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kolachess · 4 years ago

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DMBJ Names and Honorifics Explained - Don’t trust the subs!

I’ve no idea if someone has already made such a post, but I really like explaining Chinese as it’s also good practice for me, so here we go.

If you are a non-Chinese speaker, you might have noticed inconsistencies in subs when referring to all the different characters. And / or that the names don’t seem to match up to the sound of the name.

So here’s a little cultural and character guide to understanding DMBJ names.

Why are there so many names, nicknames, and honorifics for one person in a Chinese drama? To chalk this all up to nicknames is... grossly over-simplifying things. The thing with names / honorifics is very rooted in Chinese culture itself. Chinese culture is one heavily indexed on relations and hierarchy, so depending on your place in the ‘hierarchy’, whether it’s society or family, you will refer to each other as different things. As an example to illustrate complexity, where in English, ‘uncle’ refers to all male siblings of either of your parents, in Chinese, your father’s younger brother is addressed differently from your father’s older brother and also different from your mother’s brother.

Chinese names and translation to English - Space? No space? Hyphens? Last name first?

So Chinese is a pictographic language. Each ‘character’ is one word, and one syllable exactly. Hence, you don’t need spaces or hyphens or anything in Chinese. Spaces and hyphens when romanized are purely for English speakers’ convenience.

For example, in Chinese, the names would be written as wuxie, wusanxing, wangpangzi, etc. (And no such thing as capitalization either.) As a general rule of thumb, because for documentation purposes, the surname is separated out, Chinese people generally end up writing the given name all smushed together even if they are 2 words.

And yes, the surname always goes first. Other way is just... weird. Never happens.

Can you space out two words of a given name? Sure I suppose. Probably less seen.

As for hyphens with honorifics... sure? I’m not sure if smush together or hyphen is more official actually...

What are Chinese names? How do people pick a name?

Unlike English names, Chinese people compose their names. Which means... you can have anything from names that have literary eloquence and deeper meaning，like ‘Wu Xie’, where ‘Wu’ is homonymous with ‘Without’ and ‘Xie’ means ‘Evil’, so Wu Xie’s name carries the meaning of ‘no evil’...

...to names that have little to no deep meaning and sometimes downright stupid sounding, like ‘Wang Pangzi’ which does indeed translate to Wang Fatty lol.

That’s why if you ask Chinese people to provide common Chinese names, they’ll stare at you blankly. Of course, that’s not to say there aren’t some popular names, given people sometimes name themselves after famous people and there are plenty of generic ones as well.

But this is also why, when meeting for the first time, you might hear a lot of people explaining how their name is written (i.e. with which word), because there are a looooot of homonymous words and it’s impossible to tell how write someone’s name without them ‘spelling it out’.

How do Chinese people call each other by name?

Most Chinese names (surname + given name) will form 2-3 syllables (very rarely there will be 4).

General rule of thumb:

- Using someone’s full name is always generally acceptable (not to be confused with addressing them... that’s a whole different game).

- You never refer to someone with one syllable. Which means if their given name is only one syllable, you pretty much always say both surname + given name together (Hence why Wu Xie is always Wu Xie and never ‘Xie’). If their given name is two syllables, you might call them by given name only if you’re familiar.

Of course, there are tons of ways to give people nicknames (more explanation below), so you might end up only using one syllable of someone’s name, but in conjunction with another prefix / suffix of sorts.

So yes, the subs say ‘Zhang’ for Zhang Qiling but that’s BS no one has ever referred to him as simply ‘Zhang’. And for that matter, no one ever refers to him as simply Qiling either, though that’s more out of habit than any rules of names. And finally, they rarely refer to him as Zhang Qiling at all... more explanation below.

Basic ‘prefix’ / ‘suffix’ / ‘honorific’ introductions relevant for DMBJ

These aren’t really prefixes and suffixes and honorifics. They’re simply words. But for sake of simplicity, let’s just treat them as that.

-ye (sounds like ‘yeah’) = ‘Grandpa’ of the generic ‘old man’ sense, but also ‘master’ or ‘lord’ to indicate status / respect.

Example usage: Wu Sanxing (Wu Xie’s third uncle) - People like Pan Zi call him Sanye, which means ‘Third Master’.

It can also be casually used by someone to refer to themselves in third person and indicate their ‘prowess’. Again, due to Chinese cultural relations, there’s a lot of emphasis on hierarchy, so people often humorously refer to themselves in third person with a title of more seniority (’this ancestor’ or ‘this old miss’).

Example usage: Pangzi always referring to himself as Pangye. ‘Make way, Pangye is coming in clutch with the bombs!’.

-shu (sounds more like ‘soo’) = ‘Uncle’. This can be an uncle related, or not.

Example usage: Wu Sanxing (Wu Xie’s third uncle). Wu Xie and his peers will generally call him Sanshu, because they’re of the same generation and need to call Sanshu with some level of respect. Of course, Sanye is also respectful, so certainly Pangzi can call him Sanye. But Pangzi calling him Wu Sanxing would be disrespectful. (Zhang Qiling on the other hand, technically can call him whatever since he’s the oldest haha).

-ayi (sounds like ‘ah-yee’) = ‘Aunt’. Similar as uncle.

Example usage: Chen Wenjing (in Ultimate Note, Sanshu’s former girlfriend). You’ll notice Wu Xie addressed her as Wenjing-ayi. Of course, since she was a bit less familiar with them, and wasn’t always around, he and others will refer to her as simply Chen Wenjing... it’s complicated. The nuances of when it’s ok to leave off the suffix is an art form lol.

-ge (sounds like ‘guh’) = ‘older brother’. Can also be related or not. Can be used alone, or doubled up (which tends to be cuter).

Example usage: Huo Xiuxiu refers to Wu Xie as ‘Wu Xie-gege’ and Xie Yuchen as ‘Xiao Hua-gege’. Pangzi told Yun Cai (the girl he crushed on) to call him ‘Pangge’. And yes! This is the ‘ge’ in Xiaoge. More explanation below.

Xiao (sounds like ‘shall’) = ‘Small’ or ‘Little’. This is often used in creating a nickname and used first before a name.

Example usage: Wu Xie’s second uncle will refer to him as ‘Xiao Xie’. Wu Xie refers to Xie Yuchen as ‘Xiao Hua’, which translates to ‘Little Flower’ and is a nickname based off his stage name, Jie Yuhua. And yes! This is the ‘xiao’ in Xiaoge. More explanation below (because translating it as ‘little older brother’ makes no sense I know).

Lao (sounds like ‘lao’ lol) = ‘Old’. Similar usage as ‘xiao’.

Example usage: I think I remember Granny Huo perhaps referring to Wu Laogou (Wu Xie’s grandfather) as ‘Lao Wu’? But also, yes, his actual name has that word too.

Numbers - Numbers are very commonly used in nicknames.

Er (sounds like ‘are’) = Two / Second.

San (sounds like ‘san’ lol idk) = Three / Third.

Hence why Wu Xie refers to his uncles as ‘Sanshu’ and ‘Ershu’. (And yes, their names themselves also conveniently carry the numbers...)

You’ll never say ‘one’ though. Instead, ‘da’ or big / large is used.

Names of the characters

Wow so only after all that can we begin to explain the many names... Let’s begin.

Wu Xie - Wu Xie is actually the most straightforward thank god. Most people will call him this, Zhang Qiling included.

AKA Tianzhen or even Xiao Tianzhen - This is nickname provided Pangzi gave him meaning ‘naive’ or ‘innocent’, and what Pangzi calls him most if not all the time. There’s a phrase in Chinese too called ‘tianzhenwuxie’ to mean innocent, carefree, and pure. The ‘wu’ there is a different but homonymous word with Wu Xie’s ‘Wu’, but the meaning and reference is clear (Chinese has looooots of homonyms and puns). This is also why that phrase ‘My lifetime, in exchange for you a decade of innocence and purity.’ from Zhang Qiling to Wu Xie is so heart-wrenching, because those last four Chinese words are ‘tianzhenwuxie’, a poetic play on his two names. 😭

AKA Xiao Xie - Called by his second uncle, Wu Erbai

AKA Da Zhizi - Called by his third uncle, meaning ‘big nephew’. ‘Da’ here just means the oldest really. Wu Xie is Wu Sanxing’s oldest (but also only) nephew. And ‘nephew’ here too specifically refers to the son of your brother.

AKA Xiao Sanye - Called by Pan Zi, Bai Haotian (from Lost Tomb Reboot). Sanye here is in reference to how he dogs his third uncle’s footsteps all the time. And he’s the younger version so... there.

AKA Laoban or Wu-laoban - Called by Wang Meng, business partners because laoban means ‘boss’.

Zhang Qiling - Whew OK honestly, I don’t think of him as ‘Zhang Qiling’ much at all, because very rarely do any of the other characters refer to him as Zhang Qiling. Most of the time it’s...

AKA Xiaoge - This is what Wu Xie and Pangzi refer to him a lot as. Xiaoge literally translates to ‘little big brother’, but that meaning is weird in English. So don’t think of it that way. Xiaoge is just a generic term for a young guy. Like... ‘lad’? Lol. But he’s all mysterious and stuff so the generic term just stuck. This is also why in Tomb of the Sea, someone referred to Li Cu as ‘xiaoge’, because he was indeed a xiaoge. But in Wu Xie’s heart, there’s only one Xiaoge. ❤️

AKA Menyouping - The name of this ship! Pingxie! This is what Wu Xie referred to him mostly as in his first POV novel. It means ‘stuffy oil bottle’ and communicates the sentiment of ‘poker face’ or just someone with no expressions.

Note on Zhang Qiling: This name is actually a title rather than a name. Qiling is the title given to the Zhang patriarch responsible for handling the spirits of their ancestors... eh it’s complicated and warrants its own post if you want to know more.

Note on ‘Kylin’: I know this is what the official translations had it, but like... wtf. What, no. Like, idk what happened here, but this is a terrible mistranslation. ‘Kylin’ or ‘Qilin’ is the name of the mystical beast of which Zhang Qiling has a tattoo of, but it is two entirely different words from the ‘Qiling’. Don’t let the similarity in English spelling fool you. Completely different words. Some translator thought Kylin might market better probably. But... no. It’s just wrong. I have to do a double-take when I see people writing ‘Kylin’. Come on translators, have more faith in your English speaking audience. Fans can adapt! Don’t butcher the name for sake of marketability!

Wang Pangzi - Yes, ‘Fatty’ is the accurate translation haha. Most people refer to him as Pangzi, including Wu Xie and Zhang Qiling.

AKA Pangye - Referred to by Pangzi himself, but also sometimes people who are trying to suck up to Pangzi.

AKA Pangge - Referred to by his love interests.

Wu Sanxing - Wu Xie’s third uncle. See, I don’t even know what to call him by default because I’m not sure what the subs tend to say.

AKA Sanshu - Wu Xie and his friends will call him this.

AKA Sanye - Pan Zi and other people in the industry will call him this.

Hei Yanjing - Again, I’ve no idea which name to use as his primary. Translates literally to ‘sunglasses’. Not technically ‘black sunglasses because that’s redundant’. See, even the spacing between his name here is unnecessary because this isn’t his official name, only a nickname. I don’t think we have his real name. But this version is generally called by most others I think?

AKA Hei Xiazi - This means ‘black blind person’, and is what Xiaoge refers to him as... and some others.

AKA Heiye - Just a more respectful reference. Called by Xie Yuchen.

Xie Yuchen - Called by Xiaoge and others less familiar.

Jie Yuhua - His stage name.

Xiao Hua - Called by Wu Xie, as it’s a nickname built off of his stage name.

Huaye - Called by Hei Yanjing and Pangzi, but more so out of humorous flattery than anything.

Whew that was a lot. Just be glad this isn’t MDZS where people had courtesy names on top of all these names... I think I’ll stop there, but feel free to shoot me any questions about other characters!

#daomubiji #dmbj #daomu biji #wu xie #zhang qiling #wang pangzi #iron triangle #the lost tomb #chinese names #pingxie #dmbj meta

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bamf-jaskier · 4 years ago

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A long ramble of thoughts about the history of chaos on the continent and why Fringilla’s use of forbidden magics is pretty neat

So one thing not too many people knowing about the Witcher is that magic is called Chaos for a very specific reason: it is the opposite of Order. In Sword of Destiny, Borch tells Geralt that Chaos is the aggressor and Order is endangered and needs protecting. Chaos is what mages/elves/witchers/sources/etc can channel in order to produce magic.

It's important to note that magic DID NOT EXIST before the conjunction of the spheres so it's pretty strongly implied that before the conjunction Order and Chaos were one and the Conjunction split them apart, leaving Order vulnerable and Chaos in the hands of living beings to manipulate. When the conjunction happened, no race (humans, elves, werebubbs, etc) knew how to use magic but eventually most of them found a way to use chaos.

What is interesting is that we are told that Witchers/Mages/Elves all see magic differently but we are never told how. It is mentioned briefly that mages "pervert" magic by the Elves but we don't know what perversion of magic looks like to the elves because it is subjective to their own worldview. However, looking at the earliest human tribes on the continent, the Dauk and the Wozgor we can get some idea of the difference between human magic and elf magic. Both groups were very influenced by ritualistic group magic as well as worship of the gods. Many of these gods such as Melitele are still worshipped.

The Dauk were more into fertility and harvest, think early Beltane Midsummer stuff, while the Wozgor primarily worshipped Lilit with Blood Sacrifices. So we see humans are in a group-mentality when it comes to magic and summoning, they pull power from the earth and pool together their magic to create spells. At this time, elves and humans were not considered enemies so group-magic and more nature-esque magic is accepted by the elves. This is also supported by the dryads and elves seeming to prefer druids who still use magic group-magic today.

So now we start to get into when the philosophical schism on magic happened. Clearly, at some point, humans started working on less "group/nature magic" and on more individualistic magic. By the nature of chaos it is consuming so as more humans began working on individual magic, they became more power hungry. I had a theory that it was human's use of individualized magic that led them to leaving the nomadic tribe mentality and instead moving to more Nordling-Like culture where they live in one place and fight with other tribes, eventually building cities, colonizing, and in general taking the standard course of human history. So now humans have magic. And they have POWER.

So you get mages who are fighting for their tribes, their groups and eventually kingdoms like Novigrad begin to form. Now the Brotherhood was formed in the 8th century by the Novigrad Union which was a group of druids, mages, and priests who signed a non-agression pact to stop the raids and warfare that were so common for centuries. However, the Union fell apart due to difference in views on magic while the Brotherhood stayed together.

The Brotherhood is now sort of the ruling party on the continent, it's the only power really left after the Union. It's not its own Kingdom so it can technically be considered neutral. This puts a lot of responsibility on the Brotherhood and the Northern Rulers are overwhelmed by the number of monsters. Previously, humans were so focused on killing each other they couldn't really organize and do anything about the monsters but now that society is developing it's a real problem for trade and travel. so they create the first Witchers in Rissberg. However, once they find out that the Witcher don't have the same magic aptitude as mages, they are discarded as failed experiments.

This is where is gets interesting again for me. Because Witchers actually can cast magic as strong as mages, they elect to use signs but Witchers can pool their magic together in order to cast more powerful spells. So what was the difference between mages and witcher that had the mages deem Witchers as failures? I am theorizing that Witchers channel chaos whereas mages manipulate it.

The way I describe it in my fic is that Witchers act as a conduit for chaos, think of it like sucking up magic into a straw, the Witcher is the straw, they bring chaos in it's purest form into the world. Then, once the magic is in our realm, they shape it into the spell or form they desire. It's similar to how elves and ancient humans used magic. This is why the elves don't call a Witcher's magic a perversion but a mage's magic is.

I'm theorizing that Mages on the the other hand bring magic in through almost a mold. When a mage summons chaos, that chaos can only be used for the very specific purpose that they want in that moment. It ties into their philosophy on willpower. What you desire is the magic you have. So a Witcher could begin to cast an Aard and then halfway through change the sign into an Igni and it would work fine. However, a mage can't begin to cast a portal and then change it into a lightning bolt. But this is also the reason mages are so powerful, their magic is specific. It is decided and the willpower behind it makes it a stronger spell.

NOW FINALLY we can begin talking about forbidden magics. So I'm not going to get into the First and Second Ages of the Witchers but just know that Witchers are now off on the continent doing their own thing and monster hunting, creating their own culture, etc. The Brotherhood does NOT care for this. They can see control slipping from their fingers so they and they are worried other mages are going to experiment the same way they experimented to create Witchers but this time they will make something even more powerful. Something that could topple their power.

The Brotherhood begins to ban magic that could be used to manipulate the natural order. The main three banned magics of the Brotherhood are Goetia (demonology), Necromancy and Ancient Magics. Now demonology was actually practiced by the Wozgor and many think that Lilit was actually a demon they summoned. Necromancy and Ancient Magics both have the potential for abuse but not more so than any other form of magic. However these are all powerful magics. But it's not just BANNING magic that creates censure with the brotherhood. It's the stringent guidelines of how to perform magic even though we KNOW there are multiple ways to channel chaos. The Brotherhood also creates a system with the court that also creates censure because courtly expectations now place an emphasis on respectability and governance and how you should hold yourself, etc. Being a mage becomes a lot more restrictive and a lot less experimental.

So we have to ask ourselves, what does Fringilla do that causes her to be considered abhorrent, In Tissaia's words: "I will defend our way of life, The Brotherhood, The Academies, the order that we have built up over centuries, you've rejected it all Fringilla"

So here's what we KNOW Fringilla has done: Forced Mages in Servitude until they decide to serve the White Flame (of course Fringilla says it isn't servitude but Triss disagrees), Practice Necromancy, Demonology, and Fire Magics She specifically says the phrase "most of us came from Aretuza and Ban Ard" so here's what we have to consider, how did Fringilla get them there, she can't have kidnapped everyone and as well if u know some spoilers from the book then there are plenty of mages that voluntary work for Nilfgaard.

Fringilla works with ANYONE who has chaos, not just people deemed worthy by the Brotherhood. In addition, she works will all magic, no limitations. In many ways, Nilfgaardian magic is returning to ancient magic. If you watch the battle at Sodden, the mages perform a lot of life-force spells. I have a theory that those types of spells are MEANT to be performed in groups and since they aren't, the mage withers and dies.

Also, listen, in another world Nilfgaard could be the hero. If they didn't show Nilfgaard being generally evil like killing everyone and sacrificing mages and stuff they actually have good reasoning? Cintra is objectively terrible. They literally almost killed off an entire race? The Genocide of the Elves is very much brushed over and honestly Cintra should have been overthrown ages ago. Also Nilfgaard has policies of cooperativity and community and honestly if they didn't so morally bereft acts their society has a lot of potential.

Fringilla is returning magic to how to was pre-brotherhood where it's groups of loosely defined mages doing what they want. She is also trying to break of the individualistic mindset of most mages which I think is interesting because it goes against the very soul of how mages perform magic. It's like Tissaia said, Fringilla is rejecting centuries of tradition. In any other world, Fringilla would be the Katniss to the Brotherhood's Capital. If Nilfgaard wasn't cast as so brutal they would literally be considered a revolutionary force trying to oust a genocidal dictatorial system (Cintra). Granted, many people have compared Nilfgaard to either being a Roman Empire or Soviet Russia analog, both brutal totalitarian or imperial regimes which probably is part of the reason Nilfgaard is so brutal. I am suggesting that in another universe, Nilfgaard could be instead of an imperial-religious-type regime a more revolutionary force.

