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jaggedwolf · 3 years ago

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caracalliope replied to

yeah, i just had to nope out, i was like, i dislike everyone on this ship except - weirdly - Pete

it's very... i don't know. i don't even like competence kink all that much, but i hate this sense of like - team infantilization? and bad boundaries, yes. and vespa's entire thing. and just, an intimacy that felt unearned, and in fact felt less earned than when we barely saw these characters (specifically, buddy&jet together)

it feels claustrophobic i think? i'd love to hear more of yr thoughts

reconditarmonia replied to your post

yes please let's yell about season 3

i think my main takeaway is that everything they tried to do assumed a level of buy-in that i just *did not have* - the episodes about everyone else's problems and tragic backstory when we've barely met them, the godawful "family" thing (that's not what a crime family is!!!)

I felt so sorry for Sasha in the finale lol, which was probably not the intent

y’all are basically saying what I’m thinking! (though for me Juno remains the one I don’t dislike, even if I dearly miss the unhealthy-habits mystery-solving version of him)

The weirdest thing about S3 is that after the first two episodes covering Peter’s PoV, I was still entirely on-board - Buddy’s family comments seemed more ironic than sincere, we got to see Juno and Peter from interesting new angles, lots of interesting future dynamics to develop-

Except no development actually happened. You’re both right, that the season and finale relied upon a loyalty that was never actually built out, merely stated, and then the repetition of those statements made me claustrophobic and yes, feel oddly bad for Wire.

...okay this is going to become that long post on team dynamics...

Competency

How is this team this bad at their job. Forget as a team, even individually we have Rita failing to distribute her bot’s abilities because she likes a stream too much, Buddy thinking an EMP killing her is an acceptable loss when she is the one directing a mission, Peter reading a map upside-down and almost getting everyone killed because of it???

The last two tripped me the fuck up - this show made me dislike a dramatic attempt at self-sacrifice! I love dramatic attempts at self-sacrifice! But not when it would get all of your crew killed. Buddy saying Peter had merely been reading the map upside-down threw me so hard that I spent minutes wondering if she was covering for him actually being a traitor for her own reasons, but no, apparently that was the real reason.

(Juno waits till they’re literally at the Curemother Prime to have any questions about the motivations of the Prime’s keepers?)

Look, I’m not expecting superhuman rising to the occasion here, but I am expecting everyone to use the skills that I expect them to have. If Juno fucked up an attempt at leadership or Peter failed to deal with an injury correctly, that’s interesting! These mistakes weren’t.

Genuine Friendships

Putting aside that I am a sap who would rather watch teams that are friends than teams that aren’t, if you are going to say family this many times, I expect to see friendships develop. People actually growing to like each other as people and stuff.

We get the tiniest bit of that with Jet and Rita hanging out, but we already knew he thought highly of her at the end of S2. And we got some Buddy-Pete stuff at the beginning, but that was highly contextual to his role on the crew. I personally needed more overlapping groups/friendships and whatnot, and I think the season would’ve better for working on that.

Don’t wait till the finale episodes for Juno and Vespa to have the tiniest of shifts in their relationship due to Ransom’s scavenger hunt, when they started the season antagonistic and the shift could have begun earlier. Don’t wait till the finale episodes to tell me Juno and Buddy have been shooting together every week and expect me to have the same feelings as if you’d set it up as a throughline earlier.

Even the pre-existing relationships seem less earned this season than previously, for some reason (Juno/Peter, Buddy/Vespa, Buddy & Jet, etc)

So...boundaries

I don’t know how a crew made up of people who all actively chose to join it and its mission could feel this suffocating, but it did. And sure, “family” started to grate, but I can’t put my finger on why the overall dynamic itself made me feel that way.

I was listening to the getaway conversation in the final episode, right, and I kept wondering why I was getting annoyed and I think the thing is - I really didn’t like people’s loyalties getting dictated like that. I didn’t like that it left no room for discussions of tradeoffs, even though I obviously agreed it’s better than the rest of the crew bail than hang around for Ransom to pop up, because there are obviously tradeoffs even there. I dunno, man, just felt off, along with Buddy’s micromanaging in general.

And then very occasionally the season would be weird about boundaries in a different way, like Rita apologizing for looking into Pete’s real name and past. Why should she apologize! He’s a random guy on her crew who Mistah Steel is sweet on, of course she looked into him, are we genuinely supposed to think that was somehow rude of her?

-----

Ok, team dynamics rant over. Finally, maybe I’m just a grump, but Jet’s “I choose to believe” thing didn’t work for me either, because that’s not how life works. You get the good outcomes by making the right decisions, doing the right work, not by having belief in the moment it’s all going to shit.

#apologies for length #tpp #juno steel #replies #caracalliope #reconditarmonia #tpp meta

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onyourzeus · 4 years ago

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11:48 am | pjh

title: 11:48am pairing: park jaehyung (of day6) & you genre: fluff, bullet style words: 2.1k

author’s note: mmm i’m kind of meh about this but i jus really needed to write so i don’t lose motivation, but this is just a short fic requested by this anon asking for a lazy day scenario with jae. hope it’s still an okay read.

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

once you receive a specific text from jae on a regular day

“whatchu doinnnn”

you know he’s wondering if you’re not busy, and if you come hang out at his place

which, for the majority of the time, you always tell him “not much. y?”

even though you’re 99% sure of what he wants out of you

you have already made your way to a coffee shop before he had replied

“same. wanna do nothing together? :)”

so u get two coffees: one americano and one vanilla latte (as much as you want to cut down calories here, there is no way you can drink just water and espresso by itself

you decide on getting two sandwiches as well, it’s close to noon and there’s a high probability that jae just woke up and he hasn’t even moved from the bed

you’re lowkey happy that jae texts you first (assumingly) during days like this because, honestly you miss the 6 foot lanky nerdy soft boy a lot

jae has a habit of keeping to himself during his downtime, especially now

but with him streaming and having new friends through the platform has helped him socialize and feel a sense of normalcy from the world, which you are really glad for

he’s mentioned how much he misses doing band activities but doesn’t really elaborate on them

he think he talks about it too much and that you wouldn’t want to hear his repetitive whining

you don’t have the needed bravery in your heart (yet) to tell him you will never get bored or feel burdened by his thoughts, no matter what they entail

so for now, when he asks of your presence in his lovely abode— you make time for him. always.

even if it’s just a lazy day of doing nothing

you knock on his door and text him at the same time. you look around his neighborhood and enjoy the peace and quiet outside. you wonder if jae’s soundproof walls work well enough for his next door neighbors this time. you had told him multiple times that sungjin wouldn’t appreciate the noise too much, and he if he wanted to play he can do so at your place

however you never suggested that last thought. it swam in the sea of your thoughts one too many times but it never came to shore. you thought too much about the implications of that idea

besides, what good came out of reminding him of his streamer noises is that he finally has an apartment of his own

and you don’t feel as shy or out of place whenever you came over to the one he shared with the boys

“oh hey, wasn’t expecting you,” jae had opened the door and you snap out of your wondering

he greets you with drowsy eyes, a full yawn and long strands of hair sticking out everywhere

you huff out a breath and show the goods in your hands. “you’re definitely gonna need this.”

his eyes light up as he recognizes the contents of the paper bag

“whaaaat you shouldn’t have, i was about to order for delivery,” he tries for an innocent tone but the goofy smile on his face makes that extra trip to the cafe worth it

“you’re welcome, jae.”

lazy days with jae come in two ways

number one: absolutely the title. you crash on the bed, he scolds you for it but then you feel his crushing weight on top of you for revenge or

you hog the couch, splay your legs until jae does the same thing and entangles all your limbs together it becomes a semi wrestling match

number two: he’d end up wanting to do something all this time, either jam on his guitar or play WoW with you in the background, just watching

commenting on things you have 0 knowledge about, and him dismissing every words you say with a random scream from his end

“you’re so bad at this lmao”

“NONONO STOPSTOPSTOP NONONO”

“is the riff supposed to sound like that? ew”

“you want your face to meet my guitar? :)”

yeah, banter between you can be brutal like this which is why it gets a little embarrassing to be your true self with him when the others are involved

today, jae seems to just enjoy sipping on his iced coffee while tippy tapping on the floor to sit next to you on the couch

??? how can a grown man do something puppies so effortlessly pull out… just as cute if not even better???

usually, silence isn’t how the two of you spend lazy days together. once he’s thought of a topic to talk about, however out of this world or mundane it could be— the conversations you share are what you cherish the most bonding with jae

“you ever think about the first piece of a roll of sliced bread?”

“you mean the weird looking pieces no one ever chooses first and leaves it there until there’s none of the good slices left?”

“the very one” “what about it?”

“you’re that slice of bread”

“well yeah? jokes on you, you’re the OTHER piece. there’s two in a pack dumbass”

one would mistake this as insulting, but this is how jae shows his affection to you, and you wouldn’t want it any other way

there’s a certain comfort in just.. not deliberating whether you’d overstep a line or say something that would be misconstrued. with jae, you appreciate the candid friendship you mutually benefit from

his sarcastic personality can be a pain at times when not needed, of course, but when you’ve missed him so much it just feels right

“jae your legs are too long for the couch get a new one.” he had taken over the other end of the couch with his legs over yours, and you’re trying your best to make the position comfortable

but being inches close to his socks and noticing that he’s intentionally moving his feet about just to annoy you

“you get me a new couch so we both fit here”

“bro do you know how empty my wallet is rn”

“as empty as your love life?”

“oh we’re talking about ourselves right now? ok cool”

he scoffs at your comeback, but he remains speechless and gives you room to breathe. you panic for a second thinking maybe, this is the unexplained boundary he has to draw a line on? love?

but he puts down his already finished americano, and looks back at you a deadpan expression

you sit up as well, nerves creeping up on your arm. you didn’t want to take it too far and in your defense, this isn’t the first time you teased each other about your, well, non-existent romantic endeavors

“jae, i—”

“oh my god did you see your face?? i was kidding chilllll” he starts to burst into a fit of laughter, the kind where he loses air and lolls his head back

this time you pout, reaching over to flick him on the forehead. his 6th sense had improved a lot overtime being with you as he blocks your hand away from his face, and sticks a tongue out

“you think i wasn’t prepared for that anymore?” he taunt, locking his grip around your wrist

“now you’re just making fun of me” >:(

“you get really puffy cheeks and look adorable when you’re mad”

“THAT IS NOT A VALID REASON!!”

eventually he lets you go, pats your head then proceeds to just ruffle it as messy as his, and in an instant your mood changes again

you shouldn’t lie to yourself anymore, you love jae’s company and it would kill you if he’d one day decide he’s too old or too “mature” for moments like this

you get winded up with denial of having a crush on your best friend, and you’re so sure he knows at this point

because he reels you back into the present and challenges you to a game os super smash bros

and when he loses, he does it again. and you win again, and this time he says it was just a warm-up and he shouldn’t go easy on you anymore

and then you win again, and you’re the one cackling in the air at his look of defeat as well as the 6 losses he had endured during the matches

“man you’re getting rusty”

“am not! i’ve just been playing WoW too much i’m not used to switch controls anymore…”

“sure buddy”

“HEY, 1v1 me in league right now, i dare you”

“no”

“WHY?”

“you only have one desktop, stupid. i didn’t bring my laptop”

“oh so by default I win :D”

nothing can ever get away with jae, he always needs to have the last laugh with you and at times it’s frustrating, but his carefree charisma has grown on you so much that you anticipate what else he has in store to give you a hard time

jokes on him, you fall for jae just an inch deeper the more he treats you comfortably this way

it’s only been an hour or two, but jae had decided that he’s done enough productive stuff for the day (read: losing too many times) and invited you over to chill on his bed

it’s not an uncommon sight for the both of you to lie next to each other, taking turns with queueing up music on spotify. songs you and jae love together, and those that are new to your ears

sometimes, you’d talk over the playlist— it becomes more of background noise as jae asks you about your day, the days before that, and what you’re planning on doing in the future

he doesn’t ask for specific answers, he likes to hear how you’ve been feeling, emotionally so

jae has always been intrigued by other people’s perception of themselves, of the things around them, and of what they think of the universe in the back of their minds

it was a little too much to handle, those questions of his, when you first were just getting to know each other

but he eased into it naturally, confessing about his love for the moon— its beauty in appearance, and the beauty of its purpose

which made you think… you’re in love with the moon too, not just what you see in the sky

but what you see right next to you right now

jae had given you enough time before to open up about your own thoughts, struggles, and share secrets with him. it didn’t take long until you found the trust between you and held onto it for dear life

lazy days with jae can be just that— lazy, loafing around the house, stealing a chip or two from each other’s bag, falling asleep to the sound of lofi music on the speaker

but it can go this way too: with jae explaining how good this one song can be, the metaphors every verse carries with the melody. “you’ve always heard of chocolate eyes or whatever, but blueberry? and to describe the setting sun as strawberry skies? amazing, GENIUS”

and you laugh, and listen to the same song over and over as per jae’s request until he overpowers the original vocals— and you don’t complain, there’s not a sound you love to hear on a lazy afternoon than his low register, the kind of singing he does just for the heck of it. he’s not exerting too much range, too much work on the words he sings— he’s just doing so to comfort him, to bring life to the room, to dwell on each poetic verse’s meaning

i’m so lost in your blueberry eyes

he finishes singing, and the playlist shuffles to an instrumental lofi track with an upbeat, charming rhythm to it

jae keeps his eyes closed, smiling to himself probably proud for his faux performance

“you done gloating in your head yet, jae?”

“shut up i’m feeling the moment”

you poke his shoulder with yours, and you’re suddenly hyper aware at how close the two of you are.. physically, right now

he turns his head towards you, eyes fluttering, lips slightly open. he catches you staring, and it’s too sudden for you to look away and pretend it’s not awkward at all

“what are you doing?” he asks, a lilt of teasing on his voice but his eyes never leave yours

“sh..shut up,” you quip in a small voice, looking down on your laying bodies before turning away, cheeks warm

“wait what? what i was asking a genuine question—”

“i was.. feeling the moment, okay? god jae you’re annoying” you mutter under your breath, a lousy response to cover up the pounding in your chest

“this moment feels really nice, doesn’t it?” he says next to you, quiet but gentle

you pause for a second, taking in his words and letting go of the smile you’re trying to hold off on

your heart is still racing, but there wasn’t a need to worry about stumbling with your feelings

if jae himself is enjoying your own company right now

“it is. if it’s with you, it really is.”

#day6 imagines #day6 scenarios #day6 au #day6 x reader #park jaehyung imagines #park jaehyung scenarios #park jaehyung x reader #park jaehyung au #day6 jae #dot series #by:jiae

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xenophanatic · 5 years ago

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In Depth Quasi-Analysis of Ramo: 'If the show was called Neco.’

Okay, so after seeing so many posts about this show, I thought “yeah, need a new addiction... and the guy looks hot.’

Sadly, I came to the realisation that the guy I found attractive wasn’t the main lead ‘Ramo’, but a side character name Neco. When I found the plot dull, I decided to skip the ‘main’ plotline and instead skip to Neco scenes - which all the posts were about anyway. So be aware that when I’m criticising the show, I haven’t watched the whole thing to deeply analyse every aspect. It’s like what The Witcher’s critics did. Also, I’m reading subtitles so things may get lost in translation.

Saying that... Ramo isn’t a good show. By the end of every episode I was fuming with distaste for the show. Ramo, as a character, is glorified to the point of irritation. As GRR Martin has stated,

“It irritates me when I'm watching a movie and/or reading a book and the hero is going through incredible dangers, him and his six buddies, and none of them die.”

What I get from this quote, and other interviews from Martin, is that - as an audience - it gets annoying when each week Ramo is in danger, but we know he will get out of it - because he’s the main guy. He revokes on deals made with bad guys, sets up traps, shoots men down, and dodges all the consequences. Then the audience is forced to listen to others making speeches about the greatness of Ramo. “Ramo will die to save us!” - But don’t worry cos that won’t happen and Ramo will get everything he wants and win by the end of the episode. There may be a little setback here and there - which makes the episodes drag - but Ramo will win. Ramo is a cliche character that you have seen multiple times and therefore, isn’t engaging to watch.

A moment to reflect on the comment made above about all characters praising the awesomeness of Ramo. The issue with the series, I found, is that everything is said. The exposition is down poorly and makes me cringe when characters just describe how they feel or their opinions about the situation.

My brief summary of the show: Mob/Revenge Story - Ramo and his family/neighbour hood are members of the Pumper Gang, stealing and selling diesel illegally. Ramo also works for a richer gangster, Cengiz, who had killed Ramo’s dad. Cengiz and his father-in-law killed Ramo’s dad and Ramo wants revenge. Episode one pretty much ends with Ramo killing Cengiz.

At first, I thought this was a good premise. Most revenge dramas begin with the act that thrusts the character on the path of revenge and ends with them achieving their goal; however, by ending the episode with the revenge coming to an end - the show has a chance to explore the implications and consequences of revenge. The tales similar to Monte Cristo, end with the character achieving their revenge - but what happens after. Do they feel content? Are they able to have a ‘normal’ life? What about the victims of their revenge?

Going off track....

In the Indian verision of Hamlet, Haider (2014), Ghazala (Gertrude) tells Haider (Hamlet) that ‘revenge does not set us free’, ‘revenge begets revenge’, ‘violence only results in violence’, and that there is no end to this cycle, but Haider, who is bent on revenge, ignores these warnings.

During the shootout of Ramo and Cengiz - Cengiz’s son, Neco, runs away and survives. Neco is then motivated to kill Ramo. This beautiful depicts the above statements. Ramo getting revenge for his father’s death, has now put Neco on a journey to avenge his father’s death. Will this cycle ever end?

However, sadly, this is not the story and the focus is on more on Ramo and Sibel’s (Cengiz’s daughter and Neco’s sister) love story. I’m sorry - I don’t care what excuse your lover gives you for killing your father - but it ain’t okay. The mafia plots are repetitive and the love story is cliche at its worse.

