#duna talks sometimes

[scaredgirlsilly]

big vent sorry lksdfjsk

when one of my friends watched i saw the tv glow (hi duna ::3 )her reaction was "thank god i transitioned" and like. thats so real klsjhfjks but i think. idk i think even tho i transitioned i. i still feel like im doing what the main character did in istvg yk. like pre transition feels lifetimes away, to the point that its hard to think of that as me at all, so rlly it feels like my life has just been the past 2 or 3 years after transitioning. and what have i been doing in the past 2-3 years?? fucking Nothing. laying in bed rotting. sometimes i make new friends but i tend to lose them. some i dont which im grateful for but im not very good at keeping friends so. who knows,, but all of them are so far away that they. kinda dont feel real. or yk. not as real as like. people i can touch and hug yk. i dont go out of my house except to go to the pharmacy to get my hrt meds or to go to a friends house once every like. several months ad even that is happening less frequently. it doesnt feel like im apart of the world. like i simply do not live in the society everyone else lives in. i walk through the world like a ghost, no one to recognize me, only seeing me when they have to. it genuinely feels like some day in the not too distant future im just gonna. fizzle out. dissapear without a trace or care and the world will move on like nothing happened. and i know logically that isnt true. but. idk. logic can only get you so far. and there are steps i can take to hopefully work myself out of it. to try and worm my way into the minds of other people around me. i could get a job, learn to drive, meet people around me, but it all just feels so. daunting. like its all just too much. like im not made to do all of those things. im just made to be some specter in your computer who says jokes no one laughs at and talks to herself until i lose the will to keep my corporeal form together and evaporate. i didnt like being a boy but the memories arent all tainted because in school at least i was real. now im some. shadow of a person, knowing a light is gonna shine on me and banish me to wherever shadows go, just waiting for it to happen. i rlly lost my train of thought anyways klsjfhgjks like. its odd being this young and also literally i already transitioned but i still. idk. relate to that movie alot,,,,,,,, i need something drastic to happen (positive dw not anything bad like i need to meet new people LKHDSGLKJ)

[rocketturtle4]

Get To Know Me tag!

Tagged by both @ranchthoughts and @twig-tea Thankyou both for the tag, I am technically alive and am delighted to be tagged even if it seems to take me an age to get to them these days

do you make your bed?

errr define "make" I have a loft bed and there's rails on the side so like, I pull my sheets and duna up and tuck them in at the bottom? ...sometimes

what's your favourite number?

4

what is your job?

Full time PhD student studying Palaeontology

+ work as a primary school relief teacher

+ work as an regular cleaner/occasional gardener for my parents business

(this is why I am never around)

if you could go back to school, would you?

Ahh yes hence PhD. Technically I'm 8 years out of high school and I haven't stopped being a full time student yet.

can you parallel park?

Yes? Not on a busy road because I get way too stressed about traffic but I am capable of the physical act of parallel parking and do it if the road is empty.

a job you had that would surprise people?

are people surprised by the cleaner/gardener thing? I think people would be surprised by how confident I am with some power tools related to gardening?

do you think aliens are real?

Yes, because space is vast and we are small. Though I have read and been interested in several compelling arguments why that would not be the case around the likelyhood and development of multicellular life...but like, space is biiiiig.

can you drive a manual car?

Yep but I'm not a fan

what's your guilty pleasure?

no guilt about my pleasures over here

tattoos?

I am too much of a spendthrift and I don't want to go by myself

favorite color?

Purple

favorite type of music?

errr multi, I just like music really but I know nothing about it. Maybe Country or Pop?? But I listen to a lot of different stuff outside of those genres too.

do you like puzzles?

Love 'em

any phobias?

Spiders, Bees/Wasps and Falling specifically, I love heights 🤷‍♀️.

favorite childhood sport?

To play? Dance

To watch? Gymnastics

To play now? Tennis

do you talk to yourself?

Absolutely and with great frequency, normally my half of a conversation I am having in my head but sometimes both halves. It normally spills out without me noticing, but almost never in public, sometimes people get confused by it cause it sounds like I am talking to someone who isn't there.

what movies do you adore?

Fantasy and/or Animated

..wait is this specific movies?

My stand alone favs are Stardust (2007) and The Three Muskateers (1993). And I like alllll the Pixar movies too.

coffee or tea?

Neither but I'll take a hot chocolate

first thing you wanted to be growing up?

Palaeontologist lol, apparently I decided to figure out what ancient stuff was in the dirt at about 3 years old

Tagging some people though I am super late to the party

@visualtaehyun @plantsarepeopletoo @shouldiusemyname @thegalwhorants

[zestyderg]

More info about Aster, because why not!

Pretty much all of their schooling happened on the Mothership after Guhnash destroyed Dinauria. They got roughly the equivalent of a human's high school education before being put into stone sleep. They could have continued their education after but once they got the opportunity, they fled onto earth instead.

Aster is currently 20 in human years

At some point before stone sleep, Aster approached Dynal asking about whether they should pursue art (which Dynal was not worried about and could see that Aster had a gift for), or biology (Dynal did NOT like that because Ostrah specialized in that). Dynal gently pushed them towards a career in art. The love for biology never went away for Aster.

They have sparred against other dinaurians a few times before. They were terrible at it. The only things they had going for them were their abilities to reliably confuse and poison opponents as well as their speed and agility. They panicked a lot when they were made to battle someone.

Despite the teasing and sometimes biting that happens when he goes too far, Raptin got along well pretty with Aster before Project: Mother Planet. Raptin heard the rumors, sure, but he didn't exactly believe any of them. Aster? Dangerous? Yeah, right. Raptin managed to bring out their goofy side, something no other dinaurian has really done. They talked a lot over wishing for a new home planet, and what they would do when they found a new place to call home. Raptin would defend Aster from judgemental dinaurians, and Aster probably helped convince Dynal to make Raptin an Elite. Aster even showed him their drawings, and definitely drew him at one point. Then Project: Mother Planet and the events of the game happened and Aster had begun to actively avoid Raptin. They have not talked since.

Aster and Duna weren't really friends, though. Not because there was anything negative between the two but just because it's kinda hard to relate to someone who's six years older/younger than you. They probably had some polite conversation and maybe there was some awkward quiet staring, but nothing more.