Perhaps an AU where Nilfgaard teams up with Cintran Rebels and arrives at the city to help Cintran Freedom Fighters tear it down and then allows Cintra to rebuild on their own terms. Basically, I’m talking about the overthrow of the monarchy system present in most of the continent.

I would really like to see an AU where Fringilla is a revolutionary figurehead trying to work to establish a democratic system in a monarchal society while going against centuries of magical tradition. I think with the addition of magic and complexity of politics not the continent there’s just so much to think about here.

#listen #if anyone #and I mean literally anyone #read to the end of this you are a hero #I know a lot of world building stuff about the Witcher and I like to talk about it #honestly I might write out this Fringilla thing myself #cause fucking hell it sounds very cool once I said it #but I have no time for WIPs #whatever #I don't care #let's GO #lemme know if you liked this at all #the witcher #fringilla #worldbuilding #nilfgaard #cintra #myposts

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gukyi · 6 years ago

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love, guaranteed | kth

summary: with the celestial ball quickly approaching, kim taehyung is horrified to find out that you, his best friend, are dateless. to remedy this, he initiates The Match Project, a matchmaking service designed to find the most optimal date. to you, it’s an opportunity to meet someone else so you can stop pining after your clueless best friend. to him, it’s an opportunity to finally, once and for all, tell you how he feels.

{hogwarts!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: kim taehyung x reader word count: 11k genre: fluff + light, slow angst warnings: this is an idiots to lovers fic a/n: [distant screaming] [police sirens] oh god what is this !!! it couldn’t be.... a ... a fic ?????? just kidding, it is! just a reminder that i am still on hiatus and will be for another month, so inactivity should be expected. other than that, i am on break this week so i figured that while the inspo was rolling i’d write something !!! only jungkook’s au left and then we’re done .. my god.....

“I’m retiring,” Kim Taehyung says as he collapses on the worn yellow couch in the Hufflepuff common room with a dull, pillowed thud. You listen as he exhales, like he’s trying to rid himself of fifty years of pent-up aggression despite being a seventeen-year-old still finishing up his secondary schooling. From where you sit by the table under the window that overlooks the gardens, you can make out the tip of a tuft of golden brown hair and his old leather loafers, which aren’t so much loafers as they are feet-covers, considering how tattered they look. Every time you tell him to invest in a new pair he says that with only half a year left in this uniform, it’s absolutely not worth it.

You don’t really have the heart to tell him that if he plans on becoming a wizard psychologist like he wants to be, he’ll probably need to get a new pair anyway.

“Who’d have thought,” you muse from where you sit, placing the handcrafted wooden bookmark that Taehyung made you in second year into your book to save your place, “that after seven years of toil, trouble, and general stress, it was the decorating committee that took the great Kim Taehyung down. Write it in the history books.”

“I’m serious, Y/N!” He exclaims, swinging his legs off of the couch to assume a sitting position. “I’m done. It’s over. The decorating committee and I are breaking up.”

“Can you do that?” You ask with furrowed brows. Taehyung always makes everything sound so much more devastating than it actually is—one of his many talents—so you can’t imagine this, whatever it is that went down during Celestial Ball preparations today, is really going to change anything. “I mean, you are the head of the committee. I don’t think quitting is an option.”

“Says you,” Taehyung says like he’s about to prove you otherwise. “See, you don’t think quitting is an option because you’re one of those people that ‘doesn’t give up’,” he says, putting the phrase in air quotes like that’s supposed to mean anything. “Unlike me, an intellectual who knows when to quit.”

“Taehyung, you’re literally the head of the committee. You campaigned all throughout the fall semester to earn the position even though you were a shoo-in to get it because the only other person that wanted to do it was that one colorblind sixth-year,” you remind him with a roll of your eyes, as if he needs a refresher. All he could talk about over the entire summer break was how much he wanted to decorate for the Celestial Ball and give the Great Hall one of those Muggle home renovations. “Not to mention you had me, your incredibly loyal best friend, go around putting up your campaign posters instead of doing my Defense homework like I was supposed to.”

“You know I love you,” Taehyung says with a pout.

“The seventy-three I got on the test the next day says otherwise, but out of the goodness of my heart, I will believe you,” you say, teasing. You get up to sit down on the couch beside him, leaning back into the cushions against the armrest as you place your feet on his lap.

“Oh, did you get new socks?” Taehyung asks when he notices your mustard yellow socks. One of your other Muggle-born friends bought them for you over break as a Christmas gift as sort of a gag gift, considering they just have the word BITCH written all over them. “I like them. They suit your personality.”

“Do you have something to say to me?” You say, offended. You reach out to kick Taehyung’s chest to defend from his personal attack. Unfortunately for you (and fortunately for him), Taehyung takes your outstretched leg as an opportunity to go in for the kill, leaning over to tickle the underside of your knee, a place he knows is one of the most sensitive parts of your body.

(It’s a long story. To sum it up, in the third year the two of you were studying together before it somehow turned into a play-fight that ended with the other students threatening to call Sprout as the two of you were cry-laughing so hard.)

Immediately, you burst into giggles and start squirming, but Taehyung’s an actual demon out for your blood and his fingers follow you, even as you worm your way off of the couch to escape his evil clutches. Being ticklish is a weakness and a curse that only the truly sadistic like to capitalize on.

“Taehyung, oh my God, stop! Taehyung, please, I think I’m about to—” With a thud, you land on the rug beside you, the force rumbling through your body and knocking the wind out of you. Taehyung bursts into laughter instantly, clapping hysterically as you glare at him. “You are the highest form of demon possible. I just want you to know that.”

“Voldemort is quaking,” Taehyung jokes, making you laugh despite the fact that there is no sinking lower than tickling a ticklish person. He’s lost a couple points because of that. “Come on, come back up here with me.”

“You’re a demon and I hate you.”

“Please,” Taehyung begs, sticking out his lower lip and blinking because he knows it’ll get you to do anything. It’s how he convinced you to traipse around the castle campaigning for him even when you had a Defense Against the Dark Arts test the next day. He could get away with murder with that expression.

“Fine,” you cave almost immediately, because you’re nothing if not a sucker for him. “What was it this time?”

“With the decorating committee?” He asks. “Oh, nothing much. It’s just—no one can agree on anything and we only have a month before the ball. Like, today for example, we had a thirty minute debate on whether to have velvet curtains with satin lining or satin curtains with velvet lining. And all of the sixth-years say satin curtains because the shimmer they’ll give off in the candlelight is sort of like stars and it’s a Celestial Ball, but velvet is much more seasonally appropriate, in my opinion. It’s a February dance! We can’t have summery fabrics like satin at a winter ball. That’s just not how it’s supposed to work.”

“Have you maybe considered, I don’t know, silk?” You ask.

“Silk curtains!” Taehyung cries with such disdain you never realized how much of a problem someone can have with fabrics. “You wound me, Y/N.”

“Fine, not silk, then,” you say, backing off. Clearly you have no eye whatsoever for decorations for Celestial Balls so you should just leave it all up to Taehyung, the master. “But just for the record, I think velvet will look much nicer. And if you get crushed velvet, it’ll still glow in the light! Best of both worlds.”

“Y/N,” Taehyung declares, an epiphany in his eyes as he turns to grip your shoulders, “you’re a genius. Did you know that? An absolute fucking genius! Those sixth-years are gonna piss their pants when we get crushed velvet curtains. What would I do without you?” He says, collapsing back into the cushions with a satisfied grin.

You laugh. “Probably end up with satin curtains with velvet lining.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “The sixth-years are so annoying. All they were talking about today was finding a date for the dance. I mean, who cares about dates? It’s all so superficial, anyway.”

“I’ll bet they’re all planning to ask that one Slytherin, Park, out. He’s a real hunk, according to all of the underclassmen, I hear,” you say.

Taehyung scoffs. “Last I heard, Park was flunking Muggle Studies.”

“A hunk indeed,” you muse. “Has anyone asked you to the ball yet?”

“No,” Taehyung says with a flick of his hair for emphasis. “Everyone’s probably waiting because they’re too scared to be the first one. I can’t help how much the people love me.”

“Believe me, I know,” you say, muttering under your breath with a sigh. Taehyung’s charming and wonderful and perfect, but no one has fallen victim to his games quite like you.

“What’d you say?” Taehyung asks.

Quickly, you search for a cover-up. “Just that people are probably waiting to see if your ego will shrink before they commit themselves to that.”

Taehyung pouts, nose scrunching up as he pinches the side of your torso in response to your teasing. “Has anyone asked you?” He asks, changing the subject before you have the chance to bruise his ego again.

With a shrug, you shake your head. “No. I’m not really someone people ask to balls.”

“Hold on a second,” Taehyung says, standing up for emphasis. Oh, God. “Are you telling me that no one, not a single person, has asked you to the Celestial Ball? With only a month to go?”

You frown. “You don’t need to rub it in, asshole.”

“You’re saying,” Taehyung continues, “that you, my stunning, intelligent, funny, witty, talented, sarcastic, legend of a best friend, are dateless? Impossible.”

With that, you feel your cheeks heating up a bit from all the praise, something Taehyung is usually much more sporadic and lowkey about. Every now and then he’ll quietly let it slip how much he admires you, and how much he treasures your friendship, but this is like flinging a bucket of water in your face with how bold and upfront it is. Always a dramatic.

“Yes, well, the joys of being yours truly,” you say with a smile, accepting your life for what it is. There’s only one person you’d ask to the dance, and he doesn’t even know it.

“This is blasphemy! It’s an outrage! It’s—”

“If you’d like to do something about it,” you say as you grab your book and head up to your dorm for the night, “then be my guest. But you know that I’m not a big fan of the whole dating-for-the-sake-of-dating thing.”

“You’re giving me your full permission to find you a date for the ball?” Taehyung asks like a child given a blank piece of paper and a brand new box of crayons.

Your eyes widen slightly at what Taehyung’s insinuating, but even if he is a devil who tickles people for his enjoyment, you know that whatever he’ll end up doing probably won’t be too bad. Hopefully.

With a final turn, you meet his eyes and warn him. Just so he knows who’s really in charge here. “Don’t make me regret it, Kim!”

He grins.

Taehyung has been nowhere to be found all day.

Which would normally alarm you, considering his infectious personality and his constant need for human interaction. If you haven’t seen your best friend all day, your instinct is to assume that he’s dead. There are plenty of things inside and outside the castle that could kill him in an instant. Just one of the caveats of attending a magical school on the top of a secluded mountain.

“You’re allowed to worry about him, you know,” Sowon says as she bites into some corn on the cob beside you without a care in the world. She was one of the first friends you made in Hufflepuff house on the first day, even if Taehyung did end up securing the spot as ‘your annoying best friend’ in the end. “He is your best friend.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to seem too clingy,” You say, attempting to reason this out. “I mean, he’s probably fine. He’s never died before, so I don’t really see why I should be concerned now.”

“Yes, because nothing says consolation quite like the fact that he’s never died before so you don’t need to worry about him dying now,” Sowon deadpans, butter on the edge of her lip. “You’re one of the smartest students in the House and yet, I’ve never seen you be as unreasonable as you are when you’re talking about him.”

“I am not being unreasonable!” You cry defensively. “Look me in the eye and tell me that Taehyung’s died before. I dare you.”

Sowon rolls her eyes. “You going to the ball with anyone?” She asks, changing the subject probably for the sake of her own sanity.

“No,” you say, shrugging. Not unless Taehyung has anything to do with it, which, judging by his absence for the entire day thus far, doesn’t have you feeling too confident in your response.

“Let me ask a different question,” Sowon says like some sort of goddamn wizard psycho-analysist, like she’s about to read your palm and tell you your future. “Is Taehyung going to the ball with anyone?”

You sneer, narrowing your eyes at her because you hate when she plays this game. It’s because she always wins, no matter how much you try to block her path. Losing sucks, but losing because the other person has this annoying habit of always being correct is even worse. “No, but I don’t wanna hear it, ‘Won. You know I don’t like conforming to the whole heteronormative dating culture thing.”

“I get that, but you’re telling this to a lesbian who’s trying really hard to convince you to muster up enough courage to just—Ask. Out. Your. Best. Friend. Not because you need to conform to gender and sexuality secondary school dating bullshit, but because you’re in love with him!” Sowon exclaims, punching you in the shoulder just for good measure.

“Now look who’s being unreasonable,” you say pointedly. “We’ve made it through seven years of friendship romance-free. I’m not gonna fuck it all up.”

Sowon practically crashes her head against the wooden table.

“Besides, why should I take responsibility for the fact that he’s wonderful and hilarious and endearing and one of my favorite people in the whole entire world? That’s his fault,” you add on.

“This is why I hate talking to you,” Sowon says. “You have no idea what things could come out of you telling him.”

“Y/N!”

The both of you turn your heads to the doors of the Great Hall to find none other than the devil himself, Kim Taehyung, standing in the entryway with a giant piece of posterboard in his hands. He’s waving wildly in your direction, making you smile guiltily at Sowon as she glares at you, a single eyebrow raised.

“Oh, God,” you hear her mutter to herself as Taehyung proudly marches over, the gigantic poster in his hands not the least bit obtrusive.

“Jesus, Tae, is this what you’ve been doing all day?” You ask as he places the posterboard in front of you and Sowon—it’s a tri-fold, now that you’ve got a better look at it. He jumps over the table so that he can stand on the other side, like a salesman trying to pitch you a deal with a fancy professional display and everything.

“Hey, Sowon,” he says with a grin, making her salute in response. “How are you?”

“Losing brain cells.” She frowns, turning to you slightly as you grin helplessly and stupidly. Before Taehyung has time to ask her to elaborate, she gets up. “I’m going to go do something that makes sense in my mind, like Wizard’s chess, or my Potions work. See you guys around.”

“Wait, Sowon, don’t you wanna see what I’ve created to help Y/N find a date to the dance?” Taehyung asks. She glares harder, if that’s even possible.

“No, I’m alright,” she says with a forced smile. “Not to rain on your parade or anything, but I’ve given a bit of advice to Y/N to help her on her quest, if she so chooses to listen to me.” Another pointed stare. “I’ll see the both of you around, alright? Good luck, Y/N.” She does give you a friendly wave and a peace sign to make up for the verbal damage she’s been spewing out at you for the past twenty minutes about unrealistic things like Telling Taehyung How You Feel and Asking Him Out on a Date.

“Alright, your loss!” Taehyung calls after her before immediately directing his attention back to you with a devilish grin on his face. “So, Y/N. I bet you’ve been wondering what I’ve been doing all day.”

“Uh, not really,” you say, a lie meant only to curb his ever-growing ego.

“Well, I’ve spent the entire day thus far devising a foolproof plan to find you the best date for the ball, no exceptions. This has a 100% date-guarantee and if you don’t end up with one, then you get your money back,” He says confidently, fingers itching to open the tri-fold and reveal the glory waiting within.

“Wait, hold on a second, I’m not paying for this am I—?”

“Presenting: The Match Project!”

Taehyung flips open the sides of the tri-fold to reveal a bright pink background, littered with glitter and hearts cut out of red construction paper, stars and sparkles made out of that glitter glue that you can write with. It looks like Valentine’s Day ate his posterboard, vomited it back out, and then ate it again. At the very top, in gigantic red and gold letters, it reads: THE MaTCH PROJECT, the “a” suspiciously small and in lowercase, like Taehyung wrote the whole thing and then realized he was missing a letter.

The entire thing is particularly overwhelming, if you’re being honest. You don’t think Taehyung’s ever put this much effort into anything in his life. He’s got hand-drawn charts and graphs littering the sides and a survey taped to the middle of the board, front and center. On it, questions like “On a scale of two left feet to royal prince, how important is proper ballroom dancing to you?” and “If the conversation dies, what random topic are you willing to bring up to keep it going?”

“What on this godforsaken Earth is this, Taehyung?” You ask, in shock. You stand up to look a little bit closer, admiring the obvious dedication that Taehyung put into this creation. The tri-fold is covered in evidence that it’s Taehyung’s work, from the missing ‘a’ to the smudged writing, to the flecks of silver and gold glitter that covers his fingers, face, and hair and makes him shimmer in the candlelight of the Great Hall.

“My work of genius, obviously,” Taehyung boasts. “Listen, Y/N. I spent the entire day developing a matchmaking survey system to find the perfect date for you, as selected by me. Anybody I match you with will have a 90% or above approval rating by yours truly, because I would obviously never let you go out with someone that I don’t think is the most optimal match for you. What do you think?”

He’s probably waiting for you to say something like “Taehyung, you’re my hero!” or “This is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever done,” or any other comment that normally comes out of your mouth when he’s being his dramatic, overzealous self, but instead, you say this:

“You did all of this for me?”

And it does something that very seldom you’re capable of, which is rendering him speechless.

“Well,” he falters, trying to find the words. “I—Yeah, of course I did. You’re my best friend. Why wouldn’t I?”

He makes you warm on the inside, you realize. Like the sun is rising from the inside out, like summer and spring are blossoming from within your chest, spreading outwards like flower petals and a hazy breeze drifting through the sky.

“So let me get this straight,” you say quickly, shaking any ridiculous thoughts from your mind before your staring becomes too obvious. “You made an entire matchmaking service just so that you could find me a date to the Celestial Ball?”

“I would like to remind you that you gave me your full permission to do so. I’m just saying,” Taehyung points out, as if you don’t already know exactly what you’ve signed up for. It’s Taehyung. Of course you know.

“Something that I am beginning to regret already,” you tell him, overwhelmed at the effort spared in an attempt to find you a date for a measly school ball.

Taehyung scoffs, shaking off your concerns with a wave of his hand. “You’re just a hater, Y/N. I spend my entire Saturday curating the perfect matchmaking survey and no ‘thank you, my lord and savior Kim Taehyung?’ No ‘I owe you my firstborn child, Kim Taehyung?’”

“What are you, Mother Gothel?”

“I’m surprised you even know who that is,” Taehyung says pointedly. “Come on, Y/N,” he pleads, dangling a small piece of parchment in front of your face. “I made like, fifty copies of this using just my wand because this school doesn’t have printers for some godforsaken reason. I nearly set my entire dorm room on fire.”

With narrowed eyes and a suspicious smile lacing your features, you snatch the parchment out of his hand, tearing it slightly as you take a closer look at the questions. It seems, largely, quite legitimate for something that’s the creation of a seventeen-year-old Hufflepuff who still gets lost in Hogwarts despite it being his home for the past seven years. Other than some of the stranger questions such as “If you could be killed by anything on Hogwarts grounds, what would it be and why?” and “The Ministry of Magic is wrong—surprise! Change the classification for one magical creature and explain,” the survey is mostly standard, things about “Describe your ideal type” and “Do you have any House preferences (you may pick more than one)?”

“Fine,” you mumble, making Taehyung pump a fist into the air in success. “But only if you fill it out as well,” you declare, grabbing one of his many copies and stuffing it into his chest. “You’re dateless too, aren’t you? I’m sure there are plenty of wizards and witches hoping to be matched with you through your mysterious matchmaking algorithm.”