So... let’s talk about the Lament of Neco

Neco is introduced, from the start, as spoilt rich boy player - who is only handsome, and doesn’t have the intelligence nor the cunningness to lead his mafia family. This is nicely shown through Ilhan Sen’s (Neco) acting and the dialogue that others have around him.

We can see, in scenes, that Neco not only looks but feels out of place in mafia meetings. The way his father, mother, and sister talk and move is different from his. He is out of place and shocked when others (Ramo) include him in the conversation as the future heir of the empire. You can see his eagerness to prove himself, as it comes off sincere, optimistic and naive. The meeting scene is a great demonstration of Neco’s character and relationship with his family.

His father is in the middle. Neco’s sister is on the right side of her father - depicting how Cengiz sees his dauther as his right hand. The left said is Neco’s mother. The three are close and are able to have an intimate conversation. Neco is further away from them. Ramo is standing and his body is facing forward - talking to the three family members. He needs to turn to address Neco and include him in. No one else looks towards Neco. When Ramo mentions Neco being the head of the family, Boz (another goon) holds in a laughter. Neco is visible upset and gets up.

One could see this as a childish gesture on Neco’s part, however, I saw it as a sign of Neco’s insecurities. Neco has been seen as inferior by his father, mother, and sister - all his family, who should be supporting and helping him, and whom he cannot fight against. But a servant is looking down at him.. Neco can’t stand that. This is not explained in words, I inferred all this from the scene and was happy that it was proven in later episodes - even if it was in direct exposition dialogue by Neco.

As revenge for laughing at him, Neco disrespects Boz in front of others - not only putting him in his place, but making Boz feel what Neco feels all the time. Boz then beats Neco up and runs. Neco was defeated by a servant. Neco’s dad wants Boz dead, and Ramo decides to save Boz and kill Cengiz. Neco, before so smug seeing Boz so close to death, runs away when he sees/hears gunshots - It’s almost comedic. They catch him, but Neco pleads and begs for his life. He tells Boz and Ramo that they can use him. This presents Neco as a coward juxtaposing him against the ‘awesome’ Ramo.

Long story short, to end the warring families, Ramo has to marry Neco’s sister and Neco has to marry Ramo’s sister Fatos - who is in love with Boz.

This is where I put my critical, feminist, and logical hat off and start dancing to the hymns of fangirling. I love this romantic trope in all it’s glory. You have:

enemies into lovers

constant bickering

forced marriage

co-habitation

badboy/plaer is in love and shows softer side/changes

love triangle

girl realising that difference between first love and true love.

I love it!

But they did my Neco dirty. And therefore my hat is back on.

Ramo, through it’s writing, has also ruined this for me. Remember, Neco is a minor character - so his and Fatos’s scenes are very minimal and not enough to exploit these tropes.

Fatos and Neco, in my opinion, never bond. They never have moments were it allows them to fall for one another. There was one scene, which I believe is where Neco falls for Fatos, but Fatos’s character is so cold that I don’t understand how he fell in love.

Before I discuss that underwhelming scene, let’s talk about the great scene that came before it. Neco’s grandfather takes him to an abandon place and makes him shoot a random guy - execution style. Granddad yells at Neco - pretty much saying ‘be a man’, ‘your sister has more balls than you’, ‘You will never kill Ramo and avenge your father’, ‘you’re worthless’. Again, the acting is better than the script. Neco’s face shows that these words are not the first time he has heard them, but these words have also been constantly going through his head. Neco is also distressed at the act of killing a random guy - Neco isn’t a killer and, because of the family he’s in, that is connected to whether or not he is a strong man.

I wish, I WISH this was explored more. Neco representing this idea/notion of masculinity and toxic attitudes of societal expectations. We see this earlier on, when Sibel is grieving over her dead father and Neco says that it’s worse for him because he saw it happen. She bitterly mentioned that he ran away like a coward and begged Ramo for his life. Neco, angrily, asks her what she would have done. She replies she would rather die than be a coward like him. This angers Neco. Again, moments like these allow us to sympathise with Neco and I wished we could explore not only that event from Neco’s point of view but also the relationship he had with his father..

Anyway, Neco - after killing the man (it seems) - comes home destroyed. He is physically shocked from the events. He goes to his room to find his ‘wife’ - both have been fighting up to this moment - and lies in her lap. She is shocked by his behaviour and actions. He begs her not leave. I have no major issues with this but one. Fatos needed to show a little more compassion or gesture for it to make sense that Neco is now in love with her. She doesn’t move as he lies in her lap. If she simply put her hand on his head or through his hair, and Neco took the simple platonic gesture as love - I would be here for it. But no.

And then this moment is ruined by other scenes. This will show my bias, because when a Neco scene is good - I give credit to the actor. And when a Neco scene is the worst - the writers are the victims of my anger.

So, you know this character you’re going to fall in love with - against all attempts by other characters and writers to make you hate him - well... he is a rapist?

OMG! These sequence of events. So, Neco has killed a guy. He is upset and finds solace in Fatos. FLASHBACK! Remember the time that Neco was held at gunpoint because he was forcing himself on a girl who has said no? Sibel and Ramo come and Sibel slaps Neco - disgusted by her brother’s action. BTW Neco doesn’t feel guilty about his actions. Back to the present, he is now flirting with Fatos and pretty much telling her he wants to sleep with her.

She is scared (remember she was forced into this marriage and loves another). He makes a move to kiss her and she slaps him. She is so scared she gets a gun and points it at him.

This is would have been amazing if done right!

Why it is bad? The audience was just shown a scene were an unremorseful Neco was held at gunpoint for trying to rape another girl. Therefore, this makes the audience, through the codes and convention of storytelling, think Neco is capable of doing the same thing to Fatos and makes Fatos decision and actions justified. This makes Neco, a character I enjoy and want to keeping enjoying, a ‘problematic’ character. This scene is an affirmation of Neco’s despicable acts. The flashback isn’t shown as a misreading of the events, it is shown as fact and this scene is shown as a confirmation.

Could this be good? YES! Neco just had a traumatic experience. He had to shoot and kill someone. He struggled to do so and hasn’t gotten over it. Then he sees Fatos holding a gun at him. He, knowing how he felt, thinks she wouldn’t shoot because how could someone do that. But she does. This scene should be an exploration about human nature to shoot and kill someone. What goes through our head and how do we deal with it after. But atlas, she shoots him, he survives and this is barely talked about again because the main plot comes and rears its ugly head.

What this scene could of been? When I saw this I thought about a similar scene from Siyah Beyaz Ask. Asli is forced to marry assassin Ferhat. Fearful, she keeps a knife under her pillow. When Ferhat, in anger, pushes her to the bed, she stabs him. Ferhat then challenges her to finish him off, Asli cries that she can’t and Ferhat has a lovely speech on what makes a murderer and how she is no different than him. These sequences is what, I believe, should have been produced between Neco and Fatos, minus the crying.

So, elements that needed to go: rapey Neco. No one wants it nor needs it. The scene should have explored the characters. Neco inability to hurt others, and Fatos courage to protect herself against Neco. Like she is ‘powerless’ in front of other, or she can’t hurt any one else, except Neco. And I don’t know about you, but after trying to kill someone, there could be moments between the two characters to talk and heal one another. Maybe Fatos freaking out that she could pull the trigger. Neco being envy of her. So much CONFLICT!

Now let’s talk about NecFat. The ship that made me want to watch this series. I don’t know whether it is the subtitles or writing but... eh. Like the gifs, fanvids, and acting makes this look amazing and everything I need right now. But it is so poorly done.

So, Fatos and Neco meet when Ramo, Fatos’s brother, keeps Neco as a hostage. She’s there to give him food and water. The two bicker and Neco asks her to do him a favour and at least call his mother who must be worried about him. We see Neco caring for his mother and Fatos feeling sympathy for him. This is their only scene as Boz doesn’t like the two meeting. In a funny scene, Fatos sarcastically tells Boz how handsome Neco is and what girl wouldn’t want to keep seeing him. She laughs and says she was joking, but - I think the lady protest too much. Off topic, I love how every character agrees that Neco is super good looking. Even when Neco is kidnap and looking in the mirror, the kidnapper is like ‘Hey Handsome, stop looking in the mirror’. Kidnapper has taste.

Anyway, they needed more scenes with Neco as a prisoner and Fatos as the one who brings him food, maybe even bandage some wounds. As mentioned earlier, this show should have been about the never ending circle of revenge. Neco, while hostage, promises to kill Ramo.

The show goes with the mafia/gangs saying the only way this feud will end is if Ramo marries Sibel and Neco has to marries Fatos . Okay, so love the plot, not the execution. In the series, the two barely have any scenes until Fatos shoots him and then the families decide... ‘hey there this thing called... a divorce?’ And now the couple are separated. So, the show failed to take full advantages of the marriage plot. At the moment, up to Episode 11, Neco is in love with Fatos , she is pregnant with Boz’s child and has no feelings for Neco. Neco is obsessed with Fatos and his love comes off as childish and selfish.

And that’s the thing, the actors and their chemistry is what is making NecFat, because the script and series give them nothing. I mean, Neco gets kidnapped and you think this would be a good moment for Fatos to be worried about Neco, but nope - nothing. She is in love with Boz and currently has no feelings for her husband.

The last time we see them is when Neco, after putting doubts in Boz’s head about the father of Fatos’s unborn child, tells Fatos that Boz shouldn’t have asked the question about the paternity. He says he would never had asked such a question. He tell her that he accepts her and is willing to do anything for her. His love is so big that he will look after both her and her unborn child. Neco states ‘you and the baby could be my family”.

Awww... I love this. This is an awesome moment - when isolated. Neco is in this 110%, while Fatos is not even on the same wavelength. So his declaration isn’t shown as earth shuttering to Fatos . That’s where we end with them. She isn’t seen reflecting on it and it doesn’t seem she will be Team Neco any time soon. Also, the episode/season ends with Neco setting a trap for Ramo so don’t think Fatos is jumping into Neco’s arm anytime soon.

If the series was called Neco.

This show would have been my jam if the whole Ramo/Sibel story was cut. Have Ramo already married - I don’t care. The first episodes ends with Ramo killing Neco’s father. Wow, a revenge story where the revenge has been accomplished. What’s next?

NECO!

Now Neco - the coward, womanising, good-for-nothing, son must take his father’s place. Same as the original where he tries to run and gets caught. He gets bargained back by, now, the granddad. There is a scene, in the original, where Neco is at his father’s funeral and has his head down low. His grand-daddy reprimands him - saying he is now the head of the family and his head should be held high. Boy can’t even grieve at his own father’s funeral. Explore that!

Have the plot about ending the feud with marriage. Have Neco and Fatos against it. How can they marry into the family that killed their fathers? Also, have it that when Ramo finds out that Boz and Fatos are in love, Ramo makes Boz promise to let Fatos go. Pretty much a ‘you owe me for all the things I’ve done for you over the years.’ Fatos begs Boz to runaway with her, but he can’t go against Ramo. Boz chooses Ramo over Fatos . Fatos is heartbroken. This will also show Ramo as a complex character and allow Fatos to see the cracks in her relationship with Boz (which I will mention later).

Also, Neco needs a sidepiece. Again, they say he is a player but we never see it. Have a sidepiece which he promises that won’t end because he is married. It will also give jealousy moments for Fatos. We see both characters coming into this marriage with no intention to fulfil it. Fatos is there to find out/spy if Neco’s family plans to attack, and Neco uses Fatos as a bullet proof vest, so Ramo won’t kill him.

So, like I mentioned about his conversation with Sibel about how he ran away -have the conversation with grand-daddy or mum, but then have Neco have nightmares about that day his dad died. In his dreams his father says Neco is the reason he died. If he was a better son, Boz wouldn’t have laughed, Neco wouldn’t have insulted Boz, Boz wouldn’t have beaten him up, and Ramo wouldn’t have killed Cengiz. He calls Neco a coward for running that day.

Pretty much, Neco subconsciously blames himself and believes by killing Ramo he will be the son his father needed. You could also have Ramo have similar dreams in the first episode with his father about getting revenge. This would show that the characters are haunted by their fathers and revenge.

When Neco and Fatos share a bedroom - obviously after bickering who has the bed. Fatos wakens up from the floor by Neco night terrors. He keeps saying ‘baba’ and ‘sorry’. Fatos , insensitive to Neco, wakes him up. Neco, trying to hide his insecurities leaves the room - instead sleeping on the couch in the living room or something. Fatos therefore gets to see a broken Neco and sees the consequences of revenge.

What I love about how Neco’s character is protrayed in the show is how awful he is as a gangster, but wants to prove he is capable. This needs to be explored more and should the basis of NecFat.

Neco’s family, and society, expect him to be this masculine macho man, but the series presents him as this broken child, just wanting his family to say ‘I’m proud of you’. Neco has a desire to succeed where others say he would fail. And in the show he fails a lot.

What I would love to see is him succeeding in something that is more ‘feminine’, in something that his family doesn’t recognise. I’m not trying to stereotype gender when I say feminine. In contrast, I want to see them challenge gender roles. So what do I mean by this?

Like, have Neco have a hobbie that is incredible ‘unmasculine’ or just simply cute and adorable. A contrast to the ‘masculine macho man’ image he so wants to project. These could be writing poetry, painting, playing a classical instrument; but my personal favourite (I’ll explain why later) - baking.

(Author’s Note: I’m ashamed/proud of the time I spent making the above image)

Maybe it is the fangirl in me, but I would love to see ‘badass’ Neco stress baking. But why do I think a hobbie is needed for Neco? It shows softer side to him, and that he is good at something. But his family had never supported him and instead puts a gun in his hand and forced him to kill someone.

Also, this would allow an opportunity for a scene where Fatos smells something delicious and gets out of her room. She goes downstairs to see Neco stress baking - maybe he has gotten up from a nightmare or something. Fatos, realising it’s Neco goes back, but Neco tells her to eat something, because he’s going to throw it away anyway. While eating Neco’s baked goods (hehe...), Fatos and Neco converse - obviously ending in a fight. Fatos leaves. Neco leaves some baked goods at Fatos’s door and throws the rest away.

Why is this important? Well, when Fatos goes back home, whenever she eats she thinks about Neco’s food. She misses it and you can have cute moments when Neco gifts her his baked goods. Also, there could be a moment where Fatos compliments him and either says “you’ve done good’ or ‘I’m proud of you’. Awwww...

But the main reason is this...

Back to what actually is happening on the show. So, as mentioned earlier, the cracks in Fatos’s relationship with Boz. When the aunt finds about Boz and Fatos, Fatos says that, after Boz almost getting killed, she wants to marry him and have a safe life. The aunt says that can never happen. When you marry someone from this lifestyle, death is always lurking around.

We see this come up later on when Fatos says to Boz that when they get married they can be a normal married couple. Boz says that this is normal for them. He will continue to risk his life but that they will continue to love each other until death does them part. Through these scenes we see that Fatos doesn’t want to marry into the life of crime. She wants a ‘cookie cutter’ marriage.

Therefore, Neco by not fulfilling his families wishes will actually be accepted by Fatos. While Neco doesn’t belong in the life of crime, Fatos doesn’t want to live in one. In short - they will leave the crime world and Neco can open a bakery in the country side, or something, with his wife.

Pretty much, ‘Neco’ (if the show was called Neco) would go on a journey of Neco - the coward, womanising, good-for-nothing gangster - trying to get revenge but realising that this revenge won’t end. His dad killed Ramo’s father, Ramo killed his dad, Neco killing Ramo would lead to someone killing him. Fatos, and their love, will show him he can be something else and that he chooses his destiny.

Overall, Ramo isn’t a good show and I am way too obsessed of what this show could of been than what it is. Though I love the actors and NecFat, the chemistry is good and it is using one of my favourite tropes, the relationship is losing potential through bad writing and plotting.

Don’t know when we will see this show back on air, but when we do, I hope NecFat becomes less ‘forced’ and more mutual.

Thanks for reading another one of my rants! What did you think about Ramo and everything I have written. Let’s dicuss!

#ramo #turkish series #turkish shows #ilhan sen #neco #neco ve fatos #NecFat #xenophanatic

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thewritingginger · 5 years ago

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Fluff Alphabet - Lucifer

Thank you anon for you request :3 Since I don't know much about Belphegor yet here's the fluff alphabet for our boy Lucifer.

Much love to you too babe 💛💛💛

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A ctivities - what do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

- Lucifer will alway enjoy a nice cup of tea with his s/o while talking about their day and upcoming plans Or just sitting in silence while each one does their own thing. Just being alone in each others presence is soothing enough.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

- Lucifer thinks his partners mind is the most beautiful thing about them.

- He admires his s/o’s ability to make tactful decisions with common sense

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

- Lucifer would try and gently walk his partner through their panic attack.

- During these times he is more patient then anyone has ever seen him with someone

- Will ask if they want space or not, as a way to make sure he’s helping them in ways that are best suited for them.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

- He imagine him and his s/o raising a family, maybe 2 or 3 kids

- In a beautiful home, with out his brothers (not that they wouldn't be in and out of it all the time.)

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

- Lucifer is usually a dominant force in his life and relations, but with the person he loves he has found a way to have a bit of a balance and finds that he doesn’t Always have to be in control of everything with them in his life.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

- Lucifer will try to shut down any fight he deems unbeatable for his partner

- Wont be one to yell unless pushed far enough

- Usually will walk away if the argument is going no where

- You will have to come to him to resolve it (unless he really feels he was in the wrong and/or hurt you with what he might have said)

- Wont be one to hold a grudge

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

- He may be too prideful to say this some times but, he feels very lucky to have you in his life.

- The way you can connect with him the way that you have truly shocked him when he really realized what he had with you.

- “I didn't think a human could do this to me, but I would want anything else.”

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide form their s/o? Or do they share everything?

- It is rather hard for Lucifer to bare everything to his partner not because what's he may be hiding is bad but just to try and avoid embarrassment or potential judgment, his pride can really get in the way even with you.

