left, just a couple of clothes brushes and some cuff-links.

Philip’s four sisters were all much older, and were soon all married to German aristocrats (the youngest would soon die in an aeroplane crash, along with her husband and children). His sisters became ever more embroiled in the German regime. In Scotland going to Gordonstoun boarding school, Philip went the opposite direction, becoming ever more British. Following the death of his sister Cecilie in a plane crash in 1937, the gulf widened. As the clouds of conflict gathered, the family simply disintegrated. With a flash of the flinty stoicism that many would later interpret, with no little justification, as self-reliance to the point of dispassion, the prince explained: “It’s simply what happened. The family broke up… I just had to get on with it. You do. One does.”

In the space of 10 years he had gone from a prince of Greece to a wandering, homeless, and virtually penniless boy with no-one to care for him. He got through it by making a joke of everything, and by being practical.

By the time he went to Gordonstoun, a private boarding school on the north coast of Scotland, Philip was tough, independent and able to fend for himself; he'd had to be. Gordonstoun would channel those traits into the school's distinct philosophy of community service, teamwork, responsibility and respect for the individual. And it sparked one of the great passions of Philip's life - his love of the sea. It was Gordonstoun that nurtured that love through the maturation of his character.

Philip adored the school as much as his son Charles would despise it. Not just because the stress it put on physical as well as mental excellence - he was a great sportsman. But because of its ethos, laid down by its founder Kurt Hahn, a Jewish exile from Nazi Germany.

Hahn first met Philip as a boy in Nazi Germany. Through a connection via one of his sister’s husbands, Philip, the poor, lonely boy was first sent off to a new school - in Nazi Germany. Which was as fun as can be imagined. Schloss Salem had been co-founded by stern educator called Kurt Hahn, a tough, discipline-obsessed conservative nationalist who saw civilisation in inexorable decline. But by this stage Hahn, persecuted for being Jewish in Nazi Germany, had fled to Britain, and Philip did not spend long at the school either, where pressure from the authorities was already making things difficult for the teachers. Philip laughed at the Nazis at first, because their salute was the same gesture the boys at his previous school had to make when they wanted to go to the toilet, but within a year he was back in England, a refugee once again.

Philip happily attended Hahn’s new school, Gordonstoun, which the strict disciplinarian had set up in the Scottish Highlands. Inspired by Ancient Sparta, the boys (and then later girls) had to run around barefoot and endure cold showers, even in winter, the whole aim of which was to drive away the inevitable civilisational decay Hahn saw all around him. To 21st century ears it sounds like hell on earth, yet Philip enjoyed it, illustrating just what a totally alien world he came from.

That ethos became a significant, perhaps the significant, part of the way that Philip believed life should be lived. It shines through the speeches he gave later in his life. "The essence of freedom," he would say in Ghana in 1958, "is discipline and self-control." The comforts of the post-war era, he told the British Schools Exploring Society a year earlier, may be important "but it is much more important that the human spirit should not be stifled by easy living". And two years before that, he spoke to the boys of Ipswich School of the moral as well as material imperatives of life, with the "importance of the individual" as the "guiding principle of our society".

It was at Gordonstoun one of the great contradictions of Philip's fascinating life was born. The importance of the individual was what in Kurt Hahn's eyes differentiated Britain and liberal democracies from the kind of totalitarian dictatorship that he had fled. Philip put that centrality of the individual, and individual agency - the ability we have as humans to make our own moral and ethical decisions - at the heart of his philosophy.

At Dartmouth Naval College in 1939, the two great passions of his life would collide. He had learned to sail at Gordonstoun; he would learn to lead at Dartmouth. And his driving desire to achieve, and to win, would shine through. Despite entering the college far later than most other cadets, he would graduate top of his class in 1940. In further training at Portsmouth, he gained the top grade in four out of five sections of the exam. He became one of the youngest first lieutenants in the Royal Navy.

The navy ran deep in his family. His maternal grandfather had been the First Sea Lord, the commander of the Royal Navy; his uncle, "Dickie" Mountbatten, had command of a destroyer while Philip was in training. In war, he showed not only bravery but guile. It was his natural milieu. "Prince Philip", wrote Gordonstoun headmaster Kurt Hahn admiringly, "will make his mark in any profession where he will have to prove himself in a trial of strength".

2. Prince Philip and the modernisation of the monarchy

In his own words, the process of defining what it meant to be a royal consort was one of “trial and error.” Speaking with BBC One’s Fiona Bruce in 2011, Philip explained, “There was no precedent. If I asked somebody, 'What do you expect me to do?' they all looked blank. They had no bloody idea, nobody had much idea.” So he forged for himself a role as a moderniser of the monarchy.

He could not have had much idea back in 1939. Back then in Dartmouth in 1939, as war became ever more certain, the navy was his destiny. He had fallen in love with the sea itself. "It is an extraordinary master or mistress," he would say later, "it has such extraordinary moods." But a rival to the sea would come.

When King George VI toured Dartmouth Naval College, accompanied by Philip's uncle, he brought with him his daughter, Princess Elizabeth. Philip was asked to look after her. He showed off to her, vaulting the nets of the tennis court in the grounds of the college. He was confident, outgoing, strikingly handsome, of royal blood if without a throne. She was beautiful, a little sheltered, a little serious, and very smitten by Philip.

Did he know then that this was a collision of two great passions? That he could not have the sea and the beautiful young woman? For a time after their wedding in 1948, he did have both. As young newlyweds in Malta, he had what he so prized - command of a ship - and they had two idyllic years together. But the illness and then early death of King George VI brought it all to an end.

He knew what it meant, the moment he was told. Up in a lodge in Kenya, touring Africa, with Princess Elizabeth in place of the King, Philip was told first of the monarch's death in February 1952. He looked, said his equerry Mike Parker, "as if a ton of bricks had fallen on him". For some time he sat, slumped in a chair, a newspaper covering his head and chest. His princess had become the Queen. His world had changed irrevocably.

While the late Princess Diana was later to famously claim that there were “three people” in her marriage - herself, Prince Charles and Camilla - there were at least 55 million in Philip and Elizabeth’s. As Elizabeth dedicated her life to her people at Westminster Abbey at the Coronation on June 2, 1953, it sparked something of an existential crisis in Philip. Many people even after his death have never really understood this pivotal moment in Philip’s life. All his dreams of being a naval officer and a life at sea as well as being the primary provider and partner in his marriage were now sacrificed on the altar of duty and love.

With his career was now over, and he was now destined to become the spare part. Philip, very reasonably, asked that his future children and indeed his family be known by his name, Mountbatten. In effect he was asking to change the royal family’s name from the House of Windsor to the House of Mountbatten. But when Prime Minister Winston Churchill got wind of it as well as the more politically agile courtiers behind the Queen, a prolonged battle of wits ensued, and it was one Philip ultimately lost. It was only in 1957 that he accepted the title of “Prince.”

Even though he had almost lost everything dear to him and his role now undefined, he didn’t throw himself a pity party. He just got on with it. Philip tried to forge his own distinct role as second fiddle to the woman who had come to represent Great Britain. He designated himself the First Officer of the Good Ship Windsor. He set about dusting off some of the cobwebs off the throne and letting some daylight unto the workings of the monarchy by advocating reasonable amount of modernisation of the monarchy.

He had ideas about modernising the royal family that might be called “improving optics” today. But in his heart of hearts he didn’t want the monarchy to become a stuffy museum piece. He envisaged a less stuffy and more popular monarchy, relevant to the lives of ordinary people. Progress was always going to be incremental as he had sturdy opposition from the old guard who wanted to keep everything as it was, but nevertheless his stubborn energy resulted in significant changes.

When a commission chaired by Prince Philip proposed broadcasting the 1953 investiture ceremony that formally named Elizabeth II as queen on live television, Prime Minister Winston Churchill reacted with outright horror, declaring, “It would be unfitting that the whole ceremony should be presented as if it were a theatrical performance.” Though the queen had initially voiced similar concerns, she eventually came around to the idea, allowing the broadcast of all but one segment of the coronation. Ultimately, according to the BBC, more than 20 million people tuned in to the televised ceremony - a credit to the foresight of Philip.

Elizabeth’s coronation marked a watershed moment for a monarchy that has, historically, been very hands off, old-fashioned and slightly invisible. Over the following years, the royals continued to embrace television as a way of connecting with the British people: In 1957, the queen delivered her annual Christmas address during a live broadcast. Again, this was Philip’s doing when he cajoled the Queen to televise her message live. He even helped her in how to use the teleprompter to get over her nerves and be herself on screen.

Four years later, in 1961, Philip became the first family member to sit for a television interview. It is hard for us to imagine now but back then it was huge. For many it was a significant step in modernising the monarchy.

Though not everything went to plan. Toward the end of the decade, the Windsors even invited cameras into their home. A 1969 BBC fly-on-the-wall documentary, instigated by Philip to show life behind the scenes, turned into an unmitigated disaster: “The Windsors” revealed the royals to be a fairly normal, if very rich, British upper-class family who liked barbecues, ice cream, watching television and bickering. The mystery of royalty took a hit below the waterline from their own torpedo, a self-inflicted wound from which they took a long time to recover. Shown once, the documentary was never aired again. But it had an irreversible effect, and not just by revealing the royals to be ordinary. By allowing the cameras in, Philip opened the lid to the prying eyes of the paparazzi who could legitimately argue that since the Royals themselves had sanctioned exposure, anything went. From then on, minor members of the House of Windsor were picked off by the press, like helpless tethered animals on a hunting safari.

Prince Philip also took steps to reorganise and renovate the royal estates in Sandringham and Balmoral such as intercoms, modern dish washers, generally sought to make the royal household and the monarchy less stuffy, not to have so much formality everywhere.

Philip helped modernised the monarchy in other ways to acknowledge that the monarchy could be responsive to changes in society. It was Prince Philip - much to the chagrin of the haughty Princess Margaret and other stuffy old courtiers - who persuaded the Queen to host informal lunches and garden parties designed to engage a broader swath of the British public. Conversely, Prince Philip heartily encouraged the Queen (she was all for it apparently but was still finding her feet as a new monarch) to end the traditional practice of presenting debutantes from aristocratic backgrounds at court in 1952. For Philip and others it felt antiquated and out of touch with society. I know in speaking to my grandmother and others in her generation the decision was received with disbelief at how this foreign penniless upstart could come and stomp on the dreams of mothers left to clutch their pearls at the prospect there would be no shop window for their daughter to attract a suitable gentleman for marriage. One of my great aunts was over the moon happy that she never would have to go through what she saw as a very silly ceremony because she preferred her muddy wellies to high heels.

A former senior member of the royal household, who spent several years working as one of Prince Philip’s aides, and an old family friend, once told us around a family dinner table that the Duke of Edinburgh was undoubtedly given a sense of permanence by his marriage into the Royal Family that was missing from earlier years. But the royal aide would hastily add that Prince Philip, of course, would never see it that way.

Prince Philip’s attitude was to never brood on things or seek excuses. And he did indeed get on with the job in his own way - there should be no doubt that when it came to building and strengthening the Royal Family it was a partnership of equals with the Queen. Indeed contrary to Netflix’s hugely popular series ‘The Crown’ and its depiction of the royal marriage with Philip’s resentment at playing second fiddle, the prince recognised that his “first duty was to serve the Queen in the best way I could,” as he told ITV in 2011. Though this role was somewhat ill-suited to his dynamic, driven, and outspoken temperament, Philip performed it with utter devotion.

3. Prince Philip’s legacy

One could argue rightly that modernising the monarchy was his lasting legacy achievement. But he also tried to modernise a spent and exhausted Britain as it emerged from a ruinous war. When peace came, and with it eventual economic recovery, Philip would throw himself into the construction of a better Britain, urging the country to adopt scientific methods, embracing the ideas of industrial design, planning, education and training. A decade before Harold Wilson talked of the "white heat of the technological revolution", Philip was urging modernity on the nation in speeches and interviews. He was on top of his reading of the latest scientific breakthroughs and well read in break out innovations.

This interest in modernisation was only matched by his love for nature. As the country and the world became richer and consumed ever more, Philip warned of the impact on the environment, well before it was even vaguely fashionable. As president of the World Wildlife Fund (WWF) in the UK for more than 20 years from 1961, he was one of the first high-profile advocates of the cause of conservation and biological diversity at a time when it was considered the preserve of an eccentric few.

For a generation of school children in Britain and the Commonwealth though, his most lasting legacy and achievement will be the Duke of Edinburgh Awards (DofE). He set up the Duke of Edinburgh award, a scheme aimed at getting young people out into nature in search of adventure or be of service to their communities. It was a scheme that could match the legacy of Baden Powell’s scouts movement.

When Prince Philip first outlined his idea of a scheme to harness the values of his education at Gordonstoun by bringing character-building outdoor pursuits to the many rather than the fee-paying few, he received short shrift from the government of the day. The then minister of education, Sir David Eccles responded to the Duke’s proposal by saying: “I hear you’re trying to invent something like the Hitler Youth.” Undeterred he pushed on until it came to fruition.

I’m so glad that he did. I remember how proud I was for getting my DofE Awards while I was at boarding school. With the support of great mentors I managed to achieve my goals: collecting second-hand English books for a literacy programme for orphaned street children in Delhi, India with a close Indian school friend and her family; and completing a 350 mile hike following St. Olav’s Pilgrimmage Trail from Selånger, on the east coast of Sweden, and ending at Nidaros Cathedral in Trondheim, on the west coast of Norway.

It continues to be an enduring legacy. Since its launch in 1956, the Duke of Edinburgh awards have been bestowed upon some 2.5 million youngsters in Britain and some eight million worldwide. For a man who once referred to himself as a “Greek princeling of no consequence”, his pioneering tutelage of these two organisations (alongside some 778 other organisations of which he was either president or a patron) would be sufficient legacy for most.

4. Prince Philip’s character

It may surprise some but what I liked most about Prince Philip was the very thing that helped him achieve so much and leave a lasting legacy: his character.

It is unhelpful to the caricature of Prince Philip as an unwavering but pugnacious consort whose chief talent was a dizzying facility in off-colour one-liners that he was widely read and probably the cleverest member of his family.

His private library at Windsor consists of 11,000 tomes, among them 200 volumes of poetry. He was a fan of Jung, TS Eliot, Shakespeare and the cookery writer Elizabeth David. As well as a lifelong fascination with science, technology and sport, he spoke fairly fluent French, painted and wrote a well received book on birds. It’s maddening to think how many underestimated his genuine intellect and how cultured he was behind the crusty exterior.

He didn’t have an entourage to fawn around him. He was the first to own a computer at Buckingham Palace. He answered his own phone and wrote and responded to his own correspondence. By force of character he fought the old guard courtiers at every turn to modernise the monarchy against their stubborn resistance.

Prince Philip was never given to self-analysis or reflection on the past. Various television interviewers tried without success to coerce him in to commenting on his legacy.But once when his guard was down he asked on the occasion of his 90th birthday what he was more proud of, he replied with characteristic bluntness: “I couldn’t care less. Who cares what I think about it, I mean it’s ridiculous.”

All of which neatly raises the profound aversion to fuss and the proclivity for tetchiness often expressed in withering put-downs that, for better or worse, will be the reflex memory for many of the Duke of Edinburgh. If character is a two edged sword so what of his gaffes?

There is no doubt his cult status partly owed to his so-called legendary gaffes, of which there are enough to fill a book (indeed there is a book). But he was no racist. None of the Commonwealth people or foreign heads of state ever said this about him. Only leftist republicans with too much Twitter time on their hands screamed such a ridiculous accusation. They’re just overly sensitive snowflakes and being devoid of any humour they’re easily triggered.

There was the time that Philip accepted a gift from a local in Kenya, telling her she was a kind woman, and then adding: “You are a woman, aren’t you?” Or the occasion he remarked “You managed not to get eaten, then?” to a student trekking in Papua New Guinea. Then there was his World Wildlife Fund speech in 1986, when he said: “If it has got four legs and it is not a chair, if it has got two wings and it flies but is not an aeroplane, and if it swims and it is not a submarine, the Cantonese will eat it.” Well, he wasn’t wrong.

Philip quickly developed a reputation for what he once defined, to the General Dental Council, as “dentopedology – the science of opening your mouth and putting your foot in it”. Clearly he could laugh at himself as he often did as an ice breaker to put others at ease.

His remarking to the president of Nigeria, who was wearing national dress, “You look like you’re ready for bed”, or advising British students in China not to stay too long or they would end up with “slitty eyes”, is probably best written off as ill-judged humour. Telling a photographer to “just take the fucking picture” or declaring “this thing open, whatever it is”, were expressions of exasperation or weariness with which anyone might sympathise.

Above all, he was also capable of genuine if earthy wit, saying of his horse-loving daughter Princess Anne: “If it doesn’t fart or eat hay she isn’t interested.” Many people might have thought it but few dared say it. If Prince Philip’s famous gaffes provoked as much amusement as anger, it was precisely because they seem to give voice to the bewilderment and pent-up frustrations with which many people viewed the ever-changing modern world.

A former royal protection officer recounts how while on night duty guarding a visiting Queen and consort, he engaged in conversation with colleagues on a passing patrol. It was 2am and the officer had understood the royal couple to be staying elsewhere in the building until a window above his head was abruptly slammed open and an irate Prince Philip stuck his head out of the window to shout: “Would you fuck off!” Without another word, he then shut the window.

The Duke at least recognised from an early age that he was possessed of an abruptness that could all too easily cross the line from the refreshingly salty to crass effrontery.

One of his most perceptive biographers, Philip Eade, recounted how at the age of 21 the prince wrote a letter to a relation whose son had recently been killed in combat. He wrote: “I know you will never think much of me. I am rude and unmannerly and I say things out of turn which I realise afterwards must have hurt someone. Then I am filled with remorse and I try to put matters right.”

In the case of the royal protection officer, the Duke turned up in the room used by the police officers when off duty and said: “Terribly sorry about last night, wasn’t quite feeling myself.”

Aides have also ventured to explain away some of their employer’s more outlandish remarks - from asking Cayman islanders “You are descended from pirates aren’t you?” to enquiring of a female fashion writer if she was wearing mink knickers - as the price of his instinctive desire to prick the pomposity of his presence with a quip to put others at ease.

Indeed many people forget that his ‘gaffes’ were more typical of the clubbish humour of the British officer class – which of course would be less appreciated, sometimes even offensive, to other ears. It’s why he could relate so well to veterans who enjoyed his bonhomie company immensely.

But behind the irascibility, some have argued there also lay a darker nature, unpleasantly distilled in his flinty attitude to his eldest son. One anecdote tells of how, in the aftermath of the murder of the Duke’s uncle and surrogate father, Lord Mountbatten, Philip lectured his son, who was also extremely fond of his “honorary grandfather”, that he was not to succumb to self-pity. Charles left the room in tears and when his father was asked why he had spoken to his son with so little compassion, the Duke replied: “Because if there’s any crying to be done I want it to happen within this house, in front of his family, not in public. He must be toughened up, right now.”

But here I would say that Prince Philip’s intentions were almost always sincere and in no way cruel. He has always tried to protect his family - even from their own worst selves or from those outside the family ‘firm’ who may not have their best interest at heart.

In 1937, a 16-year-old Prince Philip had walked behind his elder sister Cecile’s coffin after she was killed in a plane crash while heavily pregnant. The remains of newly-born infant found in the wreckage suggested the aircraft had perished as the pilot sought to make an emergency landing in fog as the mother entered childbirth. It was an excruciating taste of tragedy which would one day manifest itself in a very princely form of kindness that was deep down that defined Philip’s character.

When about 60 years later Prime Minister Tony Blair’s spin doctors in Downing Street tried to strong arm the Queen and the royal household over the the arrangements for the late Prince Diana’s funeral, it was Philip who stepped in front to protect his family. The Prime Minister and his media savvy spin doctors wanted the two young princes, William and Harry, to walk behind the coffin.

The infamous exchange was on the phone during a conference call between London and Balmoral, and the emotional Philip was reportedly backed by the Queen. The call was witnessed by Anji Hunter, who worked for Mr Blair. She said how surprised she was to hear Prince Philip’s emotion. ‘It’s about the boys,” he cried, “They’ve lost their mother”. Hunter thought to herself, “My God, there’s a bit of suffering going on up there”.’