Taehyung clutches the paper against his chest, looking at you with a smug grin. He opens his mouth. Smirks. “Deal.”

That night finds you sitting in your bed, amongst your textbooks and essays and study guides, staring at the The Match Project survey that your best friend forced into your fingers earlier. It’s blank, but Taehyung’s been pestering you about it ever since you got your hands on it, popping his head in and out of the common room to remind you to fill it out. The questions are so easy, so perfectly Taehyung in every way that they could be, and yet, completing the form seems more difficult than ever.

You could always just tell Taehyung how ridiculous this entire thing is, and how much you don’t care about having a date to the Celestial Ball, but you can’t bring yourself to. He went through all of this effort—made a whole fucking tri-fold posterboard and nearly set his room alight in the process—and you’ll be damned if you don’t do this one thing for him.

Besides, Taehyung going on this epic quest to find the perfect date for you is nothing if not the perfect sign as to how he feels about you.

“Don’t tell me that this is what Kim has gotten up to,” Sowon’s voice interrupts. You turn to find her leaning against the frame of the door, holding a piece of parchment that looks particularly familiar in her hands.

“He gave you one, too?” You hum to yourself, amused at Taehyung’s antics. He certainly is going all out for this.

“Not so much gave as much as forced into my hands, but yes, it seems so,” she muses, walking over to take a seat beside you. “I must say, it’s quite comprehensive.”

“That’s Taehyung for you,” you say. “But he must know that we have no intention of being paired up together, so I can’t imagine why he’d give one to you. Other than to gloat, which is a frequent hobby of his, in case you haven’t already noticed.”

Sowon turns to you with a scoff, flipping some of her hair behind her shoulders. “You don’t know?”

Know what?

“After Kim showed you… whatever it is that he showed you, the whole thing gathered a lot of press. And I mean a lot, too,” Sowon explains, making your eyes widen. Nothing good ever comes from Taehyung receiving more attention than necessary. “Like, he set up a whole table outside of the Great Hall with that god awful pink posterboard and there were fourth and fifth years running up to him to grab surveys to fill out and he was putting them all into individual piles based on preferences and—quite honestly, I’d never seen him so popular and organized all at once. I swear he even managed to give one to Park, which shocks me because I’m pretty sure he has a thing for that one really quiet Puff in our year, the one that doesn’t talk.”

“Hold on,” you say, brain attempting to process everything Sowon’s just laid out in front of you. “You’re telling me Taehyung has somehow turned this ridiculous matchmaking service into a business?”

“I’m serious,” Sowon assures you. “I’m pretty sure I saw someone give him money, even if Kim does seem the type to enjoy setting people up together like this is the 1800’s just for the hell of it.”

You collapse back onto your bed, feeling old study guides and torn textbook pages fold under the pressure. “Jesus Christ.”

“You should fill it out,” Sowon tells you with a nudge. “Who knows? Kim seems like he knows what he’s doing. Maybe you’ll meet someone that will actually get you to move on from him,” Sowon tells you, that annoying thing called reason ringing in her tone.

“If only,” you sigh.

“Come on, Y/N. You’ve been hung up on him since the day you met—don’t you think it’s time to try and branch out? Have you ever been on a real date? Like, a real one. None of this ‘we went to Hogsmeade together that one time’ bullshit.”

Your silence is all the answer Sowon needs.

“If you don’t make any attempts to move on then do you think you’ll ever be able to?” She asks you pointedly. You are damn well aware she knows the answer to her own question. “Or, you could fill it out and hope that Taehyung realizes every answer is about him.”

“No. Absolutely not. No way,” you immediately tell her.

“Then just try,” she says, shaking your shoulders for emphasis. “Who knows, you might end up finding someone you really enjoy spending time with. And if you don’t end up finding a date to the dance, you can always hang out with me. We’ll have a blast and we’ll trash talk every boy in our lives. How’s that sound?”

“Fun,” you grumble, not sounding like it’ll be very fun at all.

“Good,” Sowon says, satisfied. She stands up to head back downstairs to the common room, but before she does so, she points at you accusingly. “But you have to fill out that survey and give it to Kim. I’ll make you. And you know that I can be even more unbearably persuasive than him, so you better.”

With that, Sowon flutters down the stairs to leave you collapsed in a pile of papers and quills and books, staring at the survey in your hands.

Fine. If Sowon’s so insistent that you either tell Taehyung how you feel (not happening) or try and move on (a more likely scenario), then you may as well go all out. It’s not as though Taehyung will put too much thought into what you write down. For all he knows—friends is all you’ll ever be.

A deep breath, inhale and exhale. Where it says, “Do you have any House preferences (you may pick more than one)?” you mark down, in sharp, permanent, heavy black ink:

Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor.

“There he is,” you exclaim happily as you walk into the Hufflepuff common room, having finished up your classes for the day. Taehyung’s sprawled out on the hardwood floor, legs crossed, surrounded by what looks to be dozens of The Match Project surveys, some in stacks and organized piles and others carelessly displayed. “Everyone’s favorite matchmaker.”

“Don’t touch anything,” Taehyung orders, not even moving to look at you. “It makes sense in my head and if I think about anything else for too long, then it won’t make sense anymore.”

“How long have you been sitting here?” You ask, strolling up to him. You have to say, you’re quite impressed by his work ethic. Even if he is spending it on something that is arguable not work. His fingers flutter across the ground, moving papers here and there, and you can practically see the cogs turning in his brain.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Taehyung admits. “I skipped Potions, I think. And Divination. But that’s it, I swear.”

“Taehyung!”

“What?” He cries defensively. “This is more important. I have until the end of the year to worry about my grades. The Celestial Ball is in less than a month!”

“You’ve been working at this for hours, Tae,” you tell him, nudging his shoulder. “Take a break for a little. Stretch your arms and legs.”

Taehyung pouts, like a petulant child who refuses to leave the candy store.

“Come on,” you say, giving in another persistent push. “No one’s going to fuck with your system. It’ll be good for your brain, and you can go back all refreshed and ready to go.”

You hold out your hand for him to take so you can pull him off the floor. He isn’t even sitting on a cushion or anything—his body must be aching for him to sit on a pillow or any sort of soft surface. He looks up at you, big brown eyes that shine caramel against the warm golden of his robes, and wraps his fingers around yours. The both of you crash on the couch, admiring all of the work that Taehyung’s put into this matchmaking service of his after only a few days. It’s booming.

“Are people really paying you to do this?” You ask, impressed.

Taehyung smiles guiltily. “They were at first, but now I’ve stopped accepting payment. I really like matching people together, you know? Just for fun. And it’s working out super well! Every match I’ve made has been successful so far.”

“Seriously?” You exclaim. “You must have a knack for this.”

“I do, thank you very much,” Taehyung tells you proudly, hands adjusting the collar of his robes for effect. “Speaking of which, you still have to give me your survey. Don’t think I’ve forgotten!”

“It’s up in the dorm, let me get it,” you tell him, getting off of the couch to scurry upstairs. You watch as Taehyung settles back into the couch cushions, letting the stress roll off of his back and sink into the fabric. You can’t imagine his job as Hogwarts’ unofficial official matchmaker is a walk in the park, even if he does enjoy it.

You return as quickly as you left, parchment held tightly between your fingers. It feels weird—giving your best friend a survey on who you’d most like to be with, who you’d most like to date. Especially when that best friend happens to be the answer to the survey (though that detail can remain hidden).

“Some of these questions are so… you, Tae,” you say with a shake of your head as you hand it over to him. “Like, I know that if you could re-classify any magical creature you’d lower the Crup to two X’s just because you want one as a pet so badly. You told me that in fourth year.”

Taehyung grins, caught red-handed. “I’m impressed you still remember.”

“Aren’t I supposed to?”

You lean into the cushions, feeling the tension fade from your skin as Taehyung gives your survey a quick overview. His expression seems to change from one of excitement to something undecipherable, even to you. His thick brows furrow and mouth turns down, lips pressed together in a thin line. Like he’s thinking about something. Like he has something to say, but has locked his lips for fear of the words escaping.

“Is everything alright, Tae?” You ask, leaning into him with a hand on his shoulder. Isn’t this what he wanted? A matchmaking survey filled out by you so he could match you with someone else?

And isn’t this what you wanted? A blank canvas, a fresh start, a clean slate? Someone to hold, to know, to love? Someone that isn’t Taehyung?

“Yeah,” Taehyung says with a sigh, voice muffled. “Everything’s fine.”

Taehyung sets you up with a Gryffindor named Yuta three weeks before the Celestial Ball. He comes marching up to you while you’re eating lunch in the Great Hall and plops down both your survey and the Gryffindor in question’s with a satisfied grin on his face.

“Can I help you?” You ask as he swivels in to take a seat next to you, immediately helping himself to some of the roasted carrots on your plate.

“I’ve matched you with someone,” Taehyung says proudly, shoving the parchment in front of you. “Now,” he declares, “normally I don’t show the two people matched their surveys next to each other, but since you’re my best friend, I decided to make an exception.”

“Wow, I’m honored,” you say, mock-touched.

“You should be. He’s on the Quidditch team, which is what you wanted, right? Someone sporty and athletic,” Taehyung asks as clarification. You can hardly remember what you wrote down on your survey—all you distinctly recall is making sure your answers were the opposite of Taehyung in every way something could be the opposite of him.

“Yeah,” you trail off. “I mean I wrote that, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did,” Taehyung says with a hum, thinking about something else. “I think you’ll like him.”

“Cool,” you tell him.

“Cool,” he tells you.

Taehyung stares down at the wooden table.

You stare down at your roasted carrots.

The silence that befalls you isn’t one you’re used to—not the normal type where the two of you are sitting together without saying a word, appreciating each other’s presence without needing to vocalize it. It’s not like that. It’s not like that at all.

This one—it’s tense.

“Well,” Taehyung says, the conversation having fallen into something sufficiently awkward. “I’m gonna go. I have like, at least five surveys that just have Park’s name written all over them, which I’m going to have to figure out because I’m pretty sure he’s taken. So, yeah.” He gets up, sending you some version of a finger gun-peace sign, like he couldn’t decide which one to do so he ended up just doing a strange combination of both. “Enjoy your date because I worked really hard to match you. 90% approval rating, remember?” He says, tapping his temple. “See you around.”

He walks off without another word, waving to some other people in the Great Hall and accepting a few more surveys along the way, but his goodbye makes you frown.

See you around means that you’re not sure when next you’ll come across each other. See you around means that another meeting is unclear, unsolidified. See you around means that you only expect to see each other in passing, not on purpose.

See you around means maybe, but the only thing is that Taehyung’s never been a maybe to you.

Yuta’s nice. He’s almost nothing like Taehyung, athletic and really into professional Quidditch teams, something you know essentially nothing about. He has a close knit group of friends who are all either in Gryffindor or Slytherin, and on weekends they frequent the parties that Slytherin house throws that you and Taehyung have never attended.

But he’s patient and kind and walks you around Hogsmeade, pointing at all of his favorite stores and favorite things to eat. He explains how the professional Quidditch league works even if the information goes in one ear and right out the other. He buys two licorice wands and gives one to you, but you don’t have the heart to tell him how much you despise the flavor.

“You’re friends with Kim, aren’t you?” Yuta asks as the two of you take a seat in the Three Broomsticks. He flags down a waiter and orders two butterbeers and a basket of multi-grain bread, the weird wizarding kind that has all sorts of magical spices and nuts in it.

“You mean the one running this whole business?” You ask, trying your very best to prevent the conversation from going stale. “Yeah, guilty as charged. He’d been begging with me to fill out the survey.”

“But it’s all just to find a date to the dance, isn’t it?” Yuta asks as the waiter drops off the bread and butterbeer. He immediately takes a sip of his, the foam gathering at the corners of his mouth, making you laugh. “What? What’s funny?”

“Oh, just the butterbeer on your face,” you giggle. Immediately, Yuta grabs a napkin to wipe away the bubbles. “But yeah, Taehyung really wants me to go with someone.”

“Well, it’s nice of him to arrange this whole thing. I mean—not just because of me, but just in general. It’s obvious he really cares about you,” Yuta says before chuckling, like he’s remembering something. “He actually came up to me before we came out today. He told me that I better not fuck anything up with you because you have to have the perfect date to the Celestial Ball, no exceptions.”

You nearly cough up your butterbear. Sputtering, you ask, “he said that to you?”

Yuta nods, though it’s clear that whatever Taehyung told him, no matter how bizarrely threatening it was, didn’t faze him much, if at all. “Yeah,” Yuta tells you. “He’s really protective of you. I hope I’m doing this date justice.”

“You’re fine,” you assure him.

And it’s true. Yuta’s fine. But that’s really all he is—just fine, nothing more, nothing less. He doesn’t know your preferences or your likes and dislikes, which is fine, because you’ve hardly spoken. He’s respectful and friendly and generous, trying his hardest not to scare you away while also trying his hardest to keep you entertained.

But he talks about things you have no penchant for and buys you food that you think tastes disgusting, and the conversation isn’t stale, per se, but it’s by no means light and airy either. And you can’t even fault him for it, because it’s not his fault that the two of you got paired up. Not his fault he wrote down what he was looking for on the survey and you wrote the complete opposite. But everything he does makes you think of how Taehyung found him before the two of you came out to Hogsmeade and told him to treat you right or face his wrath.

At the end of the day, you have a fine time. Just fine.

“I enjoyed spending time with you today,” Yuta tells you as he drops you off outside of the Hufflepuff common room. “I think it went well, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you say with a shrug and a smile you hope doesn’t seem too forced. “It was nice. I’ll see you around, right?”

“Sure thing,” Yuta says with a grin as he turns to head back up to Gryffindor tower, where all of his Quidditch-playing, licorice-eating friends await him.

You unlock the door to the Hufflepuff common room and swing the wooden thing open, letting out an exhale you feel as though you’ve been holding in all day. Like always, there Taehyung is, sitting amongst a pile of matchmaking surveys organized just the way he likes it, brows knitted in concentration. Even the sight of him makes you relax, shoulders sinking and heart warming. God, you’re fucked.

“Oh, you’re back,” Taehyung says when he spots you walking in, mouth curving upwards. “How was it? Was it perfect? The best? 90% approval rating, don’t forget,” he reminds you as he stands up, disregarding his system to chat with you.

“It was… fine,” you tell him honestly. No point in lying. Maybe Taehyung has another match up his sleeve.

“‘Fine?’” Taehyung asks, shocked that for once, his algorithm’s failed. “Just fine?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, walking over to collapse in the seat by your favorite table. “He was nice and all, just… not really what I was hoping for.”

“Oh,” Taehyung says with a frown, seemingly disappointed in himself. “I thought he was perfect. He matched everything that you wrote down,” Taehyung pouts. He fumbles in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a neatly folded piece of parchment. Is that yours? Has he kept it all this time? “You wanted someone athletic and extremely sociable. Maybe a partygoer. Someone who was clean-cut and sharp. I don’t get it.”

“It’s not you, Tae,” you assure him, this day feeling longer than ever. “Sometimes things just don’t work out, you know?”

“But it was supposed to,” he says with a whine, making you smile at his childlike nature. He thumps down amongst his pile of papers and surveys and diagrams, hardwood floor creaking under the pressure. He stares at his surroundings, each survey filled out with such care, such hopefulness, and frowns. “I’m sorry,” he tells you. This isn’t something he should apologize for. “I just—I really thought, you know? I mean he matched everything you wanted and it really seemed like you two would just hit it off, or something. I guess not.”

“It’s not your fault,” you tell Taehyung, walking over to him. The last thing you had wanted was for him to blame himself.

“I’ll try again, I promise,” Taehyung tells you firmly, fists clenched in confirmation. “I’m gonna find someone for you, Y/N. Someone perfect, who will treat you right and give you the best Celestial Ball experience of your life. Mark my words.”

“So I don’t get my money back just yet?” You ask, teasing him a little with a small grin on your face. Taehyung meets your eyes with his big brown ones, and you watch as a lopsided smirk overtakes his solemn expression. You miss seeing him like this. You miss being with him like this, like always.

Like you’re supposed to be.

“Not yet,” Taehyung tells you, snatching up a very specific pile in his circle of organizational hell and marching off, out of the room.

As the Celestial Ball draws nearer and nearer, Taehyung’s business, service, whatever the hell it is, only gains more and more attention, fools desperate for a date seeking out his aid. And, like always, Taehyung delivers with the utmost accuracy. He’s seemed to assume a somewhat permanent residence right outside the Great Hall, tri-fold on display and a never-ending supply of surveys sat at the table where he spends most of his time nowadays. And when he’s not sitting there, broadcasting The Match Project to anyone willing to listen, he’s surrounded by completed surveys in the Hufflepuff common room, circling him like flower petals.

You don’t really know how he matches people up, if you’re being honest. He says he’s got this system but that’s as much as he’ll tell you, your conversations these days brief and insignificant. You’ll walk into the common room to find him amongst his flurry of papers, say a brief hello and tell him to take a break because he’s straining his back, and head up to your room. If he sees you pass by his table outside the Great Hall on your way to a class, he’ll wave happily, usually surrounded by at least three or four people who are asking him about his services. Never enough time to talk.

You go on two more dates that Taehyung’s arranged for you. They’re not so much dates as they are meetings, little get-togethers to see if the two of you will get along well enough to accompany each other to the ball. A trip to Hogsmeade here, a bit of lunch in the Great Hall there.

Taehyung always makes sure to tell you exactly who he’s set you up with before you go out. He makes it a point to find you beforehand, shoving the two surveys in front of you just to prove that his decision is the best it could be.

“He’s really into playing football, which is that muggle sport where they kick around a black and white ball—”

“I know what football is, Tae.”

“Yeah, well. He also wants to work in Ministry and hopes to become the Minister one day.”

It makes you wonder—if he’s coming up to you to tell you everything he knows about the person you’re apparently destined to be with—if he’s going up to the person in question and warning them. Telling him what he told Yuta, the Gryffindor. Telling them that they better not fuck up because he only wants the best for you.

Is that scaring them off? What message is that sending to them?

Taehyung’s always been protective of you. It comes from being your best friend for so long—knowing you not even like the back of his hand but like his own face. It comes from always wanting the best for you, so much so that he’ll go through with making an entire matchmaking service just so that he finds you the perfect date for the fucking Celestial Ball. It’s always been like this.

Two unsuccessful dates later finds you with less than a week to go before the Celestial Ball and Sowon’s proposition of going with her and talking trash about the boys in your lives looking more appealing than ever. It wasn’t so much that they were failures as it was that they weren’t what you were looking for. Taehyung’s followed what you wrote down for the survey to a T, done his very best to pair you up, but nothing’s working. For what may or may not be obvious reasons, depending on how you look at it.

It’s one of the very few occasions when you creak open the door to the Hufflepuff common room to find Taehyung not sitting amongst stacks and stacks of papers, parchment worn and ink bleeding, sifting through the piles furiously, pairing different surveys off with each other before reorganizing the whole thing and starting all over again. Instead, you find him having fallen asleep mid-process, leaning against the back of the worn yellow couch with his mouth hanging open. Tufts of his golden hair dangle in front of his eyes, and a paper sits in his hand, like exhaustion had overcome him while he was in the middle of analyzing someone’s responses.