- But the only things he may ever keep secret is things portioning to work

- He values honesty and expects it from both parties

I nspired - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

- His s/o really helped loosen him up a bit and bring out a bit of a softer side (not that he won’t whip out a can of whoop ass when necessary)

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

- Does get jealous but in more of an irritated way

- When he sees someone flirting or being a little too friendly to his liking with his partner he will be calm and collected but you know inside he is seathing

- Very intimidating (more than usual)

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

- A very passionate kisser

- Your first kiss together stunned you, not because it was bad but bc it really took your breathe away.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

- Lucifer confessed his love in the garden in the moon light (too cheesy?)

- Holding your hand telling you how you made quite the feat to get a demon like him to fall for you,

- “I never in my life thought a human could conquer me in such a way that you have.”

- And planted a soft kiss upon your rose petal lips, the feeling of electricity crossing through you both, those currants finally meeting, intermingling in a passionate tango that he wishes will never end.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

- Lucifer always knew he would probably get married but to who was the big question bc he isn't just gonna be with anyone

- The marriage b/w you two is pleasant

- At first (including in your pre-marriage relationship) the amount of time he spends working and away from home was pretty hard. You understood he had an important job and a lot to do but there were a few arguments about how you hardly get good quality time together.

- But after that's figured out and a balance is made its pretty good

- He proposed to you after a romantic candlelit dinner he set up for you two

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

- Nicknames you have for him: Luci, | Honey, |

- Nicknames he has for you: Love, | Dear, |

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

- The only other person that can really see it is none other than Diavolo

- He expresses it by being a bit more accommodating to you, to make are you are happy and comfortable.

- But he is more so private about it (mainly before others knew about your relationship/ it was official)

- He is just over all a bit gentler with you

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o on front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

- Isn't making out with you but is proud to have you with him

- At parties he’ll have you on his arm and dancing with you close whilst looking lovingly in your eyes, a gentle curve playing his lips. Leaning down to press a kiss to your hand to cheek.

- Very gentlemanly

Q uirk - Some random ability they have thats beneficial in a relationship?

- His ability to organize and plan things is amazing

- Planning for important meetings and finances for big things (like a house) is usually left to him to crunch the numbers and get everything situated.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

- On a scale of 1-10, He’s measuring in at about a strong 8

- Wooing you is something he is very good at

- Candlelit dinners, with soft music playing in the background, Champaign and strawberries

- Dresses nicely for you, (he usually dresses nicely but still lol) has gotten you a little something to wear for when you go out as well. Complementing you on how beautiful you look in the dress he had chosen for you.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

- Will push his s/o to go after what they want

- Wont pressure them but tell them, if they want to do it they can! They just have to put action into it.

T hrill - Do they need to try new things to spice out their relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

- Both

- There are certain things he wants to keep routine, like his mornings and nights with you (getting up and going to bed)

- But where you go on date and how you spend time alone (wink wonk😉) chances up when things get too repetitive

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

- In the beginning of your relationship it was a bit hard for him to truly understand you

- Not meaning to be apathetic at times, bc he does care about you and your well being but he hasn't had a relationship with love like this before

- Showing his emotions doesn't come naturally to him either so helping you with it can be a bit daunting (even to the great Lucifer lol)

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it thats worth in comparison to other things in their life?

- You are pretty important to him

- I wouldn't say more or less than his work (cuz thats hella important to him too)

- He really believes he is good at separating the two

- Honestly he is, for the most part.

- There may or may have been a few times where he was a bit lenient with you when it came b/w you and his work. Like maybe there was a time when you were really missing him and have been having a bad week and you asked to come see him at work or he came home. He allowed you to come to his office and ended up sitting on his lap with your arms wrapped around his neck, and your head resting on his shoulder. (He would be lying if said he didn't like it and wants you come over and do that from time to time)

W ild Card - A random. Fluff Headcanon.

- You and Lucifer have these little habits you do in the mornings.

- Every morning (or almost every morning) when you get up, usually Lucifer gets up before you, you go down stairs to meet him in the kitchen where you both sit down at the table and drink coffee he had made for you both. You spend these early morning moments alone to talk about your day and maybe even any dreams you might have had the night before. The alone time you have in the mornings together is very precious to him and you get to see the softer side of Lucifer, with sleep still in the corners of his eyes, still in his night clothes. Seeing you first thing in the morning before anyone else is something he never wants to stop doing.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

- Much more affectionate than his brothers and others think (besides Diavolo probably)

- Night time snuggles are a thing

- At night when you two are falling asleep he will hold you against his chest, stroking your hair lovingly. Maybe a gentle kiss here or there

- Holding your hand

- Kissing your hand

- His affection comes out in very simple &. soft gestures

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

- He is the best at coping out of the brothers

- Understands and can respect that you need time, either alone or for work/school

- Might send you a message here or there checking up on you or updating you on how his work is going.

- Don't get it twisted tho, he does have his moments (maybe not often) but moments when he just needs you with him/ really wants to be with you while he's at work/working or you’re out.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, whaat kind of?

- If you’ve made into his heart and really earned his trust and respect

- He will go great lengths for your relationship

- Makes sure that you’re happy and comfortable

- He even will try to change (idk if thats the right word to use but maybe better himself but idk 😅) for you (not who he is and personality wise) but his approach and how he speaks to you (like in an argument or when he disagrees, doesn't just shut you down he will try to hear you out)

- But if he sees that someone doesn't put effort in or wrongs him or just isn't compatible with him and what he wants than he will let them go.

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If you’re reading this I hope you liked it and have a marvelous day.

If you have any ideas of what I should write next, I am gonna try and do some Valentines themed works for the month of February so I’m open to suggestions.

💛 ~

#obey me #obey me game #shall we date obey me #obey me lucifer #shall we date #shall we date lucifer #lucifer #fluff alphabet #fluff #request

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 4 years ago

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Witness State & Coup de Grâce | Feeding Habits Update #3

Hey People of Earth!

Before we get into this update, TRIGGER WARNING that this chapter discusses attempted suicide, mental health issues, animal cruelty, toxic relationships, and some nods to starvation, so if these are topics you’re sensitive about, I would skip out on this update!

This chapter was a slight nightmare to draft as it went through many, many iterations due to a real struggle to attain the desired emotional arc, and also because of a few logistical problems. In total, it’s about two and a half months of work as it combines some scenes from the old chapter two while also patching areas I cut with new content. Despite the difficulties, I am so happy I pushed through because the final product is quite strong. Here’s a scene breakdown:

Scene A:

We start at the “beautiful place” AKA the cove Lonan and Eliza frequently visit. The last time we’ve seen Lonan was at the end of chapter two, when he had his mild “public freakout moment” on the steps of a cathedral.

On the beach, he rests on the shoreline while reflecting on all the things he’s been tormented by since chapter two (wicked children, fathers, parenthood etc).

He sees an illusion of his father who is obviously not there (he’s very dead!) which propels him to converse about him with Eliza (remembering that Eliza and Lonan’s father were once romantically involved).

This conversation goes south as Lonan is able to unpiece some of Eliza’s mistruths until Lonan finally admits he wants to see his father again, insisting he’s still “alive” through the darkroom abandoned in Oregon him and Harrison failed to destroy in ch. 1 of Moth Work.

Scene B:

Lonan watches a moth through the window (that moth motif tho). Here he recounts what occurred at the hospital in ch. 2--the mother and her three kids taking him there, and then eventually being whisked away by Eliza.

Lonan heads to the kitchen to drink an acetaminophen but quickly realizes he’s not alone in the main apartment. His father sits on the couch looking over photo albums, each leaf holding the same photo: the postcard of Eliza that Harrison initially finds in chapter one of Moth Work. This vision obviously does not exist and is prompted by sleep deprivation but he doesn't know that lol.

Seeing this photo and his father prompt him to believe that he can only get away from this feeling of being haunted without Eliza in his life and further bad decisions ensue which I won’t get into!

I explained the meaning of the title HERE.

Excerpts:

Here’s the opening bit which is the most recent addition to the chapter:

The water is never murky, but today it doesn’t sparkle. Like it’s taken a low dose of cyan, it foams pale against the shore, an offering that wets the tips of Lonan’s shoes. He sits under the cove with one hand pressed into the current, each singular wave like a finger tottering over his veins. Today, their beautiful place is only an arched wall of stones and roily ocean.

Eliza is sunbathing. She lies on her back in the centre of the cove, where its mouth opens to a ceiling of sun. On the drive from the hospital, they both remained silent, Eliza’s hands taut like leather around the steering wheel, and Lonan’s head soldered to the cool window. Even when she pulled into the lot of a diner, named after a vague Canadian city or perennial flower, she said nothing, exiting the car to return to it with two crayon-coloured slushies, his red, hers orange. By the time she pulled up to the beach, her drink was half empty, his fully melted, urging against the brim of the cup. He followed her when she exited the car, parked against a row of pebbles, and placed his hand palm-first against the water the moment she lay against the sand and closed her eyes. Now, water puckers over the shoreline and between each of his fingers, a sort of absent massage. The water is a dull, vitamin-like blue. Warmer than he’s expected for the middle of February, pleasantly pruning his fingertips.

This is a direct continuation of that:

The sun has started to set. It flares against the horizon, its orange singeing the water’s blue. Like in front of the church, it fills him, its heat a comfortable grip around his throat. Though it should remind him to keep awake, its warmth lulls him closer to the sand until he rests his head just where the water laps. He knows it says nothing. He knows he has not slept in days. But to him, its rays nurse his skin like the loop of a nursery rhyme, and when he is parallel to the sky, he closes his eyes and welcomes the sun like it’s an infection. As colours pulse underneath his eyelids, water soaks the crown of his head, and it truly is like being buried at sea, just him, the sun, and the water at his perimeter.

The next chapter in this update is chapter four, aka Coup de Grace. This chapter was an absolute joy to write after struggling to get a handle on chapters two and three, and I’d consider writing this chapter to be, by far, the best writing sessions of my life. In this chapter I feel I really figured out the “crux” of Lonan’s character/his darkest secret, and that’s essentially that he believes all children are the wicked stems of adults, a belief he actually doesn't want to have, and actively combats until he sort of becomes absorbed by it. I learned a lot about my boy in this chapter and learning such important details about a character I’ve been writing for five years feels like a gift!

This chapter plays with form/the timeline a bit because we jump around on the timeline, almost like a movie that begins at the end. This was difficult to do in fiction, but I think I pulled it off, and am really happy with the chapter. Bear with me tho as this breakdown may be confusing:

Scene A:

We start with Lonan rapidly making his way to his father’s darkroom which sits in the middle of a forest. He’s brought supplies with him to destroy it.

The first line of this chapter mimics the first line of Moth Work, which you’ll see below.

Scene B:

We jump back in the fictive past to the morning that would’ve occurred right after the end of chapter three. Lonan goes about his morning routine but is disrupted by a loud thud from outside. Anya, the woman he’s befriended from chapter two, has jumped from the roof of the apartment complex. This attempt is unsuccessful.

His first reaction is to run to Anya’s apartment to see if her son, Joey, is okay.

Scene C:

Less of a scene and more of an internal monologue of Lonan reflecting on Anya’s attempted suicide, and that he feels in some ways, she’s administered her own “death blow”.

Scene D:

Eliza takes Lonan to his father’s cabin to “get him away” from what’s happening at the apartment since he’s really taking the news badly.

Eliza tries to get Lonan to eat something because he hasn’t eaten much since Anya’s news, and they have a conversation about Eliza’s motives in volunteering Lonan to help Anya in the first place.

Scene E:

A flashback where 14-year-old Lonan and his father are at the cabin, about to kill a fish using the ikejime method. His father has informed him the fish is dead, but Lonan knows this is very much a lie.

Scene F:

The fictive present, where Lonan lies on a couch inside the cabin, Eliza tending to a fire. He has a bad feeling (he’s right about that lol)

Scene A2:

We continue the events from scene A as Lonan enters the darkroom, only to find out it’s been cleared out save for three pictures hanging that tell a story and reveals a lot of Eliza’s secrets.

All you need to know about these photos is that it makes their romance feel somewhat like a lie lol.

Eliza finds him at the darkroom despite telling him not to go alone, and Lonan tries to process the new info/secrets revealed.

Scene G:

In the fictive present, Eliza cuts off Lonan’s hair and together they burn each weft. They discuss a few things (his father, the women he’s befriended, future children, mating habits of the praying mantis)

Scene E2:

Back to the flashback where Lonan and his father have killed, cleaned, and eaten the fish. They rinse their hands off in the lake before his father knocks them both into the water.

Excerpts:

This is the opening, ft. the mirroring first line which makes me a lil too giddy:

The darkroom isn’t haunted, but a dead man owns it—and he knows exactly where to find him. Through the woods, Lonan brushes past bushes of gooseberries and wild rhubarb, a gas can sloshing rhythmically in his hands. In his teeth, he holds his flashlight so its beam brightens the pathway. It is not yet dawn.

This is a description of the darkroom that leads to the end of the scene:

He shouldn’t know where he’s going. The forest is so dense and unanimous, a duplication of itself, nothing more than repetitions of the same tree, same flower, same stream. But he doesn’t need to see to know where his feet take him—he doesn’t even need the flashlight. He’s memorized the direction to the darkroom like the pattern of veins on his own arm.

He is not surprised to see it still stands. As if protected from rain, thunderstorms, the fallen trees that crisscross at the walkway; it’s always been a divine place. The air is damp, and particles of mist cling to his throat.

He sets the gas can in front of the steel panelling that makes the door with urgency. He does not need to rush but cannot take his time.

Wildflowers burst from in between the cracks of concrete the shed sits on and he knows each species like they’ve been bred in his blood. Wax flowers, thistles, clusters of asters he’d sometimes gather as a boy and leave as offerings in the heart of the forest’s most prominent clearings, like an offering, or a ransom.

Lonan kneels once the first thread of sunlight leaks between the whisper of trees. He is familiar with this forest, the cabin not too far away, the messages the water speaks to him when he sits at its edge most nights, why the darkroom was his father’s favourite place and why it always will be. So when sunlight hits his eyes, he presses his fingertips against his lips, and looks to the sky for mercy.

Lonan watching his fave TV show that leads into Anya’s jump:

He turned the television onto its usual program while on his last three mandarin segments and looked on as a herd of caribou dotted a waterway. They moved like the current, pattering along the prairie, worriless. He should have heard the part where a wolf caught up to the herd, the same wolf that would later go on to single out a young fawn and silence it with two teeth in its throat like bullet wounds. He should have seen the part where the prey was consumed, its flesh a desperate shade of red. But the thud distracted him. Maybe not even a thud, more like a crash. A sound he felt in his temples, a ringing in his ear, like a chickadee. Lonan set the skin of the mandarin onto the coffee table and stood slowly. It’s his body that moved him, no force of the mind, toward the balcony. In one movement, he unlocked and shoved open the glass sliding door, rucking it forward with his body weight when it stuck. On his lip, he tasted citrus and salt, a mixture of fruit and sweat.

He heard death before he saw it. The way each identical sliding door of the apartment units around him shook open, just like his. What a woman on the sidewalk declared, her tone so shrill, he couldn’t tell if she was delighted or horrified, something like, “I thought she was a bird—I thought she was a gift from heaven.” The garbled sound of an infant, confused by the sound concrete makes when a human batters it.

We get Lonan’s first response and some Joey and *that stunning motif tho*:

Lonan did not deescalate the stairs to the ground floor to join the growing crowd. He did not call an ambulance or rush to perform CPR. He ran upward, scaling flights of stairs as if airborne, with little effort. Once he reached her unit, it was the tin of madeleines he noticed first, sitting unopened, untouched, dare he thought, neglected on her welcome mat. It’s this that lulled him, freezing him in place for a moment. He recollected nothing of bringing the madeleines to her the evening previous, of leaving them neatly tucked against her straw welcome mat. Innocently idle there, his gift unrecognized.

Joey sat on the couch. The television was on, projecting technicolor polygons onto the boy’s face. Lonan did not register what it was he watched, which animated shapes pounced and danced on screen. Joey did not cry at first. He sat, staring wondrously at the screen like it was a trap door to a different dimension. The socks secured around his miniature feet looked freshly ironed, and his hair smelled like his mother did when Lonan first met her—like coconuts.

The buzzing of onlookers and neighbours sounded like the caribou running. A constant drumming of a snare, a guttural kind of ambience. He thought of Anya the day previous, her desperate excitement to paint over the wall, the way she mixed that orange juice drink, incredulous, experienced. He thought of the sourdough he never picked up, and there on the counter they sat, one torn down the middle like it was ripped bare-handed, the other skewered with a chef’s knife. He thought of Anya’s hospitality, her coy excuses to help them both avoid embarrassment, the way each part of her apartment transformed into gold. He thought of their conversation, Anya’s initial instruction when she left him alone with her son. So when Joey cried, Lonan knew exactly to reach for the remote and tick the volume up until his sobbing quieted, like the last few minutes of a rainstorm, passionately loud, then stunningly silent.

Here we briefly reference 2 Kings 21:6: “And he burned his son as an offering and used fortune-telling and omens and dealt with mediums and with necromancers. He did much evil in the sight of the Lord, provoking him to anger.”

Anya will never be the mother she once was, in the capacity she longed to be. Joey will grow up without a father and with a mother who cannot mother him in the ways she’d always hoped; he’ll have no one to recreate. That is the real loss—what could have been. Anya burned herself into an offering, administered her own kill shot, provoked her own fate; either life or death, and her fate chose neither.

The following mirrors something Lonan’s sister, Reeve, says in Houses With Teeth about hunger:

The day Anya jumped from her balcony onto the sidewalk below, Eliza took Lonan to his father’s cabin. In a daze, he watched her pack a bag with enough things to tide them over for a month, and in that same daze, they reached the cabin before sunset. That night, Eliza rifled through the cabinets to put together a meal, and her findings assembled as a can of tuna topped with crumbles of saltines—cheap take on a deconstructed pâté.

She served him his dinner on a set of plates he vaguely recognized—terrazzo with a scalloped edge, maybe held a scrambled egg or halved tomato when he was a child. He stared through the French doors, down to the water that padded below. Even when she tried some for herself, putting on her enjoyment in exclamations like “It’s a culinary masterpiece. Refined. Daring. A little spectacular,” she couldn’t convince him to eat. His appetite disappeared when Anya fell from the sky; there would be no hunger as penance.