Sky TV political commentator Adam Boulton (Anji Hunter’s husband) would write in his book Tony’s Ten Years: ‘The Queen relished the moment when Philip bellowed over the speakerphone from Balmoral, “Fuck off. We are talking about two boys who have just lost their mother”. Boulton goes on to say that Philip: ‘…was trying to remind everyone that human feelings were involved. No 10 were trying to help the Royals present things in the best way, but may have seemed insensitive.’

In the end the politicians almost didn’t get their way. Prince Philip stepped in to counsel his grandson, Prince William, after he had expressed a reluctance to follow his mother’s coffin after her death in Paris. Philip told the grieving child: “If you don’t walk, I think you’ll regret it later. If I walk, will you walk with me?”

It’s no wonder he was sought as a counsellor by other senior royals and especially close to his grandchildren, for whom he was a firm favourite. His relationship with Harry was said to have become strained, however, following the younger Prince’s decision to reject his royal inheritance for a life away from the public eye in America with his new American wife, Meghan Markle. For Prince Philip I am quite sure it went against all the elder Prince had lived his life by - self-sacrifice for the greater cause of royalty.

This is the key to Philip’s character and in understanding the man. The ingrained habits of a lifetime of duty and service in one form or another were never far away.

In conclusion then....

After more time passes I am sure historians will make a richer reassessment of Prince Philip’s life and legacy. Because Prince Philip was an extraordinary man who lived an extraordinary life; a life intimately connected with the sweeping changes of our turbulent 20th Century, a life of fascinating contrast and contradiction, of service and some degree of solitude. A complex, clever, eternally restless man that not even the suffocating protocols of royalty and tradition could bind him.

Although he fully accepted the limitations of public royal service, he did not see this as any reason for passive self-abnegation, but actively, if ironically, identified with his potentially undignified role. It is this bold and humorous embrace of fated restriction which many now find irksome: one is no longer supposed to mix public performance with private self-expression in quite this manner.

Yet such a mix is authentically Socratic: the proof that the doing of one’s duty can also be the way of self-fulfilment. The Duke’s sacrifice of career to romance and ceremonial office is all the more impressive for his not hiding some annoyance. The combination of his restless temperament and his deeply felt devotion to duty found fruitful expression; for instance, in the work of Saint George’s House Windsor - a centre and retreat that he created with Revd. Robin Woods - in exploring religious faith, philosophy, and contemporary issues.

Above all he developed a way to be male that was both traditional and modern. He served one woman with chivalric devotion as his main task in life while fulfilling his public engagements in a bold and active spirit. He eventually embraced the opportunity to read and contemplate more. And yet, he remained loyal to the imperatives of his mentor Kurt Hahn in seeking to combine imagination with action and religious devotion with practical involvement.

Prince Philip took more pride in the roles he had accidentally inherited than in the personal gifts which he was never able fully to develop. He put companionship before self-realisation and acceptance of a sacred symbolic destiny before the mere influencing of events. In all these respects he implicitly rebuked our prevailing meritocracy which over-values officially accredited attainment, and our prevailing narcissism which valorises the assertion of discrete identities.

Prince Philip was Britain’s longest-serving consort. He was steadfast, duty driven, and a necessary adjunct to the continuity and stability of the Queen and the monarchy. Of all the institutions that have lost the faith of the British public in this period - the Church, Parliament, the media, the police - the Monarchy itself has surprisingly done better than most at surviving, curiously well-adapted to a period of societal change and moral anarchy. The House of Hanover and later Saxe-Coburg and Gotha (changed to Windsor), since their arrival in this country in 1714, have been noted above all for their ability to adapt. And just as they survived the Victorian age by transforming themselves into the bourgeoise, domestic ideal, so they have survived the new Elizabethan era (Harry-Meghan saga is just a passing blip like the Edward-Wallis Simpson saga of the 1930s).

There was once a time when the Royal’s German blood was a punchline for crude and xenophobic satirists. Now it is the royals who are deeply British while the country itself is increasingly cosmopolitan and globalised. British society has seen a greater demographic change than the preceding four or five thousand years combined, the second Elizabethan age has been characterised more than anything by a transformational movement of people. Prince Philip, the Greek-born, Danish-German persecuted and destitute wanderer who came to become one of the Greatest Britons of the past century, perhaps epitomised that era better than anyone else. And he got through it by making a joke of everything, and by being practical.

I hope I don’t exaggerate when I say that in our troubled times over identity, and our place and purpose in the world, we need to heed his selfless example more than ever.

As Heraclitus wisely said, Ήθος ανθρώπω δαίμων (Character is destiny.)

RIP Prince Philip. You were my prince. God damn you, I miss you already.

Thanks for your question.

#question #ask #prince philip #duke of edinburgh #queen elizabeth II #the queen of spades #monarchy #britain #british #royalty #politics #history #culture #europe #crown #icon #great briton #society

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fromtheplanethexagon · 4 years ago

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the robot problem: a critical look at tobecky, 5 years late

hello wordgirl fandom i am back :) and i have a lot of thoughts that i never got around to expressing before i moved on from the show. so be aware that everything i'm saying is based on my experiences during the 2012-2016 era of the fandom & state of tumblr in general, and i am not familiar with more recent fan content.

it's been over five years since the show ended, and @ifbrd reminded me (along with some great analysis) that while tobecky was super popular since before the show technically started (thanks to the play date shorts), it's pretty unhealthy in a lot of ways that tend to be excused or flat out ignored in fanworks. i'd like to reflect on that a bit (a lot); specifically, how both the show and the fandom approached this enemies-to-lovers ship, and how easily this ship can slip into uncomfortable territory if we're careless about how we interpret the ship and create fan content of it.

i will admit, i'm mostly writing this as a response to past me and my old creations - though i moved on from the show as a whole years ago, i do like taking the time to reflect on old interests once in a while, and reevaluating my thoughts on them. and this ship is probably the biggest one that still lurks in the corners of my mind once in a while, so let's go.

cherish is the word: a short positive note before a much longer negative one

i wanted to start this essay off with some positivity, because i am going to be very negative after this. tobecky was, in some ways, cute. it's obvious from the very beginning that these two characters are on pretty equal ground, even if one of them isn't aware of it. and that's part of the fun - the irony of how unaware tobey is that his nemesis/crush/person that pretty much always wins against him is someone that he completely dismisses as incompetent. i want to point this out because honestly, in general i don't like enemies-to-lovers because a lot of them use a power imbalance within the dynamic, and i hate power imbalances, especially when it comes to actual life-or-death scenarios (at least, as much as cartoons can do that). in most episodes, becky is never actually forced to go along with his wishes. she's not held in a 'date' against her will, nor is she ever really outwitted by him. i bring this up because there is one huge, uncomfortable exception, which i will get to later.

another big plus to the ship is the fact that they just... get along? even when fighting? of course we get brief moments where they just hang out and talk about paintings or whatever, but i'm talking about how much they get each other, even if they don't realize it. like the word banter, for example. been there since day one. becky loves words, and while most other people in her life don't really care (ranging from 'eh, that's cool i guess' to her brother calling it annoying), tobey gives her a chance to show off and thus treats her as a worthy adversary as herself, not because of her more generic superpowers - something that we've seen in canon that she feels self-conscious about (see: her motivation in patch game). one of the less noticed examples, to me, is "it's your party and i'll cry if I want to", because it's just - okay. they both are excluded from a social event, and while it's obvious that tobey deals with it by destroying the city, it's also pretty obvious that becky also deals with her frustration by fighting in that battle. like, yes, realistically it's just objectively bad that he's destroying buildings. but they're also providing each other with a way to work through their frustrations, first by fighting and then by talking things out, and finally by hanging out together instead of dwelling on being excluded from the party.

so it makes a lot of sense to me that many tobecky fans gravitated towards writing far-in-the-future fic, usually by implying that some growth had taken place before starting to write the ship. (there are, as far as i'm aware, 2... maybe 3 exceptions, that take the time to attempt a real redemption for him, at least when i left the fandom.) because if you take away his worst moments, either by reasoning out that he was 10 years old and a mess, or that he was a cartoon character in a cartoon world where everyone's actions are over-the-top, or by just flat-out pretending that certain episodes never happened, there's some pretty solid ground to start a ship on.

go gadget go: we all do not see it, we simply close our eyes (review of canon)

when the show began, i was the same age as the characters. a lot of other people were, too - at least in my cohort of the fandom. i think it's pretty safe to say that many of us have fond memories of the show's earlier seasons, and held on to that interest as we got older, for whatever reasons. so like, not to be all 'as an OG fan...', but i remember seeing the shorts air for the first time in 2006. i have a diary entry in july of 2009 about how i, a 12yo with no concept of the idea of 'shipping', was disappointed in the new tobey episode because i wanted more tobecky interactions. (that was robo-camping, btw, lol.) and so i remember how exciting their rivalry felt, watching them as someone literally their exact same age, and then watching that again as a nostalgic 17yo, and then uh... growing up, to put it frankly, and realizing just how unhealthy most of their interactions were.

okay what i meant to say was, this section is an overview of the relationship's canon portrayal throughout the years.

first, we have early tobecky: this includes the shorts and the first few seasons. this is their classic relationship: he likes her and takes robots on rampages to get her attention, she majorly disapproves and has fun taking him down. we've all seen the show, you know what i'm talking about. his backhanded ways of trying to find out her identity often feature prominently in the episodes, which - sigh, i've mentioned this whole issue before, but it's kind of a grey area in the whole uncomfortable-factor thing, because while trying to find out her identity is VERY invasive, it's something that like... everyone in the show tries to do, even her canon crush (scoops). on the one hand, it's really not a great look, but on the other hand, this is a cartoon meant to parody a genre in which this trope is extremely common. so i just wanna say that i have Issues and Thoughts on this aspect of their relationship, but there are other things i find more important to discuss here.

second, we have late tobecky: this is seasons 7-8. this is... a very strange and huge shift from the previous dynamic, though it's not necessarily obvious. what i mean by that is that for some reason, the show writers made it so that half of tobey’s rampages have nothing to do with his crush on wordgirl, even though that used to be the sole reason for his villainy. seriously. we have the birthday episode, where he's upset because he feels left out; wg vs tobey vs the dentist, where he's mad that he has a cavity; and trustworthy tobey, where his robot goes on a rampage... after becky accidentally makes it malfunction. the two outliers are ‘guess who’s coming to thanksgiving dinner’ and ‘patch game’, but they still differ from previous seasons because 1) his destruction is isolated to a forest far away from the city, and 2) his motive is still to impress wordgirl, but his methods are relatively tame. also he completely gives up on the secret identity thing??? i may have missed some things but i think he straight up tells her 'yeah there's no way you're wordgirl, lol' and the subject is just dropped for the rest of the show.

i also want to include 'the robot problem' here, because it's one of two season 6 tobey episodes, and follows the 'doesn't destroy buildings to get her attention' pattern: in fact, he teams up with her to try and stop someone else from going on a rampage (even if his reasons are selfish, lol).

and finally. the other season 6 episode. we have go gadget go, the bane of my time spent in the fandom. because GGG is the single episode where tobey truly manages to take away her autonomy, and proceeds to abuse that power for an extended period of time, for his own amusement. it's bad. it's Very Bad. put in the context that it's a white boy doing this to an (ambiguously) brown girl, it's REALLY REALLY BAD. and the more i look back on it, tbh, the more weirded out i am that the show not only made it seem like she wasn't affected at all within the episode, it just... forgot about it (which is not unusual for shows and especially children’s shows, but WG does make some efforts to either retain continuity or create canon reasons for why things are forgotten about). it's the kind of thing that you can't excuse and honestly you can't redeem (like at this point, you gotta ask yourself why you're spending so much effort trying to redeem this guy when becky has several other possible ships that are nowhere near this unhealthy - violet, scoops, honestly even victoria if you want another hero/villain ship, my absolute fave rarepair rose, etc).

so if you want to still ship it you have to just pretend that it never happened. (i remember trying for weeks to write something exploring the aftermath of this episode, to try and make myself feel better about it, but the more i wrote the more i realized just how traumatic this event should've been, so i eventually just dropped it.) and i brought up my own timeline of experiences earlier to point out that this episode aired eight whole years after the show started. which means that when i saw it, even though i was a huge stickler for canon at the time, i'd built up my own idea of the show and characters strongly enough to go 'yeah, no, this episode sucks and i am going to pretend that it doesn't exist'. and i think a lot of other people did too, because i really saw like... no one mention it, ever, except for some rogue fanfics over on ff dot net that already liked dynamics like that.

because here's the thing, and i don't know if people nowadays are aware of it? but i'm 80% sure (cannot find a source, so the other 20% is that it was just a rumor) that the show was originally supposed to end after season 6. and even if it's a rumor, it makes a ton of sense, because we get 1) an 'ending' to tobecky, which is a bad one, 2) a permanent wordgirl identity reveal that significantly changes one of the major dynamics in the show, 3) an episode where TJ gets to work with wordgirl and get a nice potential ending for their sibling dynamic, 4) an episode where we see Two-Brains explore life without his henchmen... the list goes on, and idk how many of these are just major stretches. but the point is. if the show had ended there, that would've been a pretty solid ending for many things, including their relationship: aka, it would prove that it was only ever heading somewhere bad, and when tobey finally has his moment of triumph, he is truly evil about it. and this provides us fans who HATE go gadget go with an easy reason to dismiss it - we can say that it was an attempt to conclude things in a way that wouldn't have happened if the writers had known they'd get more time. but despite that... it is still a canon episode.

it is odd to me how dramatically the dynamic shifts after that, though, because we seriously go from 'worst case ever, tobecky is toxic, your ship is dead' to 'no actually they get along and hang out and get ice cream together and tobey isn't even pressuring her into it, she's happy to go along with it :)' like, immediately. i never knew much about the show writers, so i don't know if the writers changed in between these seasons, but i would absolutely not be surprised if they did.

the earlier episodes are definitely problematic as well (though they pale in comparison to GGG) but i think everyone who ships it is aware considering that tobey is, yknow, a villain. from memory, he destroys buildings to get her attention, lies to her about the level of danger that people are in to trick her into spending more time with him, blackmails her into reading his poetry, and he creates a robot based on her that’s supposed to be devoted to him (but of course, all of these things backfire). not great stuff of course, but like... he’s a villain, that’s the point of his character. and considering that he’s a child these are things that can be redeemed, if done thoughtfully.

anyway, to sum up this section, the show starts off with a pretty standard 'enemies with an unrequited crush' setup, takes a really dark turn for a single episode, and then for the rest of the show takes their dynamic in a direction that makes it much, much easier to ship. as long as you ignore a lot of previous content.

wordbot: where's becky's autonomy in all of this? (misogyny)

we've finally gotten to the fandom. i recognize that a lot of this is going to come across as hypocritical considering how active i used to be re: this ship, but like... i'm a very different person now. anyway. disclaimer i guess - i don't write this to accuse all tobecky shippers of being like this - i know a lot of us aren't/weren't! but boy do i have things to point out, so without further ado:

it is very hard to ship this without allowing some bit of misogyny to slip into it. very, very hard. the entire premise of the ship involves a girl falling in love with a boy that repeatedly pressures her to date him via threats to the safety of herself and people she cares about, which... it's 2020, i shouldn't have to explain why that's terrible & a terrible example to set for children (which is why i am glad they never made it canon, tbh). best-case fan content has tobey stop pressuring her and start working to redeem himself out of an actual change of heart, which leads to becky seeing him in a new light. worst-case fan content treats his incessant pressuring and sometimes outright threats as something romantic - and even worse, romantic to the point where he deserves her attention and love as a reward for not giving up or whatever. i did see this pretty frequently for a while, especially in the earlier 2010s (didn't read much, Not My Thing At All), but i don't feel like going into detail here because of how obviously problematic it is. one medium (but still bad) case is where the fan content makes him start his redemption, but treats her liking him back as a reward for not knocking buildings over anymore. another not great case is where she tries to fix him with her love, which is a very common and very dangerous romantic trope. both are just... so incredibly unfair to her.

in content where she tries to 'fix him'... yeah i feel like it's really obvious how misogynistic that is. girls and women should not feel responsible for the evil actions of men, plain and simple. idk what else to say here i just really hate that trope and hated it back then and it just sucks! so can we not do that anymore, thanks.

in content that treats her like a reward for good behavior, there really isn't much of an explanation for what she sees in him. if she just goes 'oh wow, you're good now, i am going to fall in love with you for it' the whole thing falls flat because it makes NO sense whatsoever. we get to hear so much about tobey and his feelings and why he likes her and how he feels about it, but where is that energy for becky? why does she choose to trust him, to spend time around him, what does she enjoy about his presence? where is her getting over scoops in the process of falling for tobey? where is her telling her friends about this, confiding in them, asking them for advice? where is her choice in the matter?

win a day with wordgirl: do you guys even like becky or do you just like the idea of her (misogyny... 2!)

it was pretty standard for all fandoms the early-mid 2010s, but that's still not a good excuse for why so many tobecky fanfictions centered specifically around tobey's feelings while refusing to give becky the same level of empathy and nuance. it is true that to ship them comfortably you have to redeem him to some degree, which means spending time figuring him out and trying to find ways to pull him to the light without feeling super OOC. but ships take two people??? and there was so much potential for fanfics to explore becky's complex feelings on the matter - because she is! complex! she's heroic and kind but she's petty and has a competitive streak, she easily befriends villains but also doesn't trust them and doesn't believe they can ever really change, she's the savior of an entire planet but has feelings of inadequacy as her civilian identity and struggles with feeling like she can be successful without superpowers, she's great at the straightforward meanings and uses of words and loves reading but struggles to write passages that aren't dry as hell, it can be easily headcannoned that she's neurodivergent (special interests, issues with fitting in with her peers, taking things very literally, etc)... seriously there is SO MUCH to explore about her character, and a lot of it comes into play when you add tobey into the mix (literally ALL of the things i mentioned are explored at some point using tobey as a parallel or foil), but i rarely saw fanfiction that explored her thoughts on things further than 'he's evil but... maybe good?' or 'he's evil but... i kind of like him anyway?'.

if you want her to fall for him while being a villain, explore it!! why does she go against her morals? does she lie to herself about it to feel better? does she feel like she has to 'fix him' as part of her superhero duties to the city, and if so, how does that affect her as she tries and fails to help him? does she fall for him when she believes that he's turning good, only to feel betrayed when he starts acting worse because he feels like he can get away with it? it's such a shame that fanworks spend so little time even considering these questions, and it is absolutely a product of how deeply misogyny is/was baked into how we approach media (especially back then).

tobey goes good: but wait, i thought this show was progressive (a conclusion, i guess)

ifbrd wrote a great meta recently about how the show is a bit misogynist, despite being progressive in several ways. honestly i don't have much to add, but i'd really recommend reading through this; it makes a lot of great observations about the ways that male and female characters are presented differently through the show

i have little to add, so i'd just like to conclude with a reflection on the ship from my current viewpoint. i do think part of the reason so many of us latched onto the ship, despite how obviously problematic it was, is that the show treats a lot of things that would be serious in real life as normal or even comedic - which is fine lol, i'm not going to pretend that it's not a show for little kids, so they have to keep the tone light.

but if we, as teens/adults, decide to engage with this content in a more realistic manner, we have to be prepared to confront how messed up so many of the things going on really are. and if you still want to ship it, there's nothing inherently wrong with that! there's a lot of interesting things to explore in this ship, no matter what stage of enemies-to-friends-to-lovers you write them at, and it can be really helpful to have a space where you can explore a dynamic such as this in fiction. (speaking from experience here tbh, writing some fic for them helped me deal with complicated feelings about some ex-longtime friends.)

so to write this ship at all means that there are canon issues that you need to deal with if you want to have them end up in a healthy relationship in any manner that makes sense (unless you create an AU where none of that is applicable, which, power to you then). and i’m not saying ‘write them with a healthy endgame or you’re Bad’, not at all lol. but at least please, please take a step back once in a while to examine the dynamic that you’re writing, and please be careful about whether you mean to be romanticizing whatever behaviors you end up portraying as good.

#wordgirl #becky botsford #tobey mccallister #tobecky #tobecky critical #has anyone ever used that tag before LMAO #anyway: i may come back and reword the ending because i am not totally happy with it #but wow this is so many words. so many. send help

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christopherwitt1966 · 4 years ago

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Living with shyness.

There is a line from Lee Marvin,1970 no1 hit,Wandrin star. From the film Paint your Wagon. “Do I know where hell is,hell is in Hello” For me that has been very true. Especially with strangers and people I do not know well. Just recently I rang the garage up,to book my car in for its annual MOT and service,something I do ever-year.