In sleep, Taehyung looks like a child. Not that he turns into a baby or ages backwards, but the hard lines from his furrowed brows and the tension in his shoulders vanishes, leaving behind someone who has yet to face the harshness of the real world. Someone who dreams just for the sake of dreaming, not because they need to worry about their future or are holding themselves to a standard of any sort. His skin is smooth and warm and his body is soft and comforting.

Watching him, you smile to yourself. Very rarely do you get to see Taehyung asleep—you stay in separate dorms and he almost never takes naps—and the sight reminds you, even if just briefly, of the closeness you share. There’s no one else in the common room besides the two of you, a gentle message that says, it’s always just been the two of you.

You have half of a mind to leave him there, let him rest. He’s been working himself to the bone over the past month, every person in Hogwarts’ student body desperate to get a taste of the matchmaking service he provides, not to mention a pile of seventh-year homework he has to get through nightly. But you know your best friend, you know Taehyung, you know everything there is to fucking know about him because he’s always on your mind and always in your thoughts, how could you ever forget anything about him? And you know that Taehyung hates going to bed because there is always something else that he wants, that he needs to do. It’s why he doesn’t take naps—why he’s always wishing that there were more hours in the day. Because there’s always so much to be done.

Slowly, you tiptoe over to him, hoping not to wake him roughly. You kneel down beside him, letting the sight of him sink deep into your memory so you won’t forget this, even when you’re old and wrinkly and can’t hold your wand properly anymore. You reach down to take the paper from his hands and place it with the rest of him, but one quick glance at the writing and you realize that it’s yours.

Which is strange, because he doesn’t know how your most recent date-not-date went, so why would he be looking at it? It’s not as though he knew that he needed to match you up again. You hold it up, staring at it, noticing how it’s worn around the edges, like it’s been looked at over and over. How the ink has faded, sunken into the paper, unmovable. Your fingers trace over your answers again. Looking for a Slytherin, Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor. Someone extremely active. Wears well-fitting, sharp clothing. Clean-cut hair. Enjoys going out and hates staying in.

And you stare at what you’ve written like it’s personally offended you, hating the way the words taste in your mouth. Reading each response as you look over at Taehyung, still fast asleep against the back of the couch, and you see the way he sniffles in his sleep and all you can think is, who the fuck am I kidding?

Even if you filled out a million matchmaking surveys, you’d always end up right back here.

“Tae,” you say softly, quickly putting down your survey amongst the rest of the papers, like you haven’t been staring at it and pondering the meaning of your existence. “Tae, wake up.”

He mumbles something unintelligible in response, head swaying side to side as you slowly shake him awake.

“Tae, you fell asleep,” you murmur.

“Y/N?” He asks, recognizing your voice even through his sleepy haze.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He still hasn’t opened his eyes, almost as if he feels as though he’s dreaming the whole thing. “You fell asleep. Wake up.”

Taehyung shifts over slightly, but still seems to be dozing off, drifting in and out of consciousness. “Did you go on another date?”

“Mmm,” you hum a response, “I did.”

“Did it—” his head falls before he picks it back up again, “Did it go well?”

“It was alright,” you say. “But I wasn’t really interested in him.”

“Hmm,” Taehyung seems to lean into your touch, even if it is as simple as a hand on his shoulder. “I just wish… just wish I could find somebody—”

“What are you talking about, Tae?” You ask sadly, jerking him a little harder.

“Find somebody you’d want to be with,” he finishes up. “I read—” a hiccup, “I read your thing and I realized that I can’t keep hoping—hoping you’ll want me instead of someone else—”

“Taehyung, what’s going on?” You ask, eyes widening as his drowsy mind betrays his thoughts. What on earth is he talking about? Could—could it be?

“I tried my best,” he says, and it sounds so goddamn sad. Makes your breath hitch in your throat at the sound of his words, faltering slightly, either from sleep or from truth.

“Tae, wake up,” you say, giving him a hard shake, unsure if you can handle anything else that spills from his lips. His eyes blink open, big and dark and beautiful, like always, and his mouth curves into a hazy smile when he sees you. You’re almost positive he has no recollection of what he’s just told you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” He asks as he yawns, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. “Didn’t you have a date?”

“I just got back,” you tell him, moving away. Maybe he can’t see you shaking. “You fell asleep.”

“I did?” He asks, looking at his surroundings, blinking a few more times. “Oh, I guess I did.”

“I just came to wake you, you know,” you say casually, standing back up and dusting yourself off. “I know you hate taking naps.”

“Thanks,” he tells you, leaning forward to gather up all of the surveys. They’re in relatively good order, other than the one sitting on top of the pile, out of place. Yours.

“Okay, I’m gonna go,” you say, already beginning to beeline it to your dorm. Can he hear your heart pounding? It sounds like a bass drum in your ears.

“Wait, Y/N?” He says, catching your attention.

You turn around to look at him, see him gazing back up at you like there are a million thoughts flying through his mind. You can’t imagine you look much different.

“Do you think he was the one?” He asks.

You shake your head. It’s the easiest question you’ve ever been asked, especially when the answer is staring you right in the face. “No,” you tell him. “I don’t.”

The night of the Celestial Ball, you’re sitting on your bed in a pale blue dress sent to you by your mother, staring at your fingertips. Obviously dateless, Sowon’s made the executive decision to take you under her wing, even if she is already going with someone else from your year. She promised she wouldn’t leave you out.

The ball is already an hour in when she pops her head into the dormitory, long brown hair done neatly in an updo and a creamy white dress draped over her body. She looks gorgeous, but she always does, so this isn’t unusual.

“I know I said I wanted to be fashionably late, but this wasn’t what I was going for, you know,” Sowon says jokingly, walking over. She hands you a white rose from her bouquet, placing it between your fingers. “What’s got you so down? You can’t be in a bad mood when we trash talk men. I won’t have it.”

“Nothing,” you sigh, helpless. Taehyung and you haven’t spoken since you found him asleep in the common room, and now you’re sitting on your bed on the night of the Ball, his only failed survey.

“You’ve never been a very good liar, Y/N,” Sowon says with a shake of her head. “It’s Taehyung, isn’t it?”

You don’t need to move a muscle to give Sowon the answer she’s looking for. It’s as if his name is sitting in the air, permeating the oxygen. Like it’s inescapable, wherever you go.

“I took your advice and everything got worse,” you deadpan, trying to laugh at yourself. Instead, the sound comes out more like a dying goose. Things haven’t been going well recently.

“Impossible.” Sowon frowns. “My advice is golden.”

“I went out with a bunch of people and tried to move on and I couldn’t.”

Sowon smiles to herself, a small sigh escaping her lips as she sits down next to you, takes your hands in her own. “Okay,” she says. “So maybe you didn’t move on. Maybe you’re still thinking about Taehyung even after trying your hardest not to. But that’s okay, alright? It’s okay to not move on sometimes. You weren’t expected to fall head over heels in love with one of those people you went out with. All you did was branch out. And maybe it didn’t work, but that’s alright. What matters is you tried, Y/N. You tried your fucking best and you shouldn’t have to wallow in self-pity on the night of the Celestial Ball, of all nights, because of it.” She stares you straight in the eyes and normally you would be intimidated, but the fond grin lacing her features soothes your worries. “That’s not what I wanted for you. And that’s not what Taehyung wanted for you either. Obviously. Otherwise he wouldn’t have done all of this for you. Even if it didn’t work out in the end.”

“Ugh,” you huff out, falling against your bedsheets, crumpling up the hair that Sowon so painstakingly did for you earlier. “I just—I wish it was easier, you know? That I wasn’t so hung up on him.”

“Well,” Sowon declares confidently, “then let’s go down to the ball and you can show him how much you don’t need him. Or any date, for that matter. Because you’re a strong, independent woman who doesn’t conform to stereotypical secondary school heteronormative dating standards.” She pulls you up with her.

“I’m pretty sure that once I see him enjoying himself with his own date, I’ll realize that for myself,” you muse. You never did ask if Taehyung, after all that time spent helping others, found a date for himself. But, knowing him, he probably had no problem doing so.

“Taehyung doesn’t have a date,” Sowon tells you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“What?” You ask, blinking in shock. Taehyung? Dateless? Now, that’s a surprise.

“Yeah,” Sowon says. “When Nayeon and I went down earlier, I saw him sitting at one of the tables all by himself. He was like, halfway finished a second glass of the fruit punch. I thought you knew.”

“No, I had no idea,” you say, shaking your head. You wonder if he even tried to match himself up with anyone else in his service. You did make him fill out one of his own forms, after all. He must have at least tried. There must have been plenty of people eyeballing him, submitting a survey in the hopes that they would end up paired with him. Surely, there must have been someone he would have worked well with.

It’s almost like he was waiting for someone.

Your breath catches in your throat. “Sowon, do you have any spare surveys? Any?”

“Me? Yeah, he gave me one even though he knew I was already sort of semi-seriously seeing somebody,” Sowon says. “Why?”

“Can I have it?” You ask, eyes wide and full of hope. Maybe Taehyung is waiting for somebody.

Maybe all he needed was an excuse to be with them.

Sowon shuffles through her belongings and hands you the survey, all crumpled up after weeks of sitting in her desk drawer, forgotten about. She asks if you need anything else, and if you’re going to be joining her. You tell her not to wait up, because you have something you need to do beforehand.

“Okay,” Sowon says as she begins to walk from the room. “But I’d hurry it up, if I were you. Time you spend up here is time you’re wasting down there, with him.” With that, she winks before her dress disappears down the stairs.

It’s as if she’s known all along.

Do you have any House preferences (you may pick more than one)?

Hufflepuff. Seventh year.

Describe your ideal type.

Someone so determined to find his best friend a date that he makes an entire matchmaking service for them. Scruffy hair. Needs a haircut. Hates naps.

Someone who loves you back.

By the time that you reach the Great Hall, the Celestial Ball is in full swing. Flitwick is conducting the band as they play a fun, lighthearted tune, and students of all years are dancing around, enjoying each other’s company.

You spot him sitting at one of the corner tables. There are crushed velvet curtains behind him, a soft rose gold color reflecting in the candlelight. Good choice.

He’s all alone, as Sowon told you earlier, and there’s an empty goblet with a couple red droplets still left inside.

“You look like you’re having fun,” you deadpan, a small smirk playing across your lips. Taehyung looks up at you, and you watch as he takes in the sight of you in front of him. You have to admit, he looks awfully good in that suit of his, muted yellow bowtie complimenting his warm brown hair and golden skin. From a distance, he looks like one of those Greek gods, goblet by his side, ethereal glow surrounding him.

“So much fun,” Taehyung says, immediately scooting over so you can take a seat in the chair next to him. The two of you stare out into the sea of students in the Great Hall, watching as everyone enjoys themselves on one of the most exciting nights of the school year.

“Looks like The Match Project was a success,” you comment softly. “Everyone seems to really be enjoying themselves.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung agrees. “I mean, it was just a one time thing, but I think that I did well.”

“Me too, but you’re sitting here, dateless.”

“So?” Taehyung asks with a huff.

“So, how are you, my incredible, talented, dedicated, hardworking, inspiring, artistic icon of a best friend, dateless?” You ask, forcing Taehyung to look at you. You’re grinning, beaming, maybe, and it makes him roll his eyes. “Didn’t you fill out the survey, too?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says with a sigh. “But I couldn’t really… find anyone that matched with me perfectly. So here I am.”

“Well,” you say, placing your second and final survey in front of him, “I have one more for you.”

“Y/N, you know I don’t really care about—”

“Just read it, Tae.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes fondly at your persistence, but does so nonetheless, eyes glazing over the ink scrawled across the page, messy and unkempt from rushing. You watch as something lights up in his eyes the more he reads, like a single spark illuminating the night sky before the fireworks follow. Watch as he can’t contain the way his mouth widens into a smile, all teeth, the way his cheeks turn to a soft muted scarlet.

“What is this, Y/N?” He asks, like he can’t believe his eyes. He turns to you, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so hopeful, so desperate.

“It’s—it’s the survey I meant to give you the first time,” you tell him. “I should have just told you, I know, but I just—I had been in love with you for so long and I thought that maybe it was just time to move on so I filled out everything by writing down things that I knew were the opposite of you but it didn’t work out so—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Taehyung says, stopping you with a hand up. He reaches down to hold your hands in his own, “go back a bit.”

“Well, I thought it was time to move on so—”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Further back.”

“I should have told you—?”

He shakes his head again. “No. Just a little after that.”

You look at him and it feels like all the weight has been lifted off of our shoulders. Feels like when you crash on the couch in the Hufflepuff common room after a long day. Feels like when the sun streams in through the windows and lights up your favorite table. Feels like home.

“I’d been in love with you for so long,” you say, and it sounds like a song. Sounds like music to your goddamn ears.

“Yeah.” Taehyung smiles to himself. “That part.”

“What about it?” You ask teasingly.

“I don’t know,” Taehyung says with a shrug, “it’s just nice to hear. Taken you forever, but I suppose the wait’s been worth it.”

“Hold on a second,” you say. “You knew?”

“What?” Taehyung asks. “No, I had no idea. I just—I figured that if you were confessing, or whatever this is, then you knew how I felt about you,” he says. “God, I tried so hard to keep it from you because I was so—I was so scared that you’d find out and never want to speak to me again, but you sit next to me on the couch and let me tickle you and you wake me up when I accidentally fall asleep and you still use that bookmark I made you in second year and God, I can’t help it. And then you handed me your survey and I read it and it was nothing like me and I just thought, ‘Fuck,’ but I wasn’t going to fuck with your love life just because I was in love with you, so I tried my best to pair you up according to my system, but I guess—”

“I guess we both made mistakes,” you say, finishing his sentence. “Every time I thought about that survey, or the dates you sent me on, I—I always thought about what you had written. I wondered if you were searching for someone, too.”

“I was,” Taehyung says.

“So was I,” you say.

“Did you find them?” He asks, leaning in.

You nod, feeling his breath fan out against your lips as your eyes flutter shut. “I did.”

Then, he presses his lips to yours, and it feels like a warmth spreads throughout your body, from your heart to your bloodstream to your fingertips, engulfing you from the inside out. Feels like something in you has caught on fire—perhaps your heart, knowing you—and you won’t be making any efforts to put it out. Taehyung presses his lips to yours and pulls you close to him, wraps his hands around your body in every way that he can, every way possible.

Things like this—they’ve been a long time coming. Of course they have.

You and Taehyung part, breaths heavy as you rest your foreheads against each other. It feels so natural. It feels like this was always meant to be. Like this was written in the stars from the moment the two of you laid eyes on each other.

“I guess The Match Project does have a 100% guarantee,” you say. The last two people who ended up dateless found each other in the end. Go figure.

“I told you,” Taehyung says. “How would you rate your experience with The Match Project, on a scale of one to ten?”

“A million,” you declare happily, pulling him in for another kiss. “A billion. The service was unparalleled. I mean, I found the love of my life? What more could you ask for?”

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#taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #v fluff #v angst #v scenario #taehyung scenario #bts imagine #taehyung imagine #v imagine #bts au #taehyung au #bts hogwarts au #bts harry potter au #w: love guaranteed #w: sorted

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iobjectfa20 · 4 years ago

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OAXACALIFORNIA: For the Pride of Your Hometown, The Way of the Elders, And In Memory of the Forgotten

“And That Is How They Hid The Sun” by Oaxacan art collective, Tlacolulokos (Dario Canul & Cosijoesa Cernas). This mural is part of a larger exhibit, OAXACALIFORNIA, which can be found online in the Museum of Latin American Art (MOLAA).

How & Why I Chose This Piece

The greater exhibit, OAXACALIFORNIA, showcases the complexities of language, migration, and culture specific to the experiences of Oaxacan (Oaxaca being the capital of Mexico) and Indigenous community members residing in Los Angeles, California. It aims to explore how these facets of identity have been integrated with that of non-Indigenous people (who function as agents of settler colonialism, regardless of intention), while simultaneously honoring the traditions of ancestors past. What immediately drew me to this specific piece was the juxtaposition of it’s red, gold, and blue colors. While the exhibit in its entirety uses the red and gold patterned background, it at once subverts this feeling of comfort with the choice to incorporate such a contrasting color such as blue in this specific mural. The blue also emphasized certain unrecognizable features of the mural and consequently piqued my interest.

Taking a step back to examine the actual people and objects situated in the work, I could already deduce that this was meant to provide commentary on a few key aspects of society; religion (due to the robed figure on the far left donning a black robe and a cross-patterned shirt), the relationship between policing systems and religion (as shown by the batons positioned to create a cross at the foot of the robed figure), and culture (demonstrated by the different styles of clothing each person is wearing). Additionally, the context of the exhibit is to reinforce the importance and presence of Indigenous life despite the consistent whitewashing of history. I could therefore conclude that this in one way or another was attempting to push against dominant colonial narratives and also attempting to remind spectators that this history is not stuck in the past. Colonization is frequently framed as an unnameable atrocity of the past, but it is not often enough recognized as a trauma that has manifested to fit our world today. This piece insists on being recognized as a contemporary struggle while also affirming the Indigenous peoples ability to thrive regardless of all that they face.

Despite knowing all this there was so much that was not familiar to me, such as the pants of the portrait’s middle character, their tattoos (or that of the person creating them), and the cultural artifact to the far right side. I was also really interested to see how language would be incorporated into a medium that was largely visual, and while we do see a phrase in Spanish, I was not yet sure about it’s meaning in the exhibit as a whole. I knew there was much more occurring than I could grasp based on my limited knowledge of Oaxacan and Indigenous communities, and it was my job to unravel that understanding from this mural. This is why I chose this piece. Not only does it echo a familiarity of colonial narratives that many of us grew up being educated on, but it de-centers this whitewashed history and instead encourages us to engage directly with the cultures of these communities. It forces us to dedicate time and effort to truly understand how this work is a piece of global resistance.

