#it felt a little half baked to me especially the reality show concept

[aroaessidhe]

2023 reads // twitter thread

D’Vaughn and Kris Plan A Wedding

Romance about two lesbians on a reality tv show where they have to pretend they’re engaged and plan a wedding in 6 weeks

one is a butch influencer, and one using the show to come out to her family

[doomedeternal]

The “Counterphobic 6″ vs. 8 Conundrum

So this was the thing I wrote after a typing session that finally cleared my accurate Enneagram type. Basically this details the key distinctions between Type 8 and a more “counterphobic” variety of Type 6.

Let’s get all the introductions out of the way: I’m an SP/SO 6w5 with 683 fixes, which puts me in the same caliber as dickheads, douchebags, and dictators.

I also happened to mistype as an 8 (which wing depends on the time of day) for a while until I swapped that card over for a new, shiny 6w5 card.

With this humble piece, I hope to share my story of mistyping, clarity, and in the end, shed some light on the differences between 6 and 8 from the point of view of someone who has fallen into that very same mistyping trap.

MY MISTYPING HELL

I got into the Enneagram through a friend and after a few attempts of testing and conversations with a couple of friends to gauge some observations, I typed myself as an 8, and off I went (I swung between both wings but I didn’t understand why at this point).

As I went deeper into studying the Enneagram, I came across the concept of “phobic” and “counterphobic” when it comes to Type 6. At some point in my deep dive, a lot of the “counterphobic” descriptions hit a nerve a little too close for comfort, and started having doubts about my core type.

That’s where I hit Google and attempted to seek answers to my little conundrum. Unfortunately, instead of finding answers, I found mostly the following:

Half-baked descriptions of both 6 and 8 that never got to the core of either type

Circlejerk threads of 6s (mostly men) posturing themselves as Eights and digging their heels when questioned about the possibility of mistyping

The branding of 6 (especially those who lean towards counterphobia) as “Wannabe 8s”, which has some anecdotal origins, but it loses the essence Sixes have that’s unique to the type.

And many others…

Yet despite all that, I held on to my 8 typing for dear life, while still open to the possibility of mistyping. It’s a walking contradiction of sorts, but such is the life of a Six.

FINDING CLARITY

During my time studying the Enneagram, I came across this site called Enneagrammer, and along with it the Big Hormone Enneagram podcasts. As I pursued all this information, I’ve gained even more clarity about the various types and their relationships with each other in a way I’ve never understood it before.

Despite all that, the question remained: Am I a 6 or an 8?

In a last-ditch attempt to find answers, I caved in and purchased a typing video reading. Unfortunately, I submitted mine during a time where a lot of people did and ended up swapping it with an hour-long typing session with Emeka, one of the ad.

I’m glad I did.

Fast-forward to the 30th of October 2020. I had a difficult time sleeping the night before due to a mix of excitement and anxiety. Thankfully it was first thing in the morning so once I got up and freshened myself up, we started the typing session.

Not even 15 minutes in, the distinction was clear as day.

Emeka explaining how 6 operates, and how my wing, fixes, and stacking interacted to form the full picture of my type felt like someone read my deepest, darkest secrets. It’s like when you’re on stage and your pants fell off in front of an entire audience, but at the same time, it’s in a way validating in an “I feel seen” type of way.

My full type from my 5 wing, assertive fixes, and self-preservation stacking makes for a more “grounded”, earthy flavor of the 6 (as opposed to many type 6 descriptions which appear to have 6w7 in mind). Unless people know what to look for, I can look like a gut type at first glance.

Despite what appearances and first impressions show, the “counterphobic” 6 (who are probably likely to be 8-fixed 6s) have some significant key differences that distinguish them from true 8s.

AGGRESSION AND REACTIVITY

Both 6 (especially 8-fixed 6) and 8 can be aggressive and territorial. As both types reside on the Reactive triad, they’re both intense types who aren’t afraid to let other people know about how they feel about something.

The key difference between both is the motivation behind the aggression.

For starters, the 8 brand of aggression focuses on creating their reality through action and expansion. This makes for a calmer, more deliberate, more shameless type of expressing themselves due to the lack of superego influence.

6’s aggression, on the other hand, happens as a response to the swinging pendulum in their head (or “splitting”) and is usually a cover for deep-seated anxiety. The thing with 6 most of the time is that we don’t even know that we’re anxious – the underlying anxiety is the baseline.