This is the fish flashback:

Lonan knows the fish is not dead. He is fourteen but not naïve. Sun warms the back of his neck; maggots shimmer over the gummy slick of the water’s surface. Today is what someone would describe as the perfect day. Trees whisper secrets amongst the spines of their leaves. Birds teeter on the neck of birch trees. A butterfly dusts its wings of the shore’s sand and nips at his childish knuckles.

The fish is not dead. This is fact. In his palm, it expands, its gills like the crescent cut of the moon. The fish is not dead. Its mouth kisses the air like it’s a divine thing, each blip of its lips greedy, like the air tastes of gold. The fish is not dead. Its scales grate against Lonan’s palms, shimmering, its prettiness its last defense mechanism. The fish is not dead.

More with this fish memory:

“It’s dead. It does not even know the taste of life. Why save it?”

“I don’t want to save it,” Lonan says. His father’s wedding band digs into his forehead. To an onlooker, it may look like he’s about to dip him forward into the water, not a drowning, but a baptism.

“What do you want to do with it?”

Mourn it, he wants to say. Pity it. Sacrifice it.

The water whistles ahead of them, all the uncaught sunfish gloriously slashing naively in the water. They are unaware of their future demise, and the current demise of their loved ones, bodies all piled into the net as if on display. Lonan’s eyes sting with lake water, a streak of it dripping onto his lip so when his father reaches over him and secures his hand like a marionette around the screwdriver, he tastes salt and doesn’t stop tasting it.

And the end of part A of the fish memory that gets a little gory:

“It dies for us,” his father says, his voice dampened, like the distant blip of the lake. “So we give it mercy in return.”

As the screwdriver’s tip lowers closer to the fish, Lonan licks his top lip and asks, “Why do we need to show it mercy if it’s already dead?”

“Le coup de grâce. A death blow. To end the suffering of the wounded.”

“But it’s already dead.”

“Even the dead still suffer.”

Lonan does not register when the screwdriver impales the fish’s brain. He does not register when his father uses both their hands to slit the fish’s gills with a hunting knife or register the warm spurting of its blood up their knuckles. He stares at the fish’s glasslike eye, and as he and his father gut and scale the fish, puppet and puppeteer, he imagines the way he’ll feel with its head in his mouth.

Here’s a section from the fictive present:

Seven days after Anya jumps off her apartment’s balcony, Lonan lies on a pig’s leather couch his father once towed in from the city, a damp washcloth doused in eucalyptus essential oil pressed to his forehead.

At first, he fears the blinking comes from stars and that the cabin’s roof has been removed. But as he comes to, he smells it, the earthy crack of wood, the wisp of smoke, and he knows the light that pulses is a fire.

Lonan opens his eyes. As he’s thought, he lies on his father’s couch, essenced water dribbling down his temples from the washcloth. Eliza sits hunched on the stone of the fireplace’s ledge, her shoulders ripening under the orange heat. She’s burning something. The scent of scorched film is not unfamiliar to him. Like his mouth, it is dry and acrid, like the lick of a battery.

“You promised,” she says, as if sensing he’s awoken. Lonan does not move, even as the eucalyptus soak drizzles into his eyes.

Eliza no longer wears the parka. She’s stripped to a pearl-coloured camisole, her feet bare and propped flush against the brick. Glossy red lacquer colours her toenails, reflects the light in ovular patterns along its surface.

“A false witness shall be punished, and a liar shall be caught,” she says. “Proverbs.”

Going to leave this tea here casually:

The darkroom was misplaced. This was Lonan’s first thought when he yanked open its steel panel door and entered to reveal its contents. He did not need the glimmer of a flashlight to confirm his instinct. This was not the same darkroom he’d known as a child, or the darkroom he found his sister in, or the darkroom him and Harrison tried to destroy. Everything was slotted away, puzzled back into a configuration so unknown to him, so wrong to him, that the organization felt more like war.

Unlike when he and Harrison had last stepped foot inside of the darkroom, lugging the gas can along with them, not unlike what he did then, the photos that used to string clothespinned in no justifiable order were now taken down. The bricks of photo paper forming a maze around the developing tables, the amber bottles of chemicals—all of it, meticulously put back in places Lonan knew they never had. Under his boots, he did not feel the crunch of glass or slip of forgotten negatives. The darkroom had been swept clean.

Lonan dropped the gas can at the darkroom’s entrance, and removed the flashlight from between his teeth, thumbing it off. He worked his way around the shed like he’d been wounded, staggering, stopping to hold himself upright. Nothing was in its rightful chaos. Expired film lay stacked in a waste bin he’d never seen before. Bad paper cuts had been shredded. The photos he’d been so accustomed to not looking at, all gone, except for three, evenly clipped on the last three lines.

In the distance, an eagle cawed. The stream trilled. Tadpoles cricketed along the embankment.

Lonan approached the remaining photographs like they’d electrocute him. They were displayed one after the other, each on its own line. The first, a picture not unfamiliar to him. Eliza standing in front of a colourful street of vendors. Her loopy signature on the back a jagged indication of where she signed it, most likely wobbling on a train, or in the back of a taxi. He picked it off its clothespin and held it up to a hole in the roof where sun bled through. Nothing had changed from the photo since he’d taken it last year, and he was almost grateful she’d left it fossilized when she took it from his pocket. His gratitude did not last by the time he saw the second photo, so unexpected, he had to glance twice.

His father stood arced slightly behind him, his hands not visible. Lonan knew where they were—one secured around his forehead, the next urging a screwdriver up a stone. Sun scalded the water’s surface, wrinkled it with light. He remembered the song his father whistled as he fried the sunfish on a birch branch, truly less of a song and more of a reminder as he hummed up and down each minor scale, not once stopping to check his work, like he knew better than any instrument.

Lonan plucked the photograph off the line and held it closer. Though he was shaded mostly by his father’s back, he knew they were both in it. He shouldn’t have been surprised when he turned it over to find that same looping signature inked onto the back, smudged, like she’d forgotten to let the ink dry before handling.

It would’ve been easier to think about the second photo’s implications had he not seen the third. He could’ve excused it—a shot taken by a neighbour, though the cabin was remote. A shot that fired itself, the camera discarded on the ground, though it was taken at eye level. A shot signed with familiar initials E.L.K, as if those letters could stand for anything but Eliza Louise Kiang. It would’ve been easier to excuse her presence. To excuse her knowledge of him, to forget she’d ever told him she didn’t know his father had children, that she swore she’d never have been with him had someone informed her. It would’ve been so much easier.

The last photo was not a photo at all, not in the same capacity at least. The ink had gone purplish from the elements but swirled, almost horror-like around the photo’s frame. He could have pretended the white swishes of colour were strands of lace, or the awkward scratch of photo blur. He could’ve pretended to not understand. But there it was. The light funnelling down on the black and white shape so he understood it was not a photograph he looked at, but a child.

I have already shared this line a few times, but it’s my favourite thing I’ve ever written oops!:

When she looked at him, she grinned, and he turned his face to the ceiling where a hole in the roof caved around a branch. The sun’s eye disappeared behind the bullet of the wood, leaving only its outer edges to skirt the sky, a veiling that felt less like an eclipse, and more like evidence of an exit wound.

Obligatory “I’m the grass” shoutout:

“All people are like grass, and all their faithfulness is like the flowers of the field,” he says without once reading what’s actually written on the page. “Isaiah.”

“Isaiah was onto something, don’t you think? Poor grass, poor flowers—they all die in the end, but they have their God. They have their saviour. Everything dying except for God and his word.”

Eliza cuts another clump of hair. The fire welcomes its feed with haste.

“What does this have to do with children?”

“Do you feel you’re the God of these women, Lonan? Are you their saviour?”

Lonan shakes his head. “I’m the grass.”

And to finish:

After they eat the fish, Lonan and his father rinse their hands in the lake. This is respect. This is self-ordinance. This is a holy act.

His father stoops farther into the stream than he does, water nipping his knees. The sun has disappeared beyond the horizon, the sky now coloured periwinkle, silvering his hair. The taste of sunfish coddles Lonan’s tongue, oiled and briny with saltwater. They share a bar of orange glycerin soap, its scent cloying, like a rotting fruit basket. His father peels the bar between his palms, scrubbing until his fingers disappear under suds.

That’s it for this update! Hope y’all enjoyed! :) I’ll be back soon to update on chapter 5!

--Rachel

#writing #amwriting #writeblr #writerblr #writingupdates #fostered #mothwork #feedinghabits

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benlaksana · 5 years ago

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Coming Home

If there is one constant emotional response that my mind and body has conjured since coming back to Indonesia, it is anger. The reasons are plentiful. Chronic social and economic injustice, growing government oppression, sheer incompetency of many government officials, religious conservatism, as the proverbial saying goes, the list goes on.

And now with the coronavirus devastatingly consuming Indonesia and my government’s response has not only been weak and slow, lacking in coordination, but also simply at many times blatantly incompetent, anti-science and anti-expertise, resulting in the deaths of many including doctors and nurses, and with no full lockdowns initiated, no mass testing, just some half-baked government encouragement to physical distancing and good hygiene. I’ve observed that this time not only am I consumed with fervent anger but at many times deep sadness and crippling fear. An unholy trinity. In the name of anger, sadness and lingering fear.

Here’s some trivia and personal info for you folks. Did you know that Tuberculosis (TB) usually leaves scars on lungs it once infected and even though it’s been decades since my bout with TB, my lungs today, as you might expect, are not in tip-top shape. So that’s my pre-existing condition that at times, at many times, throws me into a panic and into a sudden cleaning spree. Wipe here, wipe there, disinfect door knobs, drowning recently handled money in warm soapy water. Irrational fear? On the contrary my beautiful friends. Indonesia has one of the highest Covid death rates in the world and with Covid patients on the rise but not at its peak, our already sparse healthcare system is already showing its cracks. Again, just to remind you, Indonesia is not even near the peak and we’re not even doing massive tests but everything is already hanging on a thread. Adding to this misery, the lack of some kind of social safety net has this climate of dread creeping up on me, this I acknowledge and I am trying as much as I can in keeping this at bay. Dread induced paralysis is not something I can to endure at the moment.

That’s some personal (slightly existential) rant right there.

But I understand that I’m lucky and painfully privileged to be able to work from home unlike so many others. So since at this moment my productivity rate is reaching zero and I’m basically pushing away work and other responsibilities as much as I can (which will probably come back and haunt me soon), let me just first reflect on life at the moment, updates on other things aside from this feeling of impending doom.

I’ve realized that I do not update this blog of mine as often as I would like to. Desires are kept as desires, and slowly wither away as desires. Yet as 2020 dawned on me and ages with uncertainty I spent my time re-reading old books that I have read many years ago and some of my old blog posts as well. Beginning with my first blog post which is now the ripe old age of 10 years old. One decade old. With the breakneck speed of change of today’s internet, 10 years is perhaps close to immortality in internet years. That being said, I still use Hotmail for my main email which I’ve had since 1998, the year I was introduced to the internet...and politics.

It was 13th of May 1998. I was at home with my dad as schools and offices were closed. The day before that soldiers opened fire at a student demonstration in front the University of Trisakti, Jakarta. Four students were killed, riots and demonstrations were happening everywhere the following day. So most people decided to stay home.

I remember my dad narrating the 1998 May protests as we attentively watched the event unravel through our old school CRT TV. My dad was thankfully percipient enough to refuse to go to his office during that week, but he did have friends in high places so it wasn’t much of a surprise if he received some kind of insiders info. I was about 12 years young at that time, on the cusp of teen hood. Puberty was on my mind, but that moment of watching a historical event unfold (which of course I did not understand it as something momentous) with my dad explaining with excitement of what was going on, even though I sure as hell did not understand the most of it, was illuminating. A father and son bonding session as result of reformasi. That sounded like a thesis topic: Family Relations and Social Change: Exploring Familial Relations through the 1998 Reformasi. (Hah!)

It did however shape my values and ideas that I still hold on to this day not only on politics per se but what I wanted or expected from this thing called the nation-state. I have to say that the May 1998 riots and demonstrations, the visualization of the riots on TV and my dad narrating in the background constantly interrupting the reporter, was the reason why I remember that day so clear. It made an indelible mark on me. I can’t even begin to imagine the impact to those who were physically effected by the riots, houses and stores burned down, people being raped and/or murdered..

About a week after the riots, on the 21st of May 1998 President Soeharto resigned after 32 years in power. I saw my dad cheering, again not fully grasping the reasons why, although he did try his best to explain. But it piqued my interest in politics, and being told that this this new thing (really new for me at that time) called the internet had much to offer about what was happening then, a few weeks after that, using my mom’s 36.6 kbps dial-up modem that I was awfully proud of, I registered for a shiny new Hotmail account. In hopes of joining mailing lists.

Wasantara-net, owned by Indonesia’s postal service, was my family’s choice for the internet service provider. I hated them as they were first-class in unreliability, but they were the only providers to be able to connect my house, on the edge of bogor, to the world wide web. My first few emails, if again I remember correctly, were chain mails about the May riots that I subscribed through questionable mIRC chats. Chats that start with A/S/L, age, sex, location, and either ends in hook ups, or being involved in something you’re too young or ignorant to fully understand.

Being young(er) and wanting to be part of something important is such a motivating factor in us actually doing and becoming something. With Carl Gustav Jung in mind, being young or old, we are but “modern man in search of meaning” and being part of something greater than ourselves does still give me meaning.

Fast forward a few decades, I’ve noticed that you get a raised eyebrow when you tell people that you’ve been using the same email for more than 20 years now, and you get double raised eyebrows and an instance of wincing, once they find out that said email is a Hotmail account. I am coming up with less and less excuses of why I haven’t migrated fully to other emails. But hey, you know what they say, habit brings comfort, repetition brings comfort, knowledge that arises from experience, from personal history, brings comfort. Although not always, the past brings comfort, while the future which is riddled with unpredictability is lamented and brings worry if not angst. Comfort though, I have come to understand, brings laziness and at many times dullness.

It is however always interesting looking at one’s own past and how it is intertwined with the past of others. I think I’ve written about this a number of times, and most of my writings are born from the act of retrospect. I often assume that I would not be able to talk about my future if I never look at my past, but what also happens is that I also end up talking more about my past or at the very most my present rather than talking/thinking about my future. Is that bad? Is that good? Am I shying away from discussions about my particular future? Maybe, I don’t have an answer to that now. But I know it’s there, tucked away in the back of my mind so I’ll probably talk more about that someday. And with Covid-19 destroying all of my plans in the near future that someday will probably come sooner.

Coming home to Indonesia, after a number of years abroad, I have also come to realize, sadly, that many of my social activities here in this space which I reluctantly call home, are more often than not, performative acts that I do not like performing for. I am basically faking it and I am doing this by fulfilling a cultural and social role that I necessarily do not have strong feelings for, or even just feelings for, but I have adapted myself into it. Somewhat. The reason why I do this is simply out of respect of others. Things that do not give meaning for me, has often been deeply meaningful for others and expressing it verbally does not bode well for maintaining relationships. I am happy to say that I have Rara to remind me when I have become too logical (I am happy to say that I have Rara to remind about many things in life) in understanding the meaning of culture for many. But it is, simply put, not without its personal struggles.

Being a son, being a son-in-law, being a younger and the youngest child in a family oriented, confuscianist-style, hierarchical, the-individual-is-constantly-attached-to-the-social kind of society. And then being a husband in a patriarchal society, where I am expected to fill a kind of leadership role that tires, bores and disinterests me.

(On a side note: for some reason, I have often come across this odd discussion of alpha/beta male/female amongst my peers here. Which I find interesting as it denotes a fixation to hierarchy and also the assumption of fixed temperaments/personalities of an individual across space and time. Are they basically saying that agency of one’s self perceived to be rarely possible? Is change and adapting to a situation impossible? )

Then without doubt as a citizen of a nation that I superficially identify with. How can I ever identify with a nation that happily and openly oppresses others for the sake of unity? And not only rarely admits it but even more rare tries to amend it. It is a simple rhetorical question.

In sum, I have to be honest with myself here, coming back home to Indonesia is not home for me and I don’t think it will ever be one. It is more of a burden than something that brings joy.

The food is great here and I have my family here which is also nice but life of course is much, much more than just culinary preferences or familial ties. I am losing my sense of self here, and it is destructive for me. I am losing myself.

Fully realizing this I was looking for a sense of direction when I reread some of my old already read books that once inspired and also my old blog posts these past few weeks. At the crux of it, this blog has always been for me. It is shared publicly in hopes of others sharing what they have learned through life and what I have done wrong in my life. And I have done many wrongs that have not been righted, some no longer even have the possibility of being righted.

Rereading my blog, I realize much like others, that our attempts in finding meaning, and our meanings when they are found are frail and delicate. It is constantly assailed and it is easily lost, and at times harder to find when lost. Life it seems always tries its best to rob you of meaning. Not because it is intent in doing so, but because the very nature of life is in its impermanence. Everything is impermanent including meaning itself.

Intellectually and experientially I understand this. But again like many, I’ve still tried to find meaning in others, and much like many I’ve lost these people in which I have found meaning in. This is the constant dillema as naturally social creatures.

It is perhaps in our nature to be contradictory, or to live in denial, to assume that meaning and the people or objects that give meaning is eternal.

Some of these people that I have acquired meaning from I have forever lost through death, much like so many people out there. I have also lost some rather unintentionally, such as due to spoken words that are not carefully thought out. Some by design, on purpose, with deep intent and thoroughly planned with precision execution, slowly letting go. At other times, a harsh break, a rude awakening on both ends, yet ending in a sigh of relief. As some relationships, although lush with wonderful memories, are never meant to last and can never be let to live in the future. Memories that remain as memories, stories of the past, that do not become worries of the present nor burdens of the future. Our understanding of meaning is often forced to change and to morph and at many times, to end. People and things that once provided meaning no longer do, as people and the things around us change. People including me.