Yet the act of picking up the phone,terrified me,as thou I was expecting the Spanish Inquisition.

I have suffer from shyness,lack of self confidence,low self esteem&belief most of my life. And have found inter person interactions&small talk difficult.

It has impacted of the quality of my life. Where today,I feel alone at times. Not having a real close friend or social life. Sometimes,I wish I had lead a normal life,with friends,a social life,wife and family. It has even impacted my relationship. Being a contributing factor(thou not only one) in the break up of my relationship.

A lot of it seems from my childhood. My parents especially my mum use to tell me that the world is a dangerous place,full of evil people etc. I remember walking along the road,when I was about 5 or 6,and innocent said friendly hello to somebody.

My mum was furious me,telling me for talking to strangers. It was thou I had insulted him,instead of a friendly hello.

At School I found it difficult to fit in and make friends. There were several reason.

One,being that I struggled with my reading and writing. I was behind with them. Also I use to lose day dream and lose consecration. Something I still struggle with today.

I had special English classes,and when I enter secondary school. I attended the special English group,which was unfortunately refer to by other kids,as the divi English group.

Secondly,I struggle with my speech development. I had my tonsils and adenoids removed in 1974,when I was 7yrs old to help my speech development and in 1976,I to speech therapy,to try and improve my speech. Also had test to see if had a hearing difficulties. My hearing was normal,just sometimes when people talked to me,I was unresponsive. And that still occurs to this day. Sometimes someone would speak,yet I am somewhere else,even thou I do hear them,I just doesn’t register. It may the combination of these,which may have made me seem slow and stupid. That’s is why never fit in at school. It is no wonder,I started to withdraw and started to live in my own fantasy world.I still today,feel like an outsider trying to fit in,feeling like I am an alien,stuck on an alien planet. Also struggled to fit in to the so call ‘mans world and lads culture’Having been brought up with a younger sister,and the cousin I spent the most with,where both my mums younger Sister and my dads younger sisters children. Who were all girls. I do have male cousins,thou I did not see them as often and were a lot older. That’s why I always felt more comfortable around woman then Men.I developed deep shyness as I moved into my teenage years, preferring to spent time watching TV in my bedroom, or watching trains and latter got into train spotting. I have always love railways and aviation. My parents never drove,so travel a lot on day trips to the coast and holidays by train,so fell love with railways. And I do still today,even thou no longer train spotting. Missed out on what teenagers did when I was a teenager. I remember my sisters 17th birthday party out our house,in 1985,I was 18 at the time. My sister is the total opposite,she can talk for England. She could meet someone and within a few minutes,be chatting away,as thou they know each other for years. Anyway,I got ready had a shower and dressed,and then never left my bedroom! Because I was to terrified to go down stairs.As started in employment,a certain amount of inter action were necessary, and I did try socialise a bit more. Thou as I mentioned earlier,never felt at home with the ‘lads culture’ I prefer small groups,the larger the group,the more invisible I feel. More irrelevant and not having anything interesting to say. Also of course,I started dating. In the Early 90s,I started to read self help books. And in 1999, I attended my first of person growth/self improvement workshop in Oxford. Also in London as well. I meet some wonderful people during this time and made some friends. While our backgrounds,life style and issues varies widely,we were kindred spirits for being there. Also during this time I stared to seeing a therapist about my confidence issues,between 1999 & 2001. For me the turn of the millennium,in my early 30s,was the most happiest and when I felt the most growth and self confidence.

One of the people I meet on that first day,in Worcester College Oxford was my late friend Rachel. We became friends and confidents. We regularly talk of the phone and regularly wrote letters. Express my feeling and thoughts. It was good to have friends who did not know your life,family,work place or ex-girlfriends. Where you could share your deepest feelings. Also about life in general and the nature of happiness.

For also during this time,I began to see that my shyness,while been a blight on my life was also a gift. Not being part of the ‘herd or crowd’ I saw thing differently,especially what makes people happy. That it dose comes within, it also allowed me to appreciate the simply things in life,like nature,my walk around Virginia Water lake,Richmond park,trips to the coast etc. This lead me to the love of taking pictures especially with arrival of the digital era. I not a photographer,just a happy snapper.

Not just Rachel,but some other wonderful people. One the best days of my life came in November 1999,when meet up with a group of them in a cottage,in hills outside Stroud in Gloucestershire. We talked about anything and everything. I felt for once,belonging. In Jan 2002,I made my first trip to New York. Just 4months after 9/11. To attend a workshop,ran by someone who workshop I attended in London in the summer of 2001. This gave me an insight about confidence being relative. I been on my own to NY, 3times now. I love NY. Yet I know confident talkers,would not do that,some who are scared of flying.

Slowly the friends and growth and happiness started to slip away,from around 2004/5. I started to lose contact with my friends and even with Rachel,became increasingly infrequent,to point where I found out,that she lost her battle with cancer in 2006, from an article on the internet. Which made feel sad,knowing that I did not know her in the last months of her life. She was only 50.

Generally I like to think of myself,as a cheerful happy person,which I am most of the time. Thou I do suffer from deep downs,when I feel like reverting in my own little bubble and push the world out.

When I move into my own flat in 2007, I began to revert inwards,slowly losing the joy,happiness,connections and confidence, I gained at the turn of the millennium.

My flat became my own personal sanctuary from the outside world. Living opposite a McDonald’s and close to supermarkets, junk food became a convenient. And started to put on the lbs,and a shroud around me to keep my confidence in,and people out. By the time I was diagnosed with diabetes in 2017,I was over 17stone. That is well over 4 1/2stone heavy,that in the year 2000.

By the end of 2019,I got down to 16st. When I November 2019,I had a mini breakdown thinking about my life,feeling that I have wasted it and some of the thing I have done to sabotage my life.

I planned to get back on track for 2020. By losing weight,my goal was to get below 13st,by the end of the year. And to go to San Francisco. Well 2020,has not turned out the way I planned,with COVID-19. And the uncertainty it has brought,where I still not certain I will a job in 2021. Thou as of Nov2019. I have got down to 14 1/2stone.

My goal for 2021,is to get down to below 13st. No matter what happens at my job. Hopefully I will still have my health. Losing weight may help control my diabetes,and lose the shroud surrounding me and I can find self confidence,and friendship and hopefully in the spring of 2022,go to San Francisco. Yes the future in uncertainty,yet I shall face it with a smile,well most of the time anyway. I know I will still have my set backs,and indeed still fall into the pit of depression from time to time. The most important thing,is to have belief in my self and accept,that shyness for better or worst,will continue be a part of my life,it is who I am.

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tessatechaitea · 5 years ago

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The Ray #0

"The Beginning of Tomorrow" sounds like my life philosophy.

I don't totally know what I mean by the above caption but then that's philosophy for you, isn't? I'm not going to discuss Zero Hour because when Zero Hour happened, it changed the entire DC Universe's past so that Zero Hour never happened. Everything was suddenly always post-Zero-Hour continuity except without Zero Hour actually existing in that continuity. Therefore I can't discuss it because it's not something that exists. Which probably means I can throw this comic book in the garbage can and forget about it forever! Surprise! I didn't throw the comic book in the garbage! I mean, I did! But I fished it out before I pissed on it because I thought, "Wait. Are the Zero Hour comics part of post-Zero-Hour continuity? They might be stories that happened after Zero Hour which clarify facts about how the world has always supposedly been. So if Martian Manhunter's cape was normal length in the pre-Zero-Hour continuity, this story begins telling readers, "Oh no! It was always five hundred feet long! Don't you remember? You should remember that it was always like that! And did Crisis On Infinite Earths happen in this continuity? Who can fucking tell! Just stop whining about the two different Supermen and how the fuck does Infinity Inc. exist in this timeline, you stupid assholes! If you don't, we're just going to have to keep pulling this shit! You think Zero Hour is bad? Just wait until we pull out The New 52! And then just when you've think you've seen it all, have we got a Watchmen trick ready to flop to fix that!"

Visual proof of J'onn's new and/or always lengthy cape.

My brain is so muddled by DC's continuity changes across the last forty years that I'm not even sure I'm correctly remembering why Zero Hour was needed. But I think it was simply because every fix DC tried to incorporate into their universe just broke a bunch of other shit that later needed to be fixed. What DC didn't realize was that their main problem that needed fixing was the way-too-literal know-it-all fans who couldn't just shut the fuck up. One thing that remains the same from pre-Zero-Hour continuity to this Zero Hour continuity is how Golden Era The Ray is a huge fucking psycho dick. He can't find his son to beat up on so now he's decided to beat up Martian Manhunter. The guy needs severe anger management classes. He needs to spend a little time at Sanctuary, the Heroes in Crisis spa. During the battle that Older The Ray starts, a lot of property is destroyed. Weird how when his son gets into a battle that destroys property, it's the most irresponsible thing in the world. But when he does it, it's just super hero business as usual. Fucking dads! They're the worst, right?! Hypocritical Fox News watching recovering alcoholic assholes who have never done a ninth step with their son! That are also angry super heroes, of course! Older The Ray decides to ask Jenny and Cousin Hank if they've seen The Ray. He doesn't beat the shit out of them when he asked the question though. That doesn't make him less of a dick; it makes him more of a dick! Because now we know he could have approached Martian Manhunter reasonably! Cousin Hank doesn't have much to offer as usual.

It always amazes me how often a person can understand an acronym with which they're unfamiliar simply from a tiny bit of context. It didn't take me more than a few seconds to figure out that VPL equals varicose pussy lips. Oh wait! It's probably visible panty lines.

Jen manages to hack into The Ray's laptop so they can read his letters to Black Canary. Which reminds me that I know why The Ray is missing! I forgot to mention that at the end of the last issue, he went by his dad's house to hug him and his dad wasn't there. But his mother who was supposed to have died giving birth to The Ray was! So now he's probably off crying somewhere. It turns out that "somewhere" was Dinah Lance's bathtub. But when she never returned, he fucked off to cry somewhere else. Sitting in the bath tub, The Ray has a Zero Hour hallucination recounting his origin. He was born leaking radiation. Older The Ray knew the government would come to study him or exploit him, so he gave him to his brother without telling anybody. He left a light image of the baby that would eventually consume itself. He just told his wife their son died and moved on. Meanwhile, The Ray grew up thinking his uncle was his dad. Right up until his uncle died and told The Ray the truth on his death bed. And all of that is pretty much the same as his pre-Zero Hour origin, I think! But it was important during Zero Hour that every series got a Zero Hour book to explain their origins for all the new readers jumping to DC now that all the continuity errors were fixed and it was going to make complete sense. The Ray #0 Rating: C. I don't expect a special Zero Issue to advance the plot in any way so this issue lived up to my non-expectations. It even ends at basically the same point as the last regular issue as The Ray's mom acts confused by this strange teenager trespassing on her property. Even the origin story was a long-winded version of information already expressed in earlier issues. I began reading this series hoping to realign my perspective and read with the same sense of wonder I once had for comic books. But I don't think I can ever regain that feeling I once had that every comic book series was telling a story that was going somewhere. I once thought that the worst thing about dying was that I wouldn't be able to learn how the comic book series I was reading would end. But that's never been the point of most comic book series. No wonder I loved Elfquest and Cerebus so much. Because they were written with an end in mind (Elfquest more than Cerebus but Dave Sim already had the 300 issue thing in mind when I began reading it, so, you know). And, sure, I don't want to rush to the end of a well-written story just because I need to know how it ends. But I'd like to know the journey meant as much to the writer as it does to me. And if the writer of a story is simply writing whatever comes to mind to fill out a page count from month to month, I feel cheated now. There was a time I didn't realize that was a thing. But now that I've seen it, I just can't go back to the excitement and wonder of thinking, "What is going to happen to The Ray's relationship with his family?! How will it affect his super heroing? And what, exactly, is his super heroing anyway? He doesn't seem to have any plan aside from buying a fridge and he's not even working on that plan." Hmm, maybe the whole point of this comic book is that adult life is so complicated that all of your tasks simply become digressions. All of your beliefs and philosophies which propel you to do the things you do mean nothing to the universe which will continuously wear you down with problems you weren't expecting. Didn't some famous jerk-off once say something about life being the thing that happens while you're making plans? Maybe that's what this comic book is about which is also what growing up is about. And maybe that's why so many adults become soulless automatons with no underlying set of ethics to guide them through social interactions requiring empathy and compassion. Who has time to think of anybody else when you're busy putting out fire after fire intent on destroying your life's plans? I don't have this entire series but now I'm hoping that The Ray never gets that fridge until the final issue.

#The Ray #DC Comics #DC #Christopher Priest #Howard Porter #Robert Jones

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popcultureoverdosed · 5 years ago

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Youthful Dystopia of Narutaru

Narutaru was beneficial enough to have been made in an era where deconstruction series was gaining traction. If it were to made now, it'd probably be labeled as edgy without any mention of the actual quality of the story. Notably, the genre being deconstructing is the Mon( Digimon, pokemon, etc) genre. Unlike magical girl and mecha shows of today, Mon anime are still generally fluffy and childish so a darker take on the genre was definitely in order.

To give a little backdrop on the creator Mohiro Kitoh, he's pretty much a nihilist that rivals gen urubuchi in cruelty. His other works include a giant robot that steals the life force of children to destroy the multiverse and a psychic teen whom mass murders anyone who drives irresponsibly. He's that type of guy.

The main appeal of the story comes from the interactions between the children and their shadow dragons, rather than actual plot progression. Shadow dragons are mysterious creatures who bond to the characters with a psychic link, sharing their pain and inner thoughts. The names of the shadow dragons are often reflective of their user's psychology. For example, Norio's dragon is Vagina dentata representing his feminine appearance and inability to become intimate with the man he loves.

Our first real look into the world of Narutaru comes in the form of Tomonori Komori. The first few chapters spend time lolly gaging and establishing a vaguely foreboding mood, but, Komori establishes how this world operates. He a textbook level sociopath. A charming young boy who is revered by those in his neighborhood. All that charm is simply a facade he puts on to hide his true sinister views. He wants a Darwinistic world where all of the educated and well to do members of society are killed off, leaving the world in a survival of the fittest state. " Those who are weak and can't fend for themselves deserve to die," he says despite having a sick mother to take care of. He's ironically killed off by hoshimaru, one of the weaker dragons.

Komori is far from the only disturbed child in the series. The children have few qualms with murder and treat it casually. What sets this mon series from those of the same genre is that it treats its children character like actual humans. They aren't saints who only use their abilities for good. They're selfish and use these dragons to suit their own needs. It seems that being psychologically damaged is a requirement for having a dragon. Even upbeat Shiina has her hang-ups about her identity. This theory of trauma giving birth to shadow dragons is more or less confirmed with Hiroko.

She's a shy girl who's constant physical and emotional abuse from her bullies and parents allow her to awaken Oni. Her parents are representative of a common problem in Asian society. They only value their daughter for her academic status and chide her for being anything less than perfect. Her bullies torment her for being too smart and standing out during class. Both parties have opposite reasons for hating Hiroko, but, they both wish to strip away her individuality and turn her into a submissive slave of society. Awakening her shadow dragon allows Hiroko to finally get revenge on her tormentors, even if it means becoming a serial killer in the process.

The manga is definitely a character-driven tale that dwells deep into the psyche of highly disturbed children. You have Akira who has depression and suicidal tendencies, Aki Honda who raped a girl with a test tube and the girl in question who snaps and goes in a killing spree. You could say that all of this bleakness is a bit too much but honestly, it felt refreshing. Mon series are generally really cheesy with bland one-note characters and a story that only exists to sell merchandise. Narutaru breaks the mold and presents characters who are multi-faceted and lifelike. Contrary to popular belief, children aren't always innocent and they can be just as cruel as adults.

One major gripe I have with the manga is the art. Mohiro sure can write but his art isn't winning any awards, that's for sure. Character designs are bland and minimalist. I admit the military paraphernalia is drawn in extensive detail and the dragons have cool designs but that's about it. Other manga artists can do sketchy manga art perfectly but Mohiro isn't one of them.

I also wasn't too particularly fond of the second half of the manga. It drops elements of deconstruction and character drama to replace it with military affairs. I understand the writer is a military nut but having chapters littered with walls of text of JSDF members reacting to the shadow dragon was just so tedious. It would've been better if the plot focused solely on the children and how their actions affect their environment. The second half of the manga lost what made Narutaru so special. It started as a character study of how immature kids react to newfound power only for the story to get Monopolized by adults. some characters like Mamiko Kuri, Norio Koga, and sudo desperately needed more screentime and character development. Mamiko is the worst offender as she only exists to be overtly cryptic until the final volumes.

I highly recommend anyone curious to please read the manga. It's ultimately a story of children thrown into an adult world of violence with little room to grow up. It's a thought-provoking social commentary on the nature of humans and how far their cruelty can go. There's an anime adaptation that isn't as good but is still a fun watch. Even if it's unlikely I'd to see the anime get a remake with a bigger budget and completely adapt the manga. If it did get a remake, here's whom I'd want to work on it:

Studio Mappa/ Geno studio- They seem more willing than other studios to work on nontraditional anime. They also tend to have high production values, something the Narutaru anime desperately needed. Producer twin engine would probably need to be involved

Sadyuki Murai(scriptwriter)- His work on boogiepop Phantom and Juuni Taisen has shown he excels at character drama and psychological thrillers. His style would work perfectly with the narrative and maybe even give the side characters some much-needed development. Taku Kishimoto would be my second choice

Takahiro Kishida( Character designer)- He has a sketchy and rough art style that can perfectly encapsulate the feel of the manga. I'm sure he'd improve on the demure character designs and make them more dynamite.

Takahiro Omari( Director)- He directed Durarara and Baccano which tells me he knows how to work with an ensemble cast. He also directed Hell girl, which had heavy social commentary poised at Japanese society, something Kitoh would love.

Yugo Kanno(Composer)- This guy knows how to how to Composer dark and suspenseful tracks that can amplify the intensity of the manga.

Be sure to check out these two other blogs that went far more in-depth than I ever could.

https://hanagasaitayo.wordpress.com/2019/08/05/analysis-narutaru-mukuro-naru-hoshi-tama-taru-ko/

https://manymanytoes.wordpress.com/2018/10/17/narutaru-shadow-star/

#narutaru #deconstruction #manga #review #psychological #Shounen Passion

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dalekofchaos · 5 years ago

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The Best and worst changes for the Original Trilogy

Been wanting to do this for a while, so here are what I think are the best and worst changes that George made to the Original Trilogy

The Good

The special effects enhancement. This is an obvious choice, but the re-releases do improve most of the effects in the film, with just a few exceptions. One might argue that the film’s original effects were part of what made it so good – after all, at the time of release the visuals were one of the major selling points of Star Wars. But most fans agree that there’s nothing wrong with bringing the original films up-to-date with modern special effects, and that certainly shows when you compare scenes like the Battle of Yavin where the older effects do somewhat break immersion, particularly if you are used to the newer releases. The improved laser blasts and lightsaber effects make the action scenes appear less scratchy, and improve continuity between this trilogy and the ones that come before and after it in the timeline. It would certainly be

Aurebesh replacing english. The Star Wars universe is vast, containing hundreds of aliens from different worlds speaking a variety of languages. However, in the original trilogy, just about everyone on screen spoke English - or as it's referred to in canon, Galactic Basic Standard. The Basic language is just that, the most basic language that most residents of a galaxy far, far away (and us, the audience) can understand, and for the most part it's indistinguishable from English. Except when written. Basic does not use the Latin alphabet of English and countless other Earth languages, instead Basic is written using Aurebesh. But Aurebesh didn't appear on screen until Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back, and even then, the Aurebesh symbols used were completely random. It wasn't until Stephen Crane of West End Games chose to add meaning to the random symbols when working on several Star Wars miniature and role-playing games that Aurebesh was officially "born." And in the 2004 DVD release, Aurebesh finally replaced any and all English writing that still appeared in Episode IV: A New Hope, most notably on consoles within the Death Star. The change is minor, to be sure, but it's one that gives a cohesiveness to the Star Wars universe and adds to its otherworldly vibe.