As a 5-wing, my way to seek certainty is to hoard information and devise structures to give me that map. Sometimes it gets to a point where I haven't taken certain factors into consideration (especially because...people are people, and can be unpredictable). When surprises happen, my first instinct is to push on as a reaction to those surprises (because reactive type), which is where the aggression comes from.

It takes a lot of self-reflection and insight to get out of this trap, but with some work and self-reflection, it can be done.

HEAD VS. GUT

All Head types attempt to find a way to orient themselves, frame reality as they know it, and concoct a narrative that makes sense to them, as distorted as the result would be. For the 6, this comes in the form of “what ifs” and worst-case-scenarios.

The 6 is most especially in tune with the nuts and bolts of the systems that matter to them the most. They would be the first people to spot if something is off, which makes them excellent troubleshooters, problem solvers, and project managers.

6’s signature ambivalence leads them to find rational ways to prove a point. For one that’s mistyping as an 8, this can look like trying to create scenarios and reasons to convince others that they’re an 8, which is even more proof of the mistyping at hand.

8s, on the other hand, are the system. They would just chuck everything out, push their way into things, and rewrite reality as it suits them regardless of health level.

INSTINCTUAL STACKING MYTHS

There’s also a pervasive myth in online typology circles that “counterphobic” 6 can only be sexual types. As a self-preservation 6, I can tell you off the bat that this couldn’t be way more off-base and is one of the primary reasons I mistyped as an 8 for so long.

“Counterphobic” 6s can be of any instinctual stacking. The notion that they can only be sexual types can only operate under the assumption that 6 can only be phobic or counterphobic, which is counter to the signature duality of the type.

6 phobia and counterphobia lie on a spectrum. How an individual 6 reacts depends on the person and situation. What the stacking tells you is what instinct this duality is most especially apparent.

For me as a self-preservation 6, this happens when self-preservation issues of health, finances, and lifestyle are at stake. This especially makes me extremely controlling and territorial of my space and any “intrusion” will send the alarm bells.

The main distinction with the 8-fixed 6 brand of boundary defense compared to that of the 8 (which is a more offensive-centric type) is that we tend to be much more vigilant of the boundary and pre-emptively strike before you even cross the line.

ATTACHMENT VS. REJECTION

The final key difference between 6 and 8 lies in one being an attachment type (6) and the other a rejection type (8).

6 (even with assertive and rejection fixes), for all their bluffing and blustering, are at the core attachment types. Whether we’re aware of it or not, as attachment types we have the need to be connected to “The Grid” (whether it’s people, systems, or anything that connects us to the world at large).

This gives us 6s a “testy” quality. We test and probe the people we interact with and change course depending on their reaction. Kind of like how our image-focused 3 siblings do except the reason why we do this is to help us orient the compass rather than craft the best image for the job (that is get the most value).

Meanwhile, 8s, their forceful action is a form of separation and dissociation from “The Grid". As rejection types, they assume right off the bat that they’re going to be rejected and thus offer their strength and willpower as they reject their vulnerability.

THE POWER OF WINGS AND FIXES

Like all attachment types, a 6 core is a “blank canvas” that gains its color and shape based on the wing, fixes, and instinctual stacking.If the core type, wing, and stacking are the main colors, the gut fix are the shadows, and the heart fix are the highlights.

6w5, specifically (due to the influence of the withdrawn, competency-focused 5) tend to be more private, cynical, and “grounded” than the 6w7 and can look like an 8 at first glance. This could all be just me projecting my experiences on to you, but that’s for you to decide.

A 6w7, on the other hand, tends to have more scattered energy due to the 7 mix. This makes for a more optimistic, emotional brand of the type that tends to mistype as 2, 4, or 9.

The narratives of “fighting for the underdog” and “toughening themselves up” usually attributed to 8s are more appropriate to the type 6 (I mean, 6w5 specifically is named The Defender, for God’s sake). More so because we have the hardest time accessing our courage.

Because how do we do the thing when we don’t know what the thing looks like?

What gut fix the 6 has adds striking color to the type: 9-fixed and 1-fixed 6s deal with underlying anxiety by mostly withdrawing from the source (9-fix) or contorting themselves to a standard in the attempt to quell the fear (1-fix).

8-fixed 6s? We just huff, puff, and take action to get it over with.

An 8 fix gives the 6 the license to “be” a 6 and wear the "ping-pong" game on their sleeve. The 6 “Inner Committee” (as Riso brands it) has a meeting every single time we make a decision, and for those of up with 8 fixes, it’s like telling them to shut the fuck up and stomping out in a huff to do the damn thing.