I’ve changed, I know I’ve changed, I’m quieter yet more angry of the world, hopefully a bit more thoughtful of my words and actions. But one thing that hasn’t changed is how I am not done with grief, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be done with it. I’m not even sure if it’s actually grief. Because we all know that the tragedy of growing old, is the tragedy of unwillingly filling your life with regrets and maybe my grief is but a thin veil for my regrets.

One of my plants in my garden died today. A lush rosella bush that I was hoping to make some tea out of its beautiful red flowers. The days are drawing long, and hope is few and far in between.

Be well everyone.

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narutsuart · 5 years ago

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Updated Three Houses Top 10 Females List:

Just in time for International Women’s Day! I’ve been working on revising my list as much as possible in light of revisiting Three Houses, playing Ashen Wolves, and rethinking my love for each female character I put on my last list. I will this time do the my list from Tenth place to First place. Just a heads up my # 1 one spot has not changed so don’t expect some crazy surprise there.

Disclaimer: please don’t flame me or comment about how “WRONG” I am it’s just my personal opinion or preference. BE NICE! and maybe reblog or comment your favorite list if you’d like?

#10: Shamir:

My opinion Shamir literally has not changed. She is just a cool character, I love how despite her debt to Rhea she isn’t kissing Rhea’s ass like Catherine or Ciril. Did I mention I really don’t like them lol? She’s badass and she has an excellent character design. Perfect blend of sexy and badass.

#9. Bernadetta:

Bernie dropped another spot going from 8th to 9th. I still have an abundance of love for Bernie, and I want to protect her at all cost. I still hold the opinion that while she’s an absolutely hilarious character, she can still get repetitive and stale pretty fast upon replays. That being said when I was thinking of characters that might potentially drop to below my top ten I couldn’t reasonably see myself dropping her out of my top 10, as Bernie is still a genuinely enjoyable character, and I do have a soft spot for her.

#8. Sothis:

Unfortunately Sothis dropped down a bit no fault of her own, simply because I enjoy the ladies above her more. That being said I really do enjoy Sothis. Even though our time is brief with her, I really do love the snarky little goddess. It’s funny, last time I made this list I had gotten her Christmas altand expressed my excitement, but I didn’t have her Mythic version(aka original version). I just recently I finally got lucky, and pulled her Mythic version!

#7 Dorothea:

AHHH THE PITCH FORKS!! I’M SO SORRY!! I know! I know! WTF?! I honestly any think of a perfectly justifiable reason as to why Dorothea has dropped so low on my list. She went from 4th place to 7th place for those that don’t remember. I honestly feel disgusting for putting her so low....I absolutely adore her character, her design is absolutely stunning, and I still enjoy most of her supports, but honestly I can’t justify putting her any higher than the women above her on this list. Like many who have dropped lower in placement it’s of no fault of her own. I just happened to realize I love the women above her more. I still believe deserves all the happiness, love and care that she desires!

#6. Hapi:

Hapi is such a fucking gem, I don’t know if it’s just the dub but Hapi’s dialogue is just so ahead of its time period and I love it so much lol. She has some of the funniest quotes and her habit for nicknaming everyone is hilarious. I’m aware that it’s not a trait unique to her, but I’m of the opinion that her nicknames far surpasses Dorothea’s nicknames. Now if we we’re talking strictly design Hapi would place 4th out of entire female cast for me, and that’s impressive feat since Three Houses has an abundance of amazing designs. In fact if I was strictly talking design a lot of the placements on this list would actually change. For example Hapi would actually rank above Constance for me in terms of design, but is trumped by Constance in terms of character. I might do a separate list for “best” designs in the near future.

#5. Rhea:

I KNOW ITS BLASPHEMY I STILL have both Edelgard and Rhea in my top 5?!! As those who saw my last list can see Rhea’s placement has not changed. I love Rhea so much is because she’s the perfect foil to Edelgard. Rhea is an excellenty written character with a lot of emotional depth. She acts as a perfect foil for Edelgard’s character they are so similar yet so different. It also makes sense that she and Edelgard’s ideals would come to clash. I’m of the opinion that if Edelgard and Rhea just talked about their views it still would still not end well. Rhea sage guarded her fabricated history of Fódlan for a thousand years and would not just tell the truth because Edelgard called her out. She would’ve branded Edelgard a heretic and have her executed. That type of tranquil furry is honestly unsettling and I LOVE it. Btw the only reason she tells the truth in CS and VW is because in CS she doesn’t think she has much time left, and in VW she doesn’t have much time left and chaos is marching on Fódlan’s door. Likewise Edelgard would sympathize with Rhea’s past if she told the truth, but would insist that Rhea step down from power or tell the truth to the world which would still lead to conflict. I personally agree with Edelgard vision for Fodlan more, and personally think Rhea is unstable, and worst SOLE leader for Fodlan, but neither are evil people and I can empathize with their motives and reasons for doing the morally grey things they do. Neither of them “do nothing wrong” like people claim and in fact do a LOT wrong. It’s those wrong things they do that makes them intriguing characters, and more relatable. They also both have the potential to do so many good things for Fódlan depending on the route.

#4. Constance:

GOOD LORD Costance is truly a one of a kind. I was pro Constance since her design was first revealed in the Cindered Shadows DLC trailer. That being said never did I envision loving her THIS much! Her motivations are easily understandable, and her fall from grace makes even more sad when you realize that haughty attitude that she almost always has on display is due to her compensating for her lack of status. Constance is one of the funniest characters in the game to me and she came out AFTER the game lol. She’s an incredibly intelligent prodigy when it comes to all things magic yet she has this naivety that people are able to exploit like Yuri with the “bootlicking nobles” phrase. She takes it so literal that she tries it out for her self, and tries to make a way for the boots to taste better making it easier to lick their boots......I CANT EVEN!!... honestly Constance could top this list if it weren’t for her split personality..... don’t get me wrong her split personality when in sunlight can be funny every now and then, but honestly it does more harm to her character then helps it in my opinion. Her change in personality when in sunlight is implied that to be because of the trauma of the fall of House Nuevelle, but we never get any real explanation for it or anything implying she can overcome it. Its not expanded upon, and never treated seriously. In fact it’s played for laughs and it’s something people just accept as Constance just being Constance. I honestly felt Constance C rank support with Ferdinand was done so well. She calls him out for his usually insensitive comments about status and makes him regret his words immediately. I had so much respect for her in that moment, come the b-rank support she acts all submissive and praises the ground he walks on....which ruined the c-rank support for me tbh. That being said, as you can see based off her placement this trait of hers doesn’t ruin the character for me, just keeps her from being higher.

#3. Petra:

On a much lighter note, Petra is my 3rd favorite! If you notice she has dropped down from my second favorite spot. This is due to no fault of her own I, just happened to realize that I loved my number 2 spot more. With that being said Petra has still gotten the victory! Like I mentioned in my first list, Petra is just a delight. I love how she’s so dedicated, and always willing to learn. Funnily enough my initial expectation for Petra’s character pre-release was vastly different then what her actual character ended up being. She’s one of those character’s who’s design got revealed MUCH earlier than any details about her personality and her design gave me the impression that she was the aloof, intimidating, and serious type that doesn’t have time for making friends or fun. I don’t know if anyone else got this impression, but obviously I was wrong! Petra truly does remind me a lot of Starfire from the original 2003 Teen Titans tv show and kinda re-awakens that childhood cartoon crush in me lol. Petra is just awesome there’s not a single support I don’t like of her.

#2. Marianne

Now if you saw my old list you probably noticed that Marianne moved up a bit. Naturally I still love her design(I’m a sucker for light blue hair I think lol), but upon revisiting Three Houses I realized that leaving Marianne at 3rd place somehow didn’t feel adequate. Funnily enough she was technically the first person I S-ranked in Three Houses due to locking myself out of the Crimson Flower Route on accident. Honestly she has become my favorite character to S-rank in Three Houses even more so than my number one spot! Anyway my love for Marianne is very different for most character’s as she is one I feel can really relate to on very personal and emotional level. I’m gonna get real for a minute. I honestly I had been in bad place in my life recently. I had been feeling like the world has been crashing down on me. I have plenty of things to be happy for yet I often felt depressed. I’d often had “friends” call me out, saying I have no reason to be depressed, or that I have been blessed with so many things, and while I agree I’m very blessed, they couldn’t understand how I felt, as all they could provide was the view of an outsider looking in. While the action of suicide was something I never considered, I’d had been contemplating the value of my life or if it was really worth living. First want to clarify that I’m in MUCH better headspace than I was then. I definitely feel like I’m getting better. I have my ups and downs, but I’m currently making better friendships, I’m actively getting the help I need! I’ve always sympathized with Marianne, but now I can say that I really empathize with Marianne. When we take things at face value she seemingly had everything going for her, being brought up into the nobility, trained for success, and even having an extremely rare crest. By all means to an outsider looking in she had every reason to be happy. Of course while all these things sound nice especially in the context of the story they are in actuality a source for her depression. In her C-rank support with Ferdinand we see his confusion as to why Marianne dislikes being a part of the nobility. This support is one of the few times she expresses real anger, and is when expresses she never got to have what she saw as a normal life, she never wanted to be a part of the nobility and the weight and the expectations of being nobility was crushing her, as she had to adhere to standards of those around her. She was also taught to fear her crest as curse, so the blessing many commoners would be estatic to receive was thing she deemed as a curse. Over the course of the story and through her supports, Marianne begins to learn how to be more accepting of herself and gain more self-confidence. Naturally her timeskip appearance reflects this. She looks well-rested, expressive, and she genuinely seems more happy. I will never forget In her A-support with Byleth, that over the course of 5 years she had abandoned her depression and suicidal thoughts thanks to the genuine and long lasting friendship‘s she’s made and that she managed to uncover the truth of her heritage, and overcome the fear and hatred of her Crest. Her character arc is a very powerful thing to me, and is also example of what makes the 5 year timeskip so great. In addition to her character arc Marianne is just so cute, don’t get me stated on how adorable her habit of talking to animals is! Marianne is a fucking fantastic character and I love her so much.

EDIT: So I wanted to clarify that if I’m being honest Marianne and #1 spot are technically both tied as #1 me, and are so for very different reasons. For the sake of creating a Top 10 and to avoid a cop out list I chose to put her at second. To me Marianne is “BEST GIRL”. She’s my favorite female character to marry, she’s most endearing to me, she has like my third favorite female character design in all of Fire Emblem, and I relate to her on an emotional level. That being said this next character is “BEST CHARACTER” I like more for her role in the story, how her character is written, and how she was designed. Despite this I do not marry her NEARLY as often as Marianne. While I ship her with F! Byleth(OTP!) she’s not someone I personally would persue romantically. In other words Marianne is more my type and I tend to be biased with her while this next character is female character that I feel is the BEST WRITTEN and the female character I respect the most out of the cast.

#1. Edelgard:

Upon revisiting Fire Emblem Three Houses story as well as playing the Cindered Shadows DLC, nothing has changed, in fact my love and resolve for Edelgard has only been strengthened. I made a huge in depth posts for Edelgard a while back explaining her past, motives, and reasons for what she does. The posts had spanned multiple reblogs of details and clarification and I went over the typing limit in every single one. I won’t divulge further into all that. Like I mentioned last time I created my top ten list, aside from her being IN MY OPINION one of the best written female protagonists in Fire Emblem history, I absolutely love her design, its probably one of my favorite designs in all of Fire Emblem. That being said, If I had to say while she’s definitely close, she doesn’t have my all time number one favorite design, that spot goes to Azura from Fire Emblem Fates. Edelgard will always be my favorite Three Houses female character no matter what and I’m so happy she was brought into existence!

Well that’s my revised list, I had a lot of fun writing this list and I hope it was enjoyable for you guys to read as well! I would really love it if you guys comment or reblog with your own list of favorite Three House females! Y’know what?! Comment or reblog with your list of favorite females in the entire Fire Emblem franchise if you’d like! I’m very interested in seeing your lists Happy International Women’s Day!

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem three houses cindered shadows #international women's day #edelgard fire emblem #fire emblem marianne #petra fire emblem #fire emblem constance #fire emblem rhea #fire emblem hapi #fire emblem dorothea #fire emblem women

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phoenix-before-the-flame · 5 years ago

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Haha! It was me all along @phoneboxfairy !

Are you beshooketh?😏😏😏😏

I sure hope you are, and i sure hope that this was worth the wait (im sorry!)

Please enjoy!

Lucy grumbled quietly to herself, the bark digging sharply under her fingertips as she hoisted herself higher up the tree. Her foot almost slipped on a whorled knot that she guessed used to be a branch, snapped by time and sealed shut like an old wound that wouldn't allow her to step on it.

She did it either way though. Lucy steadied herself with a heart pounding eep! her foot finding purchase on the same spot, stilling in her journey to regain her breath and to keep her heart from climbing any further after the scare. She glanced up amidst the tangles of branches and thick vines reaching down towards her, and clouds of grayed leaves stretching further and further than she could possibly measure. A second sky. The thought made her lips almost quirk, taking note of the scattered slivers of silvered moonlight breaking through.

The bark cracked beneath her palms and her fingers sunk even further in for a hold as the broken pieces trickled away into the still air. She squinted, the moment of reverence gone and she grumbled again, reaching out for the nearest handhold.

Why was she even up here again?

Not too far above a branch shook wildly as something leapt towards Lucy, sending down a shower of leaves to nestle themselves in her hair. Alongside the rest of the leaves she'd gathered along the way. With a light grunt he landed with ease on a thick branch a bit closer to where she was, peering at Lucy owlishly through the gloom from his odd choice of position. He hung by the backs of his knees like it was nothing, barely even swaying in his upsided downedness. The green of his eyes were almost eerie in the darkness as they ran over her unblinkingly. His arms were crossed, head tilted in a silent question of 'you good?'

Right, Natsu asked her too.

It was well after the fire died down yet sleep had failed to claim her, staring blankly up at the paled clouds of leaves with a blankness on her mind that she couldn't quite place. Which was odd really, her mind felt so full but full of just, nothingness. Lucy's eyebrows knitted together in slight confusion at her thoughts, her attention shifting to the almost empty sleeping bag near her housed by a lone exceed who took it all in tow, sprawled out in content slumber in its center.

Weariness should've been on her, and it was- a weak thrum in her bones that was all too familiar but it didn't bring with it the calming lull of rest. Something that was happening all too frequently in the recent days. Sad now that she was getting used to it.

She didn't bat an eye when her partner dropped silently down in front of her, already used to his night time wanderings through the trees. It was something he always did during missions, getting a feel of each place and maybe snag a souvenir or two. He'd given her a blank look, though Lucy thought it speckled with concern as he silently pointed above. A second later he was already on the lowest branch, staring down expectantly for her to follow. And she knew he wouldn't budge unless she did.

Lucy fixed him with a slight nod that she was fine but his eyes narrowed disbelievingly, pointedly eyeing the freshly broken branch above her head.

"Do you need some help getting up Lucy?" His voice bounced around the air, sounding louder in her ears than it should be. "It's kinda a long ways up."

"I can manage just fine Natsu." Lucy responded. She sucked in a deep enough breath and hoisted herself higher, feeling his eyes upon her back as she continued her ascent. Silly as it may be she still remembered his relentless teasing on a mission a few months ago when she needed his help to get down 'cause a bandit left her stuck in a tree. And he still liked to bring it up with an all too gleeful grin.

So no, she'd make this climb up the tree to see whatever he wanted to show her without help thank you very much. No need to give him more ammunition for future teasings.

Lucy progressed smoothly without any mishaps, the repetitive motions almost calming as they started to come naturally, the crunch of bark under her palms a welcome sound. Natsu hung close from nearby branches, oddly quiet save for the few huffs and grunts between each jump.

He was being so cryptic, it almost had her worried at his silence and pinched brows. What was it he wanted to show her? He'd left the question relatively unanswered, giving her just another silent point to the sky then hopped along.

Treetops. Lucy silently corrected herself. The trees stretched on forever upwards and the forest they traversed through almost endless. She hadn't seen the sky in forever it felt like, only tasting its presence when it broke through the treetops.

Absently Lucy grasped for another handhold, fingers curling tightly on a thick branch that left her hold before she could even pull herself up properly. The arm that snuck itself around her middle was a familiar one, and Natsu snickered at her surprised squeak. "You made it up this far just fine. Lemme take care of the rest of the journey for ya."

Lucy opened her mouth for a quick retort but he cut her off as he easily clambered up the tree effortlessly even with an arm around her, wrapping a vine around his wrist to swing up and higher. They were moving faster than she could on her own and her hands cried out in relief at no longer having to grab at roughened bark. But she still wore a soft pout. He better not use this as fresh teasing ammunition.

A chill rushed over Lucy and she realized with a startled blink that they almost neared the top, the night breeze playfully nipping at her skin. She hadn't felt that in a while. The air on the ground was so still and dead. And as Natsu broke the pair through the treetops, stuffy. Lucy greedily gulped in a lungful.

It was cold, colder than she expected and from below it was a sky but now as her partner helped her up, she saw how far it stretched. The second sky now a sea of trees that seemed to curl into waves the further out it went.

It was beautiful.

Natsu slipped from her side and she cursed at his warmth leaving her so swiftly. Lucy took a step to follow behind him but almost tumbled face first into the leaves. Then the thought struck her. They were hundreds, maybe even closer to thousands of feet in the air. One wrong step could send her careening wildly to the forest floor. She quickly plopped herself down. Best stay put.

Better instead to watch her partner, better trusting of the trees and bounding across their tops, searching the skies intently for, something up there. Lucy's eyes flitted up. Cignus, Big dipper, Aquila, Orion. Everyone was out tonight with not a cloud in sight for them to shy away.

"There!" Natsu exclaimed, pulling her out of her thoughts with a jolt. He pointed excitedly at a cluster of stars, 14 to be exact that Lucy knew all too well.

"That's it isn't it?" He asked quickly. "Your favourite one right? Cephus?"

"Cepheus, and yeah." Lucy corrected, slightly confused. "What about him?" She stared at him rather blankly and the air turned somewhat awkward. Natsu's eyes roamed her face, finding only blank confusion that made his hand and shoulders fall. He pulled at his scarf.