Reframing as Object of Resistance Global Novels are about expanding our world view, about circumventing structures that exist to repress all expressions of identity. In studying this genre, we have been able to access various works that asked us to consider the magnitude of storytelling. It is not enough to just acknowledge the existence of these stories, but we have been tasked with challenging the people who have been positioned to tell them. Art exhibits accomplish much (if not all or more) of the same things, and both mediums allow us to reflect on our own experiences and create interpretations that would not exist otherwise. OAXACALIFORNIA falls right in the middle of this mission as it is celebrating life, tradition, language, and reaffirming Indigenous communities' place in history and in the world today. It simultaneously collapses whitewashed narratives that have somehow tokenized Indigenous people in a way that suspends them in the past --- they are not honored as they exist in our communities now. Because this piece is framed within a colonial context, it is automatically assuming the position of a reimagined history. Both Canul and Cernas have expressed that the exhibit contains significant ties to Oaxacan, LA, and Indigenous cultures. Thus, this piece also functions by tying together generations of migration and stories. At face value this mural literally depicts several people, but there is a deeper underlying meaning that directly opposes the regurgitation of popular colonial accounts. Firstly, the Catholic priest on the far left is dressed in a black robe with patterned print underneath. The print contains imagery of the cross, and lying at this figure’s feet are two police batons that take on the shape of a cross. The battle helmet that they are wearing has the words “Born to Kill” engraved into the side, and they are wearing combat boots that are barely visible beneath the robe. This figure is also pictured holding a police baton in one hand (mimicking a crucifix) and an open religious text that is decorated with the imagery of death on the other. One should also note that the hand wrapping around the baton is skeletal, almost ghostly, and seems to mirror the picture of death on the open book. Combining all these characteristics together it is as if they are attempting to bless the person who is sitting down, but with promises of salvation through violence, policing, and deception (characterized by the fact that their face is being mostly shielded from the audience) much like the European conquistadors during the continent's pre-colonial era. This also calls forth the issue of police brutality that Black communities and communities of color face at the hands of the police officers, once again making this piece more contemporary than meets the eye. They are positioned in a way that makes them taller than the other two individuals, but they feel more blended in with the background as they are wearing duller colors. Next, we have a person who appears to be sitting down and getting drawn or tattooed on. Their chest, right arm, and ankles are covered in tattoos, and the ankle tattoos almost seem to mimic the print of their pants. They are wearing a bright blue cap backwards, dressed in sweats, and Nike sneakers. This person’s expression is one of bravado and they’re holding onto a machete, which is symbolic of resistance to the systemic, ideological, and physical violence experienced at the hands of colonizers. While that seems to be all that is going on, the emphasis of the bright blue colors led me to do research on the significance of the clothing. The sweatpants have actually been sown together with traditional wear for the highly respected “Danza de la Pluma/Dance of the Feather”. The dance is full of lively music, vibrant clothing, and the presence of ancestors (acted through the people dancing) that are meant to be honored. It existed long before colonization occurred and was specifically honoring the Aztec gods (i.e. of rain, sun and corn to name a few). After colonization it then began to also commemorate the survival of Indigenous peoples despite the violent intervention of Europe. The blending of traditional wear with the sweatpants and overall mainstream outfit (i.e. the only other blue accessory, the cap) are emblematic of the multiplicity of identity. Regardless of how much has changed sociopolitically, a person’s identity is their own to dictate and these identities do not exist in vacuums. Lastly, the person that seems to be tattooing is the more discreetly proactive character. The tattoos that have been drawn on the middle person’s chest are that of ships adorned with crosses on their masts, of lightning storms, and of the word “Raza/Race” on their abdomen. Because this last person is placed in a position of creating these images, this speaks more directly to the core of this project; the reimagining and rewriting of history by those who have been harmed. The waves lashing out at the base of the ships seem more fiery, like flames, and all of these combined illustrations create a tempestuous recounting of European colonization. These colonizers are the bringers of chaos in this story. It’s also important to note that this third person’s hand is dissolving into the body of the person sitting. Both people become one in this shared past and this tattooing process is consensual, reassuring the audience that both are partaking in the sharing of their truth. There is empowerment and autonomy here. While their expression is that of bravado (as mentioned earlier), the teardrop is representative that there is no bravery without expressions of pain and sadness. Whether this sadness is due to the remembrance of this agonizing past or the literal process of tattooing, it has become memorialized as part of their experience all the same. While religion was weaponized, it is also a testament of union and community. It is undoubtedly true that Christianity and Catholicism were vehicles of violence for the European settlers, but now that both have become ingrained as an integral part of certain Oaxacan communities (re: the tattoo of a rosary on the third person’s left hand), it has been reworked as a mode of unification and of finding each other. All of these truths can exist at once but it was imperative to Tlacolulokos to create a piece that was frank in it’s portrayal. This piece also transcends borders, such as those of California (LA) and Mexico (Oaxaca), and highlights the issues of Indigenous displacement. The theorist that immediately came to mind was Dr. Aihwa Ong, author of Flexible Citizenship: The Cultural Logics of Transnationality. Dr. Ong uses the imagery of a passport to disturb the conventions of “state imposed” versus “personal” identity. Not only does the passport symbolize a state imposed sense of identity (much like the creation of borders), but Ong outlines how a diasporan subject inherently resists these sanctions. Tlacolulokos have curated for us through their art the understanding that Indigenous people have been labeled as “other” and “inferior”, despite being displaced from their original land and right to sovereignty. There is an understanding that these marginalized groups now have learned to mold themselves around societally imposed expectations. Similarly, Ong explains that the concept of “citizenship” is always changing due to physical movement and displacement, and due to cultural exchange. This is exactly the rhetoric that this mural is attempting to emulate. In its entirety, this mural depicts the movement of people across borders (metaphorical and literal), and about the fact that these communities continue to exist regardless of how they are erased from institutional spaces. Despite the fact that the US government continues to ostracize and disrespect Indigenous people, these communities are continuing to find each other through the tracing of familial lines and self-identification. This exhibit addresses themes of being silenced by solidifying its place in history through documentation in a visual form. It is a memorialization of previously existing in a mythic state; of existing between reality and fantasy. However, this piece and the exhibit as a whole reassures audiences that these communities are very real and still deserving of appropriate recognition and care. On a final note, these pieces were commissioned by the Los Angeles City Central Library to counter the original murals that were situated on the museums walls. The original paintings (commissioned in 1933) depicted the European and Indigenous people in painfully biased ways --- the Indigenous as weak, submissive, and enslaved, while the Europeans were construed as symbols of power, wealth, and civility. The act of placing the new murals by Tlacolulokos directly underneath the older work is the museum’s way of addressing the pain that had been perpetuated by their previous commission. While I can’t speak to whether or not this is enough to rectify the harm done by the museum (as I myself am not Indigenous), Tlacolulokos has definitely embraced this as an amends.

--- Zenaida R.

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giftfromthesleepprincess · 6 years ago

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Chapter 2—Is the Blue Haired Marquis Santa Claus?; Scene 4

Gift From the Princess Who Brought Sleep, pages 60-69

Hanne arrived in the Freezis Foundation headquarters in Marlon’s capital city of Bariti about forty-eight hours later.

The building, standing along the middle of the Methis river, was second in size only to Marlon Castle, the home of the king. She’d first seen it about ten years before—it had just been newly constructed, and while at the time it had been a little smaller, as the years passed by it was remodeled again and again, and little by little its scale grew larger and larger. With the influence of the foundation now, perhaps a time when it eclipsed Marlon Castle in size wasn’t far off.

The one to greet Hanne as she was imagining the fate of the foundation was the chief minister’s close aide, Bruno.

“…Thank you for coming. The minister is waiting, let’s go.”

He didn’t sound much like he was welcoming Hanne. There wasn’t any real need to concern herself over it. He was always like that. He didn’t think very well of Hanne coming into direct contact with the minister.

“Here is my strict advice for you.” When they started to walk along the hallway, heading for the chief minister’s room, Bruno spoke to Hanne. “There are others with the chief minister. You must address him as one of his subordinates. And above all you must not speak of the fact that you—are his great granddaughter.”

“I understand. I’m sure you have no wish for a needless quarrel over successorship, Sir Bruno.”

“I pray you feel the same. Heidamarie as well…Though I am not terribly worried about her; she is quite taciturn, and seems to have little desire for material wealth.”

“Oh, how awful of you. You make it sound like I’m a greedy blabbermouth.”

“That is not my intention, I only—We’re here. Let us end this conversation now.”

Bruno knocked on the chief minister’s room.

“Beg pardon, commander. Hanne Lorre has arrived.”

After a moment, they heard a hoarse voice say “Come in” from the other side of the door. Bruno responded by opening the door and entering the room with Hanne.

The chief minister was in bed. He was sitting up, looking their way. There were two steward women by his side.

“So good of you to arrive, Miss Hanne. Come, please sit here.”

The politeness of the chief minister’s manner of speech, being the highest-ranking member of the foundation as he was, was not to stand on formality with her. He always spoke that way to everyone. Whether speaking to a king or a beggar, his way of address was still the same--perhaps the reason he had been able to make the Freezis Foundation as big as it was lay somewhere in that personality of his.

“I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while. Commander Shaw Freezis.”

It had been about one year since Hanne had seen him last.

“Are you in good health?” she asked him, sitting down in the seat prepared for her.

“Not in the least. When you get to be one hundred and sixteen…oh…One hundred and seventeen? No, maybe it was one hundred and fifteen? Ha ha ha, I can’t even remember how old I am,” he laughed feebly. Thinking on his age, it was miraculous that he was alive at all. “My being able to live like this is thanks to the divine protection of God. I must do something to repay that. My calling you here today is—for that purpose, to sum up.”

After saying that, the chief minister glanced slowly to his left and right.

“…Should I clear out the room?”

It seemed he was worried about other people overhearing their conversation.

Hanne shook her head.

“I don’t really mind. And I gather that Sir Bruno would rather not let us talk just the two of us.” She could hear the sound of a tongue clicking behind her. Hanne continued speaking, not paying it any mind. “—Have you found ‘it’?”

“Yes, ‘that’. …Thinking on it, all the chaos that I experienced when I was young—it was all caused by ‘that’. Though I didn’t figure that out until I was long into adulthood. In that respect I have a connection to ‘it’. I must take revenge…on the thing that drove mad the lives of my mother and father.”

“I can guess. I’m here to fulfill that wish. If you have anything you want me to do, you need only ask.”

“I’m grateful to hear you say that. …The thing I’m searching for is in ‘Toragay’. You must head there.”

“Toragay!? Toragay in Elphegort?”

Hanne looked a little taken aback, not expecting that name to come forward.

“Oh, does this mean you’ve got something on it already?”

“Yeah, on a different case…No, I see. When I think about it now, it’s only natural. I wish I’d realized sooner that ‘that’ was involved…I should have…”

“Could you tell me what it is?”

“—The other day I discovered that the marquis governing the town of Toragay, Kaspar Blankenheim, had passed on. According to his father in law, a doctor, it was a result of illness—but I don’t believe that.”

“So in other words, you think he was murdered by someone—there’s a chance it’s a case to investigate?”

“Yes. I haven’t gotten any clues yet, so I can only theorize at this stage…”

“But that means that you do have something to theorize.”

Hanne nodded. “I believe it might be the same matter as the ‘accidents’ and ‘rules’ that the late Yukina Freezis wrote of in her journal.”

“Ho ho, I see…But if you were already at Toragay, I suppose that means it was a waste of time to call you all the way out here like this.”

“No, not at all…There is some information I wanted from you, now.”

“’The most important thing for a merchant is information’—that was my father’s favorite phrase. Very well. Then I will tell you all the information I have at my disposal. First…the criminal organization ‘Pere Noel’, which has been causing havoc in the world lately. They have secretly been involved with the town of Toragay—did you know about that?”

“Yes…But according to my investigation, the chances are very high that their leader was none other than the deceased Kaspar Blankenheim. If so, then ‘Pere Noel’ has already lost their leader—”

“Oh?” The chief minister nodded several times as though impressed. “You’ve found this all out rather fast. However, there is one point that I’m not of the same opinion about.”

“Which is?”

“The idea that the leader of Pere Noel is this man named Kaspar—That conflicts with my own information. I have a different person suspected as the lea—cough, cough.”

The minister started to rapidly cough. Bruno flusteredly ran to his side.

“You’re putting a strain on your body. That’s enough for today.”

But he waved off Bruno’s hand. “Don’t mind me. This is what an old man like me lives for. On the contrary, putting a stop to me would put me in worse health--Let’s continue, Miss Hanne. My own research has picked up on a certain woman as their leader.”

“A woman?”

“Yes, and this woman has been witnessed periodically entering Toragay. It seems she is self-styled as a ‘sorceress’.”

“‘Sorceress’...”

Hanne’s back ran with cold sweat.

“In this day and age, anyone calling themselves that would just be treated as a charlatan or insane person. But yet she is using the title of sorceress.”

“Her name—What name is she going by?”

“—Elluka Clockworker—”

When that name reached her ears, Hanne’s eyes opened wide.

The chief minister continued speaking, putting emphasis in his words. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Whether she is genuine or not, I must…no, we must ascertain the truth. Of course I will have my World Police move on this matter—I wouldn’t mind putting them under your command, if you wish.”

“But that…would stir up needless animosity, wouldn’t it?”

As she spoke, Hanne gave a quick glance towards Bruno’s face.

…He was making a very openly sour expression.

But the chief minister shook his head, smirking.

“I won’t be living much longer anyhow. To the last I am getting my way as befitting the top of the organization. There’s no need for you to concern yourself about that.”

It happened many years ago, but the chief minister had promised Hanne limitless economic aid, once. It was an expression of his affection for her, but it also resulted in inviting great criticism from other members of the foundation, starting with Bruno. There were few people who knew of the trouble from back then around now, but they weren’t all gone yet.

So even now, Hanne hid her status and spent her time as a mere newspaper reporter.

Even so, it seemed the minister no longer cared about those circumstances.

“If you have the chance I’d like to have you involve in the investigation Miss Heidamarie…your little sister; although, it seems she’s working on another case at the moment. Once that’s all wrapped up, I’ll have her head for Toragay.”

“I’m much obliged for the thought--Well, I’ll make sure to do that when I need her. But, for now at least…I’d like to work on this on my own. Launching into this large-scale while I have no evidence might not turn out so well.”

“I see, if that’s how you feel…Very well; you must find this ‘Elluka Clockworker’ by any means necessary. Though I doubt you’ll be able to catch her so easily…But if anyone’s able to accomplish this, I’m sure it’s you.”

“…As you wish.”

“—Cough…I guess we’ve been talking too long. I think I shall rest a little now.��

“Yeah, get yourself some sleep.”

One of the stewards handed some sort of tablet to the chief minister, and after swallowing it he lay down in bed.

“Well then—”

Hanne bowed once and left the room.

Bruno followed after her. The whole time Hanne and the minister had been talking he had seemed displeased, and that hadn’t changed now.

“…He trusts in you a great deal.” Hanne couldn’t tell if that was intended as praise or sarcasm. “You understand? I know what the minister said, but I must urge you not to—"

“I know. I won’t be recklessly abusing the authority of the foundation. And, naturally—I won’t tell anyone I’m his great-granddaughter.”

“…Good.”

She knew. The more people got wrapped up in this—

The more casualties there would be.

<<prev------directory------next>>

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hnc02 · 4 years ago

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BLOG AND FACEBOOK STATUS REPORT

I. COMPLETION. Read the Facebook post below and comprehend the different conventions present in the post. Synthesize the content of the Facebook Status by answering the following questions. Limit your answers with a minimum of three sentences and maximum of seven.

Inocencio S. Mercado

19 Cilantaro St. Sta. Lucia Subd,

Brgy. Taculing, Bacolod City

Negros Occidental

Philippines

Posted on Facebook on February 26, 2021

WHY I LOST MY KID

A Message to all EDUCATORS, PARENTS, AND TO THE WHOLE PLAN ON THIS DISTANT LEARNING

So much guilt. I ask and tell myself so many questions and so many different reasons. Why did he take his own life? We love him so much. Me and the rest of my family always did our best to give all the things that he asked for but at the end, still no answer. WHY?

My son JINO was a very intelligent kid. Ever since his kinder days and even until he graduated grade school, he was always on top of his class, always averaging 90+, and even passing all the tests to join the SPECIAL SCIENCE section in Education and Training Center School and Negros Occ, High School which is an elite group of students with advanced curriculum, the cream of a crop in their school. My kid had never failed a subject nor tasted a grade lower than 90. He was an IDOL to most of his classmates.

JINO was also such a lovable and kind kid. He was so sweet [malambing to the max]. At home with just his mom and I, he would sit on my side or ask me to join him on the bed and would just embrace and kiss me nonstop until I complained of my wet face. He never complains but just follows as he is told [he will just cry a little or show a sad face as a sign of complaint]. It is his way of showing me love.

What triggered him to take his own life? In his 7th grade (1st year high school), he was devastated to have received a grade of 80 on his very 1st grading, with which I considered as only a very minor subject (Edukasyon sa Pagpapakatao EsP or Good Manners and Right Conduct). The rest of his major subjects such as Math and Science were all 90+. With this, I scolded him and limited his time on games with his gadgets.

What could he have been thinking?

What’s going to happen if I am removed from the elite section?...

Where will I be transferred?...

What would my parents think?...

What would my friends and classmates say behind my back?...

When can I get back my freedom to play with my gadgets?...

I am so guilty. Why was I so strict with my kid? Why did I deprive him of his cellphone just because of a “failed” grade? Why did he not tell me? Why did I not notice the inner problems of my kid? Why does his mother have to work, preventing the most important bond between a mother and a kid?

The passing grade of the special science section is 85 but he got an 80 on that one minor subject. What will happen if he fails again due to this incompetent and heartless teacher who not did care about the feelings of the students during this pandemic period of our time? Giving him this grade of 80, knowing this would take him out of the special section, directly posting this on his report card without informing nor consulting with us parents of the problem. My kid was such a kind and soft boy, who would just keep his problems within himself, facing them alone.

He was being tortured internally time and time again that on the 25th of January his mind gave way and opened the door for the DEVIL to come in.

This failed grade, as a father, pushed me to get angry that I scolded him and confiscated his brand-new cellphone because of this Mobile Legends game that has consumed the brain and time of our kids. (It is a violent game that has lots of killings. [I hope the Government restricts these violent games from our kids]. I feel guilty because I didn’t try to find the reason for his failed grade. And why were we not informed by the teacher of the problem? It is not fair to fail my kid, or ANY KID, during this pandemic period with remote learning especially on a subject like ESP [moral values]. If you haven’t personally known your student, how can you evaluate them on his values during distant learning.

Why have I not seen the burden inside my kid? Why did I not see the problem inside his mind? This is because the bonding we had was more on man’s responsibility and activities rather than inner problems and feelings.

I am retired and his mother is working from morning till late afternoon. This is a call to all PARENTS. Please don’t take for granted your bonding moments with your kid. One of the most important things for your children is to open up their inner problems or frustrations. Give your kids the very precious time to open up to you, PARENTS.

To all educators, you are the second parents of your students. Give them your HEART not only their grades because education is not only of the mind but also of LOVE, FAMILY and GOD. “THINK BEFORE YOU GRADE.” MAY GOD FORGIVE YOU…

1. GENRE

What is the type of text?

Base on the information provided above, the text is a Facebook text-only page post where the writer expressed his grief upon losing his son and concern about the new educational system. As I was reading, the text is a narrative speech where the author stated his experiences and traits of his late son as well as calling for an action and awareness base on their situation.

2. AUDIENCE

Who is the text aimed at?

Base on my comprehension, the text is an awareness for parents and the way they treat and discipline their children. The message is for the parents upon considering their children’s feelings and burden too. Also, the text is voicing out consideration from teachers in this time of pandemic where everyone is struggling to adjust to the new normal especially the students.

What audience did the writer have in mind?

As I was reading, I have noticed that the writer was thinking about the parents and teachers as the main audiences of his Facebook status. My analysis was based by the way the writer constructed his words and sentences and the way he delivered his story and objectives. Again, the objectives of his Facebook status is to give awareness about children’s mental health in this time of pandemic and the help of consideration and compassion upon combating depression and negative outcomes brought by the new normal education system.

3. PURPOSE

What does the text want you to do?

As I said earlier, the objectives/aim/purpose of the tect is to give awareness and importance to mental health especially in this time of pandemic where everyone is struggling to adjust to the new normal system. The text is calling out for an action from the people to be considerate and compassionate with each other especially with students who are feeling a lot of pressure and unmotivated on these times.