Because of this, an 8-fixed 6 will look more like the 8 stereotypes than an actual 8. 8-cores tend to be much better at picking their battles and knowing when to drop it when something is not worth it to them.’

The heart fix adds yet another dimension to the 6. Adding a 4 heart fix will make the 6-8 even more reactive and “raw”, whereas a 3 heart fix gives the 6-8 stem more tact and an emphasis on “reacting to get a certain reaction”. A 2 heart fix makes for a more people-focused, overbearing parent-figure type of quality.

The 6 can be many things, but “mediocre” and “same-y” is definitely not one of them.

WHY THE CONFUSION AND WHY ADDRESS IT?

Now that we have the differences out of the way, it’s good to ask, “If the differences are clear, why are people confusing the two types anyway?”

The distinction between 6s and 8s has been a subject of online debate since time immemorial. Based on my observations and experience, this is due to several things:

Confusing descriptions that end up adding more questions than answers. We’ve seen this happen with type 4 vs. 9 (another common mistyping), and unfortunately, some discussions blur the distinction for 6 vs. 8 even further.

A society that reveres certain types of strength more than others. This is how many (mostly male, based on observation) 6s posture themselves to the idealized, “powerful” version of the 8 without taking into consideration the dark side of the type.

The bad rep attachment types in general get. For all the pitfalls of 6, they also have their own strengths other types can learn from like loyalty, insight, and anti-elitism.

Defining the distinction between types helps people genuinely see themselves for what they are, warts and all, and helps lay the foundation for fruitful, meaningful inner work that gets us out the trappings of type and connect in a truly authentic way, no matter what type you are.

It gives the space to respond instead of reaching for the first instinct without a care for how it affects the big picture, and for the 6, it serves as the orienting needed to set the course and open up to other possibilities.

[stripyhorse23]

TV of 2020

1) I May Destroy You

I May Destroy You might not have been written during the pandemic, but when it arrived in June it felt like the sort of complicated, cathartic show that could have been.  Detailing one woman’s experience of rape and its aftermath, Michaela Coel (who wrote every episode) continually found rich narrative avenues in which to explore her characters’ individual experiences of sexual assault and consent.  If that makes the series sound concept-driven, it always placed its characters first; the push-and-pull between Arabella, Terry and Kwame is key to the ways in which Coel’s tender, curious writing is able to explore power dynamics within relationships, friendships and hook-ups.  Other, lesser shows that are this deliberately open-ended might feel opaque: it’s testament to the show’s confidence of voice that isn’t the case here.

2) Normal People

Like plenty of others, I binged the entire series of Normal People in a weekend, although one of its many pleasures is how Sally Rooney and Alice Birch’s adaptation teases out the episodic nature of the former’s bestseller.  From Connell’s early days at university, to a Tuscan holiday turned sour, and an exchange year in Sweden, Normal People was about the ways in which the people we love move in and out of our lives over the years.  It wasn’t immune to mis-steps (the show draws something of a crude line between the abuse Marianne suffers at home and what she seeks out in romantic partners), but the sheer emotional heft of the show was undeniable, nowhere less so than Paul Mescal’s floodgate-opening performance in Episode 10.

3) Adult Material

Perhaps one of the year’s most overlooked shows, Adult Material follows Hayley Burrows as she attempts to balance life as the harassed mother-of-three and the twilight years of her career as adult performer Jolene Dollar.  The slyly comic edge of the first episode is quickly eroded after Jolene becomes embroiled in the abuse of another actor on-set.  A stark portrait of alcohol abuse and loneliness, it’s also a sharp indictment of how little the so-called ‘culture wars’ surrounding pornography are meaningfully impactful on sex workers themselves.  Hayley Squires gives the sort of white-hot star performance usually reserved for 90s Hollywood rom-coms, a veneer of frustration and resignation overlaying even her character’s most abrasive moments.

4) Cook, Eat, Repeat

Why not in this interminably shitty year, choose the one show that offered the sort of balm it’s impossible to reverse engineer?  Following hot on the heels of a disappointing series of The Great British Bake-Off, Nigella Lawson’s warm, inviting half-hour new series was the televisual equivalent of a long bath and a facemask.  Her fish finger bhorta, brown butter colcannon and black pudding meatballs have already made it into this household’s repertoire, but there’s something innately comforting about the luxurious silliness of Nigella that almost transcends criticism.  Whether it’s the giddy nonsense of her liquorice box, the ‘did I hear that right’ moment when she revealed her pronunciation of ‘microwave,’ or the seductive self-care of making a creme caramel for one, no other show elicited such pure enjoyment from me this year.