Biggs Darklighter added scenes. In an earlier cut of Star Wars, Luke was introduced much earlier in the film, with scenes of his life on Tatooine spliced with the capture of Princess Leia and C-3PO and R2-D2's escape. These scenes primarily showed Luke hanging out with friends, giving us a sense there was at least a little more to his social life than power converters and Tosche's Station. But these scenes also introduced us to a minor though pivotal character: Luke's best friend, Biggs Darklighter. However, I wouldn't be surprised if you do recognize the name (or hear Mark Hamill in your head saying, "Blast it Biggs! Where are you?") and that's because though these earlier scenes on Tatooine were cut, Biggs still appears in the theatrical release of Episode IV - albeit very briefly. During the attack on the Death Star, it's Biggs flying alongside Luke and Wedge Antilles when they make the final and successful trench run to destroy it. Biggs doesn't survive that trench run and we see the effect his death has on Luke, but we aren't told why Biggs was important to Luke (as opposed to the countless other Rebel pilots who died). Without any earlier scenes setting up the childhood friendship between Luke and Biggs, the impact of his death is lost. That was until the Special Edition release when at least one of Biggs scenes was added back in. It's a scene that now comes right before the assault on the Death Star, inside the Rebel Base, and it features Luke and Biggs reuniting and reminiscing like old friends. It's a short scene, but it practically doubles Biggs' screen time and gives us a least some idea that he and Luke go way back, making his death yet another in a long string of tragedies Luke suffers throughout the trilogy.

Ian McDiarmid's Palpatine, but using the original dialogue would've been better as Vader was already hunting Luke for destroying the Death Star

Cloud City’s enhanced scenery. The Empire Strikes Back has the least major changes of any of the original trilogy in the Special Edition. The Special Edition added enhancements and additional aerial shots. Expanded scenes and new backgrounds in Cloud City made the location lovelier and added depth. I can't picture Cloud City as it used to be.

Enhanced Lightsabers. For the original films the lightsaber effects were done with the actors holding white spinning three-sided rods covered with reflective material. Korean animator Nelson Shin drew saber effects onto the film. They also added the glowing effect and the colors were put onto the film by hand. It was a complex feat of engineering for its time but it left many problems behind. There are many scenes where you can see the white rods or the colors were wrong. Lucas went through and corrected the mistakes with the lightsaber using CGI.

Boba Fett's voice change. Boba Fett was a fan-favorite for decades before he was revealed to actually be a clone. So when it came time for the original trilogy’s 2004 DVD release, it made sense for actor Temuera Morrison — who played Jango Fett and various clones in the prequels — to return to the franchise as the new voice of Boba Fett, the cloned version of his original character. Luckily, Morrison has a fitting voice, allowing the continuity fix to help rather than hinder the classic films.

Oola’s Death. It’s strange to consider when you watch it now, but in the original cut of Return of the Jedi Oola’s death scene was much more brief – she simply falls down the trap door into the Rancor pit in Jabba’s Palace, and the Rancor reveal is saved for later. Amazingly, the actress who played Oola filmed the extended death scene over a decade after first appearing in Jedi, with no difference to the visuals whatsoever. The Rancor isn’t revealed completely, meaning that the impact of its later appearance isn’t spoiled, but it does create a menacing scene showing more of the mercilessness of Jabba The Hutt

Battle Of Yavin. Star Wars revolutionized film making and ushered in a new era of special effects. But some effects get outdated. And even though there is a magical charm to the practical in-camera effects that the original Star Wars trilogy were made with, digital and CGI effects would be become the modern norm. And when its used correctly, CGI can look amazing. Hence, the climactic ending space battle in A New Hope. Tossing away the bluescreen, matte film and super imposed ships and replacing them with digital X-Wings and Tie Fighters. This recreation of the attack on the Death Star and galactic dogfight finale is a thrilling piece of cinema. Seeing spacecraft flying and zooming in and out of impossible camera angles is just as dazzling as the original scene. Lucasfilm actually did the impossible, they took one of the most classic epic battles in movie history and actually made it better.

The Death Star Explosions. The explosions of the Death Star and Alderaan were one of the most striking changes in the Special Edition movies, enhanced with brighter colors and expanding rings of matter. But one of the most exciting things about the original Star Wars films is that the groundbreaking special effects were being invented as the films were made. The newly-formed Industrial Light and Magic spent years building models, inventing cameras to shoot them, and occasionally blowing them up. So when the Death Star is destroyed (both times), the explosions look and feel real, because they were created using footage from actual explosions.

The victory celebration The change to the music at the end of Return of the Jedi is, in my opinion, one of the best decisions George Lucas ever made. The original song that played during the celebrations on Endor was ‘Yub Nub’, a nonsensical and comically puerile ditty that doesn’t do the finale justice, but the replacement, John Williams’ aptly-titled ‘Victory Celebration’, seems a much more fitting tune to end the original trilogy. For comparison, one needs only to look at the ending of A New Hope – the tune used there fits the tone and gravitas of the scene, and ‘Yub Nub’ simply does not.

The Worst

Darth Vader saying No in ROTJ. There was absolutely no need to have Darth Vader say “No” in this moment. We were looking at a still mask. Yet we could still sense his feelings and thoughts. He was clearly conflicted and you could tell he was about to do something. This is good film making. You can tell he is making the hardest decision of his life, choosing between his master and his son, the conflict was visible on his face. There was no need for Vader to say anything. Vader saying “No” lacks any sort of nuance and has him verbally stating those feelings. "NOOOOOOO". This scene was shot so perfectly that you could see Vader's internal struggle to do the right thing despite being unable to show any facial expressions. There was no need for a "nooooooo" to indicate what he's going to do, we know what he's going to do because of how the scene is shot. This takes away from the scene and it makes it so obvious that it takes the viewer out of the moment. The silence was a powerful moment.

Jabba’s appearance in A New Hope. I feel like the scene takes away the menace from Jabba The Hutt. The horrible CGI did not help either. The appearance is a complete downgrade from his appearance in ROTJ. And it really did not help that it’s a shot for shot of the same dialogue with the Han and Greedo scene. The added scene with Jabba was completely unnecessary. Han and Greedo’s scene ALREADY showed us Han’s debt to Jabba. And really, Jabba is a powerful and influential figure in the galaxy. He is the boss. He uses Bounty Hunters as play things to do his bidding. He was capable of ensuring that Han could not be in a civilized star system without being hunted. Jabba is someone who feeds slave girls to his pet monster if they screw up a dance routine, but he's apparently okay with a deadbeat lowlife smuggler who owes him money stepping on his tail in front of all his men. Hell, Jabba would not care if Han fried Greedo, Tatooine is a hive of scum and villainy, Jabba can easily replace Greedo. It took away the menace from Jabba. Not to mention, this change takes away some of the suspense people originally had about Jabba the Hutt. It just takes away some of the mystery of Jabba as a character. Jabba is the boss, he should not be doing grunt work and it just takes away the impact of seeing Jabba in ROTJ.

Greedo shoots first. Here’s why Han shooting first matters. Greedo was hunting Han Solo and found him in Mos Eisley Cantina who wanted what Han owed Jabba, which Han didn’t have it with him just then, so Greedo ready to shoot Han, is then killed by Han. In the original theatrical version, Han shoots Greedo dead, but in all the film alterations, Greedo shoots first. Lucas wanted Han to be a good role model so he editied out but that was pointless because at that point already Han was still a smuggler out for himself. Lucas wanted kids to think he was a hero Except he’s SUPPOSED to be a cold blooded killer in the beginning. That was the whole POINT of his story arc. A selfish smuggler who is COMPLETELY fine with letting other people die if it meant his own survival and goes through an internal and external journey to not only give a damn about his fellow person but also grow as an individual to be a hero that is willing to risk his own safety for a much larger cause than himself. Him shooting last takes away the beginning part of a GREAT story arc and reduces it to “This bad ass is a bad ass. The end.”. Killer to hero is a much more interesting story than bad ass to still being a bad ass.

Pointless CGI in Mos Eisley. Mos Eisley was the home of scum and villainy and also the home for wayward CGI creatures that escaped their digital pens. The thought was more roaming creatures would add color and vivacity to the bustling desert town, but unfortunately, they looked like lost sideshow attractions. The CGI stuff in the background doesn’t blend in with the rest of the film and just draws attention away from the action in the foreground. It’s like an irritating five-year-old onscreen screaming, “Look at me look at me."

Editing the Jabba’s Palace Sequence. Jabba's palace was another opportunity to put a vast array of unique and interesting aliens on display, much like Mos Eisley's cantina. And also like the cantina, a gangster's hangout deserves a house band. In the original release that was the Max Rebo Band and the number they performed was "Lapti Nek." The original scene was short and feels like it belongs. This scene doesn't feel intrusive and out of place like the special edition, it feels like in Jabba's Palace there is a band playing some alien music. The added CGI was awful and became unwatchable. It detracts from the grit of the scene that’s created, in part by the aliens in the background, that in this case are actually portrayed by actors or puppeteers. It didn't need the whole new scene and terrible CGI dancing. To call the scene distracting would be an understatement. Visually, it's incongruous with the dingy, smoky atmosphere of Jabba's Palace, largely in part because of how badly the CGI aliens mesh with the real actors and sets. The new song also doesn't fit with the mood of the setting, it’s just tonally offensive and just kills the mood of Jabba The Hutt. Jabba’s Palace was so uncomfortable and full of dread. All we needed to see was a short music scene, Oola displeasing Jabba and Jabba sending Oola to the Rancor. That’s all you need to establish that everything about the palace is a nightmare and just adding the horrid abomination known as Jedi Rocks just killed it for me.

Replacing Sebastian Shaw with Anakin Skywalker. I understand the in-universe reasoning behind changing Anakin’s Force Ghost to Hayden, but to me it is completely and utterly disrespectful to replace a now dead actor’s only appearance in Star Wars. It ALREADY made sense for Anakin to appear old. I love Hayden and I love the Prequels, but he should not have replaced Shaw as Anakin. It both contradicts Vader’s redemption and disrespected the memory of Sebastian Shaw. It’s not that they shot a whole new scene with Hayden, Hayden Christensen’s head was pasted on over Shaw’s body and that is really disrespectful to Sebastion Shaw since he passed away a few years before the special editions. The whole idea was that there was still some good left in the old man version of Anakin and that’s what we’re seeing here. It was the old Anakin who made the choice to save Luke so it makes more sense to have him as the Ghost. Luke wouldn’t even recognize the young Anakin which makes the change even more of a fail. Anakin appearing as he did in ROTS invalidates the fact that he was redeemed at all in the end. I mean, the first thing he does in that movie is behead Dooku, then immediately admit that it’s “not the Jedi way.” He then goes on to slay a ton of Jedi and then murder a bunch of little kids, before going to murder Nute Gunray/other Separatist leaders etc. That’s why it’s such a baffling decision to show Hayden at the end of ROTJ… it completely undermines the payoff of ROTJ: Vader still had good in him (like Luke said) even as an old man. Why would you turn back to the person who murdered children and betrayed everyone you loved? The entire point of the ending of Return of the Jedi was that after years of having been corrupted as Darth Vader, Luke’s adherence to the Jedi principles and refusal to strike down his father in anger is what causes Anakin to realize that he’s been consumed by the dark side. He then atones as best as he can by sacrificing himself to kill Palpatine and asks Luke to remove his mask in a final act symbolizing his freedom from Darth Vader. Anakin has mere minutes as a jedi before he succumbs to his wounds, but it’s extremely important to note that he died a jedi. This is why Luke gives him a traditional jedi funeral, and why he is able to apparate as a force ghost. This is why the movie is called Return Of The Jedi. This is what makes the ending scene significant. Anakin appears not as the intimidating figure of Lord Vader, but as a mild old Jedi knight, like he would have appeared if he had never been corrupted by the dark side. This is why Anakin as an old man works, it shows what the dark side can do to you, but it beautifully shows that Anakin can still find redemption and die as a Jedi and return to the light. He nods to Obi-Wan, who smiles at seeing his friend finally free of the Dark Side, and the film ends with them standing side by side as old friends once more. Having Anakin appear as he had looked when in his 30’s would discredit his sacrifice in the final scene. It would imply that the last time he was truly a jedi was when he was the young hotheaded general who saw the jedi code as a hindrance, and not a healed version of the wisened old man who finally understood the importance of peace. Additionally, it removes the symbolism of Anakin and Obi-Wan standing side by side as old friends once again. With Anakin appearing as an apprentice to Obi-Wan rather than an equal. And Luke recognizes him. He already saw the father behind the mask. Anakin appears as the wise old Jedi and father figure to Luke that he would and should have been have been and who he died as. Shaw is more aesthetically pleasing in that shot. Seeing him portrayed as Alec Guinness’ contemporary, as a father to Luke, he just looks like he belongs in the original shot. I grew up with the Original Trilogy on VHS, so seeing Sebastian Shaw as both the unmasked Anakin and the ghost of Anakin was wonderful to see, when both Anakin and Obi-Wan look at each other here, it seems they are finally at rest after decades of war thanks to Luke, Leia and the rest of the Rebels who believe in the Old Republic, when we got to the prequels, it all changed and did not make complete sense, I enjoy the prequels, but it did not work to change, there was ALREADY an in-universe explanation as to why Shaw works as Anakin’s Force Ghost. Shaw fitted a much better vision of Anakin, an Anakin who did not intend to fall but raised up when he realized his true self in his son. And finally he looks at his children with so much love in his eye which is really emotional. Anakin Skywalker is finally at peace with his old friends and looking on his children with so much happiness.

#Star Wars #Star Wars The Original Trilogy #Star Wars Episode IV A New Hope #Star Wars Episode V The Empire Strikes Back #Star Wars Episode VI Return Of The Jedi #A New Hope #The Empire Strikes Back #Return Of The Jedi #han solo #Darth Vader #Jabba The Hutt #Luke Skywalker #Anakin Skywalker

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andthest0ryg0es · 6 years ago

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This Isn’t Happening - Chapter 14

My sincere apologies for the LONG wait between chapters. Real Life and writing with @ohh-la-la-leto sidetrack me a lot. :) There’s only a few chapters left of this story and I’m hoping to post them all over the next couple months. THANK YOU, dear readers, for sticking with me and continuing to like and share my writing. It means more than you know. <3

Two weeks ago Jared had gone hiking with a few female friends and snap chatted the whole day. Twitter had delighted in trying to figure out which of them may have been the one dressed as Robin at the party. Jen was both relieved that the identity of Robin was still a secret and annoyed that people assumed he must be fucking every female friend he has. Jared was posting pretty regularly on social media while they were apart, and it was nice to sort of relax into talking with her friends about the upcoming album and tour. She avoided the girlfriend subject entirely and no one minded or seemed to take particular notice.

She knew Jared was trolling her twitter account and she briefly thought about making it private and telling him to fuck off but she figured he’d probably already seen the worst of it and she may as well own her enthusiastic echelon status. If there was one thing Jared and Mars had taught her, it was to be herself. She knew he was viewing her account because he would sometimes text her with answers to questions or comments about the band that she was RTing like any echelon would. When will the new album be out? “Soon. :)” Where’s Shannon, we miss him. “I tried to talk Shannon into getting snapchat, he said it was stupid. :( Maybe I can convince him to start posting coffee facts again at least...” I wonder what tattoo Jared is going to get for the new era. “I have that planned already, actually. You want to be there when I get it done? Take some pics for me?” She’d nearly fallen out of her chair for that one. Watching Jared Leto get a tattoo might just be the limit of what her fangirl heart could take.

No one had posted or discussed the Halloween pics in awhile and Jared and friend’s snaps and Instagram stories from Thanksgiving, with no Robin in sight, seemed to convince the echelon it was a one night sort of thing. That narrative pissed her off more than the “which fabulous female friend is he fucking” one because it was quickly becoming tiring that everyone online thought they “knew him” and had an opinion on his life. And yes, Jen was well aware of how hypocritical that sounded given her twitter history but circumstances change and she’d definitely learned a thing or two about Jared, and even Shannon and Tomo, that the internet had gotten just so wrong.

Between secret projects and many late nights working to finish up the album by their deadline, Jared was just as busy as she was during their month apart. Inconveniently, his schedule was usually very opposite to hers as well. This resulted in a lot of sleepy late night or early morning phone calls where one or both of them were too tired to do much more than small talk. Jared made up for it in other ways though. Teacher appreciation week at her school was a bigger hit than ever when an “anonymous donor” sent a different food truck each day to feed all the staff. She came home each Friday night to a beautiful bouquet of flowers at her doorstep. And two weeks in when she’d complained that the t-shirt she stole from him didn’t smell like him anymore she received a package that night containing a t-shirt in a sealed ziplock bag with a sticky note attached that just said “xo.”

Throughout the month apart it seemed her nervousness for their planned time together evolved a different reasoning every week. The first week she obsessed over whether or not planning to spend a month for all intents and purposes living with a famous, rich boyfriend she’d only been with for three months was an entirely sensible idea or really just made her a slut and a gold-digger. Jared assured her on multiple occasions that she was clearly neither of those things. Week two and three she worried about being outed as Jared’s girlfriend and what that meant for her privacy and online social life. Jared suggested making her twitter and other accounts private before December was probably not the worst idea. She tried not to go CSI: Echelon on him when she pointed out he wouldn’t be able to see her tweets anymore then and he said that it wouldn’t be a problem.

Now she was down to simply being terrified about meeting Constance. She couldn’t recall having met a boyfriend’s parents anytime since high school. And Constance was an absolute icon, someone the echelon really looked up to. She didn’t talk to Jared about this particular fear much because the one time she brought it up all he did was gush about how awesome his mom was for half an hour and yes, Jared, she already knows that. That’s what all the nerves are about! So instead she circled back to asking him if he was sure about her invading his space for a full month and complaining that the sticky note path Shannon had helped her make so she wouldn't get lost had been removed in her absence. Jared was more than reassuring that it would be fun, he would make sure she didn’t get lost and yes, a month long “date” is maybe not traditional but what about him was? By the end of their time apart she was truly excited for their next month together.

Jen managed to pack fairly lightly thanks to a few reminders and packing tips from Jared and his tour experience. A couple of Xanax before her flight balanced out by a Starbucks, and omg was she looking forward to an unlimited supply of Black Fuel for the next month, and she was on her way.

“Sweetheart!” Jared called out to her as she ran to him from the car in his driveway. Jen threw herself into his arms, wrapped her arms around his neck and refused to let go, even as he walked out to pick up her bags and tip the driver for delivering her safely to him.

“I missed you,” she mumbled into his neck as he maneuvered them inside the house.

“I can tell,” he smirked, prying her arms off of him and kissing her. “You sure you’re ready for a whole month of the craziness around here?”

“I’m very much looking forward to it. Besides, I can just hide in your room whenever I want, right?” she asked.

“Okay, so don’t take this the wrong way...” Jared said as he guided her down the hallway with his hand on her back and Jen tensed. He ran his hand up and down her back soothingly as he opened the door to one of the first rooms off the end of the hall, before it splits into the labyrinth of passageways that leads to the back of the house. “You have a tendency to get lost in the back of the house and I thought since you’re going to be here for awhile you might want your own space where you can actually find it.”

The room was beautiful, definitely bigger than his, with a king size bed and lots of pretty blue accents all around the room, her favorite color. She could see what she guessed were Shayla’s touches in the room, from the makeup vanity to the cute flower curtains. Jen was pretty sure she remembered it being an office last time she was here, so she knew he put a lot of thought into this, even if it was one of the assistants who put it together for her. She spun on her heels and attacked him with a big kiss. “I love it, thank you.”

Jared let out a breath neither of them realized he was holding. “You are welcome to come hide in my room anytime you want, sweetheart. I don’t want you to think I’m banishing you to the other side of the house,” he insisted, wrapping his arms around her and dropping kisses along her neck.

“Hey, I’d have been happy with a little closet space and a drawer for the month but you gave me a whole room. I know you were sick of tripping over my suitcase and all my stuff in your room when I was here for just a week so this is much more practical. Thank you, really,” she said, kissing him again. The look of relief on his face intrigued her. “Were you nervous about this? That’s adorable,” she commented, patting his cheek.

Jared blushed. “Stevie and Shannon were taking bets on how fast you’d run out the door. They said I was going too ‘Christian Grey’ on you, whatever that means.”

Jen laughed but blushed and hid her face in his chest. “Really, Jared? Does everyone know I submit to you in the bedroom?” she asked shyly.

“Um... They know my proclivities and they know you’re dating me. I think most people just put 2 and 2 together, sweetheart,” he explained, hugging her reassuringly. “You want some time to unpack or would you like to come join us in the studio? We’ve got a couple more hours probably.”