[arablit]

Duna Ghali on Writing, Translating, and Publishing Between Arabic and Danish

Last week, we shared an excerpt from Iraqi author Duna Ghali’s acclaimed novel Orbits of Lonelinessin maia tabet’s translation. This week, Duna talks with us about the differing receptions of work by men and women, in Danish and in Arabic, how literary translation feeds her writing, and how sometimes nowhere is the right place to write. In your thoughtful and sometimes very funny essay, “On…

[wufflesvetinari]

hello! i was blown away by your fantastic astarion/tav fic and this is how i found you, hope that's okay. :) you say dnd is about being a cleric to you, and i was wondering if you'd ever be open to expanding on that? i'm interested in playing a cleric in my next campaign, but i'm a little gunshy

(the fic, for reference)

hi yes hello!! i'm so glad you liked the fic, first of all, i had never written anything quite like it (essentially canon/oc fic. video game fandom is weird. i love it)

secondly i am so glad you've given me an excuse to talk about this!!! i love playing clerics for a few reasons. in order of simplest to most complicated:

1). on a purely mechanical level i love their versatility; that you can both deal heavy damage and protect your friends. i think the existence of Healing Word makes clerics 100x more fun than they would be otherwise, because then you can both attack and heal in the same turn. i am someone who LIKES feeling that responsibility for the party each turn, and feeling like each choice involves sacrifice: thinking through who can make it through the next turn without healing vs. needing it now, whether to remove a status effect (using a full action) or let it wear out, etc. you do get the fun of essentially fireballing your enemies while also doing powerful utility stuff (that plants the seeds for interesting character relationships too imo)

2). god the roleplay potential??? it's so good??? you have a very strong "type" you're playing against: the stereotype of a "person of the cloth" existing makes it twice as fun to be, like, a little nihilistic or a little sexy or a little angry, but always always driven by that core of Belief inside of you. all the better if the belief system doesn't naturally fit with the character's personality, and you have to reconcile those things. it builds someone complex

also like. roleplaying a cleric (or a paladin) is marinating yourself in the midpoint between human fallibility and divine "infallibility," wherein actually sometimes it's the human fallibility that needs to win out over the inflexibility of dogma. it's a bit warlock-y in that you are making decisions both for what the character wants to do and what they feel they MUST do per the voice in their head. but it's still flavored differently because, in theory, the cleric has opted into this for moral/belief reasons! and those reasons get to be challenged or reinforced through the campaign

3). world building! you get to parse out how a belief system works in the day-to-day. rn i have two clerics who are driven by a belief in how they need to ethically act in the world (lash as well as duna, an ornery old lady grave cleric--spoiler, they have very different definitions of "ethical") but also an alien cleric in a homebrew campaign whose gods actually dont give a shit about how he interacts with outsiders because that pantheon’s entire existence is built around protecting and saving one specific alien species. the decisions that cleric makes are going to be extremely different than the first two, but i'm always going to be thinking about how those belief systems affect his actions, and when he pushes back (and how much he is ALLOWED to push back).

ngl the psychological element is twice as interesting to me as someone who grew up in a religious environment. what do i appreciate about that kind of person that could be amplified? what Makes Everything Worse?

anyway i hope some of this was helpful!!

[orristea]

clawkid -> iriduna

URL change!!

wanted to change this name for a long time bc I kinda grew out of the old url. This might be confusing for a little while but from now on you can find me on all social media by this name!

(My artblog will now also be changed into iriduna-art)

[star-captain]

Pirate Attack- Part Two

I was really excited to finish this story, the climax was really fun to write. Hopefully my next piece should be the official start of ‘Wandering Stars’, a story arc of Red, Avon, And Ecto. It’ll include adventure, mysterious enemies, and the infinity portal to hermitcraft!

Anyways, here’s Pirate Attack- Part Two. Red and the hermits are planning their assault on Xisuma’s guardian farm, but it’s not without dangers to dismantle a massacre. 

Red is @theguardiansofredland​ ‘s gremlin.

Red has seen ships before, but never has he seen one that’s still afloat. At least, not one as big as the Juggernaut. It’s busy, crewmembers shifting past him like fish through a coral reef. The other hermits are impressed by the ship and it’s crew. At the helm, Cleo looks like the captain everyone knows she is. Her burning orange hair waves in the wind that fills the sails. She is the pirate queen. 

The galleon sails away from Sahara’s shores, off towards the deep ocean where Xisuma’s farm resides. Mumbo and Iskall start planning intricate redstone devices to take out the machine, and Cleo is hard at work ordering her ship and plotting the course. Red can’t help but clamber onto the bowsprit, the wood beam jutting out over the water. It’s dangerous to be out there, where one slip could mean plunging into the ocean. Even though Red can’t drown, the Juggernaut could hit her, and barnacles are sharp. 

She can’t help but watch the water as the ship cuts through the waves. Water parting ways and cradling the hull. It curls upward, before peaking and turning to whitecaps that escape in the wake. Red can feel the seaspray on her face, cool water cleansing her of negative thoughts and feelings. The ocean changes color depending on the depth, starting at a light blue among the shallow coral, deepening into a forest green, before navy blue takes precedence over the deep ocean. Yet each wave, each ripple is a different shade of the whole mosaic. It’s art, the ocean, and the ship is a paintbrush mixing colors across the canvas. 

“The others are talking about things way over my head, and I honestly just wanna be out of Cleo’s way. Mind if I join ya?��� Red looks over their shoulder, seeing Grian standing precariously on the bowsprit. Red nods, and he takes a seat next to them. “We’ve met before. You scared the life out of me. I didn’t really hear anything you said, I just knew you were not happy to see me.” 

“Do you blame me? You were about to take a pickaxe to my home.” Red chuckles. 

“Iskall explained things to me. I feel really bad for that now. No hard feelings?” 

Red pauses, thinking for a moment. “Nah, hopefully things can be smooth sailing from now on.” Just as they say that, the boat hits a large wave. Grian clasps onto the wood for dear life, while Red grabs hold of line connected to the sails. “Though now that I know where you live, you might have trouble on your hands if you mess with my stuff.” 