5) I’ll Be Gone In The Dark

The true crime documentary series boom has increasingly leaned into a focus on the victims, from last year’s The Yorkshire Ripper Files to Jeffrey Epstein: Filthy Rich, but none so effectively or compassionately as I’ll Be Gone In The Dark.  Less a story about the hunt for the Golden State Killer and more a study of trauma and obsession, the series splices together home footage of the late Michelle McNamara’s investigation with survivor testimony to create a haunting portrait of one man’s legacy of pain.  The early episodes are replete with skin-crawling tension, anguish and tears, but the later episodes allow that to fall away, focusing on the mental fortitude necessary for the survivors at its centre and the sense of community fostered by meeting other women like them.

6)The Salisbury Poisonings

I had no interest in watching this BBC limited series initially: the advertising made it look dry, the story itself (the Novichok poisonings of 2018) seemingly devoid of juicy narrative material.  That I’ve watched this three times in the space of a year speaks to its robust, urgent filmmaking.  Like several other shows on this list, it arrived into the context of a pandemic it couldn’t have foreseen, but watching the rapid, careful response of local government (crucially and deliberately obstructed by Whitehall) to this crisis presented a sort of horribly watchable what-if scenario.  What seemed at first blush to be middle-of-the-road programming evolved over three episodes into the sort of spare, quietly terrifying journalistic drama that invites comparison to last year’s Chernobyl.

7) We Are Who We Are

It turns out that Luca Guadagnino’s woozy, seductive style transfers perfectly to television, and despite We Are Who We Are lacking the timelessness that typifies I Am Love or Call Me By Your Name it thrillingly captured the turbulent adolescence of its teenage characters.  Equally effervescent and raggedly emotional, the show’s joy always felt hard-won, bumping heads with the often cynical, unreadable motivations of the adult characters.  A tender and frank depiction of queer identities within traditionally restrictive environments, it’s also a love letter to young friendship and the lifeline that can provide during our formative years.  Spellbinding.

8) Selling Sunset

Perhaps the year’s most impressively constructed reality show, I was slow on the uptake with Netflix’s Selling Sunset only to have it take over my life for a few weeks during the summer.  Manufactured reality series are tough to get right, but much like The Hills (surely this show’s biggest influence) Selling Sunset gains a lot of mileage from gaming pre-existing friendships for maximum impact.  Christine and Mary’s beleaguered relationship and, obliquely, their respective responses to fame continued to provide wildly watchable fireworks, but the build-up to Chrishell’s separation from husband Justin Hartley was exquisitely handled.  Suddenly Davina’s strangely uncharismatic shit-stirrer and Christine’s predictably OTT wedding were forced to take a back seat to something approaching genuinely moving television.  Trying to tease out what was real and what wasn’t, and following the ways this all spilled out onto social media, was pure, unmitigated pleasure in a year sorely lacking in just that sort of unfettered escapism.

9) My Brilliant Friend

Two seasons in and there might not be another character on TV that I’m as continually frustrated and fascinated by as Lila, the eponymous ‘brilliant friend’ of the show’s title.  Sparingly warm, often cruel, seductive, Season 2 of HBO’s masterful adaptation sees her trapped in a loveless, abusive marriage but as ever it’s her fractured relationship with Lenù that forms the emotional spine of the show.  There’s often a strange sort of snobbery around the term ‘prestige drama,’ as if all that money on the screen is a smokescreen for a dearth of anything to say; My Brilliant Friend uses every colour in its paintbox to portray the yawning void that opened up between Lenù and Lila as they entered adulthood, from the lavish, provocative outfits Lila’s adopts after she marries Stefano to Max Richter’s evocative score and the detail poured into the show’s supporting characters.  Rewardingly complex.

10) Mrs. America

I laboured over what would take my tenth spot this year since there was so much TV that I loved, and especially this year so much of it felt essential to how I was receiving the world around me.  Ultimately, Mrs. America’s mixture of astute political commentary, character-driven writing and host of enjoyable performances tipped the scale in its favour.  Cate Blanchett’s all-timer of a performance as Phyllis Schafly understandably received the majority of attention, but Mrs. America gave us so many memorable moments: Sarah Paulson’s Alice ringing the bell at reception whilst high, Uzo Aduba’s Shirley Chisholm speaking to a potentially bugged hotel ventilator, Margo Martindale’s Bella Abzug quietly realising she’s no longer the radical of her youth on a busy New York street.  This sort of deft, smart political drama isn’t often this much fun to watch, and what an ending...