4. LANGUAGE

Is the language persuasive, informative, descriptive?

The languages that are used is both persuasive and descriptive. The writer tried to persuade the readers/audiences about giving importance to mental health in this time of pandemic by using descriptive language upon stating his experiences and feelings towards these experiences.

Is the language more suited towards adults or children- make sure you have evidence to support your conclusions?

Base on the language/s that is/are used, the language suits more on adult audiences since it is more like an advocacy and awareness that requires mature thinking and comprehension from adults. Also, there were mentions of violence such as suicide that are recommended for ages 13+ and the text is out of the children’s interest so it really suits more on adult audiences.

5. INFORMATION (5 points)

Is the information in the text factual, opinion or a mixture of both?

The information that are stated in the Facebook status are opinions, insights, and emotions of the writer to the situation of he and his family experienced because of the new normal system. Although lots of people agreed to his statements and claims it cannot be considered as factual unless confirmed on studies and by experts.

6. STYLE (5 points)

How is the text presented?

The text is presented in paragraph forms. There are shown obvious emphasis on significant words and phrases by capitalizing or italicizing words, phrases and sentences. Also, there are used presentation devices such as headings and bold features on words especially on the title. There are no used pictures or other graphical designs concluding to aim at older audiences.

7. TONE (10 points)

What evidence supports your conclusion?

The tone of the text is sad and gloomy. To support my conclusion, the writer used emphasis on the important messages he wants his audience to remember by writing it in all capital letters as well as to emphasize the subject of the text which is his late son. Some of his statements that he capitalized are his thoughts and opinions about the new system we are living now as well as his feelings towards the incident they experienced.

Does the writer used a lot of facts to help convey a serious tone? Or does the writer/ speaker use a passionate tone to persuade or to show you how strongly they feel about the topic?

The text is more of an opinion or insight about a certain circumstance that is cause by a particular event so the writer used a passionate tone to convey his thoughts and feelings about the topic to the audiences. He stated some of his opinions about the new normal education system and mobile games which shows a persuasive tone for people to agree with the writer.

II. COMPOSITION. You are task to develop a personal blog showcasing your portfolio. In this activity there will be three situations and they are the following:

1st Situation - For those students who can still access their pre-develop blogs in Empowerment Technologies subject you may utilize it and creatively develop it. Gather all your output in Creative Writing (if possible) and Creative Nonfiction and put them all on your sites.

2nd Situation - For those students who can no longer access their blogs in Empowerment Technologies subject you are task to develop your own blog in any free access blog site. You are also task to gather all your output in Creative Writing (if possible) and Creative Nonfiction and put them all on your sites.

3rd Situation - For those students who chose printed as their learning delivery mode. You are task to generate a creative showcase portfolio including all the literary works, activities, and output you have done in Creative nonfiction and all the activities that you will be doing.

Note: Once you are done developing your blog, kindly send the link on your respective Google classroom.

Link: hnc02.tumblr.com

note: if link isn’t working pls make a tumblr account first for you to be able to view my blog or if you already have one and the link doesn’t work, kindly search hnc02 on the search bar and there you will see my blog thank you!

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anastpaul · 7 years ago

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Saint of the Day – 24 March – Blessed Óscar Arnulfo Romero y Galdámez (1917–1980) Martyr (soon to be Canonised) Bishop, Martyr, Apostle of the Poor and suppressed, Social Justice campaigner, Preacher, radio broadcaster – born on 15 August 1917 in Ciudad Barrios, San Miguel, El Salvador – martyred by being shot by a government-affiliated death squad on the morning of 24 March 1980 in the chapel of La Divina Providencia Hospital in San Salvador, El Salvador while celebrating Mass. Bl Oscar was Beatified on 23 May 2015 by Pope Francis. Recognition celebrated at Plaza Divino Salvador del Mundo, San Salvador, El Salvador, Cardinal Angelo Amato, prefect of the Congregation for Causes of the Saints, chief celebrant. On 6 March 2018, Pope Francis promulgated a decree of a miracle obtained through the intercession of Blessed Oscar, making way for his Canonisation later this year. Patronages – Christian communicators, El Salvador, The Americas, Archdiocese of San Salvador, Persecuted Christians, Caritas International (co-patron).

Early life Oscar Romero was born into a large family on 15 August 1917 in El Salvador. Although they had more money than many of their neighbours, Oscar’s family had neither electricity nor running water in their small home and the children slept on the floor. Oscar’s parents could not afford to send him to school after the age of twelve, so he went to work as an apprentice carpenter. He quickly showed great skills but Oscar was already determined to become a priest. He entered the seminary at the age of fourteen and was ordained a priest when he was 25 in 1942.

Recognising the power of radio to reach the people, he convinced five radio stations to broadcast his Sunday sermons to peasant farmers who believed they were unwelcome in the churches.

In 1970, he became Auxiliary Bishop in San Salvador. In 1974 he became Bishop of Santiago de Maria. At this time, Oscar Romero was described as a conservative, not wanting to break from tradition. He supported the hierarchy who encouraged conformity. He was uncomfortable with social action that challenged political leaders. Growing awareness during his two years as Bishop of Santiago de Maria, Romero was horrified to find that children were dying because their parents could not pay for simple medicines. He began using the resources of the diocese and his own personal resources to help the poor but he knew that simple charity was not enough. He wrote in his diary that people who are poor should not just receive handouts from the Church or the government but participate in changing their lives for the future.

In 1977, Romero became Archbishop of San Salvador, the capital city. The situation in El Salvador was becoming worse and he couldn’t remain silent any longer. The military were killing the Salvadorian people – especially those demanding justice such as teachers, nuns and priests – including Romero’s good friend, Fr Rutilio Grande. Thousands of people began to go missing. Romero demanded that the President of El Salvador thoroughly investigate the killings but he failed to do so.

Voice of the voiceless In his actions and words, Oscar demanded a peace that could only be found by ensuring people had access to basic needs and their rights upheld. He raised awareness globally about the people in his country who had been killed or “disappeared”. When he visited the Vatican in 1979, Oscar Romero presented the Pope with seven detailed reports of murder, torture, and kidnapping throughout El Salvador. In 1979, the number of people being killed rose to more than 3000 per month. Oscar Romero had nothing left to offer his people except faith and hope. He continued to use the radio broadcast of his Sunday sermons to tell people what was happening throughout the country, to talk about the role of the Church and to offer his listeners hope that they would not suffer and die in vain.

Martyrdom On March 23, 1980, after reporting the previous week’s deaths and disappearances, Oscar Romero began to speak directly to soldiers and policemen: “I beg you, I implore you, I order you... in the name of God, stop the repression!” The following evening, while saying Mass in the chapel of Divine Providence Hospital, Archbishop Oscar Romero was shot by a paid assassin. Only moments before his death, Romero spoke these prophetic words: “Those who surrender to the service of the poor through love of Christ will live like the grain of wheat that dies… The harvest comes because of the grain that dies.” Like many great leaders who have fought for truth, Oscar Romero was killed and became a martyr but his voice could not be silenced. He is a symbol of hope in a country that has suffered poverty, injustice and violence.

To date, no one has ever been prosecuted for the assassination, or confessed to it. The gunman has not been identified.

Funeral Romero was buried in the Metropolitan Cathedral of San Salvador (Catedral Metropolitana de San Salvador). The Funeral Mass on 30 March 1980 in San Salvador was attended by more than 250,000 mourners from all over the world. Viewing this attendance as a protest, Jesuit priest John Dear has said, "Romero's funeral was the largest demonstration in Salvadoran history, some say in the history of Latin America."

At the funeral, Cardinal Ernesto Corripio y Ahumada, speaking as the personal delegate of St Pope John Paul II, eulogised Romero as a "beloved, peacemaking man of God," and stated that "his blood will give fruit to brotherhood, love and peace."

Massacre at Romero's funeral During the ceremony, smoke bombs exploded on the streets near the cathedral and subsequently there were rifle shots that came from surrounding buildings, including the National Palace. Many people were killed by gunfire and in the stampede of people running away from the explosions and gunfire; official sources reported 31 overall casualties, while journalists recorded that between 30 and 50 died. Some witnesses claimed it was government security forces that threw bombs into the crowd and army sharpshooters, dressed as civilians, that fired into the chaos from the balcony or roof of the National Palace. However, there are contradictory accounts as to the course of the events and "probably, one will never know the truth about the interrupted funeral."

As the gunfire continued, Romero's body was buried in a crypt beneath the sanctuary. Even after the burial, people continued to line up to pay homage to their martyred prelate.

Spiritual life Bl Oscar Romero noted in his diary on 4 February 1943: "In recent days the Lord has inspired in me a great desire for holiness. I have been thinking of how far a soul can ascend if it lets itself be possessed entirely by God." Commenting on this passage, James R Brockman, S.J., Romero's biographer and author of Romero: A Life, said that "All the evidence available indicates that he continued on his quest for holiness until the end of his life. But he also matured in that quest." According to Brockman, Romero's spiritual journey had some of these characteristics:

love for the Church of Rome, shown by his episcopal motto, "to be of one mind with the Church," a phrase he took from St Ignatius' Spiritual Exercises;

a tendency to make a very deep examination of conscience;

an emphasis on sincere piety;

mortification and penance through his duties;

providing protection for his chastity;

spiritual direction;

"being one with the Church incarnated in this people which stands in need of liberation"; eagerness for contemplative prayer and finding God in others;

fidelity to the will of God;

self-offering to Jesus Christ.

Romero was a strong advocate of the spiritual charism of Opus Dei. He received weekly spiritual direction from a priest of the Opus Dei movement. In 1975 he wrote in support of the cause of Canonisation of Opus Dei's founder, St Josemaria Escrivá (1902-1975), "Personally, I owe deep gratitude to the priests involved with the Work, to whom I have entrusted with much satisfaction the spiritual direction of my own life and that of other priests."

(via AnaStpaul – Breathing Catholic)

#bloscarromero #march24bloscarromero #catholic #catholicism

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jonahcartwright-blog · 8 years ago

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april fools ~ self-para

When: April 1st 2017 Who: Jonah and family (NPC) Summary: It’s the ten year anniversary of Jonah’s father’s death, and Jonah tries to think of anything else, but his mom wants to have an important word with him about his future. So he’d take his dead dad over that, thank you very much. Notes: mentions of death, an overbearing mother, flashbacks, just a lot of angst jonah has on a daily basis. also this is SUPER long, like i got really carried away with it. sorry if you decide to read. also ending’s lame bc i was like “shit this is looooong”

The clock counted down. 6:57, 6:58, 6:59...and then, bam. The annoying blare of the alarm echoed around Jonah’s room, jolting him awake. He turned it off, and rolled on his back, looking at the ceiling.

Ten years.

He tried not to dwell on it, just focused on getting up and getting ready. To most teenagers in Lima, getting up at 7am on a Saturday was torture, but it was Jonah’s only sleep-in he got all week. He was a busy guy, and just because it was the anniversary wasn’t going to deter his plans. It was just going to be any other Saturday.

Showered and dressed, he went down for some breakfast, his phone already dinging with messages. It wouldn’t be anyone from school -- God knows they’d still be asleep, or just getting home depending on who was out partying -- so he put it to the back of his mind. His mother was sat at the breakfast table, a mug in front of her, seemingly untouched, staring out into space as if there was something extremely interesting just out of his line of sight. Bernice Cartwright, in that moment, looked like an angel with the morning sun reflecting on her golden hair, dressed in all white, looking fragile. When she heard her son’s heavy footsteps, she jumped in surprised, smiling smally at him. “You’re up early,” She noted.

“I am?” Jonah questioned, picking up an apple from the fruit basket, “I’m always up this early on a Saturday. I have many practices to do, and I need to go over some things for the paper.” He explained, walking to the sink to wash the fruit, before taking a bite out of it.

Bernice pursed her lips in disapproval, “I’m sure you can skip today, Jonah.” She said, the emphasis impossible to miss.

“I can’t,” He said firmly, his phone chiming again. Bernice withered, whether at his defiance or the technology, she didn’t know.

“One day won’t hurt, sweetheart. You do too many extracurriculars, you never have time for yourself --,” He cut her off in that moment.

“You’re the one who told me to take up as many as I possibly could. Said it’d be good on college applications.”

The stepford smile came back then, at the mention of school, “I did, yes, but you’ve already been accepted into your dream school.”

Jonah just looked at her with a blank expression. “My dream school?” He wanted to ask, “Funny enough, that it’s Capital University, and it’s the one where you met Dad, where you want me to follow in his footsteps.” But he didn’t. He just let his ever chiming phone fill the silence.

“Friends, I suppose?” Bernice asked, as if Jonah hung out with Lucifer himself.

Jonah checked his phone, seeing Delilah’s name on his home screen numerous times. “Yeah, Mom,” Was all he responded, knowing today wasn’t the day to pit his mother and his sister against each other. “Well, I have to go. The piano won’t practice itself.”

Throughout his practice, the idea of College stuck in his mind, which led him thinking about his father, which led him thinking about today. Ten years since he died. It was one of the clearest memories of a full day Jonah had.

The date fell on a Sunday, which meant the Cartwrights went to their Church. Del was just starting to get into her rebellious phase, nothing serious, but she was causing a lot of boys’ heads to be turned, and she constantly had her iPod on. The memory of her wearing eyeliner for the first time and their mother’s reaction was one he could dwell on for another time. The grownups went to the service whilst the kids were cattled off to Sunday School, with the freakish Pastor declaring that all “jokes” and “foolishness” performed that day would send them all to Hell. He remembered everyone being frightened, except Del, who was doodling on her arm, using Jonah as her canvas when she run out of space. He remembered having asked his parents numerous times to go round Charlie’s, though they forbade it. Sundays were family days.

He remembered watching Del twirl her hair and flirt with some boy, as they were waiting for their parents to finish their conversations. Jonah’s dad, Michael, was a lawyer, whilst Bernice worked part-time in a Christian bookstore. He loved talking about work, how he had faith in God to put the criminals and the sinners away.

He remembered his dad’s cough, as if there was something in the back of his throat he couldn’t quite dislodge, and complaining about his indigestion. He remembered his Dad collapsing as soon as they stepped through the threshold of their home, of Delilah screaming and his mom frantically dialling 9-1-1.

He remembered hanging out in the hospital all afternoon, and overhearing the conversation between a doctor and his mom.

“There was nothing else we could do, we’re so sorry.”

Jonah stopped piano playing, and decided that maybe his mom was right about one thing, and that he needed a day off. He headed over to Del’s, to check on her, knowing that despite all her problems with their family, she had been close to their dad. But alas, she was fine (read: stoned) and he left her too her own devices, heading back home.

On the way back, he drove past Charlie’s, and remembered the conversation he had with him. How the other boy thought it was a cruel prank, and couldn’t hear the genuiness of Jonah’s tears. For the first time that day, he smiled.

“Where have you been?” Was the first question he got when he stepped in, “you’re not normally home this late.”

“I met up with some friends,” Jonah lied, glancing at the crucifix hung on the wall, as if it would smite him down there and then.

“You need to stop associating with some of those friends of yours, Jonah. They’re no good,” Bernice insisted. He rolled his eyes, it was the same argument practically every day these days.

“What does it matter when I get shipped off to Columbus?” He asked instead. His mom ignored him, as per usual.

“Some mail came today, from the City College, in New York?” She phrased it like a question, though it was definitely an accusation. Jonah couldn’t help but feel like he was frozen.

“What about it?”

“You got accepted. Congratulations.”

“You opened my mail?” Jonah asked.

“When did you apply?”

“Why did you open my mail?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you applied for it?”

“Mom what the Hell --”

“NO BLASPHEMY!” Bernice yelled, and it echoed through their house, staring at Jonah with her icy eyes, “You are not going to that school. You are going to Capital, Jonah. Your dad would have wanted --,”

“Don’t bring Dad up, not today.” Jonah said, tired of this, “and what does his opinion matter anyway? Or yours?”

“Jonah...” Bernice tried, but he shrugged it off.

“I’m sick of being coddled. I’m sick of people painting my future, or who I should be for me. I’m just sick of it. I’m going to bed.” He snapped, ignoring that it was only early evening, and stormed upstairs, shoving in his earphones and just letting the world disappear for a little while.

Why did his life just feel like an endless April Fool’s joke, except the punch-line had long since expired?

#self para #para #self para: april fools #//so long #//got carried away #slight death mention tw

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sunshineweb · 5 years ago

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The Riskiest Moment in Investing

Here are the best things I read and thought about today –

Peter Bernstein is one of my favourite authors when it comes to the idea of ‘risk’. He was a financial historian and had been in the investment world since the 1950s. He is the author of “Capital Ideas” and “Against the Gods,” the second being a super-text that everyone wanting to understand about financial risk and its history must read. One of the best interviews I have read of him is the one with Jason Zweig that I came across recently (I first read it long time back), and read through it entirely. It contains some brilliant insights on investing, risk, and decision making. Here is the part I liked the best where Bernstein said that “the riskiest moment in investing is when you’re right.”

On being asked how investors can avoid being shocked, or at least reduce the risk of overreacting to a surprise, Bernstein replied (emphasis mine) –

Understanding that we do not know the future is such a simple statement, but it’s so important. Investors do better where risk management is a conscious part of the process. Maximizing return is a strategy that makes sense only in very specific circumstances. In general, survival is the only road to riches. Let me say that again: Survival is the only road to riches. You should try to maximize return only if losses would not threaten your survival and if you have a compelling future need for the extra gains you might earn.

The riskiest moment is when you’re right. That’s when you’re in the most trouble, because you tend to overstay the good decisions. So, in many ways, it’s better not to be so right. That’s what diversification is for. It’s an explicit recognition of ignorance. And I view diversification not only as a survival strategy but as an aggressive strategy, because the next windfall might come from a surprising place. I want to make sure I’m exposed to it. Somebody once said that if you’re comfortable with everything you own, you’re not diversified.

Anyways, while searching through my collection of other resources on Bernstein, I came across this brilliant article he wrote for Bloomberg many years back, titled The 60/40 Solution, wherein he talked about the lessons from history (emphasis mine) –

The constant lesson of history is the dominant role played by surprise. Just when we are most comfortable with an environment and come to believe we finally understand it, the ground shifts under our feet. Surprise is the rule, not the exception. That’s a fancy way of saying we don’t know what the future holds. Even the most serious efforts to make predictions can end up so far from the mark as to be more dangerous than useless.

All of history and all of life is stuffed full of the unexpected and the unthinkable. Survival as an investor over that famous long course depends from the very first on recognition that we do not know what is going to happen. We can speculate or calculate or estimate, but we can never be certain. Something very simple but very penetrating stems from this observation. If we never know what the future holds, we can never be right all the time. Being wrong on occasion is inescapable. As the great English economist John Maynard Keynes expressed it some 80 years ago, “A proposition is not probable because we think it so.” The most important lesson an investor can learn is to be dispassionate when confronted by unexpected and unfavorable outcomes.

Philip Fisher, in his book Common Stocks and Uncommon Profits wrote, “If the job has been correctly done when a common stock is purchased, the time to sell it is—almost never.”