"Nothing." Natsu said, the nonchalance in his voice painfully obvious. "I just thought it was cool is all." Lucy fixed him with a look, a well honed skeptical one that made him look away sheepishly to the night sky.

"C'mon Natsu, I know you didn't make me climb a tree just to see the sky." Lucy joked, picking at the leaves she was comfortably seated on. "There's always something more with you." Natsu's fingers ran through the tassles on his scarf, a habit he tended to do when he was mulling things over. He gnawed on his lip slightly, brows brought low in thought.

"Not….not this time i guess." He said simply, glancing back at her. A silence floated between his words before he spoke again, pacing atop the treetop. "We've been walking through these woods for days now trying to get to the next town and it feels like forever, and that we're walking in circles and i feel like it's kinda my fault since i made us miss the train and all and well-"

His mouth snapped shut with a sharp click! of his teeth and he shook his head hard to get rid of the rambling thoughts and he sat down.Natsu turned his head to her with fingers still tangled in the tassles and a heaviness in his voice.

" I just felt bad y'know?" He continued quietly. He kept a steady gaze with her but they shook, like his eyes desperately wanted to dart away. "Having ya stuck in these dark woods, and worse you're not sleeping much. It wasn't sitting right with me. And i know that this isn't a fix it to the problem, but if you're gonna be up all night then i made sense to me to at least let you see the stuff you love about it so much?"

Natsu's lips thinned, a tinge of darkness soaking into his cheeks when the last words left his tongue. He finally took the chance to look away, his eyes ducking low. "It sounds kinda stupid now that i said it out loud……" he mumbled.

Lucy watched as he ran a nervous hand through his tousled hair, shaking free the last of the leaves that made home there. And her lips quirked at the sincerity of his words

No. It's not." Lucy mused. "It's really thoughtful of you." Cautiously she stood on shaky legs, not quite trusting the thicket of closely knitted leaves and stumbled closer to him. "It isn't your fault for any of this. And i've just had a lot of…..nothing on my mind to think about. But it's really sweet of you to do this for me."

Lucy plopped down next to him and shoved his shoulder playfully, a relieved smile already growing on his face as he dramatically fell to the side with a laugh. She leaned back on her elbows, gazing thoughtfully up at the clear night sky. The moon was nowhere to be seen and yet, everything was so bright, the stars countless in their neverending clusters and the familiar touch of their light on her skin. She really did miss them.

"Hey Lucy," Natsu piped up beside her. "If you can't sleep again tomorrow i'll carry you up here again. If you want."

"And you won't let me climb up halfway by myself first?" She teased.

"Hey i was gonna carry you up from the get go but i saw that look on your face and knew you probably wouldn't let me even if i asked you on the ground." He smirked gleefully at her. "Am i wrong?"

Lucy stuck out her tongue at him. "Maybe. But i think i'd like that Natsu. I'd like that a lot."

#fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu fanfiction #natsu x lucy #ft nalu #ft natsu #ft lucy #natsu fairy tail #fairy tail lucy #hope ya like this!!!!!#nalu nerds #what a phoenix can do

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talabib · 4 years ago

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How to Break Free From The 9 to 5 Grind And Find A More Meaningful Life.

What did you do last week? Was each day about getting up, going to work and coming home exhausted?

Is your house filled with gadgets and toys meant to distract you from the dreadfulness of those 50-, 60- or 70-hour work weeks?

In case you haven’t realized this for yourself, there’s little happiness to be found in devoting your life to a job that only provides you with a paycheck. And to make matters worse, the meaningless things we buy to make the job easier to cope with only serve to clutter up our lives and cause more anxieties and distractions.

As these post points out, it’s time to reprogram our minds and bodies away from the corporate culture of fast-food, disposable goods and instant gratification. With some simple techniques and a bit of effort, you can reclaim your life, declutter it of all that’s hollow and useless, and refill it with meaning and purpose.

Money and stressful jobs are not keys to happiness.

Many people grow up with the expectation that getting “a good job” is everything. From this perspective, true “success” is based on how good the job is – which is largely dependent upon the size of the paycheck. But the truth is: money doesn't buy happiness.

Even rich people will tell you that more money comes with more problems, including being so stressed that you resort to comfort eating, waste money on meaningless gadgets and constantly think about the future while never enjoying the present.

Success often comes at another great cost: very few hours to spend with loved ones. Hired help raises many children from families of success-oriented adults, just so their parents can spend more time earning money.

So, more often than not, the thing that money really buys is unhappiness. Ask yourself this: Is any stressful job worth having?

Ryan Nicodemus asked this question while working at what many would consider to be a great job. He was even on the rise, getting promoted to a managerial position, but the role came with 80-hour work weeks and huge amounts of responsibility and pressure. What it added up to was debilitating anxiety, stress and depression.

Nowadays, Nicodemus believes there is no amount of money to justify the toll a stressful job has on your mental health. However, when you’re wrapped up in the job-is-everything mentality, it feels like you always need to make more and more money.

Both Nicodemus and his friend, Joshua Fields Millburn, thought they would be happy once they hit $50,000 a year. But after reaching that milestone, the goal quickly crept up to $75,000, then $100,000 and so on. At no point did they feel satisfied.

Part of the reason for wanting more was that, as their paycheck grew, so did their financial commitments and responsibilities – in the form of loans, cars and mortgages. Eventually, enough was enough and they both quit their jobs and decided to live on less money.

It was at this point that Millburn and Nicodemus finally experienced happiness. All thanks to their decision to adopt a minimalist lifestyle of working and consuming less.

But as we’ll see, the minimalist ethos is about more than money and work; it’s about letting go of everything that holds you back.

To begin your shift to minimalism, pay off your debts and declutter your surroundings.

If you were to ask yourself “What are the anchors that are dragging me down?” the answer might not be readily apparent. But there’s a good chance that you have some form of debt, be it a mortgage, credit cards or student loans, that weighs heavily on your well-being.

That’s why the first and most crucial step to minimalist living is to pay off all your debts.

At some point, you may have been fooled by credit-card ads or a banker telling you to take advantage of a certain mortgage, but let’s be clear: there’s no such thing as “good debt.” All debt is bad, plain and simple.

As Joshua Milburn was preparing for a minimalist existence, he followed a strict budget and spent two years saving as much as he could to pay off his debts. This meant a hundred weeks of no vacations, no restaurants and no luxuries of any kind. But it was worth every minute for the relief he felt in finally paying off his debts. He was now free to live the life he wanted.

While you’re decluttering your finances, you should also turn your attention to reducing your material clutter.

First of all, it’s important to recognize that your possessions aren’t a meaningful statement about who you are as a person. Instead, you should ask yourself whether your belongings truly help you live in the present or if they prevent you from doing so.

For decades, Joshua Milburn’s mother had four sealed boxes in her home that she never opened. They contained every scrap of work John had brought home from elementary school, from handwriting tests to drawings.

Millburn understood that she was hoarding these things in an effort to hold on to her little boy, but the cherished and meaningful things in life aren’t objects, they’re our memories and relationships. This doesn’t mean you need to throw away everything, but Milburn’s mom could keep one meaningful drawing in a frame rather than four sealed-up boxes.

By decluttering, we not only give ourselves more physical breathing room, but we also provide more mental breathing room. Having objects everywhere vying for our attention can easily weigh us down mentally.

Minimalism is also about reducing the amount of junk you put into your body.

There’s no shortage of diets or fitness programs out there. In fact, the sheer amount can seem overwhelming. But you can avoid trendy diets and temporary fixes by reprogramming the way you think about your body.

From now on, think of it as a machine: when you give it high-quality fuel, you’ll allow it to perform at its maximum potential. With this frame of mind, it should seem obvious that junk food, like processed and prepackaged goods, should be avoided.

This kind of food is full of additives and preservatives that add zero nutritional value to your diet. All they provide are empty calories, especially sugar, which are terrible for your health. Sure, these foods may taste good in the moment, but they can often make you feel awful afterward. So any temporary pleasure is far outweighed by the long-term damage they can cause to both your physical health and your mood.

A good decluttering regimen should also include dairy and bread. We’ve been eating wheat and pasteurized milk for a relatively short period in human history – only since the invention of agriculture. Our bodies were never designed to digest the vast quantities of dairy and bread contained in the average modern diet.

So, whether you have a gluten or lactose intolerance or not, you can benefit from cutting back on these foods and replacing them with natural whole foods like vegetables, fish and beans. Once you’ve made this adjustment to your diet, you’ll soon find yourself with a surplus of energy. And this is a good thing to have for the next step: getting the most out of your body.

Fitness is something that works best when you have a constant growth mind-set, which means you’re always aiming for more than last time – whether it’s a faster running time, more repetitions or heavier weights.

To adopt this mind-set, you need to demand more from yourself. To help make this happen, you can reprogram your thinking away from “I should...” to “I MUST...”

Don’t tell yourself “I should go out jogging three times this week;” instead say “I MUST go for a run tomorrow at 8 a.m.” With some persistence, you can even make yourself accomplish new things.

Maybe you can’t do a single pull-up now, but you can probably hang from the bar for 30 seconds. So, do that and then tomorrow, hang for 40 seconds, and then continue doing more until you build up enough arm strength to do a pull-up.

Change and improvement don’t have to impact your authenticity; they can lead to better relationships.

Friends and loved ones are important. If you’re currently feeling isolated or unhappy with your relationships, it may be time for another round of reprogramming, this time to become more accepting of others as well as appearing more acceptable to others. The first step to making this happen is to have a willingness to change.

It’s hopeless to try and change other people – in fact, it’s cruel to even attempt to do so – but it is possible to improve yourself.

However, you may be resistant to the idea of change if you think that there’s nothing wrong with being your “authentic self.” But it’s important to take an honest look at your behavior and recognize when you’re doing something that upsets people or is a turnoff.

If you’re unhappy about being shy, a poor listener or overweight, don’t think “that’s who I am.” Instead, do something about it and be proactive in your self-improvement.

Changing yourself isn’t betraying your authenticity; it’s simply a way to attract better relationships. Would you rather be lonely or would you rather work on yourself so that you’re a better conversationalist and a more appealing person?

Another avenue toward self-improvement is to be more accepting of those with different opinions than your own.

Don’t think that you’re meant to find someone who thinks and shares the same opinions as you – this is just another fallacy. Relationships aren’t about hobbies and tastes; they’re about love, so you should accept that people are going to think differently than you.

If more people were open-minded about whom they hang out with, there would be far fewer lonely people in the world!

So, don’t just tolerate and accept your loved ones' peculiar habits; respect and appreciate them!

Let’s say your loved one has a hobby you find annoying, like collecting action figures. After all, isn’t a silly collection the opposite of minimalist living? Actually no, especially if they get a lot of meaning and pleasure out of that collection. So don’t deter them; understand that the collection enriches your partner’s life and therefore should be cherished as part of what makes them the person you love.

With this in mind, here are the four steps to help you better tolerate, accept, respect and appreciate the person you’re with:

Tolerate their unique hobby or passion;

Accept that it will always be there;

Respect the effort your partner puts into their pastime;

Appreciate the hobby as a part of your life because it is an important part of your loved one’s life.

Don't let work define you as a person.

Just as we saw the importance of breaking away from the idea that money and work are the most important things in life, so too should we avoid thinking that our jobs define us.

Think of it this way: You’re a complicated person with a variety of interests and talents, some of which make money, some of which cost money. So you’re far more than just your job. Nevertheless, it's easy to fall into the trap of letting your job title define you.

Many people will find a job in a certain industry and feel they should stick with that industry for the rest of their lives as if it's a part of who they are. But remember, a job is just a job. In fact, your job might even be an anchor that weighs you down.

Consider this: your job isn’t even one of the top five most important aspects of life. Those are: your health, your relationships, your passions, your personal growth, and your contribution to society.

These are the aspects of your life that make sense to measure yourself against, not your job title or how much money you make.

This is why you should avoid the annoying small-talk question of “So, what do you do?” This is often asked early on in a conversation as if it were the most important characteristic of someone’s life and not just a different way of asking, “So, how much money do you make?” Instead, why not ask them, “What are you into?” or “What are you passionate about?”

And if someone asks you, “What do you do?” you can redirect the conversation by saying something like “Oh, I do a lot of things, but my current passion is gardening. How about you?”

For more freedom, reduce your dependency on money.

One of the primary purposes behind minimalism is to spend less of your life working at a job. Naturally, this means finding ways to become less dependent on a big paycheck.

There are a number of ways to help with this, including learning how to make things yourself rather than buying them, and selling off the needless clutter in your home. But the next reprogramming you should learn is how to live on a small income.

The first step here is to create a monthly budget and stick to it. So start by making a list of needs, which includes all your fundamental household costs, such as food, pet food, gas, electricity, insurance and transportation. These are basic needs that have to be met, so there’s no getting around them.

Next, start a second list of wants, which might include categories like new clothes and entertainment. Now, at the start of each month, separate your extra money so that both of these categories are given a budget. And to make sure you don’t break the budget, you can separate them into different spending accounts.

Remember, every dollar in the budget should be accounted for. So, if you dip into the entertainment budget to buy new shoes, you’ll have to wait until next month to go out to that restaurant.

To reduce hard feelings and make things fair, get the entire household to agree on the budget. Since everyone has a say, there should be a feeling of mutual responsibility for making it work. For example, by making the kids part of the process, they’ll know not to bother trying to get extra money for video games when that money is being set aside for school supplies. But it’s still wise to set up a safety net.

Once you get yourself set up, you’ll find that it isn’t hard to live comfortably with less money, but that doesn’t mean life won’t surprise you with something unexpected, like an illness or the car breaking down.

This is why it’s smart and sensible to establish a safety net of at least $500 to $1,000 at first. You should not only do this as soon as possible, but you should also put the money in a place where it isn’t easy to spend.

Once you're out of debt, you can add to this safety net. And with your new found powers of budgeting, you’ll find that this fund can grow quite quickly.

Make life more rewarding and purposeful by taking on difficult work that contributes to society.

So you’ve cut all your anchors and are finally free from your dependencies. The only question now is: What are you going to do with your newfound freedom?

Sure, you have your new plans to get healthy, fit and friendly, but you won’t get far without a strong purpose in your life. And true purpose only comes from a meaningful life that allows you to actively contribute to society.

You might think that donating money to a charity means doing enough for society, but you can only have it be meaningful and purposeful if you’re directly involved.

What you’re sure to find is that the most rewarding activities are the ones that are the most challenging.

Some activities are easy, like reading in the park or swimming in the pool, and while easy activities are fun, they aren’t very purposeful.

Challenging activities, on the other hand, might make us feel uncomfortable while we’re in the middle of them, but afterward, they make us feel fantastic. This can include child rearing or running a marathon – there are a lot of difficulties involved, but the rewards make these efforts feel worthwhile, and they become the most significant experiences in our lives.

That’s why these are the kind of events we should seek and build our lives with, especially when we don’t just contribute to our lives but to society as a whole.

Fortunately, there is no shortage of charities looking for volunteers for this kind of meaningful work, whether it’s building affordable homes for the poor or turning vacant lots into community gardens. This is tough work, but it’ll be extremely rewarding when you’re looking back on it.

You can still make these tasks fun, too. If you’re building homes for the needy, there’s a good chance some days will be rainy or cold, and morale might take a dip, but you could rally together to sing songs. Or you could have an emergency supply of hot chocolate with marshmallows.

But unlike a cushy office job, where you may not even understand how your work contributes anything of value, this difficult work comes with a strong sense of purpose that will make your days a lot easier to get through – no matter how bad the conditions might get.

You are not your job, and you don’t need as much money as you think. You can restart your life by dispensing with all the “stuff’ you don’t need and the relationships that are dragging you down. Living simply will help you open up to and relish a more meaningful life.

#How to Break Free From The 9 to 5 Grind And Find A More Meaningful Life.

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realtalk-princeton · 5 years ago

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@Sulpicia do you have any advice on how to achieve such a high gpa in the humanities, when essay grades can sometimes seem subjective and different professors have different preferences? for ex, do you recommend using office hours in a certain way?

Response from Sulpicia:

I think that one thing to keep in mind is that I’m in a humanities major where empirical exams often determine 70-80% of your grade in a class; while they’re not usually curved, the language exams I took had a pretty similar format between classes, and so with every class you’re more prepared to engage with the material in that way. I personally think the best thing you can do to do well in a humanities class is to do the work; coming into class having prepared and done the readings will mean you have things to say, which translates into a better class discussion; this then will inevitably inspire thinking about what to write about for papers, and will also give you a better idea of how your instructor responds to your thinking. I’m not pretending that I showed up to class prepared 100% of the time, but I think sometimes people take humanities classes here and don’t take them seriously and then struggle at the end because they weren’t really trying to understand things on a week-to-week level.

In terms of writing papers, I generally tried to be in contact with instructors as much as possible throughout the process. Going to office hours with an idea (or, better yet, an outline) is really helpful, since you can get feedback before you spend a ton of time writing something that is founded on a mistaken assumption (which was something I did a LOT in my thesis process) or following a line of argument that might not be as strong as you initially think/hope. I often tried to come up with paper topics early on and even when (as was inevitably the case) I didn’t write anything, I knew I a) had the green light from a professor and b) was passively thinking about the topic for a long time. I also tried to write about things that made me excited, since the best papers are the ones you actually care about.

I actually have not found that professors have hugely different expectations for writing, because at the undergraduate level, good academic writing is good academic writing. I’m not the best essay writer in the world, but here are some tips I have for essay writing that I’ve learned over the past few years:

- Structure is so important, and is something a lot of essays miss. You should have a clear thesis statement of 1-2 sentences for a term paper, and this should be clearly positioned at the end of your introduction. For a shorter paper (5-10 pages) this should be at the end of the first page or top of the second page, while for longer papers, a JP, or a thesis chapter, they can be a little bit further in. Overlong introductions are my weakness as a writer, but a good intro basically just needs to provide the context you need to set up your thesis statement. I would stay away from the “three-pronged” thesis you learned in high school, but your thesis should correspond with the structure of your paper by presenting your claims in the order you will address them.