“I don’t mind trouble. I’m usually the start of it as well.” The two look up to the distance, able to see Xisuma’s farm. The massive, star shaped angles float in the sky, like shards of glass floating down from the heavens. Grian can’t help but look at the build in awe. Red can’t help but growl with disgust. Xisuma’s massacre machine is simple, and powerful. And because of it’s simplicity, it’s almost impossible for Red to break it for long. 

“I always forget how incredible this all is. Just out here, in the middle of nowhere.” Mumbo states. The entire ship is quiet, observing the structure. 

“And you’re sure Xisuma is alright with us destroying the farm?” Cleo asks, leaning on the wheel to get a better view beyond the sails. 

“Well, we aren’t going to aim for all that.” Iskall points out. He looks to Red. “I think you know more about this than any of us. How is his farm built?” 

Grian and Red slide off the bowsprit, though they all look over the starboard side into the water. Red points below the surface. “All those walls are the...farm.” She frowns at calling it such a thing. She doesn’t think it’s like a farm. It doesn’t raise things, just kills what’s already there. It’s a butcher shop. “I’ve tried to destroy it before, but...uhh...it’s quite a hot project.” She shivers remembering the lava that would sometimes spill out, nearly catching her fins on fire. 

“I think Mumbo and I can mess with the redstone inside.” Iskall offers. Mumbo smiles, holding up a repeater board and vials of redstone dust. 

“I can fire on the outer walls, knock it down and hopefully stop the farm from running.” Cleo saunters to the group, nodding her head at the cannons all lined up and ready to fire. 

“And from there, Red and I can go in and make sure it stays off for good.” Grian finalizes.

“Hopefully we can save the guardians while we’re there.” Red adds.

“Won’t they fire their bubble lasers at us?” Grian makes a little noise for effect. 

“The ‘bubble lasers’ are the least of your worries.” Red states with a chuckle, clambering onto the side of the ship. Ready to get to work. “I’d be more worried about the lava if I were you.” 

The group disbands. Iskall and Mumbo take a headstart, rowing off in a shared boat into the entrance of Xisuma’s base. The two boys are giddy, feeling like real pirates infiltrating an enemy fortress. From the ship, Cleo can see the two disappear into the prismarine structure as she hangs from the rigging way up high. Below her, her crew scrambles to fill each and every cannon with gunpowder and a cannonball. They’re broadside with the base, and plan on making multiple trips around. Firing on the defenseless structure as low as possible. And on the stern of the ship, waiting for the signal, is the pair of troublemakers. Grian holds an assortment of material to keep from drowning, whether it’s a respiration enchanted turtle helmet or a few bottles of water breathing. Mother Cleo is not letting any crew perish on this trip, there will only be one zombie. 

A whistle cracks through the air, followed by a bright yellow burst of the firework high above sea level. Mumbo and Iskall are in, and getting to work together reconfiguring the redstone to leave a surprise. The Juggernaut fires with such force the boat recoils backwards, cannonballs flying into the water and busting through the sand. The sails fill and the ship begins to move again. But Grian and Red aren’t onboard anymore. 

They’ve jumped ship, swimming towards the destroyed sand wall that the Juggernaut leaves behind. Grian is painfully slow compared to Red, but they do manage to get to the remnants. Grian removes blocks that Cleo’s cannons didn’t break, before swimming lower to block out the dangerous lava below. He can’t help but wave to his fellow architechs through the glass. He’s not sure if they’re laughing or arguing, covered in redstone dust and making a terrifying machine of madness. Higher up, Red rips apart the stone that traps her guardian friends. The fish struggle against the current of the moving water, but Red manages to pull them free. 

That becomes the system. Cleo bombards the farm, Grian moves in to clean up, and Red frees the guardians from an untimely death. About halfway through, the pirates hear noteblocks going off. At first at irregular and changing times and tones. But as they continue, the music begins to become recognizable.

Dunnnn na. Dunnn na Dunna dunna duna dunadunadunadunadunaduna. Grian nearly spits out his water breathing potion while hearing the song. Onboard the Juggernaut, Cleo laughs. “We’re gonna need a bigger boat!” 

The music stops after awhile, Iskall and Mumbo making their escape back to the ship. Cleo has also made a full circle of the base, raising the sails. The only people left in the attack are Grian and Red. Grian eventually swims back as well, taking a look at the pair’s work. “I think I have all the lava blocked off. No fish is getting cooked anymore.” 

“I want to do a lap, make sure no one is still stuck.” Red advises. Grian looks up at the surface, then nods and starts to rise. Red swims along the destruction, observing the pirate attack’s results. The current of the moving water is strong, but nothing she can’t handle. Every part of the sand wall has been removed, and repurposed to cover the lava below. No guardians are stuck in the remnants of the farm- except one. 

It’s a young guardian, still gaining the strength to swim. It’s little, about the size of a salmon. The guppy can’t escape the torrent of water. Red swims over, reaching out to tug the guardian to freedom. “It’s okay, sometimes you just gotta keep swimming. With a little help.” 

She pulls it to freedom, only to trade places. The current is strong, almost as strong as a magma block. Despite Red swimming up with all her strength, she’s losing ground. But what does it matter? Grian got all the lava, she can just let it push her to the bottom and swim out there. 

Except when Red looks down, it’s not sand below. Grian missed a few blocks here. The water starts to get hotter. Red attempts to surface as fast as he can, but it’s not match. This water was built for death, and he’s stuck in it. 

On the Juggernaut, the hermits have gone quiet. Grian thought Red was right behind him. There didn’t seem to be anymore guardians, so he should be back by now. Cleo is starting to go into her motherly mode. “Someone should check on him.”  

“I don’t have any more water breathing. Only my helmet.” Grian tugs the turtle shell off his head, blond hair flattened by the helmet. 

“I’ll look.” Iskall swipes the piece of armor, and clambers down the ladder to the water. The boat is still moving, so he grips the ropes tight and ducks his head under. At first he sees nothing, no sign of the kipling. Maybe he just left? But then Iskall spots him. Red is struggling, losing strength and a battle against the water current pushing him down. 