“Oh, I’m definitely coming to the studio. Come on,” Jen answered excitedly, dropping her things at the foot of the bed and grabbing Jared’s hand to pull him out of the room. Of course, she barely made it down the hall before she quietly let Jared take the lead because she was lost again. Jared smiled knowingly and pulled her along behind him into the lab.

“Guys, Jen, Jen, guys,” Jared said by way of introductions, pointing to a couch off to the side where she could sit. “Who changed this configuration? I was gone five minutes!” Jared asked, instantly absorbed in his work again. Jen pulled her legs up on the couch and rested her chin on her knee, settling in to watch him work.

She wasn’t sure how long passed before she was startled by the couch jumping as a body crashed down onto it next to her and she suddenly found herself wrapped in Shannon’s bear hug. “If you keep staring at him like that I swear I’m gonna puke,” he teased.

“Shut up.” Jen covered her now red face with her hands. “I can’t help it. He’s mesmerizing when he’s in work mode. And honestly, what echelon wouldn't watch him given the chance?”

“I’ve seen echelon watch him work, they don’t make the same heart eyes you do. I can practically see the little hearts floating around your head,” Shannon said quietly, making sure his brother couldn’t overhear.

“Shannon, stop, please. I can’t even... I’m in so far over my head with him. Its been four months and we’ve seen each other like six times in that time. No one is using the ‘L’ word anytime soon so you can keep all that heart talk to yourself, thank you,” she admonished him.

“That’s fine. I just want to make sure you know that you’re different,” Shannon said.

“I know. He makes sure I know it, too,” she replied sweetly.

“Shannon, stop harassing my girlfriend and get back to work,” Jared warned, grabbing Shannon by the collar and playfully pulling him away from her. “You need anything?” Jared asked, checking the time on his phone. “We should be ready to break for dinner soon.”

The word soon made her smile involuntarily as she shook her head. “I’m good.” Jared leaned down and placed a lingering kiss on her lips before returning to work. Jared pushed maybe a little longer than he should have at getting whatever sound it is he’s trying to capture. Everyone was increasingly frustrated and tired by the time Shannon finally approached Jared and whispered something in his ear that made him look over at Jen. She was still in the same spot on the couch, head propped up on her arms which are wrapped around her knees, but her gaze had gone glassy and she wasn’t paying as much attention as she was before.

“Okay guys, lets call it a night,” Jared announced and everyone rushed to shut down the studio and get out of there. Jen was so zoned out that she didn’t even register what was happening until Jamie and Stevie went rushing past her on their way out the door. Only Jared and Shannon remained in the room with her now. “You still with us, sweetheart?” Jared teased as he finished turning off the last of his equipment.

Jen blinked her daze away and sat up, stretching. “Shannon, are you staying for dinner?” she asked, ignoring Jared’s smart remark. Shannon put out his hands for hers and pulled her to standing and then wrapped his arms around her middle, picking her up in a big bear hug that cracked her back satisfyingly. When he set her down she gave him a smaller hug in return.

“You two haven’t had a night together in what, a month? I think if I stayed for dinner tonight Jared might just kill me and carry on with the band without me,” he said with a wink. “Have fun you two,” he called over his shoulder as he exited the studio, flicking the light switch off on his way out, leaving Jared and Jen alone in the dark.

Jen didn’t move, letting her eyes adjust to what little light was streaming into the studio windows from the moon. Jared easily made his way over to her due to his familiarity with the space and wrapped his arms around her. “You hungry?”

“Starving, but I didn’t want to interrupt and I’m not certain I’d have found my way back to my room alone,” she admitted sheepishly.

Jared pulled away for a moment and she heard him rummaging through a drawer before he was suddenly by her side again. He took her hand and as he led her through the halls he stopped at each corner and drew a small arrow with a black sharpie, indicating which way she should go to find her way back. “This is slightly more permanent than sticky notes,” he commented.

“You’re ruining your walls. For me?” she asked while she beamed at him.

“For you. You should be able to find your way to food at least. It’s only three turns. I’ve never met someone with such a bad sense of direction before,” he teased her.

“This place is insane. I’m sure I’ll figure it out given time,” she said as they entered the kitchen. Jared led her to a stool at the counter and pulled it out for her, guiding her to sit and placing a kiss on her temple before he turned to the fridge. He started pulling out ingredients and setting them out on the counter while she leaned over, trying to see what he was doing. “Whatcha got there?”

“Tonight’s menu is homemade guacamole and tortillas with grilled peppers,” he informed her as he set to work cooking. Jen sat back in awe. Jared looked up at her and chuckled. “Yes, there are a few things I can cook,” he said mockingly.

“I didn’t say anything,” she defended angelically. They kept up small talk long enough to get through most of their meal before the tension finally got to her.

“You know, I’m very impressed with the restraint we’ve shown today. I think we proved that we can be adult about our relationship and not just hump each other like bunnies every time we see each other.”

“Well, I have a work deadline and I told you I’d have to be in the studio a lot, that’s why you’re staying for so long,” Jared began defensively but she cut him off by placing her fingers on his lips.

“Jared... fuck me,” she said bluntly.

“Oh, right, yeah,” Jared laughed, scooping her up off the stool and spinning them towards her bedroom. “Another convenient thing about this room; its so much closer to the kitchen,” he said as he opened the door and set her down in front of the bed, kissing her fiercely.

They ripped at each other’s clothing, not bothering to be gentle about stripping down as quickly as possible and molding their naked bodies against each other once more as they fell back onto the bed. Jared pushed the mound of pillows at the head of the bed aside, and reached up. Suddenly Jen found her right wrist encased in a padded leather cuff. She looked up at him in surprise.

“Yet another convenient feature of this room,” he cited with a grin. When she made no further protest he quickly secured her other wrist as well, leaving her spread bare beneath him.

Now that he had her where he wanted her, his pace slowed and she groaned. “Jared, it’s been a month since you’ve touched me. Please don’t tease,” she begged despite her suspicion it would be useless. The evil laugh she got in response confirmed her suspicion, even as he drew his hand down her body to her slick center.

“What do you want?” he asked in that voice that made her clench her thighs together despite his hand between her legs.

“Oh, god, I want to cum for you,” she pleaded, already lost to her desire.

Jared pushed two fingers into her and pumped them in and out slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. The intensity of his gaze held her in place beneath him as he worked her into a frenzy. He swiped his thumb against her clit and she keened, arching her back and closing her eyes uncontrollably, finally breaking his gaze.

“Beg,” he ordered, redoubling his efforts now with his fingers inside her and his thumb against her clit. She devolved into a gasping mess of pleases and curses before he brought his other hand up to her face, holding her chin so she was forced to look him in the eye. He slid his hand down to her neck, applying pressure lightly as he growled the order, “Cum.”

Jen screamed as her body shook with the climax she’d been denied for weeks. Jared kept working her with his fingers, letting up only a little bit in consideration of her post orgasmic sensitivity. As she tried to buck her hips away he applied more pressure to her neck, a feral grin on his face. He controlled her breathing and her body, pinning her legs open with the way he positioned himself between them, holding her at the crest of her pleasure. Seconds later he brought his mouth down to her breast and issued the command again, “Cum!” as he bit down on her left nipple, pulling it taut between his teeth.

Her body bowed beneath him and her mouth opened to scream but no sound came out for several long seconds. Just as she reached the peak and was starting to come down from her second earth shattering orgasm, Jared pulled his hands from her body and lined himself up, pushing into her to the hilt in one strong thrust. She cursed his name and pulled at the restraints, but wrapped her legs around him in invitation. He was impressed she still had the use of her limbs. Jared fucked her into the mattress unrelentingly, seeking the pleasure he knew he’d quickly find with her gorgeous body wrapped around him. He soon pulled out of her and stroked himself rapidly as he painted her body with his cum.

Jared managed to reach up and release her wrists before slumping to the bed beside her, panting. It was several minutes before either of them really moved or spoke, but Jared was gently caressing his hand along her arm the entire time, maintaining their intimacy. Eventually Jen broke the silence.

“One inconvenient feature of this room: the bathroom is across the hall,” she said, still slightly out of breath. “I can’t go running out there covered in your cum even if you tell me no-one is here. I’m too paranoid for that,” she tells him, smiling.

Jared leans up and kisses her, then points at the door in the corner of the room. “En suite bathroom,” he says. “This used to be a private office.”

“I thought that was a closet,” she said as she got out of bed and went to open the door. The bathroom wasn’t huge, but the shower was a beautiful grey tile and had a small bench and a rainfall spout. “You really thought of everything, huh?” she mused as she started the water.

“Not everything,” he admitted, rolling off the bed to join her. “If I’d remembered how much of a screamer you were I’d have soundproofed before you got here, sweetheart” he teased, pulling her in for another kiss.

The pair showered quickly, light touches and kisses enough after satisfying their craving for each other so completely minutes ago. They dried off and Jen scooped a couple pillows up off the floor and climbed back into bed, exhausted. Jared laid beside her, draping one arm across her torso. Within minutes he was squirming and adjusting in the bed, unable to find a comfortable position. He’d bought the bed for her, knowing she loved the soft mattress at the hotel in Vegas, but his sleeping preference was vastly different.

“Jared, why don’t you go sleep in your room? You really don’t have to stay,” Jen told him, kissing his jaw.

“I didn’t want to run out on you,” he said quietly, dropping kisses along her shoulder. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll be asleep in seconds. Honestly, I’m used to sleeping alone and I know you’d rather be sleeping on the floor. I don’t mind,” she assured him.

Jared stood from the bed and tucked her in, setting his hands on either side of her head and leaning in for a kiss before righting himself. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Jared,” she sighed and closed her eyes, falling asleep almost instantly with a smile on her face.

#This Isn't Happening Fic #jared leto fanfiction #shannon leto fanfiction

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walters-tampon-string · 6 years ago

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Bad Vibes

Fandom: Durarara!!

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Characters: Celty Sturluson, Shinra Kishitani, Izaya Orihara

Relationships: None

Description: Celty doesn't know if she likes Shinra's new guest. (Raijin Era)

When Shinra had said that he was bringing a friend over from school that day, Celty had honestly wondered if he was joking. She felt bad for thinking that way, but she was just going off past experience. She had been with Shinra practically his whole life, and in all of that time, she had never known him to be the type to have friends. And in a way, as mean as it sounded, she could understand why. Over the years, as much as she hated to admit it, she had grown increasingly fond of the boy, but that was partially from being in close proximity to him for years. She had time to not only get used to his quirks, but to also see the sweeter side of him. But to the average human, meeting him for the first time was probably jarring.

For one thing, Shinra was pretty shameless in a lot of ways. The boy seemed to have no verbal filter to him, nor did social conventions seem to influence what he said. He could make a shamelessly perverted comment without even seeming to notice, or he would make a rude or antagonizing one with seemingly no fear of facing physical repercussions for what he said. But by far, the worst was that, because he was so used to seeing the human body, both inside and out, he never seemed to see anything wrong with talking about intestines or anything else at any point, even during meals. She had a strong stomach and even she felt nauseous after some of his tales.

All of these factors, combined with his niche interests, always made him somewhat of an outsider. He never was the kid who invited other people over to the house. Probably a good thing, seeing as she didn’t really want to wear her helmet all day to hide the fact she was a dullahan, but still.

<i> Supposedly </i>, he was friends with a boy named Shizuo Heiwajima, but she had yet to ever see the boy in person. Part of her was glad for that too, as she had heard some rather terrifying rumors about the boy. However, Shinra had made it clear that the kid he was bringing over was not Shizuo. Instead, it was some boy named Izaya Orihara, who was going to help with some Biology project they had to work on for their club.

Part of her expected him to come in giggling, rolling a plastic skeleton model or something. So, she was shocked to see an actual living, breathing human being following after him. And the kid didn’t even look like Shinra forced him to come along.

She was also caught off-guard by how beautiful this boy looked. He did not look like the type who would be interested in Biology. He looked more like someone who would pursue a career in acting or modelling.

The boy was borderline feminine-looking, with his long eyelashes and slim figure. He had creamy pale skin, which stood out even more with his dark black and red clothing. He had an intelligent appearance about him, coupled well with his sharp features and obsidian black hair.

He didn’t look like the type who would hang around Shinra. But hey, she supposed she was happy Shinra had a friend.

Beaming proudly, Shinra said, “Celty-san, this is Izaya-kun. I wouldn’t get too close to him though, because to be perfectly honest, he’s a terrible person!”

Celty was kind of taken aback by Shinra’s blunt rudeness and part of her felt like reprimanding him, but she got caught even more off-guard by how Izaya barely reacted to that. The boy simply gave Shinra a slightly tired and annoyed look as he asked, “Is that how you are going to introduce me to everybody we meet?”

Shinra continued to beam as he chirped, “I only think it’s fair to give people a solid warning before you cause any damage to their psyches.”

Izaya didn’t even bother to deny Shinra’s claims. Instead, he just shook his head and sighed, “You are so cruel, Shinra-san. Besides, you are not the nicest person either, you know?”

Shinra nodded in agreement, but pointed out, “Very fair point, however, Celty-chan should be very aware about how terrible I am by now.”

Raising his hands up in mock surrender, Izaya smirked as he said, “Fair enough.” He then turned his attention to Celty. Bowing politely, he said, “Hello, Celty-san. As Shinra said, my name is Izaya Orihara, and I promise you, Shinra is only exaggerating.”

“I am?” Shinra piped up.

Pointedly ignoring the other boy, Izaya just continued on by raising back up and giving Celty a smile, saying, “I hope we can become friends at some point, yeah?”

Celty didn’t know what exactly she found off-putting about that. Maybe it was the creepy smile that had an element of fakeness or coldness about it. Maybe it was Izaya’s vermillion-red eyes, which seemed to be searching through her soul for secrets. Maybe it was from the conversation between the two about how terrible they were. Maybe it was just her gut. But for whatever reason, she got a bad feeling as she just nodded towards the boy, a creeping feeling crawling on her back.

For whatever reason, she wanted this boy to leave the apartment now. Though she couldn’t bring herself to be honest about this sentiment to Shinra. He was obviously very excited about the boy coming to their place, and she didn’t want to ruin his one friendship.

Shinra saved her somewhat by saying, “Well, let’s leave Celty-san alone. Come on, Izaya.” He beckoned Izaya towards his room.

Izaya nodded and then turned to Celty, saying, “It was nice to see you, Celty-chan!” Then with that, he followed after Shinra.

Celty had nodded back, but she couldn’t say she agreed with the sentiment.

A part of her hoped that Izaya Orihara wouldn’t become a regular part of her day-to-day life.

#Shinra Kishitani #kishitani shinra #orihara izaya #izaya orihara #celty sturluson #drrr #Durarara!!#durarara #fanfiction #ashs writing

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calacuspr · 3 years ago

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Calacus Weekly Hit & Miss – Hansle Parchment & CJ Ujah

Every Monday we look at the best and worst communicators in the sports world from the previous week.

HIT - HANSLE PARCHMENT

It’s one of the biggest days of your life.

You’re going for gold at the Olympic Games.

But when you get off the bus, you realise you’ve gone to the wrong place and your medal hopes lie in tatters.

That’s exactly what happened to Hansle Parchment at the Tokyo 2020 Olympic Games when he somehow managed to get to an aquatics centre instead of the Olympic Stadium, some 11 miles away.

With all the official cars already booked and a return bus likely to take too long, he was in trouble.

“If I had done that, I wouldn’t get there in time to even warm up. I had to find another way. I was trying to get one of the branded cars for the Games to take me, but these people are very strict and adhering to the rules, and I would have to have to book the car from beforehand to get it to leave,” explained Parchment in a video recorded during the Games which has captured the attention of sports fans.

"I saw this volunteer and I had to beg... and she actually gave me some money to take one of the taxis. And that's how I was able to get to the warm-up track at the stadium and with enough time to warm up to compete.”

The story does not end there, of course.

Parchment stunned Team USA favourite Grant Holloway to win the gold medal, but he did not forget the kindness of the volunteer who helped him out.

It would have been so easy for Parchment to put the travel mix-up down to experience and never mention it again.

But he showed humility and kindness by tracking down the volunteer, whom he called Tiana.

He documented his journey as he tracked her down: "I'm going to find her and show her my gold medal that I was able to get because she helped me.”

She is in more or less the same place where she had helped him a few days beforehand, giving him the chance to thank her, show her the gold medal, give her a Jamaican Olympic shirt and repay the money she had lent him.

The volunteer was praised by Jamaica's Prime Minister, Andrew Holness, who shared the video on Twitter and wrote: "Every Jamaican knows that gratitude is a must. @ParchmentHansle demonstrates that perfectly here."

The country's Tourism Minister Edmund Bartlett has invited the woman to visit Jamaica, he told local newspaper The Gleaner.

"It is selfless what she did; one would not know what the outcome would have been.

“No matter where in the world she is, we want to reciprocate the kindness shown to one of our own.”

MISS – CJ UJAH

Team GB was rocked last week when sprinter CJ Ujah was provisionally banned after testing positive for a banned substance.

Ujah was part of Team GB men's 4x100m relay team that also included Zharnel Hughes, Richard Kilty and Nethaneel Mitchell-Blake, which won silver at the Tokyo 2020 Olympic Games earlier this month.

The Athletics Integrity Unit (AIU) said: “The sample was collected by the ITA under the Testing Authority of the International Olympic Committee (IOC) during an in-competition anti-doping control on 6 August 2021 in Tokyo, Japan, following the final of the Men’s 4 x 100m Relay Final. The result was reported by the WADA-accredited laboratory of Tokyo on 8 August 2021.

“The athlete has the right to request the analysis of the B sample. If requested by the athlete and if the B sample analysis confirms the Adverse Analytical Finding, or alternatively if the athlete does not wish to have the B sample analysis undertaken, the case will be referred to the Anti-Doping Division of the Court of Arbitration for Sport for adjudication under the IOC Anti-Doping Rules applicable to the Olympic Games Tokyo 2020.

“The CAS ADD will consider the matter of the finding of an Anti-Doping Rule Violation and the disqualification of the Men’s 4 x 100m Relay results of the British team.”

It’s understandable that UK Athletics did not comment given that the case is now ongoing and Ujah remains innocent until the investigation is complete.

And while Ujah requires guidance and caution in what he says, the silence in the immediate aftermath of the news was deafening.

Particularly in this era of social media, Ujah should have made a statement explaining his position, expressing regret or confusion and addressing the investigation head-on.

When a crisis strikes, saying nothing simply gives room for others to fill the void, and misses the opportunity to take advantage of the right to reply.

It was not until Saturday afternoon that Ujah issues a response, via the Press Association news wire.

He said: “To be absolutely clear, I am not a cheat. I have never and would never knowingly take a banned substance.

“It's taken me a few days to process the information I received on Thursday, shortly before it was made public. I am completely shocked and devastated by this news.

"I love my sport and I know my responsibilities both as an athlete and as a team-mate. I am respecting the formal processes and will not be making any further comment until it is appropriate to do so."

While PA is a good channel to distribute news or statements, it was surprising that Ujah did not use his social media channels to also communicate the news, given the more targeted benefits of reaching his followers and fans.

Meanwhile, Lamont Marcell Jacobs, who shocked the world by winning the 100m sprint, has raised eyebrows when he also announced this week that he would not compete again this season.

With his stock high after becoming the Olympic Champion, Jacobs, who was the seen as an underdog before he raced to victory, has had his integrity brought into question given his lack of success at world level in the past.

But Jacobs lacked a bit of class when he scoffed at Ujah’s predicament according to a report in Italian newspaper Tuttosport: “Having seen the investigation into Ujah I would say that perhaps it’s better [for the British] to look closer to home before attacking others. It made me smile.”

It was left to Hugh Robertson, Chairman of the British Olympic Association, to show Ujah some support while the investigation continues.

"It's absolutely tragic for the other members of the relay team," Sir Hugh told The Times. "It is very disappointing news but he remains innocent until proven guilty and we will absolutely respect the process."

Ujah can request analysis of his B sample. Should that confirm the adverse analytical finding, the case will be referred to the Anti-Doping Division of the Court of Arbitration for Sport.

#Tokyo Olympic Games #Tokyo 2020 #IOC #CJ Ujah #Hugh Robertson #Lamont Marcell Jacobs #Press Association #Hansle Parchment #Grant Holloway #Team USA #Jamaica Athletics #Athletics Integrity Unit #WADA #Team GB

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trashforleo · 7 years ago

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6 Years With B.A.P!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Rewatching all B.A.P MVs from Going Crazy to Hands Up to celebrate 6 Years and I. am. DYING!