- Structure is important in your main body too! Write an outline before you begin your essay that briefly sketches out the progression of your argument and what evidence you will use to prove each part of it. Use transition words to link together ideas, and make sure to regularly tie back all of your claims to the main idea of your paper. Don’t write anything that does not support your thesis or provide a counterargument that you can then mitigate or disprove. Always let your reader know where they are in your argument, and don’t be afraid to refer back to earlier parts of the paper.

- Every sentence should matter. When you’re presenting a piece of evidence or analysis, think about its relationship to the one previous. Is that relationship meaningful? If not, the sentence shouldn’t be there (or should be placed elsewhere in your paper). The ideal is that every piece of your paper will follow naturally from what immediately precedes it, guiding the reader on a nice walk through your argument.

- In the humanities, close engagement with primary sources is key. Yes, you need to use secondary scholarship. However, engagement with the “scholarly conversation” should be second to your unique contribution, which is your close reading of the text/images at hand. This was something I struggled with in my thesis, since I felt so pressured to read all the scholarship and lost my close focus on primary sources. The absolute first thing you should do when you write a humanities paper is sit down with the sources you’re analyzing and think about them. What questions do they raise for you? Why are they confusing or contradictory? How does this source connect what you discussed in lecture, precept, or seminar? What can one source say about another? If you can, annotate the source on a piece of paper or take notes alongside it.

From there, you’ll start to find your unique insights which will form the backbone of the paper. Then, if this is a research paper and not just a close reading, look at secondary sources. If you have your own opinions about a primary text, however naive, you’ll feel more confident looking at *the discourse*. Sometimes, this will answer questions you had about the text, and so you don’t need to do that work in your paper. Other times, it will give you more interpretive tools to understand a text (e.g. you might find that X feature of the writing is typical of a certain genre, and you can think about the implications of that on your text). Sometimes, it’ll show you that the scholarly consensus is, in your opinions, totally wrong; for example, one chapter of my thesis was inspired by the fact that I visual source I thought was straightforward and was going to use in another chapter had in fact been pretty clearly misread by scholars, so my new project became proving why my identification was correct. However, any engagement with scholarship should only work to support your argument; unless you’re doing a lit review or writing about scholarly history (in which case the scholarship is your primary source), you don’t just want to slap different people’s opinions next to each other.

- Use lots of evidence and use lots of analysis. Graders are not mind readers, even if they are familiar with the material you’re studying. Good essays will present a lot of evidence; one thing I find helpful is breaking up longer quotes into shorter sections and treating them separately. Every piece of evidence should also be given analysis about why a) it is proving whatever point you’re making in the paragraph and b) how this connects to your larger argument. Part (b) might be implicit, but many essays could be stronger by making clear, distinctive points. Obviously not every piece of evidence merits a lot of analysis, and you can feel free to draw together several quotes to make one larger point.

- Speaking of, make specific claims. This refers both to the evidence that you use and how you use it. It’s totally okay to make general statements about a work, or an author, or an artistic movement; you couldn’t write an essay without doing that. However, those broad claims need to (at least in part) be grounded in some form of evidence; this can come from a secondary source or from an illustrative quote from a primary source. Inexperienced essay writers will be too vague and general--while there are dangers in getting to hyper-specific, I think it’s important that if you make a claim in your paper, you point to the specific thing that made you think that way (this is also a good way to avoid misconceptions/bad assumptions in your argument). When you’re using evidence, you should also try to say something as specific as possible about it, rather than just continuing to string up evidence and restating your thesis. Your thesis statement is just a summary of your ideas; your reasoning should be more nuanced and complex than that one concept. The more specific you are the more original you are, which helps you make points.

- Revise, revise, revise! When I did HUM, I would write up to five drafts of each paper. As a senior, I’ve gotten a lot lazier about this, but part of the reason I could do that was because I had learned a lot from revising previous papers and knew what mistakes to avoid. I think that papers grow the most between a first draft and a second draft. My favorite way to revise (and this is what I did with my thesis, JPs, and many papers I’ve written at Princeton) is to take a draft, print it out (with professor comments, if applicable), and then go through and retype the whole thing into a blank document. Optionally you can mark it up yourself as well, which is probably for the best. I like this because it means you have to read every word of your paper and also don’t feel bound by its existing structure; you can move paragraphs or shuffle things around more easily. I also always find myself adding more things or rephrasing analysis, which improves the paper. You’ll never come up with every idea in a first draft, so it’s good to revisit the paper as much as you can.

- Ask other people to read your work. We all have bad writing habits, from overuse of certain words to repetitive syntax to skipping steps in our logic. These things are not always obvious to us, but are very obvious to other readers. If you can, ask a friend (or writing center tutor, or instructor) to read your paper and help you identify these “bad habits” so you’re more conscious of them in future drafts. They can also often help you see where you skipped a step in your structure or the logic of your argument, or where your treatment of evidence doesn’t fully make sense. This is not always an option, of course, but especially early on, having people who will frankly tell you what’s not working will be helpful to your development as a writer.

- Learn from your mistakes. Criticism, even of the kindest, gentlest, most constructive kind, is hard to hear. To be honest, I would sometimes put off writing my thesis for hours because I was so embarrassed that my advisor had seen a stupid mistake I’d made in my writing (which is entirely irrational, yes, I get it). However, it is very important not only to bask in the positive comments on your paper, but to look at any more constructive ones to see what you can do better next time. Every paper teaches you how to write the next one better. Keep old papers and use them as teaching tools; you might even find it helpful to pin a list of things you know you need to remember when writing next to your desk or on your computer desktop. Professors offer comments because they want you to do better and understand more, not because they want to tear you down (unless they’re really mean).

Anyway this was kind of long-winded, but hopefully at least a little helpful as Dean’s Date approaches (the one lesson I never learn is how to stop procrastinating). I don’t know if there’s a secret to having a good GPA. I don’t consider myself to be brilliant or industrious at all, really; I think I’ve been lucky, taken classes that suited my academic strengths, come into them prepared, and really spent time understanding what exams and papers are trying to assess and then crafting my responses accordingly.

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itstandsforthesun · 6 years ago

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A little life review//spoilers

Two disclaimers before I start this. First, I have never written a review before from either fear or pure laziness, so take me easy on this one (also English is only my second language). Second, this is my opinion, if you loved this book then cheers to you. At the end of the day you got a new favorite book and all I got is the sweet taste of indecision.

With that being said, let’s start. I didn’t hate this book, I didn’t love it even though I enjoyed a big part of it. Do I feel like it has the potential of becoming a new classic? Absolutely not. But let’s start with the beginning, the writing style. I don’t usually pay too much attention to this unless it is extremely good, but this time there were a couple of aspects that were nagging at me. It seemed really try-hard. Try-hard to sound deep, try-hard to sound poetic, try-hard to sound pretentious (that The Secret History good pretentious). The descriptions were at times way too long and unnecessary just like the phrases themselves. A sentence could go on for 5 lines and by the time you got to the end you were filled with so much information that you didn’t even know what was important to the scene at hand and what not.

I’m not saying that the writing style was complete rubbish, it had its charm at times and there were also a lot of quotes that I enjoyed throughout the book, some beautiful descriptions, but even those were spoiled from time to time with sentences that were just too long.

Now that we got the writing style out of the way, let’s move on to the plot. In this book’s case, there’s not much of it. Not that it bothered me, it reminded me of The Goldfinch, a book I loved. The main difference between this book and The Goldfinch though is that the length is not justified. A Little Life could have easily lost at least 200 pages and it would not have made a difference. The plot got repetitive and to be honest quite tiring. I remember the joy with which I started this book, so curious to find out more about our mysterious Jude and then I remember my only thought approaching the end: “Is this over yet?”

The book was simply too long in my opinion and it had little to nothing on which I could get hooked. I was curious for the end, but not that curious. I knew there was going to be death, it was expected, but I will admit that I was not expecting the actual death count.

And speaking about death, let’s get to the characters, shall we? A Little Life was advertised as a novel about friendship that followed the lives of 4 ex-college roommates through the years. And while that’s true to some extent, more often than not we seem to be concentrating on only one of these 4, Jude St. Francis. And don’t get me wrong, I do get it. Jude is the one with the most baggage, with the most interesting life and back-story, but if that’s the case, at least tell us from the beginning that this is a story about Jude! Don’t advertise JB, Malcom and Willem as main characters when they are not really, not when you know who you really want to write about.

I’ll express my opinion on each of these characters individually now and I’m going to be starting with Malcom since he is the most neglected out of the 4. I get very angry when I think about Malcom and his “character development” throughout this book or the lack of it. We get this dude’s POV once in a 720 pages book! And he is called a main character! A main fucking character! And what’s even worse, when we see him, the only time we really see him, he is filled with indecision, about his future, about his job, about his sexuality, about living with his parents. You want to tell me that these things are not interesting enough to follow, to see how a character gets out of his own head and decides for himself what his own life is going to be? After his short POV in the beginning of the book (which also seemed a little like a cheap anticipation of Jude’s part of the story, like starting with these 3 not so important characters to get them out of the way) we never really find out how he solved all of his problems. We get mentions of him getting a new job, one that he is actually proud of, finding a girlfriend who also becomes his wife later on and moving out of his parent’s house. But we never get his thought process, what made him take attitude in the first place, how he figured out his sexuality. Malcom’s whole character comes off as lazy writing. The author didn’t seem to care enough about Malcom to give him a proper story. Why make him a main character then? Malcom in my opinion had a lot of potential as a character, his constant indecision, still present in the story even without his POV, would have offered great literary material, a great conversation starter on the indecisiveness of people. But no, Malcom had to be resumed to an episodical character who was more often mentioned than present only to feed into the book’s theme of friendship. We could also consider Malcom as an instrument in establishing the theme of loss also present in this book. Malcom was killed off along with Willem and Sophie (a character who spoke a total of 0 words in the entire book) for a purpose unknown to me. Let’s say Willem and Sophie died and Malcom lived, wouldn’t that have offered him an opportunity to be seen by us, really seen, again? The death of the two could have been followed by Malcom’s point of view along side Jude’s. The author could have used it as an introspection into Malcom’s life and all it represented up to this moment. His character could have been redeemed and we would have also gotten an emotional roller coaster that would have brought us to tears. This would have saved the character of Malcom for me and it would also have brought him justice. In the end, Malcom was just a wasted opportunity for me.

The next “main character” that I’m going to bring up is JB. In no way as neglected as Malcom, but also not getting as much screen time as Willem or Jude, JB is a pretty interesting character. Selfish, self-centered, “always politically correct” and susceptible to bad habits, JB seems to be anything but a hero. That’s what makes him fascinating to watch, he goes from incidents like making fun of Jude’s walk to painting his friends in magnificent lively colors. We get to explore both his admiration for his own person and his hatred. JB is a complex character, not necessary my favorite personality wise, but definitely my favorite building and development wise.

Moving on to Willem, the character that gets screen time because he is the love of our main character’s life. Maybe that was slightly exaggerated, but we’ve all been thinking it. Willem is a very likeable character, in the beginning he was actually my favorite, I’m not sure what happened along the way. It was probably the fact that the story was dragged out so much that I lost interest in most things. I thought Willem was a very kind soul who truly loved helping people and more importantly his friends. I prayed until the very last moment that the relationship with Jude would not happen though. On one hand it was because it was too predictable, I would have loved to see a pure friend love story since we don’t get much of those if any. Second of all, back to the point of friendship, this was advertised as a story about 4 friends, not about 2 friends who fall in love with each other and then 2 others who are only half relevant. I wanted to be surprised by a story in which nobody fell in love with their best friend, where the kind friend always took special care of his best friend because that’s who he was, not because subconsciously he always wanted to kiss him and hold his hand. I still liked Willem as a character, maybe he wasn’t as layered as I would have wanted him to be and maybe he was frustrating at times (who takes 30 years to talk to their BELOVED BEST FRIEND about their self-harm?), but he was a well-rounded character in the end. With that being said, I think his death was a magnificent writing decision. It was a brutal, come out of nowhere death and it spiced the plot up. Unlike Sophie’s and Malcom’s deaths, Willem’s was completely justified in my opinion. It gave Jude a new challenge, it broke the repetitive pattern and stirred our curiosity about what was going to happen next. Even though I do not agree with the actual ending of the book I still believe that the events leading up to it were a good choice.

And now to the character we’ve all been waiting for, Jude. Listen, as everyone else I was really exited about Jude, I was counting the pages left until his POV, he intrigued me. There were lots of aspects that I liked about his character. His mental illness (yes, Andy, he was in fact mentally ill) was decently portrayed, I could relate to his mental process concerning self-harm and he definitely struck a cord with me. With that being said, his story could have been shorter and it could have left more space for other characters (*cough* Malcom *cough*). Jude’s story contained a repetitive pattern that had been dragged out for far too long ending in a predictable conclusion. Let’s start with the beginning, the back-story, the thing that we all wanted to find out about. I’m going to critic it’s credibility in just a second, but first I just want to say that the author’s attempt at building suspense completely flopped on me. The way she tried to spread the back-story all throughout the book did not keep me on my toes, it only annoyed and bored me, I couldn’t wait to get it out of the way once and for all.

Now, let’s say the monastery made sense, even Brother Luke made sense, but everything that followed was total bullshit. Is this boy just a magnet for abuse? Do abusers just sense him from 5 miles away or what? I’m not trying to seem insensible, but for real now! And how come every single person he meets is both a pedophile and interested in guys? I refuse to believe that every single counselor at that home and every truck driver is gay. What’s the actual probability of that being the case? I mean does nobody like vagina or what? The back-story is clearly exaggerated, but I guess that it does make Jude’s learning to trust people again more remarkable. I did enjoy the relationships he built for himself after everything that happened to him (except the one with Caleb of course) and I admired the courage it took him to trust Andy with his body, Harold with his fear of belonging to someone and Willem with his love and life. But in the end it was all for nothing, Jude still kills himself, all his progress is flashed down the toilet and you are left wandering what was it all for. I’m not saying all endings should be happy endings, damn, I love me a good sad ending, but making Jude’s suicide in the end come out as ok and acceptable just doesn’t send a good message, that he had nothing left to live for when he still got his goddamn parents who loved him more than anything else. Suicide should never be portrayed as something ok to do, something justifiable. Yes, Willem’s death was heart breaking for Jude, even more than that, it wrecked him all over again, but I really thought that this death would be used as an opportunity for Jude to get better, to show that you can get through anything. I get that life isn’t like that, I get that in real life suicide would probably be the actual thing a person would choose most of the time (hell, I don’t know what I would do if faced with this situation), I am not judging Jude, I am not condemning him, I’m just saying that there could have been a better ending. The least that could have been done was to still try to give it a positive note, Harold to remark that even though he understands why Jude did it and that he still loves him, there were alternatives, there was still a chance for him to be at peace with the world without dying.

All and all, I enjoyed A Little Life most of the times and I do not regret reading it even though it made me very angry at times. It is still a book I recommend, but I recommend reading it with a critical eye.

#alittlelife #bookreview #firstreview #hanya yanagihara #reader #booklover

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myfriendpokey · 7 years ago

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the netflix of history

hard to talk about kitsch exclusively in aesthetic or historical terms - it's more like the point where aesthetic becomes history, or history aesthetic. you know it when you see it, like pornography or the sublime. in fact it's weirdly similar to the modern sublime, the shock of the new, of something you wanted or briefly felt but hadn't realised until now was even possible - "i don't know what this is, but i love it." "i don't know what this is, but i hate it". the truly kitsch is not just the bland, expected, overused or overdetermined - it's more the boundary where all those qualities come into being, where without quite being able to put your finger on it what's good has changed into the horribly false. something you maybe recognise, respect, in principle approve of, is suddenly intolerable. you nitpick, waver, make excuses or hypotheses, and then finally get exasperated: it's just that something doesn't work, has nothing left in it as a style, has become unusable. which doesn't mean it can't be reconstituted for second-order uses, as thomas mann has the devil say in doctor faustus: "One could raise the game to a yet higher power by playing with forms from which, as one knows, life has vanished." this becomes a way to "acknowledge freedom": that these forms have no more historical or emotional resonance makes their deliberate re-usage sort of an individual, gratuitous act. and they're also a way to examine life in negative, life as being whatever kitsch is not - the very paltriness of these old forms makes it easier to see traces of an active mind which moves through and rearranges them. but even this relies on a certain inert passivity in the forms being rearranged. like enemies that have become distant enough from us in time that they can be remembered fondly, when what's truly awful is that something can "die" without actually going away, or without anyone seeming to notice.

there's no particular moral element to being "anti-kitsch", contra a lot of (themselves by now quite kitschy) arguments about the political benefits of breaking down recieved ideas, vigorous clear language etc. fascism is kitsch, but to be anti-kitsch is not necessarily to be anti-fascist. jenny turner gives the gruesome cautionary tale of "the institute of ideas", ex-trot radicals whose desire to epater lez bourgeoise eventually turned into goading, repetitive pamphlets about the desireability of oilspills and big business. you could also think about the likes of lyotard, hitchens, nick land etc- or johnny rotten... the moment of irritated dissatisfaction in encountering something perhaps a little too glib, too rote or unsuprising, occurs without respect for the context or scale of the offence. and in fact part of the value of iconoclasm is in this levelling quality, in being able to throw off the habitual guilty hedging of your own impressions. maybe this book, this album, this videogame, is a little corny or trite, but i guess it's basically harmless or "well constructed"... NOT!!!! death to all middle-of-the-road indie games about dead wives!!!! ha ha ha!!!! well, actually, i do agree with that part, and a big reason i cared about pop music at all as a teenager was the allowance it gave me to be fast and loose in my antipathies. the famous "value of art" is not just about what's beautiful or moving, it can also be in the reverse, the negative, the rush of finally putting a finger on just what it is that always bugged you about some element of culture as you finally encounter an alterity to it (which is partly why artistic canons are exciting as a set of arguments and next to useless as a set of inspirations). aversion can become a chance to have the courage of your own understanding, as they say, and connect private sensibility to the world at large. and i always enjoyed it, but also wonder what would have happened if these irritations had instead been channeled by, say, videogame youtube, or 4chan, or any of the public figures who rail against the yoke of bien-pensant liberal platitudes while continuing to support the, apparently less chafing, yoke of racial suprematism and US imperial policy. i think being anti-kitsch is the founding, sustaining effort of experimental art, but when the power of that effort is that this negativity has no necessarily determining form there's also no guarantee it won't morph into its ghastly opposite - anti-kitsch kitsch, of the kind purveyed by the late ayn rand who produced, as turner also writes, a strange but recognisable mirror image of high modernism itself.