Down towards an uncovered patch of lava.  There are only two or three of those, sources that Grian didn’t realize existed. It’s separated from the water, so falling in is a death sentence. It was built to kill. Iskall gasps as he resurfaces, scrambling up the side of the ship to the deck. “Red’s stuck, being pulled into a part of the farm still active.” 

“We need to save them.” Cleo demands. She starts to clamber over the railing, but Iskall pulls her back to the deck. 

“Red can’t manage to swim through that on their own, how are we supposed to be able to? We need a different plan.” Iskall observes the deck. Mumbo pulls out his remaining stock of redstone, Grian shifts through stacks of sand. They don’t have much time. But it’s Grian’s clever little mind that comes up with an idea. 

Below the water, Red is getting exhausted. No matter how hard she swims, she can’t escape. A part of her is glad that she was the one to get caught, because a human could not withstand such a current. At least her new friends aren’t trapped here. The lava below is getting closer, and Red’s muscles scream for her to give up, to let go. To stop postponing what seems inevitable now. Of all the ways for Red to perish, she never expected to die in these damned guardian farms. 

She can’t fight any longer. She can’t get her arms to push, her legs to kick. Red becomes dead weight, and the current pulls her faster towards the seafloor. Towards the lava. She can see the surface, the sunlight refracting the light above her into broken shafts. The water at her back keeps getting warmer, closer and closer to her demise. And in all of this? She accepts her fate. She saved her family, other guardians by tearing this down. She closes her eyes, letting the water sweep her away. 

An explosion can be heard, muffled from above the surface. The sound of water splashing, pushed out of the way of some solid. Red collides into the seafloor, the jolt snapping her eyes open. She slips out of the water current, pushed along the seafloor. Away from where lava was. Was. Now it’s filled with sand, and the flowing water harmlessly pushes her out of the way. 

She’s alive. Red breathes in, not thinking she’d have the chance to do that again. All she can do right now is lay on the sand and breathe in the water. She watches as an anchor is lowered down, and crawls onto the heavy metal. Red holds on with what little strength she has left, practically collapsing onto the wooden deck as soon as she can. Whatever the hermits are saying, she can’t hear them. She just needs to breathe, and remind herself that she’s still alive. 

“Wha-what did you do?” Red finally manages to ask. Cleo wraps a blanket around him, and hands off a cup of tea. 

“Iskall saw you were having trouble, so we devised a plan.” Cleo states. “Or, well, Grian did.” 

“We pooled our resources together. Iskall and Mumbo took one of Cleo’s cannons and modified it to shoot sand blocks that I had.” Grian nods his head over to the contraption. Redstone is all over the deck in a haphazard way, in no way compact or pretty. 

“You did all that for me?” Red questions. 

“We weren’t just going to let you die. Hermits stick together. I’m sorry we couldn’t put it together faster.” 

“No, no. Don’t be.” Red looks at them all, and smiles. “I’m just glad to not be a fried fish.” 

The whole crew stares for a second, before realizing it’s a joke. Grian laughs first, bubbling up into a throaty laugh. Mumbo and Cleo realize soon after, and Iskall breathes out his laugh last. “Let’s get back to shore,” Mumbo states. “I don’t want to be here when Xisuma arrives and starts hearing the Jaws music but doesn’t know where it’s coming from. And every other surprise we left.”

[danbensen]

So there I was, doing jumping jacks, jumping – literally! – for joy in Pavlina’s grandparents’ garret in the Balkan Tower of Matriarchy. My toes sank into and lifted off from their plush,  gray carpet square. Pigeons cuddled on the air conditioning unit under the window. If I turned just right and didn’t clap my hands over my head, I didn’t smack into anything.

I’m usually drained after a bout of writing. On good days, it’s like after working out. My mental muscles ache because I stretched them. On bad days, it’s like I’ve been wrapped in spider silk and spent the last ninety minutes trying to tear my way free.  Sometimes I’ve just been cored, and just need to lie quietly for a while until my organs grow back. But this time, for the first time as far as I remember, I came out of writing with more energy than I had going in. Here’s what I wrote.

I’m calling it “aspirational fiction.” It’s heart-felt, it’s grounded, it shines a light on the future and shows us a way out of the present.  And I’m so excited! Other people are writing it too!

So there I was again! Yeah! This time I was in the village, on the balcony of Pavlina’s grandparents’ house. Grape leaves reaching up from their trellis. Pears growing on the tree. Goats going home. Kids stewing in the Jacuzzi. I was talking to my agent and some of her other authors, and Joanne Rixon told me about this op-ed she wrote last year for the Tacoma News Tribune.

The op-ed is 600 words about the world 30 years in the future. It shows how the people and places of Joanne’s home town have grown and succeeded. Specifically, they’ve beaten climate change, and she shows us one way to get there. Aspirational fiction.

I don’t mean escapism. Escapism takes you out of your life, but then it puts you back. What I need is something that opens a door and leads me through it. I’ve written about it before. Call it “uplifting” or “transformational” or “hope-punk.” I want more.

So, here’s my challenge to you: The 600/30 op-ed! Write 600 words about your home town 30 years in the future. Talk about how we’ve solved some problems. Give the reader reason for optimism. And I want technical details, people! This is science fiction after all.

Submit your 600/30 story to your local newspaper. And whether or not it gets published, sent it to me. I’ll keep a collection of these things (I already have two). Maybe we can have an anthology.

Whew! Okay. In other news…

I finished The Centuries Unlimited delta. That’s right, four complete rewrites. That’s an average of one a year. God, what a hairy project it turned out to be. If you usually build a house from the foundation up, I tried to build this one from the paint in. I nearly lost faith in this book, and the way I found it again was by dedicating it to someone. Finding the person (well, people) who needed to read Centuries gave me the motivation I needed to fix it.

Now Centuries is with my agent. She’ll read it and determine whether it needs another re-write. I’ll do that rewrite if I need to. I’ll do a hundred rewrites because now I know why this book is important. (Uh, but fingers crossed I don’t need to).

Protector #5 is out! In fact, my copies were delivered as I was writing this newsletter.

Proof!

This is the last issue. The end of Arc I. As for Arc II, well, we’re working on it.