I didn’t get into Kpop until March 2012, after seeing MyChonnys reaction video to BB Fantastic Baby and I was like ‘Okay, that was good, I’mma check out more of this’. And then I fell into this pit we call a fandom?!?!?!More like HELL ON MY HEART! A few weeks of just jamming to BB I found Warrior sitting in the suggestions and then BAM! MY ASS WAS OWNED!!~!~! Being a stupid, naive 15 year old at the time, I was just all up on that shit! I NEEDED TO KNOW WHO THEY WERE~ AND HOW I COULD DOWNLOAD THE SONG THEY HAD SO I COULD LISTEN TO IT AT SCHOOL TO DROWN OUT THE TEACHERS! I wasn’t really a hardcore stan like I had been for BB, at that time I was a bitch for BB but B.A.P was crawling up my legs to steal my heart!

At the start of my fangirling, I fully believed Zelo was my bais, he was cute, a rapper, only a year older then me and just really fucking adorable!?!?!?! But then I saw the Crash MV and I was done for! Yongguk spoke at the start of that video and my poor teenager heart was like!!!!!!!!!!!!!!YOU HAVE MY HEART!!!!!!!!!!!!!!No reason at all but I just knew?that?he?owned?the?title?as?bias?!?!??!?!?!!!!!!! (Also, that fucking blue and green hairdo Zelo had in the Crash MV WAS GODDAMN AWFUL! HOW DID ANYONE FORGET THAT? THAT WAS HIS WORST HAIR ERA! NEXT TO GRANNY PERM HURRICANE HAIR! OMG!)

THEN CAME STOP IT! AND I WAS SUNK IN SO FAR! I still wasn’t hardcore stanning yet, but I was nearing, I waited for comebacks and knew their names and could tell the members apart by voices, but I only really listened to title tracks for now. Rain Sound was what claimed my ass COMPLETELY! I WAS OWNED! THEY HAD ME BY MY NERVES AND ARTERIES! I listened to all their songs and watched any interviews translated I could get my grubby hands on! I needed to know these boys because I just LOVED THEM SO MUCH! They were talented, beautiful, amazing, dedicated, just brilliant, being their fan made everything that was shitty in my life then, just fad into the background with simply putting headphones in, I was attached emotionally.

Coffee Shop and Hurricane was what made Daehyun take second place on my bias list, his voice was goddamn f*cking!AMAZING! BADMAN HAD ME BY MY F*CKING ANKLES! THAT WAS MY JAM FOR WEEKS! THEN 1004! I WAS SINKING IN A HOLE I COULDN’T LEAVE!

In 2014 they came to AUSTRALIA! I WAS SO F*CKING EXICITED! At first, I couldn’t go, my friend, who is a very soft kpop fan, like only really listens to it when we hang out, managed to convince her mother to take us! Now, I live in QLD, which meant the closest and cheapest option was Sydney, so we went and it. was. amAZING! It would’ve been better if I wasn’t such a short ass and hadn’t gone off by mainly ear, we got standing behind VIP standing and this bloke was infront of us who for some reason! WAS LIKE 6′10! I’M ONLY 5′2! HE WAS BLOCKING MY VIEW AND HIM GOING ON HIS TIPTOES AND JUMPING UP AND DOWN DIDN’T HELP! I enjoyed my first concert ever, despite not having actually seen much of it, it was a memory and I was grateful, I learnt the Check On dance, there was moment where one of the members gave a girl in the crowd a coffee during the Coffee Shop stage???? If I remember correctly? I unfortunately couldn’t get any fancams, because at the time I was broke as fuck and had a shitty phone brought from Woolworths and I don’t think my friend has any of the ones she managed to get either anymore, the only thing I really regret is no fan cams.

But then came the Lawsuit and I was devastated, a couple months beforehand articles were being posted about this boygroup rumouring to be filing a lawsuit together, thought nothing of it until it read ‘Debuted in 2012 and had recent world tour and first concert held in Australia for them’ and I just felt so…….. hurt? That be the best way to describe it? My heart just burnt and I was struck with this overwhelming pain, I didn’t understand, it couldn’t be them, I didn’t understand, maybe just teenager naivety or denial but I didn’t believe it until I woke up one day and the first thing on my FB timeline ‘B.A.P files lawsuit against TS as six’ and I kinda just broke in tears. I felt slightly pathetic crying over a group of men I didn’t even know.

I have to admit, I had the selfish thoughts of ‘They can’t disband’ ‘They can’t, they’re the only good thing I have in life right now,’ but I’m not a generally selfish person, so that passed quick, I was worried, incredibly worried! I didn’t know these men personally but hearing the circumstances of the lawsuit fueled me with rage, they were being denied basic human rights! From seeing family, treatment for illness, disrespect as artist, payment neglect! Then I heard of fans leaving the fandom for petty reasons and I knew that I couldn’t leave their side, I did, guiltily, distance myself as Baby, if they were to disband for their own personal reasons and this doesn’t go well, I wouldn’t be as hurt by the decision, I checked any news when I could, listened to their songs to feed my desire to see them again, I checked Instagram and Twitter, every time I heard about one of the members being seen somewhere, Daehyuns random appearances, I was happy, they looked sad but also happy, but I was still worried, what did this mean for them?

When it was over, I just hoped that they were given what they deserved and wanted, respect and to not be looked down at, to be treated like a human beings, to be given the money they work fucking hard for! And to not be taken advantage of, because all they wanted to do was to sing, rap and dance, to follow a simple dream but some money hungry, shitty cooperation took advantage of that.

But because I had distance myself during the lawsuit, although still a Baby, I wasn’t on the level before it, while every other Baby was hyping up their comeback for Young, Wild and Free, I was skeptic, was this what they wanted? Are they okay? I don’t care for a comeback! I just want to know if they’re happy and healthy! Why TS? Surely any other label could sign them?

The teasers dropped and I was in love again, it was them, they looked healthy, they looked happy, they looked like them, the six goofy, talented, amazing, individual men that I loved. It had been over a year since they’re last comeback, Zelo had gotten taller, he looked more mature and more adult, Youngjae’s face had lost any trace of his chubbyness from Debut,, Daehyunn looked alot better, Himchan was defiantly happier, Jongup was now a man too out of nowhere? Yongguk seemed better.

I Feel So Good and That’s My Jam had me forgetting the lawsuit, they were happy, doing what they wanted and releasing music they wanted to. Happy. I just wanted them happy. Skydive came around and I was SHOOK! SO FUCKING GOOD! But that was a slop when Yongguk had to take a break for Anxiety issues and I was mad at TS, was this their fault? Were they neglecting him again? Why wasn’t his Anxiety issues addressed sooner! Why let him get to that point!? Mad, was an understatement, I know how horrible and nightmarish Anxiety is, so I was happy he was getting treated, I was furious that the company he practically has signed years of his life to, neglect him to the point where he had to put his dreams on hold?! He shouldn’t of had to put a ‘hiatus’ on his career when his company shouldn’t of let him get so bad, it wasn’t Yongguks fault and I could blame the company all I wanted, but I just wanted him happy, healthy and doing what he wants with his life without these barriers.

Wake Me Up came and you could say that my ass was owned, yet again. Words can’t really explain how I felt when watching the MV, besides Pride, I was proud, they looked so good, the song sounded just like them and I was glad for having them back. Honeymoon and Hands Up, two comebacks in a short time frame? Ah yes! I did feel a little worried that maybe T$ was going to try and churn out comebacks like they did originally, but I felt reassured, the boys looked happy and healthy, if T$ was going to do that, I doubt the members would leave it unheard of, Himchan would probably dragged them over social media and Daehyun would probably discreetly shit on them anyway he could. Honeymoon was a refreshing concept, I loved it! Hands Up! Felt like I was watching them for the first time all over again!

This was B.A.P, this was Bang Yongguk, Kim Himchan, Jung Daehyun, Yoo Youngjae, Moon Jongup and this was Choi Junhong, this was my boys, OUR boys, 6 men that for years had been my greatest escape from my life, I could put headphones on and blare out the world outside, watch silly videos and feel better about my circumstances, they made me smile, they made me happy, they made me want to live, even if it was just to see their new Instagram post tomorrow and here they are, happy, healthy, doing what they wanted, being loved, being amazing, being Best. Absolute. Perfection.

So to B.A.P, to our brilliant leader, Bang Yongguk, with your deep ass, chocolaty smooth voice, our shy man, the father of the group, who is always thinking of others before yourself, that protected and loved your members through what was probably the hardest years in your lives, never let anyone try to make you do any less then what you want, what you wish, what you believe in and what you deserve, because baby, you deserve the fucking world, keep smiling that beautiful gummy smile that makes our hearts shine. Because like you said I will hold your two hands and hold you so you don’t fall.

To Kim Himchan, our glorious Visual King, mother of the group, with your trucker, smooth, honey vocals, you serve as glue in the group in a way, always tenderly loving of the members, as Yongguks best friend, supporting, shitting on T$ because you won’t put up with shit, always love yourself just like you are, wearing your name on everything! Never doubt yourself, you are beautiful, you are amazing and we love you so god damn much, forever smile that smile, forever be our dancing machine and forever be the amazing man you are.

To Jung Daehyun, our extra loud Lead Vocal, I know we tease you for how loud you can be, but I’d be damned if you were any different then what you are, you bring energy, happiness, cheers and brightness to the group, I can always look forward to a new interview or Vlive with you in it, knowing that I’ll probably have to turn down my volume a few times but I will forever adore listening to you scream over nonsense. I hope that one day you can find someone that you love, more then you love us, because you deserve to be in love and love, to be loved, you are our soul, our love and a blessing.

To Yoo Youngjae, our brilliant vocal, our little squishy marshmallow, who bring sunshine with a colourful rainbow to the group, always supportive of your brothers, loving your fans, always be the way you want, never question that you are talented, that you’re loved, laugh that beautiful laugh, prank your brothers, be as loud as you can with Daehyun and tease your Maknae, and do what you want with your future, sing with that beautiful voice and adore your Babyz with that huge heart of yours, you are beautiful, you are talented, you are amazing, you are our love.

To Moon Jongup, our beautiful, rude, main dancer, with your beautiful voice and smooth dancing, forever amazing us with your continuous growing talent and passion, with your ability to put up with your brothers antics, your growth as an artist and as a person, as you slowly exist your shell and become more open, always smile like you do, always be happy, never settle for anything less then what you deserve, never expect anything less then what you want and always remember that we will forever watch and love you.

To Choi Junghong, our maknae, our brilliant dancer, our amazing rapper, you may be young, but you have suffered a lot just to achieve your dreams, with your continuous growing self in everyway, we are always amazed to see you happy, another genius piece that you release is another step to being the artist you want to be, there are evil people in the world, but don’t worry, we will protect and love you in any way we can, always smile, always cheer on your brothers, always love your fans and forever be the beautiful, amazing man you are growing up to be.

With you, my baby. Forever with you.

If we could, us Babyz would steal every ounce of happiness in the world just to see you boys be happy, to see those smiles, to hear that laughter, another song released, another album charting, another hit, another post on social media, is a step to us just loving you even more then we already do. I will never let your hand go, no one can ever deny me the innocent, pure love I have for you six men, you have made me feel something, even if I never meet you, even if you don’t know I exist, I love you, because you’re talented, amazing, beautiful and deserve to be given the world.

Bang Yongguk - ❝Life is like a piano. The white keys represent happiness and the black keys represent sadness, but as you go through life, remember that the black keys make music too.❞

Kim Himchan - ❝Role model? I don’t have one. I want to be one.❞

Jung Daehyun - ❝We are still here, because we experienced both good and bad as 6.❞

Yoo Youngjae - ❝Now, B.A.P is more like a family rather than just members or friends, so as time goes by, we are going to be more banded.❞

Moon Jongup - ❝I want to be a moon, bring the light to the people who are in the dark.❞

Choi Junghong - ❝I want to work hard without forgetting our original intention and our modesty, for us to become artists that will grow.❞

Congratulations, to six years as six, B.A.P.

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kado-maschine · 4 years ago

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How to be alone?

Everyone has problems right? Those who don't, either don't understand what the term problem means, or they are inanimate matter, but even inanimate matter has problems too because of entropy.

Anyhow, my scariest bogeyman is that at best I can't make a relationship work, and at worst I even avoid the chance of having one. Why? If I want to put it simply, fuck knows. Thing is that I'm not gonna put it simple this time, as what I have learned from fake news propagated by Russian troll armies is that everything that is simple, sensational and easy to understand is not very productive apart from having the intention to muddy the waters and serve a very select few by doing so.

Since my interest is to clarify things for my own good (and maybe help or at least entertain others), truth is the name of the game with this writing (whatever it turns out to be). If there will be no other benefits, at least I’m going to be able to cross off the mental task off my imaginary to do list.

One day, after having a rather enjoyable horse at the vet sensation, as I went to bed I had the same sensation that I was having as a child on countless occasions when I couldn't sleep or woke up randomly during the night. The bed, the sheets and most importantly the pillows felt like they are made some rigid, abrasive material, that is also disgusting. It felt like being embraced by disgust and bitterness. Normally my bed and I are best buddies, I love to sleep and I had no problem falling asleep on a beam bag in the middle of the office, during business hours. The chemistry was also supposed to help, not to deteriorate. Fast forward a few weeks while sitting on the bed and drinking a cuba made of free rum and overpriced PEPSI from the hotel's mini fridge I'm trying to figure out, when and why was I having problems with sleep before and when was I sleeping like a baby and why. In recent history, since my memory is one very slippery slope, the answer is a no, a no regarding detectable issues with my sleep. It is a no, as long as all the nights spent with gaming, night shifts or digging through obscure forums to find a track in a mix somewhere between minute 53 and 57 are not considered. Reflecting on the whole experience described above, I must have had trouble sleeping when I was a really small child and I was missing a lot. As I was growing up things got gradually better. By the time I was in high school the wardrobe have been conquered and turned into my gaming nest. The gaming room hosted my first gaming pc that I built piece by piece from a shitty Athlon that dad got screwed over by some "friend" and beloved games that kept me glued to the screen for hours on end. After the PC came my first car, job, girlfriend and slowly but surely as I moved away from my parents my own life really started to take shape. I have slept better and better. Now, armed with a mortgage, with two cars that possibly cost as much put together as a front bumper for a brand new BMW M3, two cats who are by far not the smartest but they keep me company and are cute af, two bicycles, a bunch of computers and a job that I'm grateful to have and one that fits my questionable attitude towards work, I yet again arrived to the point where the quality of my sleep is degrading faster than a space capsule entering the atmosphere, despite all the the things listed above were part of what I was dreaming of as a child and teenager/student.

Despite all of these, I'm oscillating between two states when it comes to sleep. One is the depression sleep, after taking a long hard look at my backlog that reaches to the Moon and back at least five times, taking a nap seems to be the only viable option, or multiple naps, or a humongous sleep where the only thing that can get me out of bed is the need to pee. The other one is the let's try to solve all of my problems in a purely theoretical manner, right before sleep, going over the same problems over and over, while making wild conspiracy theories about myself, because of the purely hypothetical setting. This mental kung-fu under some circumstances can turn into the above mentioned “being embraced by disgust” thing. How did I get here?

I've seen people being happier while having a lot less. What is that they have and I do not possess? Intimacy, I guess by the power of exclusion. Of course I could just short this whole thing before it gets off the ground, as a self-proclaimed good capitalist. I could say that If I can make enough money, someone will fake it for me for the financial benefit and as long as this someone does the thing right and tricks to my brain, I couldn't give less a of a fuck, or could I? Anyhow, with my current work ethic of extracting as much resources as possible form as little invested work as possible puts a cap on my earnings that limits my financial possibilities to roadside STD intimacy. Shut up! - screams the humanist from somewhere between repressed emotions and avoided social responsibilities. You have to make things work, otherwise you're just treating the symptoms, but the root cause remains and will re-surface over and over again - he continues. Now, call me Susan and you know the rest... A multitude of attempts were made to solve this mess, so I kept failing in various ways. Yes, my now my mantra is "failure, failure, failure, failure, failure, success, failure, failure, success". Despite this attitude, one can only take so many failures before feeling exhausted and gets worse at the task on hand because of said tiredness and fails even more. People also tend to tell me that I need to learn to be happy alone. Please, shut the fuck up. Despite my shitposting, which i find genuinely funny, good and somewhat toxic way of escapism, I can be happy when I'm alone. Just to bring one example to the table, the road to this very hotel room where I'm writing this whatever right now, took me through one of the twistiest mountain passes that gets you outside of the Carpathian basin, the road goes through the city of Cheia (BV) and it has dozens upon dozens of hairpins one after another and miles upon miles of narrow, twisty roads with a bunch of elevation changes. My right foot just couldn’t care about fuel consumption. With my tires squealing in almost every corner and I was laughing loudly in the car, spanking the dash and shouting "ohh yea" while I could let the steering wheel loose for a few seconds. Dancing alone in the living room when the track of the week or month hits out of the blue, or when the right people at the right party are found to have "deep" conversations about whatever stupid topics that our brain soaking in whatever cocktail finds to be fit for purpose. The thing is, if one spent somewhere in the neighbourhood of six years trying all the gizmos and distractions of the modern society to make him or herself be happy without intimacy and succeeded to some extent, but at the same time realized that hundreds of thousands of years of evolutional biology and al the workflows tied into it cannot be cheated in a lifespan, what are the limits for being happy alone?

I have reached a point where the things that cause me unconditional pleasure are getting very complicated, time consuming, expensive or dangerous, like buying car parts, pushing transportation devices to their limits, gambling with bs crypto currencies or trying to learn skills with a heck of a learning curve, not to mention experimenting with chemically induced changes in my brain activity. I have also reached a point where it gets harder and harder to trick my biology. The ape says reproduce, while this in the modern era where global warming is prevalent and innocent eyed orphans are making t-shirts in Bangladesh for next to nothing in a sweatshop, while China’s rivers deliver more plastic to the oceans than water kind world makes no sense. I could at least fool the ape with just having someone around and occasionally making love or engaging in other forms of intimacy. At least the thresholds would be closer and it would be a lot simpler to fool the inner ape and the hormone levels wouldn't need to filled up with lies that much. Besides the raw biological teardown, having someone around as a partner where the positive interactions outweigh the negative ones could be the basis of a symbiosis between two humans.

If some intimacy / sex / company would help, why I’m not having any? - the question poses. In theory, the ins and outs have been mapped out. It all started, as it mostly does, during childhood. The marriage of my parents went totally south when my sister was born and I had 4 years, so my long term memory just started working. This meant that my memory had no part of seeing a single act of intimacy of my primary caregivers towards each other, just shouting, aside from my grandmother and my favourite aunt giving me a hug sometimes. It was a real battle zone where a few hours without shouting were far and few between. This and a lot of other shit that my parents were haunted by, courtesy of their own pasts gave me exactly zero knowledge on how to read woman. I’m basically fucking blind. Even if I was any good at maths I would loose count of the occasions when someone told me, “Look at that girl / woman, how she’s looking at us / you” and I had to ask where to look, in terms of general direction, not to mention the ability to pick up small signs. How do I see the sign, if a year or so have passed since we ’been together and I didn’t know the eye colour of my first girlfriend. Sounds surprising right? Well, when batshit crazy is considered normal for the first 20 years of your life, climbing out of that perspective has quite a learning curve. If that learning curve weren’t damn steep enough as is, add a stupid decision to it, and be very disciplined about that stupid decision for years, and the shitstorm will be near perfect. But I come back to the near perfection of the shitstorm in a bit.

First of all, how about that first girlfriend and the stupid decision? I think I might have been 18yo when I had my first kiss and I was 19yo when I met my first girlfriend. I would have never ended up her boyfriend if I wasn’t drunk on a particular party and were just kissed by another girl who was into me boosting my morale, the cherry on the top of the cake being that I knew from a friend of my sister that my would be ex was into me. All these factors played into the hand of a relationship that lasted two and a half years and could have been a major leaping stone for me. She looked gorgeous and a chemistry was spot on. We learned things together and I learned how and where and when to touch a woman. Since I was still in the grasp of the narrow conservative (small rural town, what do you expect?) mindset I did and said a bunch of things I’m not proud of. Hopefully she learnt more from those lessons as much as I did or even more. So, why wasn’t this relationship the bridge between my loneliness and the ability to have functioning relationships? Why instead of being a leaping stone I stumbled and fell into a ditch head first?