but then what? you can't avoid kitsch, the awareness of it, you can't always be "understanding" of it, i feel it's a terrible mistake to just claim we can all just be more mature, less vindictive and perverse, more focused on the REAL problems of the world (lower your sights and raise your aim, as ABC once said) and less caught up on the negative. i don't think it goes away when you repress it, i think there'll always be a tipping point. true kitsch is what always just barely exceeds what you're willing to tolerate. one of the strands in percival everett's "erasure", memorably glossed by greil marcus, tracks the narrator's efforts to repress the nagging, peripheral awareness of a really bad book, an irritatingly worthy, false, self-satisfied piece of commercial hokum which is of course held in wide esteem, praised for its authenticity- until it's casually mentioned by a friend, and he can't help himself, it comes out, venomous, disproportionate rage, pure spite, and the friend not unreasonably is asking what the fuck is your problem? everett's hero is black, the book he's attacking is one that claims in whatever way to be representative of his life and experience - - and here's another reason the problem of kitsch is not so easily avoided, not so easily consigned to mere bad taste. kitsch might well exist in every culture, but in the manner of the old modernist sublime, the form it takes is absolutely distinctive to that culture, to the time, historical, material conditions in which it is produced. the manner of the really bad book is as mysteriously expressive of its period as that of the really good one. and so it appears less as an aesthetic failure, more a challenge from history itself, a challenge to deal with and reimagine that history's own conception of itself. the connection of experimental art with the contemporary is not that it's directly expressive of contemporary conditions but that it's directly engaged with contemporary kitsch. i don't know if you can sever this without also losing the contemporary itself in the process, which is maybe why certain mature works appear weirdly self-satisfied, adrift, as if having finally rid themselves of the nagging imperative to deal with some specific formal problem they're finally free to relax and become as boring as they wish.

the line quoted earlier from doctor faustus was directed, tauntingly, at the book's protagonist, who refuses to be fobbed off by playing with dead forms: what he's bargaining for is an entirely new one, an eerie, uncanny reemergence of new life within dead culture, a fresh beginning, purchased through sacrifice. and it's tempting to think of that in relation to the videogame industry with its mandatory newness purchased through burnout, an institutional eternity - "make it new", make it new, i know, but why bother when stockholders (or whatever handful of Chosen Auteurs are still kicking) will accrue all the reward? maybe it should be changed to "make it old". or maybe there are other ways to engage with kitsch than with horror, the perpetual flight backwards into the unknown, with property surveyors lurching along behind. to take the urge to "make it new" itself and treat it like gertrude stein did placidly interminable magazine prose, or robert walser did the sentimental novella, thomas bernhard did the blowhard rant, as mann himself did the bourgeois novel, like a habit to be chopped up and emptied out - a kind of reptile tank for nervous consciousness, to watch it as it scuttles between the camoflague of its era. and what better form to do so than videogames, where newness has always been the attempt to outrun judgement. we pull aside the plastic rock and glimpse it - the horrible distracted grimace of the past, busily churning out the future........

(image credits: Crescent Moon Girl, Bloody Roar - Gado, Lunar 2, Anton Ze Player’s Bubble Bobble: The Adventure)

#clement.......#videogames #criticism #kitsch

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housexoxohearts · 7 years ago

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30 Days of Autism Acceptance: Day 1

Prompt taken from the 30 Days of Autism Acceptance.

[ Image Description: Me and my cousin’s four-year-old daughter, who we’ve suspected is also autistic, perhaps with ADHD. I took this photo on my cell phone camera in the “self-we” style as we sat at a park bench. I’m a woman with metal-rimmed glasses and long dark hair. My niece (as I call her) is a little girl with brown hair tied back into a ponytail with a pink hair tie. We’re both wearing black shirts. We’re both smiling, enjoying our family vacation, posing for a picture. End Description. ]

The name I go by is Michaela Hearts. You can call me Mickey, Mick, or anything, really. I'm currently 24 years old, but I'll be 25 in June. And, as many of you know, I'm autistic.

Be warned, content ahead is a long read, and contains mentions of Autism Speaks, the cure rhetoric, ableism (from the world and internalized), bullying, and abuse.

I was professionally diagnosed at the age of three and 3/4 years, in the year of 1997. Apparently, I had always displayed a lack of interest in social interactions, and was hardly verbal until the age of 5. I would often play by myself, and in repetitive fashion. My father recounted the days I would strip dolls down and wrap them in washcloths, unwrap them, and repeat this sequence for long stretches of time, all the while so engrossed with such activities that I wouldn’t interact with anything else. I was hardly affectionate with my brother or my cousins, in spite of their warm friendliness and interest in playing with me. I ignored my oldest cousin’s (the mother of the little girl in the photo, heh) outstretched arms for a hugs for a very long time. (At some point, though, I eventually gave in, but not without an irritated sigh, lol.)

The diagnosing doctor explained autism to my parents in a way that broke down all expectations that I could ever live independently, or make anything of myself. My parents tried to work around these expectations placed on me and my brother (who would later be diagnosed with Asperger’s), but it was difficult. I wouldn’t say it was because of us. No, not at all. This was the age, after all, during which detrimental misinformation about autism was spread. And, with hardly any other resources at hand, my parents unfortunately fell into the collective misconception that their children’s autism was the result of heavy-metal poisoning from a serum found in vaccines, the fixed capacity of autistic functioning (functioning labels), and---worst of all---that our autism was a sickness that could be treated (or cured) with organic changes to our lifestyle.

I say that, though I’m fortunate enough that nobody in my family has been subjected to Bleach Therapy. Though my parents were convinced that organic-restricted diets and special salt baths could “ease symptoms of autism,” they at least had common sense enough to not give us bleach. And they eventually stopped their “treatments” as we grew tired of these routines that didn’t at all make us feel good (not to mention, didn’t do anything with our autism).

Through all this, I never realized. I had no idea I was autistic. My parents never explained any of these concepts to me. Whenever I was troubled by bullies at school who targeted me for being “weird,” every adult simply reassured me that I was “unique.” Which, you know, that’s nice and all, but... It didn’t explain why I was like this.

It didn’t explain why certain smells---that almost no one else picked up on---hurt my head so bad and made my stomach churn. It didn’t explain why certain sounds pierced my ears and painfully traveled down my spine, which in turn made me want to scream and hurt someone to make the pain, and its source, stop. It didn’t explain my discomfort with physical acts of affection. It didn’t explain my lack of social energy, which kept me at home most of the time (and sometimes even looked like I didn’t care). It didn’t explain my scripts and echophenomena. It didn’t explain my hyperempathy that left me in tears whenever anything bad happened to anyone. It didn’t explain why I was so emotionally fragile and impressionable, not only remembering the horrible things that were said to me (even if someone else might have thought these things were benign), but internalized it all into adulthood.

“Unique” was a start, but it didn’t quite answer anything. Not in the way Autism did.

I found out when I was 12. People who know me know that this was the worst time of life, as I had struggles both at home and at school. All I will say, to keep from tangents, is that my hyperempathy made me hurt the way my cousin (younger sister of the photographed little girl’s mother) did, and terribly. And it didn’t help that I had absolutely no friends at school. The friends I had were all fed up with my odd---and I guess disgusting---habits, and so distanced themselves from me. Everyone else found reasons to belittle me. Some acted like accidentally touching me had infected them with some terrible disease.

I knew there was something “wrong” with me.

My parents took my brother and me to a group program called Progressive Resources (which I had suspected, and now confirmed, is affiliated with Autism $peaks). I just knew it as “Group,” the place where we went to play and “learn social skills” while our parents talked about how much they hated us. (That was the way I described it, anyway, at a time when I had become numb to the thought of my parents’ disappointment in me.)

Because of all the toys we could play with, I thought it was fun, so I brought my hurting cousin with me one day. She didn’t like the structure of it, and commented on how infantilizing and demanding it was. That’s when I started to put two and two together; me being treated like a kid here, surrounded by “R*tards” (nonverbal people, people with special interests that are associated with very young children’s entertainment, people with audibly disabled voices) had something to do with my bad treatment at school. They hated me because I had been lumped up with these people.

So I lashed out. At my parents, my aunts and uncles...

Eventually, it got to the point where I said terrible, horrendous things about one of the clients at Progressive Resources (things I can’t repeat). My mother had been struggling to figure out what to do about my sudden burst of rebellion, but that was when I guess everything stopped for her. She was just about to get into the car when she heard the ugly things I said about the other client. She gave me one of the most serious looks I had ever seen on her and said,

“You’re autistic, little girl.”

My thought process stopped dead in its tracks. Having internalized ableism over so many years with horrible media depictions, “Awareness Campaigns,” and hearing the ugly things said about neurodivergents, I took this as an insult. Autism for me was an insult. So I protested, to which she provided my story.

“You didn’t talk until you were 5. You wouldn’t interact with anyone. We took you to a doctor---”

My attention span cut off from there. As much as I had internalized the world’s ableism, as much as I hated the concept of autism, it began to explain so much. It answered all the questions that “Unique” couldn’t. And yet, even with this realization, I can’t say I was happy about it. It was just a word to describe why I was chastised.

I hid in the attic for the rest of the day and marinated in my thoughts. I had to process every event that had taken place in my life. To this day, I can struggle from time to time to accept myself as I am. But from that day forth, I made the conscious decision to work with people just like me, other autistics. The following day, I made amends with the people I had before been antisocial with at PR, and was surprised at their forgiveness and eagerness to interact with me.

Though I was slowly beginning to crack under the weight of depression (from a lifetime of peer abuse, burden rhetorics, and my hyperempathy making me aware of all the wrongs in the world---with my hurting cousin as the window), I was even beginning to make friends. The initial shock melted into a deeper understanding of myself, and some very basic needs. There would be future struggles I wouldn’t take into consideration or realize until the present time, but I was starting to feel just a little bit better about who I was.

At the end of the story, I don’t want the idea that my parents were horrible Autism Parents to be taken. Yes, my parents had made some mistakes, and they let their misconceptions lead them into nasty territories with me. They just didn’t know what they were doing, and they had no means to correct themselves. Yes, a lot of their decisions have some lifelong consequences on me, but after I’ve worked so hard to make myself heard to them, they’ve finally opened their hearts. And while there’s still a lot that they don’t understand, they do understand that I am neurodivergent and mentally ill, and I need their support. They may not get it, but they do everything they can to support me, even going against past beliefs they had about me and the world.

But I realize that not everyone has this kind of support. There are people out there who can’t afford to can’t afford to get an official diagnosis, whether it be money for insurance, or the security of employment or within a household. To everyone who believes they may be autistic, but do not have it on an official medical document, I believe you too. And I love you. You are good and valid, and I hope for nothing but the best for you, even if it turns out you’re not autistic. ♡

Mickey 💕 You❣

#Autism Acceptance #Autism Acceptance Month #30 Days of Autism Acceptance Challenge #30 Days of Autism Acceptance #personal #tw ableism #tw bullying #tw internalized ableism #tw self hate #actually autistic #actuallyautistic #REDInstead #Autism $peaks #tw Autism Speaks #okay to reblog #tw anti vaxxers #tw abuse #tw r slur #tw cure rhetoric

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bibliophilechelsea · 5 years ago

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12 January 2020 - What is Good Taste?

***Wow. You let yourself get behind for one day, and then everything snowballs. I went to Austin with students for the State Congress Debate Meet for 4 days, and then, of course, was behind once I got back. It has been a hectic couple of weeks, but I am determined not to give up on this resolution, so I am going to attempt to do 2-3 readings a day until I catch up. Right now, I have managed to wake up early to finish this one in hopes that it will jump-start my energy in catching up.***

“A Turkish sultan, relates Burke, when shown a picture of the beheaded John the Baptist, praised many things, but pointed out one gruesome defect. Did this observation show the sultan to be an inferior judge of art?” (Edmund Burke born Jan. 12, 1729.)

Read: Burke On Taste..........Vol. 24, pp. 11-26

...for if taste has no fixed principles, if the imagination is not affected according to some invariable and certain laws, our labour is likely to be employed to vary little purpose; as it must be judged a useless, if not an absurd undertaking, to lay down rules for caprice, and to set up for a legislator of whims and fancies.

You say this, Burke, but then isn’t that exactly what you do for the next 14 pages??

Burke does make a good point that the best method of teaching is one in which investigation is well utilized. I learned best when I would take what we were doing in class, be interested in part of it, and then teach myself by reading more in-depth on what interested me to give myself a more well-rounded knowledge base. I have yet to figure out how to externally motivate students to do what i did naturally, however.

Burke uses like 3-4 times as many commas in a sentence as I do, and I thought that I was bad! I am just going to quote some of the interesting passages for a bit...

All men are agreed to call vinegar sour, honey sweet, and aloes bitter; and as they are all agreed in finding these qualities in those objects, they do not in the least differ concerning their effects with regard to pleasure and pain. They all concur in calling sweetness pleasant, and sourness and bitterness unpleasant. Here there is no diversity in their sentiments; and that there is not, appears fully from the consent of all men in the metaphors which are taken from the sense of taste. A sour temper, bitter expressions, bitter curses, a bitter fate, are terms well and strongly understood by all. And we are altogether as well understood when we say, a sweet disposition, a sweet person, a sweet condition, and the like. It is confessed, that custom and some other causes have made many deviations from the natural pleasures or pains which belong to these several tastes: but then the power of distinguishing between the natural and the acquired relish remains to the very last. A man frequently comes to prefer the taste of tobacco to that of sugar, and the flavour of vinegar to that of milk; but this makes no confusion in tastes, whilst he is sensible that the tobacco and vinegar are not sweet, and whilst he knows that habit alone has reconciled his palate to these alien pleasures. Even with such a person we may speak, and with sufficient precision, concerning tastes. But should any man be found who declares, that to him tobacco has a taste like sugar, and that he cannot distinguish between milk and vinegar; or that tobacco and vinegar are sweet, milk bitter, and sugar sour; we immediately conclude that the organs of this man are out of order, and that his palate is utterly vitiated.

But when we talk of any peculiar or acquired relish, then we must know the habits, the prejudices, or the distempers of this particular man, and we must draw our conclusion from those.

But things do not spontaneously present themselves to the palate as they do to the sight; they are generally applied to it, either as food or as medicine; and, from the qualities which they possess for nutritive or medicinal purposes, they often form the palate by degrees, and by force of these associations. Thus opium is pleasing to Turks, on account of the agreeable delirium it produces. Tobacco is the delight of Dutchmen, as it diffuses a torpor and pleasing stupefaction. Fermented spirits please our common people, because they banish care, and all consideration of future or present evils. All of these would lie absolutely neglected if their properties had originally gone no further than the taste; but all these together, with tea and coffee, and some other things, have passed from the apothecary's shop to our tables, and were taken for health long before they were thought of for pleasure. The effect of the drug has made us use it frequently; and frequent use, combined with the agreeable effect, has made the taste itself at last agreeable.

It may perhaps appear, on this supposition, that there is no material distinction between the wit and the judgment, as they both seem to result from different operations of the same faculty of comparing. But in reality, whether they are or are not dependent on the same power of the mind, they differ so very materially in many respects, that a perfect union of wit and judgment is one of the rarest things in the world. When two distinct objects are unlike to each other, it is only what we expect; things are in their common way; and therefore they make no impression on the imagination: but when two distinct objects have a resemblance, we are struck, we attend to them, and we are pleased. The mind of man has naturally a far greater alacrity and satisfaction in tracing resemblances than in searching for differences: because by making resemblances we produce new images; we unite, we create, we enlarge our stock;

I finally got to the Turkish quote given with the assignment when I got to page 19. Essentially, Burke lists many examples of how a painter may have created something through imagination that stirs the soul, but if a shoemaker came in, he would critique how the shoes were formed since he has more knowledge of that then the painter. Likewise, an anatomist would critique how the muscles were formed, but would not notice the issue with the shoes. A Turkish sultan would remark on inaccuracies of how the skin acts near a severed head on a painting of St. John the Baptist’s death by beheading, because he has more knowledge of what that looks like in real life. Essentially, while taste is universal, the amount of knowledge a person brings to something can change their perception of it.

When talking about how people seem to have different tastes when it comes to, for example, poetry, Burke states that the taste is still the same and that the knowledge is the difference. In comparing Don Bellianis to the Eneid, Burke states that both have passionate adventures, but if someone has trouble with the language of the Eneid, they are not going to enjoy it as much. Similarly, if someone prefers the Eneid over Don Bellianis, it may be that they see it as childish due to their higher range of linguistic knowledge. If the Eneid was written in the style of the Pilgrim’s Progress, the person who originally did not like it may give it another change. This is VERY interesting in regards to my teaching. The language is often what trips my students up. Someone may like the graphic novel of a Shakespearean play, but hate the original due to the difficulty in deciphering it. Unfortunately, but job is to give them the necessary knowledge to hopefully one day enjoy these classics.

Men of the best taste, by consideration, come frequently to change these early and precipitate judgments, which the mind, from its aversion to neutrality and doubt, loves to form on the spot. It is known that the taste (whatever it is) is improved exactly as we improve our judgment, by extending our knowledge, by a steady attention to our object, and by frequent exercise.

Summary: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder is BS. You are just ignorant.

Sorry, but that is really what I got out of this essay. It was quite interesting, but it got a bit repetitive through such minute examples and was too preachy for me. I guess Burke would say that my taste is not yet well-formed due to my ignorance.

#2020 reading challenge #reading #currently reading #Harvard Classics #books #bibliophile #resolution #edmund burke #good taste

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