I bought tickets to Futuricon. It’s a virtual conference to take place in October, and it only costs 10 euros. I’m thinking of creating a Zoom Room to hang out in while the con is going. We can get some of that fun con social experience that way. Who wants to go to Eurocon with me?

And of course everyone wants to know about Thracian! Well, I’m calling it “Vessian” now (from ves, meaning “good,” “happy,” “true”) and it’s been through a lot. Here’s what it looks like now:

Zalmoxs na irga ka beye, ” … petey shen moy ka dunam ta o avzeztam kurto velam, da par nu tu dunas ta o zures.”

“The Shrouded One comes to us and says, ‘…all are mine and I can take them when I want, but for now you can enjoy them.”*

What do you think? I don’t think it’s hissy enough :\

Anyway, here’s what I enjoyed reading this month:

The Four Agreements by Don Ruiz Miguel (I finally finished it. How not to let the things people say about you get under your skin. Much recommended.)

Digital Minimalism by Cal Newport (Not as good as Make Time. We don’t need a philosophy or manifesto – we need to take control of our habits.)

Underlord by Wil Wight (just as fun the second time around.)

Scarface and the Untouchable by Max Collins (research for the Centuries Unlimited. I liked the stuff about the private life of Al Capone.)

There is no Antimemetics Division by Sam Hughes (once again I am in awe of Sam Hughes. He is consistently excellent at taking us deep into the darkness and leading us back out again. A+ characters and emotions, A+ scifi and horror! The best line: “his mind exploded like a diagram.”)

Sabine Hossenfelder (great, no-nonsense physics on youtube.)

Lieder by Adel Tawil (it’s a cool song.)

Delicious by KangNam (the theme song to Let’s Eat season 2. Yum!)

Black and Gold by Sam Sparro (a surprisingly deep song about the different things that science and religion give us – this will be the theme song of Fellow Tetrapod, my next project.)

See you next month.

*Adapted from The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz, trans. Janet Mills. Here’s the original:  “The angel of death comes to us and says, ‘…everything is mine and I can take it away when I want to, but for now you can use it.’”

[callmeweeeh]

10 Questions Tag

I was tagged by @marewriteblr, thank you for thinking of me! :)

Rules: answer the questions and tag six people at the end.

1. The starting line of your current WIP.

Since I don’t really remember the starting line of Dune and I’m not able to access my own computer and look it up right now (I think it was something like “He threw his arms up into the air”), I’ll just go with my first wip called The Taste. It’s a Shakespeare quote (so tumblr right? I know...):

“These violent delights have violent ends.”

2. Two favourite OCs.

I love Callis Nanme, The Taste’s main protagonist. She’s 19, Asian, bisexual and she just moved to the city of Leighdon (I’ll change that name, it’s a mesh of Leigh Bardugo’s name and London ^^. You should check out Six of Crows btw!), in order to escape a toxic relationship with her violent ex boyfriend. She is now studying literature, loves books, video games, coffee and jazz. She seems to be very shy but she can be pretty extroverted and sometimes self destructive when you know her better. 

The second one is Amir Harun, Dune’s main protagonist. He’s 17, has dark skin, green brown eyes and dark brown, long cornrows. He lives together with his uncle Mazum and his cousin Naliah in Suthri, the kingdom of the desert. He’s a Dunae, a soldier able to manipulate sand. He also likes coffee and books and is very reliable. He always seems to be happy, but underneath his smile he hides a deep loss.

3. Plotter or Pantser?

I don’t even know what that means, sorry ^^’

4. Are you easily distracted?

Not really, I just run out of motivation very quick when it comes to writing. That’s also the reason why The Taste is currently on a hiatus. Once I’m stuck on a scene I can’t get my mind out of it and can’t start writing somewhere else within my story.

5. Favourite book

I will always love The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. 

I also loved reading “Perfume: The Story of a Murderer” in school.

6. Favourite author  

I don’t really have one, just many whose works I like ^^

7. Best part of being a writer.

Having a very creative phase, where so many new ideas struck my mind and writing them all down in my notebook with little doodles next to them.

8. What do you do if you have writer’s block?

Like I previously said, I tend to get lost in scenes a lot. So I just stop writing for a few days and then return to my story, or I simply start a new wip (well hello Dune) ^^

9. Do you listen to music while writing and if you do, what genre?

YES, I listen to music all the time! Most times just the stuff I like, what would fall under the genres of pop, alternative and some acoustic stuff. However, if I can’t get into a certain mood on my own I just search for fitting playlists (e.g. the ost of AC Origins when writing a fighting scene for Dune ^^).

10. Least favourite book.

“The Catcher in the Rye”. I remember my German teacher talking about this book and I just imagined it to be so much different. 

So I’m just gonna randomly tag some blogs I’m following. I’m really sorry if you don’t want to participate in any tag games and I tagged you anyways. If so: I’m sorry, just ignore that I tagged you! 

@cogwrites @sunforgelf @ivonoris @ragethewriter @pigeonbooks @okayodysseus

[tingthings]

The Kiap’s Wife

Jan Sinclair tells the story of her husband, the late Dr. James Sinclair.

‘A lot of people know about Jim’s work but they don’t know a lot about him’ she said, as she stood proudly with a smile radiantly beaming across the many faces eager to hear the story of her late husband during the launch of his last book DIWAI, The history of The Divine Word University.

Jan Sinclair was the wife of a man renowned for his exploratory patrols into a remote and untamed Papua New Guinea. His 41 books and hundreds of photographs are a rare and accurate source of PNG’s colorful colonial past.

James Sinclair or ‘Jim’ as people called him, was fascinated by the early history of New Guinea. As a student at Sydney Grammar School he read every book he could about that country.

‘He was a non-conformist, even after school’ she said with laughter under her breath. His mother said one son Max was to be a doctor and Jim a lawyer. Jim did not want to go to University and the young, rebellious and adventurous James applied to become a kiap. He was too young and worked at menial jobs until he was old enough to apply to go to New Guinea.