When it ended, the feeling was so shitty, that the most logical conclusion to my very simplistic mind was to avoid feeling like that again altogether, therefore becoming cold and distant become the primary guidelines. Six years of loneliness ensued. Going without sex, kissing anyone or hugging could be easily measured in moths or even a year. Months have passed between occasional one night stands, where the hunter was determined or drunk enough to not to care about my cluelessness, or the hunted was drunk enough to not to be totally unapproachable or clueless or both. Even if they were looking to turn the one night stand into multiple nights or maybe a relationship, due to the long stretches of loneliness and due to the weird sexual expectations that arose during said long stretches of nothingness, I felt so weird and ashamed of myself, that I turned down further invitations and couldn’t bring myself to talk to them. Basically, from their perspective, I had sex with them, than I disappeared in the ether. I have managed to show myself in a successful a-hole kind a way, while I felt like the most unlucky, ugly and talentless piece of shit (now that’s what I call “an achievement”).

Despite the fact that I found myself highly repulsive for a long time, hiding behind sunglasses and foundation I had enough self confidence to let woman try. And boy oh boy, they did try. Those who were more desperate were more determined, while those who had multiple choices open had a look, maybe had some fun and than left seeing the vast cluster of insecurities behind the sketchy façade that looked enticing from a distance, but fell apart upon closer inspection. People told me that I was good looking and I should have a girlfriend and I truly believed for years that they were only saying this to save face. Now, looking back, I’m starting to realize that I’m not ugly, I might even be good looking by some metrics. This realization came as the memory lane of old pictures was revisited again and again. Upon closer inspection all the woman around me, hugging me, giving me kisses on photos became evident. It is one thing that I couldn’t capitalize on any of that, but I realized, how lucky am I that genetics favoured me. Elsewise, if the gene pool wouldn’t have been kind to me at least in this department, I would be the most neglected man, considering my social and dating skills. Or the lack thereof, to be more precise. One thing to be grateful for.

Before this realization occurred, I shit you not, I had to realize first, that the policy I applied after I broke up with my first girlfriend was seriously affecting me. It was like one of those cases, when a temporary workaround is put in place for something, everyone forgets about it, than it causes a major shitstorm in the long run when something breaks down the line, messing up a forgotten but needed dependency. Before this realization life went by casually in a perfect state of cognitive dissonance, by not willing to open up for anyone, not willing to pay attention to anyone’s feelings and yet craving intimacy and blaming the world for not providing any.

So ok, during the time it took for the realization to kick in some amazing woman drifted away. ”What do you do now, you dumb fucking bitch?” - asks one part of the brain. “Well, you stand up, use less swearwords, or edit them out later and keep moving on hoping that each failure at least landed some useful experience points that can be used as a solid base for improvement.” - says the other. So this is how the journey of relationship 101 and emotion handling begun.

Phase 1. Trying to establish a relationship, but being emotionally unavailable.

There’s was a girl who added me on facebook after after a party and somehow I managed to puzzle the picture together. She was there, she saw me playing music, she liked me and she tried to reach out. We have started talking, we have started going out and we kept going out without me doing any advances for 3 moths, when she finally had enough and invited me over to her place to watch Narcos. That night was followed by a relationship that lasted approx two months when she kicked me out, calling me insensitive and unable to care for her emotionally. She was totally right.

Moving on, I drop a comment on some meme posted by one of the girls I met at the University a few years ago. She replies to my comment, I reply to hers, the discussion moves to chat. After a couple of days she tells me that she is coming home from abroad and we shall meet. I agree. The meeting happens, other things happen, we get along really well, meet two more times and consider ourselves to be in a long distance relationship. She’s very enthusiastic, wants to communicate with me, she’s being cute and I’m still 100% emotionally unavailable. When I finally decide to visit her, after dragging the topic for months, she cuts me loose. Rightfully so. Off course, I delete her from social media, and decide that whatever, I’ll make enough money so someone will stay with me for that, even if I’m an emotional iceberg laced with titanium (un-fucking-penetrable). What an utterly crappy response to being rejected, says captain hindsight.

Phase 2. Overflow.

Next up, wasted on party (but in a mildly good way) and another girl who remembers me from a festival that took place years ago initiates a conversation and I end up hanging out with her and all of her girlfriends. We party, we talk, we decide to go to an after at their place. Due to administrative reasons when I get there only one of them is there, so we start talking. Meanwhile people are arriving, chemicals are wearing off and kicking in, dynamics change. Finally everyone gives in and we sleep together. The next day (because the next days always counts from the moment when you wake up) we talk, have a long walk, I unload a mental excel of pros and cons about myself to her since honesty can only be good (later on my psychologist tells me the contrary, since what I do is scary and things should be let to unravel by themselves) and I leave town. After my short city break is over we decide to meet and she’s over at my place before I could blink. We start hanging out more and more. Even If I have the tendency to make the same mistakes over and over again, just to be sure that they are mistakes and I have mastered the recipe, this time I knew that I have to open myself up. The theoretical part was ok, as the plan was to move slowly and open myself up step by step over an extended period of time. Unfortunately the gap between theory and practice sometimes can accommodate a few light years in between, so all of the emotions that I managed to bottle up over the years managed to get out after only a few careful steps. She had her own problems, I had mine and they didn’t make a good combination, but a rather unfortunate one. Disregarding the fact that I have tried to invest emotionally, I still couldn’t care for her emotional needs. The whole thing blew up in my face, basically. Being blind to anything that is less obvious than she suddenly turning to me in the middle of the night and saying, “I have to go home”, and having the alarm of something is not right going off is not the hallmark of being ready for a relationship. Another part of the lecture was that revealing rating systems to woman about woman is a double edged ice cream that mostly licks back instead of being licked. For those who don’t view the world from an engineering / mathematical (call it as you fancy) perspective, there are people out there who measure and categorize everything. This in a relation means that the relevant parameters like, looks, intelligence (or the lack thereof), like mindedness, biological match, size of the cultural gap (if applies), financial and social situation are all measured on a scale and the weighted average tells if the other person is a match or not, and how good a match it is. Unfolding this information in my situation turned out to be a major no-no. Based on the very narrow sample, I was convinced that this is how it is and I should never again reveal my rating system ever again. Luckily, lately a friend of mine told me that his girlfriend appreciated this kind of approach, so the analytics based way of thinking is not my mental dead end, only it has to be used after a lot of observation and in the right situation with the right people as the “target audience” seems to be quite small. By the time we got to the point of me revealing my rating system, red flags were flying all over. Thing is red flags are easy to miss even with experience not to mention barely having any. When you add that up to the fact that you need a planetary alignment that occurs every 5000 years to be able to get close to someone, you also finally manage to let your guard down and you know that giving up on things is generally considered bad and dedication is king, those red flags are rendered inexistent in the quantum soup of thoughts. All of the above combined leads to the materialization of one very specific dynamic in attachment theory, where the anxious one is trying to get closer and to invest more in general, while the avoidant is getting further and further away, creating a situation where both feel frustrated. Fast forward a little (as the whole thing lasted two months), she cuts me loose and I have no clue how to deal with the tsunami of the emotions that are now very much on the surface and the pink cloud that acted as a distraction is gone and the withdrawal starts to kick in. A downward spiral begins that ends with being so desperate to escape the sensation of a panic attack being one mental “block” away that I start taking random meds and drinking, because at one point they have to override my emotions. I don’t want to kill myself per se, but I made peace with the thought that if I need to die to escape that state of mind, I’m fine with it.

Luckily since I’m an attention whore, I’m not doing this in total silence and even if I’m not being totally upfront about it, my friends and people who are not my friends but are nice people and just care realize that something is off and rush in to help. Their intentions are really good, however, most of them are not experts and just share their best practices. Five or six best practices in, one is confused as fekk. This confusion is that finally pushes me through the barrier to seek professional help. Luck was by my side as I found a psychologist I could work with from the get go. As we were moving forward with therapy I was still trying to resuscitate a very dead relationship. The contrast between my interactions with the therapist and my ex were miles apart. While I was still rowing the waters “make her feel sorry for me” and told her how I tried to get my overboiling emotions in check, scaring her tremendously, creating a mess of emotions for both of us, the how's and whys and the to-dos were very clear during therapy. At one point the psychologist said that “You see the situation very clearly, you are also very conscious about what you did and what are the possible ramifications of your actions and you also have a plan as to how to fix them, why are you here?” My answer was simple: “While I’m in a state of rest, where I’m not being cornered by my own emotions all is clear, however, once shit hits the fan, all of the logic that was nicely put together goes out of the window and I start acting borderline crazy”.

As the therapy sessions flew by and the links to my ex started to fade, things ere starting to stabilize. All that was left is what I call “light general depression”. Light general depression is exactly what its name stands for. It doesn’t contain joy (apart from chain-smoking, watching tons of YouTube videos about video games and cars, binge eating pizza and ice cream and drinking herculean amounts of rum), existing feels bad and pointless, but it is not terrible, there are no big ups and downs and existence in this state can go on for extended periods time. As one of these days passed by as experienced from the warm hug of an unnecessarily long bath I randomly texted a friend to see what is she up to. She was hanging out by herself, drinking and asked me if I wanted to join, so I did. By the time I got there another woman was at the table. Nothing special, we introduced ourselves and carried on drinking. I did not find this new addition to my pool of acquaintances physically attractive, that under normal circumstances could have been a trigger, however she was very intriguing. As the alcohol levels in our blood gained an ever larger foothold, the discussion suddenly turned into one of those that go down the rabbit hole of serious emotions and life experiences. I love these discussions (hence the experience, wink wink), they are the bread and butter of why am I socializing. It is almost pointless to say that as the discussion turned into the two of us going on a philosophical rampage about depression and explaining the how’s and why’s to anyone around us the spark went off. Finally, as the night came to a close and everyone said their goodbyes only the two of us were left walking the through the streets bursting with nightlife telling more and more intimate stories about ourselves. As we reached her place and said goodbye I got stuck in the mental loop of what to do after a meeting and discussion like this. Luckily she promptly bypassed the situation by shaking my hand and telling me something along the lines of “till next time”. The next day the temptation was simply irresistible not to stalk her online. By the time I got a glimpse of her through her profile her friend request already landed safely.

She left town for a few weeks (if I’d be religious or into spiritual stuff, I’d say there’s a link to the previous relationship, luckily I am not, life is just hugely random), but we agreed that I would take her to party when she comes back, since she haven’t been to one since her son was born. Meanwhile I also found out that she had what she described as a “sort of boyfriend”. While all of this was unravelling my brain dripping with curiosity kicked me into higher and higher gears as my taste of the unusual and complicated got ever more triggered. Finally the day of the party came and it was the best party I ever attended where I didn’t like the music at all. We really connected. Looking back at that level of connection, I couldn’t tell if we were really alike in some terms and hugely different in others, or she is just simply darn good at showing what people would like to see. A few days later she invited me to watch a movie, we watched the whole movie without me totally being unable to do any advances, again, unless we finally decided to sleep. Things happened. That night was the starting point of a journey that lasted 7 months and included lots of love, lots of desperation, living together with ex boyfriends, handling a spoiled 4 year old boy, discussing and trying to come to terms with a father that got lost in the ether, lots of calculated action combined with a shit-ton of impulsivity and lot more. What I learned in this relationship about trauma, falling victim of compensating for trauma, overusing resources without considering the future, keeping something useless and counterproductive in your life just because it makes you feel superior, utterly useless - clueless and spoiled people, the consequences of being inconsistent in a child’s education hopefully could fill pages on its own, If I managed to learn something. All of this is still just scratching the surface. The full and detailed version of said list serves material for more writings as this paragraph could go on for dozens of pages, but it won’t to avoid further side-tracking. Also, some of these lessons still need processing time for the sake of being able to paint a picture that is more accurate rather than soaked with emotions. What is certain is that at least one writing (if not more) about overprotective parents running the risk of handicapping their children, involuntary hostage taking and kindness as a useless perk if not accompanied by other skills will come at one point. With the this pitch out of the way, let’s get back to the relationship itself. To put it simply, there was this man, dressed in black from head to toe, wearing black nail polish occasionally, being a strong proponent for nihilism and putting himself at risk for the excitement of being exposed to risk while also testing all sorts of limits because an “engineer” has to know the limits, right? During the course of a few months this man had a child seat in the back of his car, learned how to micromanage educational failures by measuring, not just feeling and truly cared for the wellbeing of a few people. He had the impression that he found his place in a world where he previously tried to fill the void by proving the pointlessness of life through reckless (and very fun) activities. Thrusters were set to 110% as the pink fog of “this is it, we have to commit and do this” descended on the brain cells locked in a hormone fuelled frenzy. Finally I experienced a Christmas where I felt happy and loved instead of trying to avoid conflict and hating the world in general.

While I was working on getting myself involved in a hot, crazy mess, thrusters 110% on, I happened to stay at my former flatmate’s parents for two days. I love going there, not just because it served as a perfect base for a weekend of partying, but it is one of those places where a family functions in a symbiosis, not co-dependence. Very-very-very fucking important difference. I love to see how people interact with one another when the main driving force is not fear, but understanding, where attachment comes from the light, not darkness. Even now it makes me to slightly tear up to know, that family can be good, not something to avoid as much as possible, if handled properly. Sights like these give hope. Anyhow, before this detour gets too big, I had good chat with my ex flatmate’s mom where she told me “Kado, don’t look for woman who fit you best, look for someone simple who is capable to learn”. Objectively speaking, this was the best advice I ever received about dating. Worry not, this will not be left unexplained, jut not right now.

So with this advice in mind, the weekend ended and the quest of getting myself deeper into the murky waters of chronic co-dependence was back. As the first few months of the relation flew by and we went from low profile affair to we’re together now and everyone should know about it, more and more details emerged of an ex that could only commit to a relationship when the imminent loss of her partner is present. It also became clear that his incompetence serves as his major attraction, since a man that is kind, but lacks any purpose and logic to derive any said purpose is highly desirable for an ego that cherishes being superior. It became evident how this dynamic eroded seven or so years of the than “woman of my dreams” into a quagmire. My nativity was strong enough to redirect the previously mentioned thrusters to pull her out of the quagmire by the power of micromanagement. The end result hovering in the distance was that my help could propel her to regain traction. As soon as she will be in a better place and I can get just a bit more of those tiny glimpses of her former happy self, we’ll be on track to create what we referred to as a “power couple”. However, one thing that flew under my radar and finally led to the demise of this premise was an important conclusion drawn after years of being a cog in the corporate machine. Never give 100%, maybe at the beginning, but not even then. Not to talk about 110%, as no person can operate on those levels for months on end, unless driven by amphetamines or coke, but that will take an even higher price in the longer run. If one still decides to go down this path, burnout will be just around the corner. When said burnout meets with someone who needs therapy rather than relationships, shit will go down. Empathy will run out after the same mistake leads to the same crisis for the zillionth time, emotional attachment generates fear in conjunction with each re-occurring crisis and “the you shouldn’t do this, you should do that” tone prevails. The thing is, if I look at my ability to get very cruel, cold and calculating when feeling emotionally cornered as gift or as a curse, it doesn’t matter, it still happens. Detailing to a mother how others managed to solve something with relative ease that she couldn’t or barely could and that she should do this and that, in that situation is a major no-no. I think when it comes about parenting, egos flight higher than Icarus. As one of the cornerstones of empathy is to try to put yourself in the shoes of others, I tired imagining how it could feel like if someone, dunnoh, attacked me because I can’t do maths for shit, or that I have a tendency to abandon my plans. In conclusion, the grey matter sitting inside this skull that is producing these lines might just feel comfortable when it comes to shedding ego. Whit our dynamics auto optimizing themselves to counteract one another in a pretty toxic way, the inevitable happened. We agreed that we can’t understand one another no more, therefore it was time to break up.

In order to minimize the pain a full communication lockdown went in effect to add another twist to the Covid-19 lockdown. This combined with making a few new friends while doubling down on substance abuse spiced with getting into relapse territory with other woman got me ticking along. I think it is pointless to say that this mechanism used for calming emotions wasn’t the best. First, natural coping mechanisms were obliterated even before getting a theoretical shape, not to talk about trying them and maybe getting some experience, second, these coping mechanisms took their own toll on my body and psyche and third, they crumbled in the very moment when my ex reached out to me to normalize our relation as two human beings who happen to know one another. It only took a few hours for the stream of emotions to turn into whirlpool of anger and darkness where my criminal mind flourishes. And boy do I have a criminal mind. When the going gets rough it isn’t like I can’t control myself and start shouting, and throwing things around. No-no, it’s not like that at all, but it is like making plans, evil plans, plans that would make a drug cartel hitman nod in approval. The way these “solutions” from the dark end of the spectrum interact with checks and balances look like: “what I would say of a totally unrelated person who does that” or “what were the consequences if my plans were revealed and such”. This time, all these impulses distilled in ever more frequent and strategic use of creating constructive ambiguity by selectively revealing secrets and manipulation. The cherry on the top was put in place when she reached out to me when she tried to re-establish post breakup communication, consisting in grabbing all sorts of dark echoes that race through my mind, amplifying them and revealing them to her in order to make sure that she’ll be convinced that I’m a horrible, dangerous and aggressive person underneath, therefore she’ll never attempt to communicate with me, ever. It wasn’t nice, at all, but it was violence free apart from me running my mouth and it worked, for a while.

So far so good, the plan worked great. I made friends with new people, both offline and online and I had a few who were interested in me and maybe still are (as you might have noticed so far, can’t really tell). The plan was to get some mileage into the game and get more experience points and to learn, for which diversity is essential. There was a week where I had 4 dates, with 2 happening on the very same day. Result? Let’s not call it a total fucking bummer, but let’s go with a “valuable lesson”, ok? Why? One person stood out and everybody else faded into the shadows of absolute zero interest.

People who intrigue me are the ones that I feel a longing for. These are the people who have my instant and unconditional support as soon as they ask, these are the people I’m paying attention to and these are the people that I use as examples to follow in certain walks of life. So, there was one date who stood out and baaam, just like that, interest for anyone else vanished like lines from a broken phone screen at a rave. This one person turned out to be someone who exploits life just as I do, or even to a greater extent when the conditions are set. She likes adrenaline, playing around with thoughts not being afraid to be cut by some rough edges, going fast, views substances as mere tools, not like something good or bad and last but not least, she is the best looking, besides ticking a few other boxes. Did all the positives yielded a relationship or even a one night stand? Absolutely not. Was this a problem? Maybe from the perspective of my reproductive instincts, but from any other perspectives, it was interesting at worst and beneficiary at best. There are a bunch of people who tell good and bad Tinder date stories, however I haven’t heard a single one up to date that could match the level of renovate a bathroom on a tinder date. The bathroom turned out to be something both of us are showing with pride and I have learned about the ins and outs of tiling. It was also refreshing to see when a relationship between two people is based more in rational thinking than dragged by emotions, as it was the perfect contrast for my ex girlfriend who basically managed to turn a life of success into a quagmire by giving the executive powers to her unhinged emotions.

What have we learned?

When a bunch of things fail to be turned into happy factories, let it be hedonism, creativity, hard work, sport or other kinds of hobbies, all kick in the feeling of “geez, I did that, but the I have to get to the next level to evade boredom and constantly levelling up is hard work” so doing literally anything gets turned into a chore. Shitting and washing ass can feel like a chore, just like hanging out with friends can so one inevitably pulls out the good old question of “is my brain just unable to make the happy stuff and if so, what’s the purpose of living?”. After talking with quite a few people who contemplated suicide, or people who lost a loved one to suicide, one thing was clear from the get go, I will not hang myself. Based on the frequency of suicide by hanging I can only conclude that people either have a huge imbalance between being emotionally driven or just simply being very sick and incapable of any rational thought. Why? Death by suffocation combined with the rupture of the spinal cord sounds like the worst thing ever. On the other hand, driving into a solid concrete wall at any speed near 100 km/h is guaranteed death. Driving into a solid wall at 200 km/h is massive overkill and it could be proven as an accident which could make lives for relatives easier if tricky life insurance policies are in place. Finances aside, there are other policies in place for reasons like seeing the misery of those who get left behind to live and let all the people who I consider idiots to outlive me. Like seriously, if some have been labelled as idiots by some metrics of mine and they outlive me, it means that my metrics and the logic based on those metrics was flawed, proven by my very demise.