I sincerely believe in this idea of never selling my stocks, IF I did the job of picking them well. But then, there are times when you must sell your stocks, and one of the keys to investment nirvana is the ability to know when to do that. A doyen amongst value investors in India, Sanjoy Bhattacharyya, wrote this piece on the art of selling stocks some years back, wherein he shared the four rules of selling –

While remaining disciplined in terms of the process of stock-picking, the seasoned value investor waits patiently for Mr. Market to provide opportunity. Typically, there are just four reasons to sell:

1. A clear deterioration in either earning power or ‘asset’ value. 2. Market price exceeds ‘fair’ value by a meaningful margin. 3. The primary assumptions, or expected catalysts, identified prior to making the investment are unlikely to materialise or are proven to be flawed. 4. An opportunity likely to yield superior returns (with a high degree of certainty) as compared to the least attractive current holdings is on offer.

“Nobody knows nothing,” writes Nick Maggiulli in his latest post –

Logically this statement implies that “everybody knows something,” but that’s not the spirit of the phrase. What it really means is that no one has a monopoly on knowledge. No one is infallible.

Not the analysts at the top tier banks. Not the Nobel Laureates. Not even the great Warren Buffett. Yet, we create this mythology around them that says otherwise. We treat like Gods those who are merely men.

As Philip Tetlock stated in Superforecasters, “the average [political] expert was roughly as accurate as a dart-throwing chimpanzee.” Unfortunately, we have come to realize that even the experts are still primates after all.

And this realization that we are only human has never been more apparent than today. Because despite all of our medical knowledge and wisdom, a microscopic foe has brought us to our knees.

Mr. Vallabh Bhanshali, Chairman and co-founder of Enam Group, spoke at a webinar recently on the topic of worldly wisdom through history. It was an insightful talk, containing his learnings from Indian scriptures to Charlie Munger. Do watch it.

* * * That’s about it from me for today.

If you liked this post, please share with others on WhatsApp, Twitter, or just email them the link to this post.

Stay safe. Stay focused.

With respect, — Vishal

The post The Riskiest Moment in Investing appeared first on Safal Niveshak.

The Riskiest Moment in Investing published first on https://mbploans.tumblr.com/

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chkperley · 6 years ago

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This is a follow-up blog to my previous, where I examined the false assumptions agribusiness analysts continue to make, and continue to be taught. Those assumptions and world views actively discourage any imagination of other elements such as woodlands, wetlands or individual trees having a place in New Zealand farmed landscapes. And so they discourage solution and potential.

Our current paradigm is failing. The central core of that failure is our teaching and practice of mechanical and narrow scale-focused agronomy (“get big, or get out,” “plant hedgerow to hedgerow,” “grow two blades of grass where there was one,” “grow more to feed the world,”) where we degrade our landscape functions (our soils, our hydrological quality, our patterned landscapes of real economic and environmental potential) in pursuit of what is effectively a simplified hydroponics, producing one thing …. and destroying the potential they can not imagine, let alone see.

We have changed farming and forestry from being what we once were – husbandmen (and women) – creating multifunctional and resilience landscapes catering for many needs over the long term – to technical agronomy. The farm foresters and the lovers of making soils a sponge for rainfall, rooting depth and low-input fertility have it right. That is why their farms perform.

I’m continually reminded of a colleague who succinctly summed up the challenge to our land use future, “there is no such thing as a good farmer or a good forester. There are only good and bad land managers.”

The following is one story of how thinking differently can achieve, not just profit, but the production many strive for through hydroponic thinking – just add more energy in the form of chemical, fertiliser and irrigation in homogenous scale. There is a far better way to look at land.

The Language of Landscape – Jens Kruger

The UK is having the same angst-ridden debates about more trees within agricultural landscapes as New Zealand. And, like here, it completely works against the potential of our rural landscapes. In a recent article in the UK, their National Farmers’ Union (equivalent to our Federated Farmers) were wary of trees within farms – let alone whole farm conversions – with talk of the “complexity” of “taking land out of food production.” Similar to those agronomic minds within the halls of education, policy research and commerce who see maximum production (of mostly commodity food) as their little god, no matter the wider negatives; you know, to profit, risk, productivity, synergy smothered by homogeneity, natural capital, environmental effects, rural decline.

And we have the same industrial blinkered homogeneous scale thinking within forestry as well. Industrialism on steroids. Single functions and faux efficiency. Reducing a forest to the mechanics of agronomy and finance isn’t what professional forestry is about. Narrow forest agronomy is not in any position to be smug.

The UK’s Fed Farmers think that by planting woodlands within their farmscapes, that they will lose. Wrong. They’ll win, it is just unfortunate that their education and dominant social norms work directly against the imagination they need to see how.

Riddell’s Wetland, Northern Hawke’s Bay

It is a false narrative to presume that less area in agricultural production – what is referred to in New Zealand as ‘effective farm area’ (oh how I detest the implications in that phrase – “more scale, less wetlands!”) – will mean less agricultural production. It’s a mechanical and linear view. It’s part of this curse of Modernity – the assumption that complexity can be reduce to a few chosen variables – a child reduced to a calorie input/output machine perhaps. Newton did it for physics, so let’s apply it to humans and landscapes. Land is far more analogous to a child than a factory.

It parallels the poor understanding of landscape variation and connections, the farm money map where production varies 100% +/- the mean, the many costs that have 80:20 patterns. If the UK Farmers’ Union is any indication, it seems farming in the UK has the same problem of identity as New Zealand land use …. an identity of production, in a factory sense of land, rather than land (and community) husbandry. Curious that, because the emphasis on scaled up production of *only* food using ‘human resources’ and other forms of machinery has had terrible consequences to individual farm finance, rural communities and the environment.

But it’s also curious because that poor construct of land – as uniform scalable homogeneous factory, not complex adaptive system – fails to imagine, let alone realise the scope of potential you can get by thinking differently. Modernity should be stamped to death within our education, policy and research entities, but – like Frankenstein – it is still alive, wandering around in the snows of Scandinavia somewhere.

Stories are far better than data when you’re dealing with complexity, so here’s one. A colleague of mine came back from the UK a few decades ago. She had been working with the European CAP policy of the 90s, focused on the *over*production of food commodities. Then, the EU encouraged the replacement of agricultural land with forests and wetlands, to – they thought – reduce agricultural production. On many farms, the opposite happened.

The incorrect logic is simple. Technocrats see land from afar in averages. Less land equals less production. They neither understand nor work within any understanding of patterns of complexity, combination, patch connections, feedbacks etc. related to this particular space and time. If they’re only thinking in finance (through averages) and not environment and social linkages, then the loss of potential is even greater.

However, many of these patterns and connections are completely obvious to those who live intimately *within* a landscape. There is wisdom in intimacy, in being a part of something. There can be foolishness in distant faux objectivity. To the distant technocrat, less land in agricultural production would obviously mean less agricultural production. It’s obvious to them, as other realities are obvious to farm foresters.

The agronomic technocrats are those who are wrong. Their spreadsheet analysis is wrong because their assumptions are wrong. But many technocrats never even question their assumptions because they are not taught to question philosophically. Worse, they are taught that they are above metaphysics; that they don’t even have any in their supposedly objective bubble. Life, to them, is a machine, reducible and deterministic. Which is fine for simple billiard table physics and the more complicated physics of getting a rocket to the moon and back; but wrong for the complex adaptive systems of land and people. Or for community and economy for that matter. Wrong. Dead wrong.

Planting a Dissected Gully, Northern Hawke’s Bay

Here’s what happened when the EU encouraged some farmers to take land out of agricultural production. Farmers took the not inconsiderable sum per hectare on offer to plant woodlands – more for deciduous broadleaves than for conifers. It was at this point my colleague smiled. She asked, “So what land do you think they chose to put into trees?” Well, obviously, the land they knew was poorer performing for whatever reason. And that’s exactly what happened.

Implications?

Here, things get interesting. Rather than uniformity and regularity, you’re dealing in complexity, variation, pattern, connection, feedback, adaptation, thresholds, and system effects.

I go on about this a bit, but it’s the Modern worldview that simplifies life into fallacies of quantification that is blinding us to potential and synergy. Under the industrial model we see – and therefore make! – everything from land to a human being into a machine reduced to some nonsense but measurable variable (a general parameter rather than a particular one). That is effectively subjectively choosing a number you have, and applying it to a context where it doesn’t apply, because you don’t happen to have a parameter specific to that area.

This is philosophically the same as taking the ‘average’ fuel consumption for the whole transport fleet (ships, trains, trucks, SUVs etc.) and applying it to your 1200cc car. An educated judgment would be far far more accurate, but judgments have become – apparently – career limiting. Mustn’t think and judge. You have no model to fall back on and blame.

O’Brien’s wetland on left. What was once a costly stock loss magnet, now the whole farm is more productive and more profitable

My colleague laughed, “Yes,” she said,” they converted their worst agricultural land, and then whole farm agricultural production actually went up!”

I knew why because I’d dealt with farm foresters for 25 odd years by then, and it was an extremely common finding (even though MAF officials shook their heads and tried to rationalise it from their own worldview).

The land people chose to put woodlands or wetlands on were – almost universally – high cost (directed ‘overheads’ included – like stock losses, weed control etc.) and low production areas; Often a fraction of the farm average. High cost, low return. They are effectively black holes for money.

So they turn unprofitable areas into woodlands (and are paid to do so – so they win twice with a grant *and* more profit besides the other positive multiple functions woodlands provide to the farm enterprise). They also save all the overhead costs they once threw down a bottomless pit black hole in that side face, gully, bog, etc.

That’s another win. Suddenly, more liquidity.

They *adapt* to that new situation by investing in areas of the farm that provide a positive rather than a negative return. More bang for their buck. Better pastures etc. And so production rose.

That is an example of adaptation within a “Complex Adaptive System” view of land and enterprise.

Thinking this way is also part of the shift around the world from our mechanical homogeneous Ford factory ‘Economies of Scale’ emphasis, to the emerging post-industrial ‘Economies of Scope’ thinking that you get by owners realising the potential in their various complex worlds – their landscapes, their environmental and social functions, value chains, market position and the narrative that provides a premium, their communities, cooperative constructs, clusters etc., the pattern languages of space, with actual *humans* who are caring, engaged and motivated…

… rather than being ground into obedient uniform, perfectly measurable and immutable robotic cogs, etc.

We can achieve a hell of a lot of win:wins by not thinking of land, environment, community, people, and produce in that – frankly – backward Frederick Taylor mechanical way.

Bridget March, Sa Pa, Vietnam

None of this is that difficult to understand; it only requires a questioning of assumptions. The assumption that higher production is always better is wrong. The assumption that production over landscapes doesn’t vary greatly is wrong. The assumption that many direct costs can be treated as indirect for land analysis’ sake is wrong. The assumption that there are no associations between low return/high cast and high return/low cost is wrong. The assumptions that costs don’t work in patterns and waves over the farmscape are wrong. The assumption that the environment is disconnected from the farm accounts is wrong. The same with social connections and social capital … wrong.

The assumption that there are no connection synergies, no ‘scope’ – only ‘scale’ efficiencies, is dead wrong. The assumption that there are no system effects, nor system adaptive effects, are wrong. In systems theory, you never do one thing. And if you’re not looking at what else you’ve done with any act – economically, socially & environmentally – then the analysis (well, synthesis) is incomplete. That is an understatement.

To see potential scope requires a mind that sees curves not lines, tangents, patterns and connections – across and within social, biophysical and economic domains. This is the world of the proverbial Fox who sees many things, strategises and adapts, rather than the box ticking ‘this is what we do’ Hedgehog who plods doggedly toward the cliff like a good technician, focused on one thing in their world of immutable and reducible machine, ignoring all the patterns, connection, trends and exemplars all around them – to whatever doom awaits beyond the brow of the hill they cannot imagine, let alone see.

It ought to be the part of any ‘professional’ to be able to imagine – to induce, not deduce – beyond the constraints of a mechanical mind.

Chris Perley Thoughtscapes

Chris Perley grew up in landscapes. His playgrounds were hills, streams, fields and woods. He studied forest ecology because of the experience he had sitting within a complex forest. You can see, hear, feel, smell and even taste a forest. But those feelings were not taught in his science education. Something was missing. A rainbow was being unwoven. Quanta was all. The quiet dissatisfaction grew while working to integrate the woodlands into what were essentially colonial factory landscapes, and later in policy and research. The marginalising of our potential, and our connection to place, was all too evident. He has called for a ‘Reimagining’ ever since. His subsequent work was on the philosophy – old and new – required to reimagine our landscapes, to see and be something different as members of place and community. Chris has worked as an editor, a writer, and is an affiliated researcher for Otago University’s Centre for Sustainability.

Donation to Thoughtscapes Blog

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From Land as Factory, to Land as System: Realising the Potential that the Factory Technician cannot See This is a follow-up blog to my previous, where I examined the false assumptions agribusiness analysts continue to make, and continue to be taught.

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news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog · 7 years ago

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Millennials destroyed the rules of written English – and created something better

The spelling and grammar rules do not apply on the Millennial Internet™.

That's because millennials have created a new rulebook for a variant of written English unique to social media. A rulebook which states that deliberately misspelled words and misused grammar can convey tone, nuance, humour, and even annoyance.

Dr Lauren Fonteyn, English Linguistics lecturer at University of Manchester, told Mashable "something exciting" is happening with the way that millennials write, and it goes far, far beyond our proclivity to use acronyms and "like."

Fonteyn says millennials are "breaking the constraints" of written English to "be as expressive as you can be in spoken language." This new variant of written English strives to convey what body language, and tone and volume of voice can achieve in spoken English.

SEE ALSO: These millennial entrepreneurs think email is too slow for the startup world

Fonteyn says that on a superficial level, we can see millennials stripping anything unnecessary from their writing, like the removal of abbreviation markers in "dont," "cant," "im" and in acronyms like tf, ur, bc, idk, and lol. In a world where most of our conversations take place online, millennials are using a number of written devices to convey things that could typically only be communicated by cadence, volume, or even body language.

One such device is "atypical capitalisation," according to Fonteyn, a break from a rule prescribed by standard spelling, which states that capitalisation is "reserved for proper nouns, people, countries, brands, the first person pronoun, and the first word in a new sentence."

"What we see in millennial spelling is different, but not unruly," says Fonteyn. "Capitals are not necessarily used for people (we know who ed sheeran is, it’s Ed Sheeran), or initial words of a text or tweet."

My master’s was in sociolinguistics, and I absolutely see this as true. pic.twitter.com/lbHwjSQPYj

— Deanna Hoak (@DeannaHoak) March 4, 2018

Dr Ruth Page, senior lecturer in Applied Linguistics at Birmingham University, says that frequently the "personal pronoun ('I') is in the lower case ('i')" which is sometimes used to "play down the person's sense of self."

While we're abandoning capitals for things that typically always required them, we're using them to add emphasis or humour to written sentences. "Capitals ARE used, however, to make words stand out," says Fonteyn. "By capitalising something that is not typically capitalised, you can add subtle emphasis, or irony or mockery." Full capitals are used to denote strong emphasis, or "volume of laughter in lol vs. LOL," says Fonteyn.

My favorite has to be capitalizing Important Words because it has this weird complex meaning It can be used for normal emphasis, but it can also be used for subtle mocking For example “I think that was The Point” vs “wow he just destroyed you with Facts And Logic”

— Cuniiform (@cuniiform) March 5, 2018

Millennials' use—or rather, misuse—of punctuation is where things really start to get creative. Page says research shows how "non-standard use of punctuation can reflect ‘tone of voice’ or what linguists would call ‘paralinguistic’ meaning." She says that an example of this is using a period (a.k.a. a full stop) at the end of a sentence to "indicate that you are cross."

According to Fonteyn, the absence of a full stop at the end of a sentence is "neutral," but the addition of one adds the "sense of being pissed off," or that you're "done talking."

A two-dot ellipsis (..), in millennial English means "continue," or "please elaborate." And, a three-dot ellipsis denotes an "awkward or annoyed silence," or "are you serious?"

Using the comma-ellipsis to write ‘ok,,’ or ‘you sure,,,’ can convey "insecurity or uneasiness," according to Fonteyn. While a three-dot ellipsis might be employed to convey intense annoyance, the comma-ellipsis indicates a "different type of intensity," of annoyance or unsureness.

An utter absence of punctuation is most often used as a way of expressing sheer unadulterated excitement. "A complete lack of punctuation iconically mimics the way someone speaks when they are crazy excited about something," says Fonteyn. "In that case, you are adding excitement by taking away commas and full stops, which indicate pauses."

DELICATE MUSIC VIDEO ON SPOTIFY OH MY GOD I AM USED TO GIVING IT'S TIME TO RECEIVE

— ` (@shadyalison) March 29, 2018

how is it possible that i fall in love with a new boy every week can i chill please

— 🧚🏼‍♀️ (@alohageorgina) March 26, 2018

Attempting to bush the bounds of what written language can do in order to better express ourselves and our feelings is the chief use for these devices.

But, Dr Peredur Webb-Davies, senior lecturer in Welsh Linguistics at Bangor University, says it also has something to do with feeling part of a community. Webb-Davies says that internet users can "project an identity for themselves which is represented by the way they type their language." Crucially, "users who write in similar ways using a ‘code’ that might be mostly only intelligible to those in the know, can do this to feel part of a wider community."

For millennials who conduct so many of their conversations online, this creativity with written English allows us to express things that we would have previously only been conveyed through volume, cadence, tone, or body language. But, Fonteyn thinks it "goes beyond that as well," with things like the trademark symbol.

"When TM is added to a phrase, it ADDS something you can’t do in a regular conversation," says Fonteyn. "I don’t think this originates in speech, because I don’t think anyone actually says "the point TM."

Today I noticed a woman lying down on the sidewalk outside my house. Upon closer inspection, she was taking a selfie with a neighborhood cat. This was the most Extremely Portland Thing™ I have seen in a while. 📷👩🐈

— Lee⚡️Baillie (@_lbaillie) March 29, 2018

"This emphatic method might actually originate in digital language: they’re not just indicating prosody from spoken language but they are adding a visual joke to it, TM in Hyperscript," Fonteyn adds.

What we're witnessing is the nascent beginnings of informal written English becoming even more expressive than spoken English.

Perhaps we should add "IRL conversations" to The Official List of Things Millennials Destroyed. LOL.

WATCH: This all-avocado restaurant is basically your Instagram feed IRL

youtube

#_author:Rachel Thompson #_uuid:07624565-100e-376c-8220-c3bc4936330a #_lmsid:a0Vd000000DTrEpEAL #_revsp:news.mashable

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jeremyau · 8 years ago

Link

Author of

Innovating – A Doer's Manifesto

MIT Lecturer and Research Scientist

It turns out that if you're really innovative – if you're really doing something new – you want to be wrong as many times as possible.

Uncoupling the Commoditization of Innovation

By Heidi Legg

After a 20-year run from the days when business plans were being funded on napkins at a taco stand near Silicon Valley, have we arrived at the moment when entrepreneurship and innovation have become so polished and commoditized that we forget how they differ? This is the argument presented in Luis Perez-Breva’s new book Innovating: A Doer's Manifesto for Starting From A Hunch Prototyping Problems, Scaling Up, and Learning to Be Productively Wrong (MIT Press). Perez-Breva pushes innovators to stop looking for a recipe and a narrative to share with funders and first explore. In fact, he argues exploration leads to the story, because hindsight is the only place where you can see how it happened.