In 1947 after a five-and-a-half-month course at the Australian School of Administration in Sydney the 20-year-old James began his first posting to New Guinea as a Cadet Patrol officer. He went to Wau then Ioma then back to Lae and other posts. He eventually went to the Southern Highlands. There Jan had been posted to open a Primary A school at Mendi. The trouble was there was no school just the Mendi Valley Club.  She was the first single female officer to be sent there. ‘In our group there were 10 women – 8 were sent to Moresby. One to Daru and me to Mendi. I asked the Director why I had been sent to such a remote place and he replied ’Because we thought you would fit in better’.

The Methodist Mission was her temporary home. From there it was a fair trip across a suspension bridge then on the back of a motor bike to her school. The school always had the smell of stale cigarettes and beer.

Jan rebelled and asked to live on the station. Materials were scrounged and Jan’s house was built. The only paint available was bright pink so the house became known as the pink House on the Hill.

A loud ‘Whoop whoop’ from the hills was heard one day and the children knew a big patrol was coming in. I had forbidden them to go out to see it but they went anyway with a throng of people watching the patrol come in.

Jan looked outside the classroom and saw a man, skinny as a whip stick with a bright red beard, holes in his shirt and very grubby. Teachers did not regard kiaps highly and thought them bigheads.

‘When you go to Mendi look for my friend Jan and send her my regards’ asked a friend from Wapenamunda and the message had to be delivered by the red bearded kiap. ‘My boss introduced me to Jim (James Sinclair). All I could see was a scruffy, skinny and untidy man. I did not think much of him.’

Easter was always fun as most of the kiaps were given a break at Headquarters. The Mendi Valley Club was the venue for the Easter Party. ’I loved big skirts, winkle pickers and Rock and Roll as did others. After a dance I looked for somewhere to sit and there were no chairs so Jim offered me his knee. I sat on his knee to be told ‘You are a fast-little bit”. I left straight away.’

Next morning, I heard a knock at my door. On opening it I saw a clean shaven.  smiling face and a well-presented young man. ‘Don’t you remember me’ he said to which I replied that I had never seen him before.

Later on the District Commissioner wanted an exhibit to be presented at the Goroka Show. Jim being a good photographer myself and others went to Goroka.

A while later we decided to get married. Jim went back to Koroba and we conducted a courtship by ‘Sched’ a daily radio linkup with outstations. Everyone spoke – admin people, missionaries, visitors from all over and much advice was given to us. It provided entertainment.

Preparing for our marriage we decided to choose what we would need from both our houses so I visited Koroba on a wet cold day. As wood in the fireplace burned down it was found other wood was too wet so Jim threw a large bundle of papers (screwed together neatly) into the fire. I asked him what it was and he replied that it was a book he had written. I asked why he would burn it and he replied that everyone who came to New Guinea wrote a book and he was no different.

After our marriage we were posted to Wau. In 1962 the Foot Royal Commission announced that Australia had to hurry up its attempts to have Self Government so six local persons were to be Advisory Members to the Legislative Assembly. Many people thought their jobs were in jeopardy, so they left and others took up study. So, with two young children and me not working I told Jim he had better finish his law degree. Sometime later he came home and said I am not going to do any study but I will write that book again. That was the one he burnt at Koroba. I did not think he could remember it but he started next day in February and wrote the book which was published by Melbourne University Press in December. It has become a very valuable book on early exploration in that era.

We were posted to Lae, Finschhafen and then Wau and twice more to Lae. During this time, I started teaching again. Jim was transferred to Goroka as Deputy District Commissioner in 1968.

He always loved the Highlands and he was thrilled.

He was appointed District Commissioner in 1969 because it was petitioned by the local leaders.

The Goroka Shows were the most colourful shows in New Guinea at that time and Jim took up his photography with great delight. Taking his photography talents to a new level, Jim captured the colours and the vibrant cultures of PNG. ‘One of his photos showed a yellow and red initiation mask from the Duna. He did not know hat this would become a national symbol.

Jim was a good communicator. One episode is worth telling. At a big gathering in front of some Royal visitors it was the interpreter’s turn to translate the speech. A rumble went through the crowd and fists were shaken; mutterings began. I felt it was a tense situation. The upshot was that the people wanted Jim to tanim tok (translate), not the interpreter. His Pidgin was superb.

A visitor to our house was David Attenborough (now famous naturalist) who was at that time a BBC journalist. Jim was interviewed for the famous British Current Affairs program ’24 Hours’. He and Jim were of the same age and had much in common.

After Jim wrote ‘Behind the Ranges’ I said to him I hoped he had got writing out of his system. He said the book he had always wanted to write was one on Jack Hides – The famous ‘Outside Man’ He did that and later Bobby Gibbes pressured him to write his biography. In spite of work pressure and protests he relented.

He was appointed District Commissioner in 1969 because it was petitioned by the local leaders.

Many books on Aviation followed.  Jim loved doing these as he was always a frustrated pilot.

Many famous figures crossed our path and stayed in our house. In 1972 the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh came.

Jan recalls seeing the Queen in earnest conversation with Jim talking about using reflectors for taking good portraits. She was just a wonderful lady.

One local leader Soso Sube, was very disappointed because the Queen did not wear her Crown and let Missis Kwin know this. She placated him by saying she had to wear a hat because the sun was too hot and the Crown too heavy.

Localisation had come and Jim was posted to Port Moresby in 1972. Relics of the past era of colonialization were unpopular – that is records of Government. They were to be destroyed. Politicians just did not understand their value. Jim was encouraged to get as much as he could copied to save. These became a fundamental section now in the Archives – a rich area for researchers.

1975 came sadly for Jim as we left PNG.

He was never going to settle in Australia and hated his job at Melbourne University Press.

He won a couple of Commonwealth Literacy Fellowships and we settled on the Sunshine Coast.

His writing became hard work but he just loved getting back to New Guinea.

In his last years he wrote about his years in New Guinea:

“I think that most men who have patrolled in the uncontrolled areas will agree that the years so spent are in many ways the finest and most rewarding of the patrol officer’s life, filled with the satisfaction of country covered, new people seen and new mountains climbed.”

Jan has given all of the past historical documents collected by her husband to the Canberra Archives – his being the biggest collection on the South Pacific. It is waiting for national scholars to record their own history, which was Jim’s great wish.

Smiling as she was applauded, ‘Thank you for listening to an old lady who has talked too much’ said Jan Sinclair, the wife of an historian, photographer, explorer, friend, husband and father.