So yea, what do you do when relationships don’t work out, you can’t seem to obtain them and self destruction is also off the table? Well, since we’re all caged to some degree due to the pandemic and I already raised my alcohol tolerance to stellar levels, it was the damn time to get myself busy. To really dig into my job and to force myself to do tasks that I have just passed to someone saying I can’t hack it, to start reading stuff, to start learning stuff to start exercising and most important of all, to create routines. Routines are awesome. If nothing makes sense, at least that nothing is done on a regular basis and the very fact that nothing amounts to anything if done on a daily basis is kind of a feet and gives a chance to dopamine production.

I have also learned that having sex after a hiatus of 10 months doesn’t improve things as much as I thought, which is good, because it also means that things do not degrade a lot from prolonged abstinence.

Where to now? I guess I’ll just try focusing on myself rather than trying to please others by forcing myself into the “normie puzzle”. I’ll leave myself open for options, since it would be rather counterproductive to Sméagol hiss away anyone who tries to approach me, but it might happen nonetheless.

And one last bit before I cut this writing short at the 11th or so page... If you’re interested in me, do something. Playing the get hard card just plain simply won’t work. If I don’t get any feedback like in a 50-50 distribution style I’ll feel discouraged and move on. I’m also plain stupid when it comes to decoding slight hints (as I’ve hinted at multiple times in this text). Be blunt about it, otherwise it might go totally unnoticed. Last but not least, if you’re not interested, please don’t fekking smile at me and more importantly don’t touch me. I know, theoretically that people can be nice with one another without wanting more, but it doesn’t work for me. If you do that, I’ll reach out to spend more time together, you’ll gonna reject me and I’m going to throw you on the pile failed attempts that is getting ever more poisonous and has a high chance of totally wrecking my mood by the time someone genuinely interested would come about.

I might also try to get more disciplined since it took me more than five months to throw up these characters. I sincerely hope that I wasted your time in a way that some part of what I wrote resonates with you, maybe helps you or you found it amusing at least. Peace out.

Update: some things have changed since I wrote this piece, I got new pieces of information and the story of my craziest adventure got a healthy boost. However, if I were to re-write and edit this text in accordance to all those things, it is highly possible that it would never come out. As one of my favourite hot rod builder puts it “Lower your expectations until you reach your goals”.

#relationships #depression #learning #development #desperatio #hope #lessons

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berniesrevolution · 7 years ago

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I did not anticipate how the death of the radical British writer and theorist Mark Fisher would haunt me, but I am reminded of him more and more often, and I find myself returning to his work regularly. And it’s not just me. Recently, a magazine editor asked if I would cowrite an autopsy of contemporary radical activism; we both felt a postmortem was needed before a reanimated left could emerge to fight capital and seize power. “We could be like Mark Fisher!” he said excitedly. “We could tell the hard truths!” I had to remind him not only that neither of us is half as smart as Fisher, but that the “hard truths” essay the editor was referring to got Fisher crucified by his peers. And that Mark Fisher had recently committed suicide.

Although Fisher’s work demonstrates a sprawling awareness of life deranged by capitalism, he is best remembered for the prescient, infamous essay “Exiting the Vampire Castle,” which infuriated much of the self-identified left by arguing that a shallow and noxious liberal identity critique, delivered mostly on the internet, was being used to undermine class politics and paralyze left discourse. I remember not thinking too much of his diagnosis at the time, which was late 2013, agreeing with some points, but not buying in wholesale. Later I realized it was spot-on, a preview of the farcically doomed Clinton campaign; but by then Fisher had been written off as a “toxic” white brocialist, a man doing “violence” to the “most vulnerable” people in “the movement.” Even worse, after Fisher died at forty-eight in January of this year, he was still being denounced by po-faced critics for his frankly gracious critique of the left. And I’m talking right after his death—within hours of the information going public.

The Trump administration has rekindled the internal hysteria that Fisher warned against. And though it was heartening, the first wave of solidarity marches and general actions is now fading into memory; we’re left with a familiar hostility, a recurring bad faith that so recently has smeared greater minds and gentler hearts than my own. The economic ambitions of the so-called “Sanders Effect” appear to have waned, and the focus has predictably turned to the glittering, bilious spectacle of Trumpism. Just as Trump remade politics as television, we’ve allowed political action to mimic the spiteful, futile patterns of online bickering: our fellow anti-capitalists betray us all by enjoying or creating the wrong art, reading the wrong articles, championing the wrong theories, or even laughing at the wrong jokes. The left is at once flailing and sclerotic. Afflicted by a vague autoimmune disorder, we cannot even retain what little power we have, nor do we have any institutions capable of doing so; thus, we are able to smack only those within arm’s reach of us—ourselves. Meanwhile, the bigger and stronger the right gets, the more insular we become, single-mindedly obsessed with purifying our own ranks and weeding out the problematic among us. Of course, the left requires large portions of the problematic and disparate working class to sign on, but the range of acceptable comradely thinking is becoming ever-stricter, and “deviants are sacrificed to increase group solidarity,” as the artist Jenny Holzer warned.

The self-appointed Trump Resistance is stuck in a compulsive loop, perseverating on symptoms and self-help rather than tackling the disease.

Marxist writer David Harvey notes that even Warren Buffett acknowledges the neoliberal era is marked by a one-sided class war, waged only by the capitalists. (“Sure there is class war, and it is my class, the rich, who are making it and we are winning,” Buffett has said.) The left lies sputtering on the mat, unable to maintain its ground, much less make any material gains. It’s hard to disagree when our gestures lack bite and our political parties—and most of our unions—are feckless at best, and capitalist quislings at worst. Whether it takes the form of insular campus activism, reactionary internet sermonizing, or impotent calls for general action, what passes for “the left” today is both parochial and completely disconnected from power. To put it bluntly, we have lost; we are decimated and we are feeble. What’s worse, we refuse to admit our failures, repeating them over and over and over again, castigating anyone who might question this pattern. In “Exiting the Vampire Castle,” Fisher alerted us to a “witch-hunting moralism”—in this case, against anyone who might try to raise class consciousness—that inevitably devolves into guilt and ineffectuality. In the wake of the election, it’s a lesson that seems to have gone largely unlearned by a self-sabotaging left.

Scabs and Flirts

I was introduced to the idea of a Women’s Strike while speaking on a panel of leftist feminists shortly after Trump was elected. During the Q&A afterwards, a feminist from the audience took the microphone and delivered an impassioned speech. Among the things participants were to abstain from:

Paid jobs

Emotional Labor

Childcare

Diapers

Housework

Cooking

Sweeping

Laundry

Dishes

Errands

Groceries

Fake smiles

Flirting

Makeup

Laundry

Shaving

At the end of her speech, I jokingly asked if I was allowed to flirt with other women during the strike, or if that would be scabbing—I did not get a laugh. Of course, tensions were high and good humor was in short supply, but there was also something genuinely irksome about the perceived usefulness of such a “strike,” and my glibness betrayed my skepticism.

For one, general strikes require a massive amount of organizing, and the proposed date for the strike was a few short months away. Also, the National Planning Committee was much heavier on academics and writers than on labor organizers. And if the turnout was low, would anyone even notice? (If a tree strikes in the woods, where no boss is there to feel it, can the tree really get the goods?) These questions were frustratingly overshadowed by criticisms from liberals insisting that only the “privileged” women would be striking. This framing, of course, misses the point; the success of a strike is not dependent on the relative “privilege” of the workers participating, but in the chaos those workers can inflict by withholding their labor.

Capitalism doesn’t actually give a shit about your unpaid emotional labor. It’s kind of a bro like that.

Striking works because it fucks up someone’s day, but whose day would the participants of the Women’s Strike affect? Would the event, billed as “A Day Without Women,” amount to anything more than a day without adjuncts and freelance graphic designers? As an adjunct myself, I believe my job is important, but if I’m being perfectly honest, no one notices when I don’t show up for one day of work. It costs no money, and it doesn’t plunge the university into chaos, and without cost or chaos, a strike is an impotent performance.

In my little lefty circles, these concerns were not received graciously. Men who questioned the strike’s utility were branded sexist; women who did the same were simply ignored. It was reminiscent of the Hillary campaign’s rhetoric: every feminist who didn’t fall in line was suddenly invisible; every man with a criticism of a woman was suddenly manifesting a deep-seated and pathological misogyny. When I asked my more enthusiastic comrades why I should be striking, or what I would even be striking for, the best answer I got was “Why not? We’re just trying to see what sticks.” The worst I got was silence. There were a lot of passive-aggressive Facebook manifestos about how lefties who questioned the action were just scared, or closet liberals, or worse, “scabs.”

(Continue Reading)

#politics #the left #capitalism #the resistance #liberalism #neoliberalism #feminism #white feminism #intersectionality #intersectional feminism #socialism #democratic socialism #progressive #progressive movement #organized labor #labor movement #strike #general strike #socialist feminism

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daylflay · 5 years ago

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It’s Always Darkest

Before the Dawn

“It’s always darkest before the dawn”; that’s how the old adage goes. Having said that, it’s currently pretty difficult for most of us to see past the dark. COVID-19 continues to spread (https://www.reuters.com/article/us-health-coronavirus-argentina/argentina-announces-mandatory-quarantine-to-curb-coronavirus-idUSKBN216446), the economy inexorably spirals downward (https://www.marketwatch.com/story/echoes-of-the-great-depression-us-economy-could-post-biggest-contraction-ever-2020-03-19), and my home state of California has just been put into lockdown (https://www.politico.com/states/california/story/2020/03/19/newsom-orders-all-40m-californians-to-stay-home-in-nations-strictest-state-lockdown-1268248). The world is currently facing a crisis the scale of which arguably hasn’t been seen since said world was at war with itself, and for some, at least in America, that crisis started in 2016 when our current president was elected; for others, it started back during the 2007/2008 financial crisis; regardless of when the crisis started, the only path forward starts with labor.

During the early 20th century, when industry was changing the nature of then-modern life, global conflict’s grisly violence shocked sensibilities, and the meaning of life in Western culture started being questioned by the masses, a group of writers/artists known as the Modernists rose to the occasion and attempted to encapsulate the malaise and spiritual unease of their milieu. Poets like Edward Arlington Robinson chose to focus on the cynicism of the moment, as portrayed in his poem, Richard Cory. At the end of Robinson’s poem, the titular Richard Cory commits suicide: “And Richard Cory, one calm summer night, went home and put a bullet through his head.” I’m personally a highly cynical individual, and can very much understand Robinson’s disposition, but in this particular moment of ours, amidst a pandemic, I believe there’s much merit in the antithesis of my usual misanthropy; I think it’s optimism that gets us through this, not the other way around, and that will take work in our current social climate. Ezra Pound was another Modernist, and famously cynical, but he did have a somewhat famous catchphrase that I think is helpful in spite of his problematic nature: “Make it new”. Though neither Robinson nor Pound achieved the success they desired via their poetry, both economically and otherwise, until their latter years, they still labored on and continued writing, because they understood the importance of what they were creating; they understood that the moment in which they lived demanded their sacrifice. In our current moment of crisis, when nothing is certain and everyone’s on edge, we have to take our usual misplaced hatred and diametric opposition towards each other and work towards transforming it all into something else; we have to make it new.

The New

The idea of making something new can result in positive and negative developments, and Brooke Erin Duffy delves into some of the latter in The romance of work: Gender and aspirational labour in the digital culture industries. In Duffy’s article, she rallies against a new form of exploitative labor unique to the digital era: “While critical discourses of precarity and instability offer a decidedly bleak view of the contemporary labor market, individualist appeals to passion and entrepreneurialism temporally reroute employment concerns. That is, affective mantras like ‘Do What You Love’ shift workers’ focus from the present to the future, dangling the prospect of a career where labour and leisure harmoniously coexist. This illusory coexistence is well suited to descriptions of work in the culture industries, widely understood as environments where low pay and long hours are a tradeoff for creative autonomy”. I think Duffy’s ultimately correct in her assessments, but this present moment of ours compels me to momentarily disregard the nefarious implications of the modern labor market. I think that if you’re able to create entertaining content for people during this dark period of time, and you get to “do what you love” while doing so, then you’re providing a mutually beneficial service when people need such a thing most. It’s during moments like these that the best in people can shine through the ominous haze, and the individuals I’m tracking are (mostly) no exception. For the most part, the people I’m paying attention to are already professionally involved in media to some degree, so they’re not vying for employment on the same level the individuals Duffy refers to in her article are, but that makes their intent clearer to an extent.

Rick Wilson always makes attempts to simultaneously espouse his ideology while humorously attacking individuals on Twitter, but he’s also been posting a lot of entertaining memes/gifs recently. Just today (3/19/20), he posted two of them within a couple of hours of one another: One was a gif pulled from a South Park episode, which itself was a reference to the film The Human Centipede, and it read, “I wonder if Hannity likes the cuttlefish or the vanilla pudding.”; the other was an image of Donald Trump in a Star Trek costume, and it read, “Glad we have a space force instead of a pandemic response team”. Rick was not being incredibly nice to either Sean Hannity or Donald Trump, but the overtly humorous images are bound to brighten the days of folks that are rightfully upset with both Hannity and Trump for their respective roles in exacerbating the current crisis.

Mehdi Hasan is generally a solemn tweeter, which is sensible considering that his occupation as a journalist entails that he maintain a certain sobriety when communicating anything to the public. Mehdi’s approach to producing sunnier-than-usual content today involved (somewhat) praising a man he loathes, and bestowing loving and kind thoughts upon his children: In a tweet directed at Fox News host Tucker Carlson, Mehdi tweeted a link to a Clickhole (a humor/satire website) article whose headline read, “Heartbreaking: The Worst Person You Know Just Made A Great Point”; in another of Mehdi’s heartfelt tweets of the day, only a minute separated from the prior tweet, Mehdi responds to a tweet by Time magazine editor Anand Giridharadas that read, ‘What have you watched, read, or heard in this strange, dark time that has given you comfort and joy?’, to which Mehdi says, “My kids”. It’s a nice moment from Mehdi, and a reminder of what’s important during times like these.

Like with most things in life, women, relative to men, have to deal with additional complications attached to their actions online, and that unfortunately remains true even when it comes to them trying to do moral and selfless things. In The Unwanted Labour Of Social Media: Women Of Colour Call Out Culture As Venture Community Management, Lisa Nakamura, like Brooke Duffy criticizes exploitative digital labor practices, especially germane to women: “Digital labour is ‘difficult to conceptualise’ because the internet creates new styles of labour: it not only traffics far more in the immaterial, it is also arrayed along new axes of production, new forms of compensation, and new forms of gendering and racialisation. It is this kind of labour that interests me. I am specifically interested in the hidden and often-stigmatised and dangerous labour performed by women of colour, queer and trans people, and racial minorities who call out, educate, protest, and design around toxic social environments in digital media.” All of the women I’m following fall into at least one of the aforementioned social/cultural categories, i.e., they’re all women of color, and one of them is trans. These women, even while being entertaining are still politically conscious, and just by existing on Twitter are making a statement while simultaneously making themselves vulnerable. Having said that, they still persist in generating entertaining content for everyone’s sake despite it all.

Patti Harrison is trans and Vietnamese, and doesn’t hide either from her 100,000-strong Twitter following, so she’s someone whose very public existence is a powerful declaration of pride in of itself. On March 15th, and also today (3/19), Patti shared how she was spending her isolated time at home, in typically candid form: (3/15) “I am playing @AbzuGame right now on PS4 & it is really good also I am high and online! Love the websites on here. This tweet go viral now!”; (3/19) “Uh oh…craft alert…I hand-painted these @Margiela tabi boots. And Per @tweetrajouhari I added an awful foot tattoo of Elsa from Frozen.” Patti, by simply sharing the details of her seemingly enjoyable time at home, invited her Twitter feed into her life, and she was happy to do so, which must’ve made a plethora of her followers feel markedly less alone with such a vibrant personality keeping them company virtually.

Kashana Cauley is a black woman, who, like Patti, has upwards of 100,000 followers, which inevitably results in some negative attention, but she tweets on regardless. Kashana hasn’t been very active on Twitter recently, but when she does tweet, she makes it count, as evidenced by this tweet from March 15th: “Ask not what staying home on the couch can do for you, but what staying home on the couch can do for your country.” That tweet of hers was liked by over 100,000 people, which exceeds her follower count. The amount of people that it reached, and the amount of people who interacted with it, is astounding, and the amount of humor and joy she surely brought to those lives, even if just for a moment, is commensurately astounding.

Candace Owens, unlike the aforementioned women, is not exactly one to diffuse joy; in fact Candace loves doing the exact opposite. Her presence on Twitter is almost exclusively designed to anger people and start fights, which is why I’m so shocked that even she is attempting to lighten up the mood during this somber period of time. This is a tweet of hers from today (3/19): “I wanted to do panic buying, but then I checked my account. Turns out I can only afford to panic…#CoronavirusHumor…Lighten up folks.” If even Candace is willing to perform humorously in favor of the greater good, as opposed to inflaming tensions with her usual provocative rhetoric, then I have hope for the dawn.

The Dawn

In Of Modern Poetry, Wallace Stevens communicates the spirit of Ezra Pound’s directive to “make it new”: “The poem of the mind is the act of finding what will suffice. It has not always had to find: The scene was set; it repeated what was in the script. Then the theatre was changed.” Our global theatre has officially changed, and each and every one of us has a responsibility to work towards finding what will suffice in this maelstrom of ever-changing circumstances. For me, that means working on a script for a movie that has zero chance of actually existing (which means that I have zero chance of profiting off of any of this), because I’m just hoping that it makes someone out there smile.

In my last blog post, I imagined what a contemporary addition to George A. Romero’s living dead cinematic universe might look like. Personally, the act of simply thinking and writing about this silly, hypothetical project has brought me some sense of joy during all of this, and that’s saying a lot for someone as typically nihilistic as myself. I’m going to add to said hypothetical entry in Romero’s saga, entitled Gen-Z, with a speech delivered towards the end of the “film”. This speech is delivered by a Communications student at the university in Fullerton, California in which the living dead outbreak originated. A number of the university’s students have barricaded themselves in the campus, and are about to engage in a last stand against the hordes of living dead. Their survival is unlikely, so they’ve decided to gather one last time in an attempt to rouse one another before their climactic battle.

This is the speech that the student delivers: “I remember my first official day on this campus vividly, but not fondly. It was the first day of the Fall ’18 semester, and I guess classes just let out because I saw what felt like thousands of people suddenly rush across campus. It was like the running of the Titans, and I was wearing orange. Or the running of the dead, and I was alive, as the case may be. College was never part of my plan, so I had never toured any university campuses, and I did not know what to expect. I kind of freaked out and started questioning all of my decisions, like: Why did I decide to attend a school with 40,000 students if I don’t even like small groups of people? And why did I major in Human Communication Studies if I don’t even like myself? It was overwhelming to me that I could be surrounded by people, yet feel so alone. Then I walked over to my first class, and I saw some of the same faces that I’m looking at today. Everything can be overwhelming when you feel like you’re alone, but what I started to learn that very first day, and what this major continues to teach me, is that I am not alone; none of us are. I have not had the pleasure of knowing everyone on this campus, but we have all walked this path together despite that: We have all been stressed out because of Finals, we have all battled personal demons, and zombies, we have all lived life with its many complexities, and we did it all together on this campus. To this day, I still do not like myself all that much, but that’s okay, because none of this is really about me; it’s about all of you. Look to your right, and to your left, and in front of you, and maybe behind you; that is why we do what we do; we fight alongside each other, for each other. In this era of social media, divisiveness, and the living dead, nothing is more important than empathy, and that is the core tenet of our work here. We have been trained to understand each other, and that means that it is incumbent upon us to help mend our fractured communities; our fractured country; our fractured world. It is going to be a lot of work, but it’s work worth doing, because we’re not just doing it for ourselves. As Zac Efron once said in the 2006 hit film, High School Musical: ‘We’re all in this together.’ Rest in peace, Zac, this one’s for you. Now let’s go kill some fucking zombies!”

#Rick Wilson #Mehdi Hasan #Patti Harrison #kashanacauley #candace owens #coronavirus #covidー19 #earobinson #ezra pound #wallace stevens #highschoolmusical #zac efron #california #georgearomero #livingdead #zombies

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