Looking back over the past 20 years, it is easy to see how this commoditization of innovation evolved beginning with Apple’s “Think Different” campaign by TBWA\Chiat\Day in 1997 and a reflection of Jobs himself, coupled with the Biblical-like Innovator’s Dilemma published by Harvard Business School’s iconic Clay Christensen the same year. This brought with it the mid-1990s rise of venture capital and a skyrocketing IPO market that fueled stories of 20-year olds with one page business plans written on a napkin with six-figures attached. Today, all of North America watches Shark Tank, Dragon’s Den, and the host of The Apprentice is now our President. Have we out-commoditized innovation and entrepreneurship, and how do they differ?

Barcelona-born and educated Perez-Breva, PhD, Director of MIT Innovation Teams Course and Program at MIT Engineering and Sloan, has been trying to convince his MIT Engineering and Sloan Business School students to spend a few years exploring rather than check listing from a recipe.

In his book, he argues that innovators must be productively wrong in order to learn. He urges his students to take the two years they may want to spend following a blueprint for building a business and instead spend the same two years exploring their idea. He calls the current “pitch mentality” a delusion. I sat down with him to understand how we undo this commoditization and what he sees as the path to true innovation.

Your new book asks readers to be “productively wrong” and even lists this in its title. Why is this important?

It is one of the most important lessons in the book. That's effectively how we learn. You learn by being wrong. I've been wrong all the time. Today, people confuse being wrong with failing. Failing is a very fatal word for people to use because what you actually most often are is wrong. And the beauty of it is that you only need to be right once.

In the book, you say we need to be "just a little bit right," not totally right. Why?

Yes, because we learn that way. If you look at how kids progress their learning, they're mostly wrong. They keep on trying new things and eventually they get it right. It starts with language. Somehow, when you grow into being an adult, you've learned so much and you've been taught so much that it feels like being wrong is an anathema. But it turns out that if you're really innovative – if you're really doing something new – you want to be wrong as many times as possible.

You drew much of this theory by watching how your MIT Engineering and Sloan Business School students continuously sought a formula. In the book, you try to debunk the idea of a recipe. Why are you so convinced?

For the last decade I've been observing a trend: most of my students come into the classroom and expect I will give them a sequence of steps – five steps or twenty steps – by which they will end up with an innovation. They think they'll create some MIT technology, which we actually play with in the classroom, and then somehow all they have to do is find the market research person and do a little persona and then sell it to the market. Except that those technologies are not products. The active data object (ADO) we have for products for those technologies is not necessarily the ADO that will actually succeed or have an impact in the world. There is a lot of conceiving to do before that happens.

What I need of my students is for them to be critical thinkers. I need them to become doers. And I need them to be wrong before we can figure out what might have an impact. What I have noticed is that, instead, they want me to supply a recipe: find your user or find your market and work backwards from there.

“Get the great management team, do market research, and pivot” – reading your book, there is a sense of relief that one could forget about all the lingo and simply experiment. Is that your goal?

Experiment is actually a tricky word because it's used so much that it's really hard to know what it actually means. Scientists use it in one way. People in marketing use it in a different way. I actually even go beyond the word ‘experiment.’ What you need to do is actually ‘explore.’

Explore is the word I use throughout the book because you don’t really know what you're doing. People tell you, ‘Get a team. Get an idea. Go for it. Find your user,’ and I agree… if you do find all those things, you're done! But all of those things are variables and going to change. If you narrow your views to just one user before you really know what you're doing, then all you're going to end up doing is designing something for that one user. You need to open your view and, once you do, all those other things are going to change. They are not things you set in stone at the very beginning. The idea first needs exploring.

How do students respond to this?

It's been changing over the last ten years. Ten years ago, it was okay. They felt relieved. Yet, with the advent of many other books on the topic of innovation and the emphasis on design for your user, it has changed.

These days, they resist the idea because they would really like to have a recipe. However, in all the experience of watching new ideas succeed, we know no recipe actually works. What I get from students these days at first is some skepticism. Some people have anxiety and then they start to apply those recipes to what we give them in class – Sometimes to technology and sometimes to solve a problem. Applying the recipe, what they see is that it fails. At first, they blame me for it failing… It takes about a month for people to try out all those recipes until they give up and realize these don't work.

Then what happens?

Most of them figure out that what I've been asking them all along is open up their views; not to set sights on one idea absent of information, not to narrow, because that's effectively gambling.

Once they begin to explore they start to actually enjoy the process. They start to realize that all the information they've gathered from the world, from people, from technologies, and so forth is actually useful – not only for the original ideas upon which they would have settled – but for many ideas. They become explorers and there is a lot of relief. The sentence that triggers the most relief is when I say, ‘I'm going to teach them mostly how to be wrong.’

Exploring takes time. Many would say time is a privilege. How should an innovator deal with this?

I know. But look at the alternative… People think time is pressing, that you don't have time to actually explore. I feel that myself. Even when I was writing the book, I felt, ‘oh, my God. I need to finish this. I have many other things I'm giving up to write this,’ but now look at the actual alternative – That is what people don't tell you.

The alternative is betting on one idea, where you go through with it for as long as you can, and then fail. Okay, fine… And fail fast, by the way. Okay, fine, again. I'll fail fast. It's still going to take you about two years to fail that way. Well, that's two years. Now my question to you is this: Is there another way to use those two years where instead of aiming for failing and get over the urgency (it turns out to be very hard to push away urgency) and instead you explore?

Why is this so hard to push away urgency?

It is hard. What we don't really realize is that it takes about the same time to explore as following the urgent list – and you get more out of it! Whereas, if you base all your efforts on that one idea, that one user, that one market, that one design… you take the same amount of time that you would have used for exploration that would get you further down the path to innovation. On average, people don't really learn how to transport their learning and lessons to any idea until they are two years down the road. So regardless of how you tackle it, to be an innovator, it’s two years. How you use those two years is your choice. I propose you explore.

You stress “hunches” over ideas. You write that traditional business strategy is often applied too early to a hunch. How?

Many people phrase their ideas in terms of a revolutionary product. They pitch it with all those recipes. But frankly, if no one has used the product, if you haven't built it yet, and if all you have is a vision for the future, we know that idea is going to evolve, enormously. I think that instead of obsessing as to whether your idea is actually earth shattering, you're better off acknowledging the truth. With so little tested and so little known, what you really have is a hunch.

No matter how precisely you phrase it in terms of business words, it is a hunch, not an idea. The reason why I propose people think about it this way is because if you’ve already phrased it as a business and you give yourself all those keywords, you may delude yourself into believing you actually have a business, when you don’t. At this point, it’s a hunch and if you phrase it as a business or as an NGO, or as an organization… that will lead to failing. Instead, phrase it as a problem that needs solving. Every single business idea I have seen over the past decade has changed enormously from its hunch. So, given how much it's going to change, why corner yourself into believing you already have an idea that 's going to revolutionize the world?

I can see how it limits the possibilities and set one up for disappointment. Why do you think we do that?

People will tell you we fear uncertainty. I think it’s nothing more than the modern age where we've been taught to think about ideas this way. There's been a lot of good teaching on how to pitch an idea, how to get funding and that's good that people know how to do that. And yet, there's been so little explaining of how you actually get to a good idea, of how you actually conceive it.

Today, if you have a new idea, you think the first thing you need to do is present it to others and then people want to be liked and want to be right. It’s the pitch mentality. And you start to dream and you sell your dream – which is a good thing to have by the way – but then you sell it before you even know what you're going to do with it. As a result, you're stuck with this idea and it feels like the more you supply people with this vision, the easier everything will become. Wrong. It’s good to have a vision and it's even better to know what to do next.

Be honest with yourself. Make it real and as you make it real, the vision that you see associated with this hunch will also become real for them and then they may or may not like it. It's okay. They'll either come along or they won't. Do not worry. There are a bunch of people out there that are ready to support visions and dreams that are tangible.

How does one recognize when they've finally gone from hunch to idea?

The question is will you be able to recognize that solution once you see it? Eventually you're going to get to it but the way you're going to see it has nothing to do with how you thought it would be at the very beginning. The key is to continuously update your idea before you even know that you're actually going to be almost right.

You do not really need the stress about whether you have an ‘idea.’ That's something you'll talk about in hindsight. All that matters is that there is a problem you don't yet fully understand and you have a hunch. The real question is do you understand the problem you're solving well enough that you could recognize a solution when imaginary aliens showed it to you?

Have you ever found yourself in a situation when the solution was staring at you all along and all it took was for you to catch up in your understanding of the problem to realize that the way to solve it had been there all along?

O.K. so how does one explore?

Look at the problem you are trying to solve. The first thing is to realize that you don't know the answer yet. You just don't know. You're doing it because you actually like the idea. Then as people come and give you feedback – if you expose yourself to that feedback, which you should – you really don't know when or if that feedback is actually going to be relevant for you. Mostly, they're going to tell you, you are wrong. That's okay. There's got to be a reason why they think this and that reasoning is what you should really crave most. They may or may not be right themselves. It's okay. Absorb that information. Trust that your brain is actually primed for this. It will eventually click into something. And remember, obsessing beforehand as to where it clicks is the best way to waste your time. They key is to remember there's no recipe. There's no guarantee that you're actually going to innovate at the end of the road.

We read so much today about success stories and you warn about looking for that narrative too early. Why?

Once you're done, you're going to spin a story about how you came up with this fantastic idea and that story will resemble nothing about what you actually did, but it will actually be very useful for you to synthesize and for others to see and see you as a role model. But while you're actually doing it, you don't really have a clue of what's going to happen next.

Most stories of entrepreneurship and innovation that we like are because we already know they're done, they’ve been created and succeeded, and the uncertainty is removed. We rationalize the way it happened. We can even see connections and dots and links and we plot a continuous story around them. In reality, none of the people that I've actually talked to, none of the startups that have come out of my class or case studies I’ve read follow a narrative. When you actually look at the very beginning of those stories, there is no way for you to differentiate a good story from a bad story. You need to accept the fact that there will be a time for hindsight. The narrative comes later.

You say that innovation is the reconfiguration of existing elements and not about creating something new. Explain?

Before we began this interview, you asked me why no one had invented a simple digital, iPhone-friendly podcast solution for you yet. Instead, in front of us you now have a computer, two mics, and an iPhone. And you have assembled them into a solution that works for you.

I want to be able to have quality audio for the interviews I choose to podcast and I couldn’t find a portable single solution so I created this.

Yes, you assembled parts. The beauty of it is the need you’ve discovered – for someone to come up with a revolutionary podcast machine for you to be able to do a podcast on the fly. [Editor’s note: Any MIT tech grad that wants to do this with me, call me [email protected]!] That's what people lose track of about innovation. It's just a couple of mics, it’s whatever, but it's actually a completely new and revolutionary way we spread content. But when innovation starts, it's just a bunch of old parts put together.

What's shocking to most people is that every single piece of novelty starts out this way. I'm trying to persuade people that this is much easier than it looks. You don't need to have that earth shattering idea. You don't need to start with a full podcast machine to build on your example from the get-go. At first, you can assemble a few things. At the very beginning, it's not the podcast machine. That's the end.

Is there any method to how one pulls in different parts?

It is the same way you do it in the kitchen when you're trying to experiment with a new recipe. You're mostly going to get it wrong. Once you accept that as an operating principal, then your single objective would be to choose parts that allow you ‘to be wrong the most’ so you learn the from them which is not necessarily the way you might think about it. Everybody wants to get it right at first but it never happens that way. You must accept that and simply bring in parts. The most preposterous combination of parts, the more you stand to learn.

Why do we like Elon Musk, for instance? We like Elon Musk because he's brutally successful with pretty daring ideas and he produces amazingly preposterous thoughts. I mean this as a compliment. Amazingly preposterous thoughts bring thoughts and parts that people have not put together before. Don’t ask if it's right. Ask instead, why is it wrong? That's a very engineering mindset: You put forth the idea and don't restrict the idea; maybe it was really wrong in so many ways, but you do learn from that process.

You discuss how important it is for innovators to go out and experiment with parts in the everyday landscape. What are you suggesting?

We are fortunate. There's been a number of movements over the last several years that have made it even easier: the do it yourself movement, the maker space movement. You can get pretty much anything you want from Amazon in a couple of days nowadays. The question really is: Is there a way to try out your idea at a scale? Your first job should be to figure out the way in which you can test out your idea at the room scale in a place where you don't need all that expensive equipment that would force you into spending lots of money. That said, I'm not just simply proposing that you go and make everything. It's not simply a cry to just go and start making. It's more of a cry to invite people to ask: Is there a problem that bugs you? It's easier today then it was for Dr. Theodore Maiman who first invented the laser in 1960, as I explain in the book. As long as you try to sell people on the big dream, you're mostly postponing the work and you're persuading yourself that the idea even has merit.

Are you trying to change the innovation process in America?

What I don't want is for people to think they have to have an earth shattering idea. If they've actually been trying to do entrepreneurship and they've gotten into classes on business planning and pitching and marketing, etc. - that those are important skills to have along the way but that is not innovating. Even more important is to actually figure out a way to push for what your passionate about. No matter how you try to innovate your hunch, it's going to be four years in the dry dock. Statistically, that's what it's going to be. So, it is incredibly hard to spend four years in the dry dock – or more – on something that you started based on a tactical move because you felt it was something you could get funded. You're way better off trying out something you really want to spend your four years on.

There are a lot of people in business saying forget all the doing, just pitch your idea to the world. Yet the STEM part of my brain feels like they're asking me to postpone all that part of my background until someone has liked my idea, which is the opposite of what I was taught. I feel strongly that if you start with exploration, you actually learn much more about what you want to do.

Has entrepreneurship become too polished today?

There is a substantial difference between entrepreneurship and innovation and that difference is very important. They've been tangled together to a point where everybody thinks everything is a buzzword and what I'm trying to do with this book is bring clarity to the difference between entrepreneurship and innovation. Entrepreneurship is all about producing a new business the way we actually see it today that includes users, the team, whatever but by then you really need to have a very clear idea of an organization.

Innovation is when you're committed and decided there's a real world problem out there that needs to be solved with something new and you're going to figure out a way to bring it together. Now, in the process, you may need to become an entrepreneur. That's an okay thing to be as well. It's excellent. And yet, there is no need for you to go all innovating to be an entrepreneur. That's completely different.

What do you think about Generation X?

When I was growing up, I kept on hearing ‘Generation X, Generation Y, Baby Boomers’ and now I'm hearing about Millennial and I kept asking my friends, ‘which one are we?’ And then I discovered I'm GenX. Growing up in Barcelona in that demographic, I've been very geared towards individuality of people – not individualism as in preventing others from doing other stuff but rather respecting people's individuality.

The Internet took off in the '90s when we were studying and building our early careers – how do you think that has affected our generation in how we see the world or create?

I can tell you the way it felt for me at that time. I was growing up in Spain and we got a computer, which was supposed to be for my brother but I sort of commandeered it at my home. I started playing with it and one of the first things I did was actually open it up. I broke it and then I repaired it. It felt like a perfectly okay thing to do. I'm not sure if there's a trait that unites us in terms of personality but I can tell you about what I was experiencing when I was growing up and it's that idea that I could open up things and break them and then repair them. I remember once my father, who’s probably still mad about this, tell me that when I announced I was going to take it apart, he asked that I back everything up. I did back it up everything except that we forgot the movie database. I tried my experiment. I don't really know what I did but computer went out in flames.

Also, pretty Gen X.

It’s that idea that everything was easier to experiment with. Now even cars are built in a way that makes them more efficient but it makes people scared about that kind of experimentation.

What I'm trying to do is bring people to this again. Your phone might be closed - locked - or super miniaturized but it turns out you can actually build your own phone. There are pieces out there you can build for fifty bucks and then you only need a SIM card. It's not going to be as pretty. It's not going to be designed beautifully at the end, but that comes later. You can innovate.

There’s always been a chance to innovate. Maybe it's no longer with building computers. Maybe it's with building the next thing. Maybe it's the next bio device with DNA. There's such a well of things to experiment with these days. It's a game. It was a game when I was growing up. It should be a game nowadays and it’s even easier. I can get a wind turbine for the backyard for $400. Okay, not everyone can afford $400 for an experiment, but it's not a million dollars. It's not $10,000. It's getting close to a point where you can experiment with so many things and it’s very low risk.

Even if you don't know anything about energy, if you get the pieces and you can assemble them, you'll learn something. What's important is that before you go out and pitch to the world that you have a way to solve the energy crisis, you could actually try it in your backyard and people don't seem to realize that.

Do you think there is too much pressure?

Yes, too much pressure for something that starts out not actually being new. What I'm trying to have people realize is, ‘you know what? Maybe, you'll produce the innovation or maybe you'll just change the community, and maybe your community will be maybe twenty people. It's not about placing products everywhere like crazy. You change something for the better. Once you do, you've already had an impact. If you figure out how to scale to more people, the impact stays the same because the problem is solved. You just have more people. Innovation starts out by actually solving a problem.’

Now, if you actually solve a real world problem, and in the book I explain how to think about those, it only matters that you actually had the impact. From there, people will realize it's new because the problem is no longer there. But they will not realize that until then end, not at the beginning. And then when you explain the story, you'll talk about how you pivoted here to there and you never did, but you'll say that because to explain the full story is very boring when you outline every single mistake you made.

[We both laugh at this reality. By now, Luis is laughing and shaking his head as we sit in the Venture Café at the CIC in Kendall Square, where people are buzzing around outside the padded podcast room Tim Rowe has lent me for the interview.]

We do behavior analysis on the stories of people that were successful and we know they disrupted society. We know that they induced behavioral change, but at the end of the day, when they started they didn’t know. It’s only when they ended, or at least when they were sufficiently far along that we have a story to tell.

The illustrations throughout the book, by Cambridge artist Nick Fuhrer, are amusing and compelling themselves. Why did you choose to collaborate with an artist for a business book?

I was so fortunate to find Nick. Two years ago when I actually produced the proposal to the MIT Press, I told him I don't want academic charts or diagrams or flow charts because I don't want to treat people like robots. I want to actually appeal to their creative side. I want to have a visual summary that's going to be artist of every chapter and I didn't know how to do that but I said it's going to happen. A month before the book was due, I found Nick Fuhrer, a kinetic sculpture. His illustrations are awesome and we started working together and he said, ‘can you tell me what you imagine and I'll draw it?’ and so we had these wonderful collaborations. The goal was actually fulfilled thanks to Nick's amazing drawings.

Where do you go for cocktails?

I have two kids. I haven't gone for a cocktail in a long time. We do go to get wine and then we drink it at home and we go to Central Bottle.

Where do you go to explore?

I have specialized in making my backpack my office. I have everything I need in there, or at least everything I think I need.

You do know GenX invented the-backpack-as-an-office?

I actually have an office at MIT but I try to work in different places, coffee places. I find new places every other day and so if you ask me what's my favorite place in Boston, it's so hard.

It's all about exploring for you isn’t it?

Yes.

You write: ‘There is no way you can design a yet to exist product around non-existing people.’ What are you trying to say?

You live your life in uncertainty, right? So, why is it for everything else you do you need so much certainty?

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