Read the story here: https://tinyurl.com/kunyja5r

[neighbourart]

STAHL BARBARA - énekes/singer

Egyik legkedvesebb gyerekkori emléke, amikor a nagypapájától megkapta élete első mikrofonját, amit ő készített a műhelyében és a magnóból visszahallotta a hangját, gyűjti a szép papírszatyrokat, amikor éppen senki sem figyel, konkrét párbeszédeket futtat le önmagával, kedvence New York és a macskáááák.

One of her favorite childhood memory is when she got her first ever microphone from her grandfather, that he made in his own workshop and she could hear her own voice played back from the recorder, she collects nice paper bags, if nobody is watching she has full conversations with herself, her favorites are New York and caaaaaaaaaats.

Barbi asztala/Barbi’s table.

Milyen típusú emlékek inspirálnak jobban: a jók vagy a rosszak?/What kind of memories inspire you the most: good or bad ones? Mindkettő inspirál, de talán a rosszakból erősebb alkotások születnek.

Both of them inspire me, but maybe the bad ones lead to stronger creations.

Ha újjászülethetnél egy ma élő vagy már halott művész személyében, kit választanál?/Ha If you could reincarnate as a living or dead artist, who would you choose to be? Ella Fitzgerald vagy Beyoncé.

Ella Fitzgerald or Beyoncé.

Hogyan lendülsz túl az időszakos alkotói válságon?/How do you come over a temporary artistic crisis? Ingerszegény időszakokban próbálok mindig új élményeket generálni magamnak.

In impoverished periods I always try to generate new experiences for myself.

Mi a legkedvesebb gyerekkori emléked?/What is your favorite childhood memory? Sok van és mindegyik a családomhoz kötődik: anyukámmal az összeöltözéseink, közös esti kádfürdőink, reggeli kakaózás; apukámmal 5 éves koromban Ausztrália egyik leggyönyörűbb panorámás sziklás partszakaszán megfogadtuk, hogy örökké szeretni fogjuk egymást; a nagymamáimmal tésztagyúrás, húspanírozás, a selyem hálóingjeikben flangálás, lambadára táncolás és amikor a nagypapámtól megkaptam életem első mikrofonját, amit ő készített a műhelyében és a magnóból visszahallottam a hangom.

I have a lot and all of them are connected to my family: when I used to dress alike with my mother, when we used to have baths together in the evening, having cocoa for breakfast; we took an oath with my dad that we will love each other forever at the most beautiful, panoramic, rocky beachside in Australia; pastry kneading, making schnitzel, walking around in silk nightgowns, dancing to lambada with my grandmothers, when I got my first ever microphone from my grandfather, that he made in his workshop and I could hear my voice played back from the recorder.

Fotók: Földi Ádám

Mit érzel, amikor egy másik művész a tiédhez hasonló munkát készít?/What do you feel when a fellow artist creates something similar to your work? Ősszel megírtam a 7012 című dalomat. Pár hónappal később megjelent Drake-More Life című albuma, amin a kedvenc előadóm, Sampha készített egy dalt, 4422 címmel. Kísértetiesen hasonlít a két dal dinamikája, szerkezete egymásra, elájultam, iszonyú jó érzés volt (bár nincs sok esély rá, hogy az én dalom inspirálta :)

In fall I wrote my song called 7012. A few months later Drake-More released the album Life on which there was a song from my favorite performer, Sampha, and its title was 4422. They eerily sound alike, and the dynamic, the structure of the two songs is very similar. I almost fainted it was such an awesome feeling (however, there is not much chance that it was inspired by my song :)

Gyűjtesz valamit?/Are you collecting something? A macskás dolgokat és a szép papírszatyrokat (főleg külföldről).

Things with cats on them and nice paper bags (mainly from abroad).

Kedvenc budapesti pillanat?/Favorite Budapest moment? Amikor pasztell színű az ég és a Duna-parti lakásom rózsaszínes narancssárga fénybe borul.

When the sky takes on a pastel color and my apartment next to the Danube is lighten up with orange-pink light.

Van olyan gyerekes szokásod, amit akkor csinálsz, amikor senki nem figyel?/Do you have a childish habit that you do when nobody is watching? Sokat beszélek magamban, konkrét párbeszédeket futtatok le, sőt van, amikor különböző szituációkba képzelem magam és eljátszom.

I talk to myself a lot, I have proper conversations, moreover, sometimes I imagine myself in certain situations and I act them out.

Mi volt a legnagyobb őrültség, amit eddig csináltál?/What was the craziest thing you have ever done? Apukámmal az Adrián átúsztunk egy szigetre. Másfél óra volt csak odafelé az út, miközben őrült sebességgel húztak el mellettünk hajók és motorcsónakok. Rettenetesen féltem.

We swam to an island with my dad on the Adria. It took one and a half hours to get there and while we were in the water boats and motorboats were rushing beside us with a crazy speed. I was really scared.

Van-e napi rutinod?/Do you have a daily routine?  Nincs. Mivel általában este dolgozom a fellépéseimen, napközben óriási szabadság van. Van, amikor korán kelek és hasznos dolgokkal töltöm a napot, intézkedem, jövök-megyek, de van, amikor délutánig ágyban vagyok, olvasgatok, zenét írok és 2-3 körül nekilátok reggelizni.

No. Since I am mainly working in the evening on my gigs, I have a huge freedom during the day. There are times when I wake up early and I spend the day with useful things, I get things done, I coma and go, but other times I am in bed until afternoon, I read, I write music and I have breakfast at 2-3 pm.

Kedvenc tárgyad?/Favorite object? A biciklim és a midi keyboardom.

My bike and my keyboard.

Hogyan fogsz neki egy új munkának?/How do you get started on a new project? Általában a dalírás nálam csak úgy megtörténik, különösebb rákészülés nélkül. Teljesen hangulatfüggő.

Mostly songwriting just happens to me, without any previous preparation. It totally depends on the mood.

Van egy jól körülhatárolható hangulat, amikor könnyebb számodra az alkotás?/Is there a particular mood that makes creating and working easier for you? Ha nagyon boldog vagyok, vagy ha nagyon szomorú/nyugtalan/dühös. Középlángon képtelen vagyok bármit kiadni magamból.

If I am very happy, or if I am very sad/restless/angry. If I am on a medium flame I am incapable of get anything artistic out of me.

Sör vagy bor?/Beer or wine? Bor! Bár nem jellemző, hogy alkoholt iszom, azért nagyon szeretek finom borokat kóstolni. A fellépések révén sok borbárban, pincészetben megfordulok, szeretem hallgatni egy-egy bor történetét, készítési folyamatát, hogy honnan származik és milyen ízjegyek lelhetőek fel benne.

Wine! It is not very common for me to drink alcohol, but I really love to taste good wine. Due to my work, I have gigs in wine bars, wineries. I like to hear the story of wine, how it was made, where it is from, what tastes are in them.

Kutya vagy macska?/Dog or cat? Macska, macska, macska! Világ életemben kutyás voltam, viszont egy éve szereztem egy kiscicát a húgaimnak, aki végül nálam ragadt és teljesen elcsavarta a fejem, a mindenem lett.

Cat, cat, cat! I always loved dogs but a year ago I got a kitten for my little sisters, which eventually stayed with me and made me fall in love with him. Now I have everything.

Mit szeretnél kifejezni az alkotásaidon keresztül?/What would you like to express through your artwork? Nekem a zeneírás önkifejezés, szóval legtöbbször a saját érzelmeimet közvetítem vele, szenvedélyt, nőiséget, sebezhetőséget, vágyat, őszinteséget, esztétikát.

For me writing music is expressing myself, so I am broadcasting my own emotions through it, passion, vulnerability, honesty, aesthetics, and femininity.

Milyen a stílusod?/What is your style like? Soft & powerful.

Soft & powerful.

Mi az, ami a leginkább feltölt?/What can recharge you the most? Egy jó fellépés, egy jó új zene, napsütés, bringázás, víz közelsége.

A good gig, good music, sunshine, biking, being close to water.

Kedvenc város?/Favorite city? New York! A leginspirálóbb és a legvibrálóbb város, ahol valaha jártam, nagyon szeretnék ott élni.

New York! The most inspiring and most vibrant city I have ever been to. I really would like to live there.

Kedvenc étel?/Favorite food? Nagyon nehéz... rajongom az ízekért, az egyik kedvenc dolgom az evés. A szívemhez persze az otthoni ételek állnak legközelebb, szóval: Mama húslevese (csirkelábbal!), rántott húsi krumplipürével és almakompóttal, és az ő flódnija...

This is hard… I love flavors, one of my favorite things to do is to eat. Home cooked meals are the ones that are closest to my heart, so: My Mama’s meat soup (with chicken feet!), schnitzel with potato puree and apple sauce and he flodni (a Jewish layered dessert with apples and poppy seeds)…

Kedvenc évszak?/Favorite season? Az ősz! Mindig rengeteg újat tartogat, van egy lendülete, ami kimos a nyári meleg álmos hangulatból és mintha kicserélnének. Öltözködni is ekkor szeretek a legjobban.

Autumn! It always has new things to bring, it has a momentum that washes me out of the summer heat sleepy mood and I feel like a new person. I also like to dress up the most in autumn.

Mi a legrosszabb tulajdonságod?/What is your worst characteristic? Önző vagyok, türelmetlen és munkában hajcsár. Mindegyiken dolgozom :)

I am selfish, impatient and bossy in my work. I am working on all of these. :)

Van visszatérő álmod? Miről szól? Esetleg megjelenítetted már valamelyik alkotásodban?/Do you have a reoccurring dream? What is it about? Have you ever visualized it in your artwork? Nagyon sokat álmodom vízzel, van is sok-sok 'vizes' dalom. Még két visszatérő álmom van, de nem hiszem, hogy megírnám őket: az egyik, hogy mértéktelenül habzsolok mindenféle ételt, sütiket, a másik pedig konkrét akciófilmes üldözés.

I dream a lot about water, I also have a lot of songs about water. I also have two reoccurring dreams, but I don’t think I would write about those: one of them is that I am eating without limits, pastries and all other kinds of food, the other one is like an action movie chase.

Mi az az alkotás, amit mindenképpen meg kell csinálnod, mielőtt meghalsz?/What is that specific artwork you have to accomplish before you die? Egy olyan alkotás, amiért Grammy-díjra jelölnek. :)

A work that will be nominated for the Grammy Award. :)

Ha egyetlen tanácsot kellene adni más, esetleg még kezdő tehetségeknek, mi lenne az?/If you could give one piece of advice to someone else, maybe to a beginner talent, what would it be? Az, hogy belülről építkezzenek!

That they should build up from within!

--------------------------------------- NÉVJEGY -  Stahl Barbara:

"Stahl Barbara vagyok, kiskorom óta tanulok zenét, de csak 5 éve kezdtem az éneklest, kezdetben egy akusztikus banda tagjaként, tavaly pedig elkezdtem a saját zenei projektemen dolgozni, aminek a stílusirányzata a soul és r&ből építkező elektronikus, vagy alternatív r&b."

"My name is Stahl Barbara I am studying music since I was a child, but I have only started to sing 5 years ago. I started off as a member of an acoustic band and last year I started to work on my own musical project that has a core style of electronic based on r&b and soul, or alternative r&b."

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// BARBI MUNKÁI ITT HALLGATHATÓK MEG/CHECK OUT BARBI’S WORK HERE: https://soundcloud.com/babesila https://www.facebook.com/babesila/ https://www.instagram.com/babesila/

[orristea]

Guess who dropped their phone into a public toilet and cant get anything new in like two weeks???? this absolute moron

[orristea]

I got a job!!!!! at my all time favourite theme park!!! aaaaa !!

[orristea]

Me: makes an oc named Mercy

(A year later) Overwatch: exists

Me: oh wow, lots of people are gonna think I got the name from overwatch now, let me just change her name into something similar

*changes Mercy’s name into Moira*

Me now: SON OF A

[orristea]

So at my internship studio there’s this small garden with a cat that just kinda chills there. Nobody knows who it belongs to but they have this one huge fang and im in love

[orristea]

birth??