11) This Life

An honourable mention to a show made almost twenty-five years ago that nevertheless helped define the year in TV for me.  Shows that were once considered part of the zeitgeist can often feel quaint and old-fashioned in retrospect, but Amy Jenkins rambunctious flatshare drama isn’t one of them.  Whilst it can sometimes feel like the show’s characters are universally adverse to making even one good decision between them, there’s a compassion and care underpinning This Life that means it never comes across as overly cynical or sneering.  There’s also a lot to be said for discovering a performance that you genuinely consider to be one of the best of the decade, and no other character this year frustrated and moved me in the ways that Daniela Nardini’s Anna did.  Bonus points for the genuinely chaotic final episode, perhaps one of the best I’ve ever seen.

And FWIW, these are ten performances from shows not on the list above that I loved this year: Marielle Heller in The Queen’s Gambit, Nicholas Hoult in The Great, Sarah Lancashire in Last Tango in Halifax, Poorna Jagannathan in Never Have I Ever, Michael Sheen in Quiz, Imelda Staunton in Talking Heads, Leila Farzad in I Hate Suzie, Alison Pill in Star Trek: Picard, Gillian Anderson in The Crown and Andy Allo in Upload.

And ten episodes of TV that I loved too: ‘Terry and Korvo Steal a Bear’ (Solar Opposites), ‘The Gang Deals With Alternate Reality’ (The Good Fight), ‘Uncle Naseem’ (Ramy), ‘The View From Halfway Down’ (Bojack Horseman), ‘The Vat of Acid Episode’ (Rick and Morty), ‘I Am’ (Lovecraft Country), ‘No Small Parts’ (Star Trek: Lower Decks), Seven-Spotted Ladybug’ (Everything’s Gonna Be Okay), ‘Daytona’ (Cheer), ‘Whenever You’re Ready’ (The Good Place).

[therecusant]

VLD: I Will Always Find You (1/?)

Author’s Note: So I just kinda felt like doing a little writing practice by doing a post-VLD finale Kallura story, as that was my personal pairing of choice during the show’s run. The “1/?” is because I don’t know how long this story will be, most likely 3 parts total as it’s not meant to be a whole fanfiction adventure. Let me know what you think, hope you enjoy :)

“When I learned you were Galra...”

“Keith, you can do this. The Black Lion has chosen you.”

“The Blade of Marmora can go on without you, but Voltron cannot. We cannot.”

“I’ll always be with you Keith and I’ll always love you.”

Keith shot out of bed with a heavy gasp, his heart racing and his body drenched in sweat. He raised a hand to his head and rubbed his eyes as they strained to make sense of the black that was his room now. It was late enough in the night that even outside the window to his right he could see nothing but darkness. Again, the young man thought, while pushing some of the black hair off to the side of his face. He had been hearing her words in his sleep for the last few weeks, on and off again. They were the words he clung to after she left. It was the only way he could think to describe Allura’s leaving at the time and he remembered the confusion and hurt on Coran’s face as he told him.

Keith always struggled to find the words to explain what they had seen in that realm. Her last moments, giving them all an invaluable lesson to carry with them going forward. She was always teaching them – teaching him – new things. He could never have imagined any sort of diplomacy in his future but here the former paladin was, staying in the guest chambers of a Galra-occupied planet to discuss the next representative of the Galactic Coalition.

Keith did not particularly care this time around, knowing how well Kolivan and Krolia were received by the Galra. They would be re-elected, as expected, and he would fly back to the Blade of Marmora to continue their relief work. He grinned at the realization he was doing exactly what Allura insisted him to do, years ago. Between the three years they jumped ahead to once the Castle of Lions’ entered the Quintessence rift and the two years spent in the Quantum Abyss, it really did feel like a lifetime ago.

She was right when saying he needed to join Voltron’s relief work but of course she was. Allura was always right, even when she was wrong. How much more time he could have spent with her was something often on his mind in recent days. Keith tried to avoid that kind of thinking but since her words started resurfacing it began gnawing at him. Time wasted, time they could have spent together much sooner.

His eyes had finished adjusting to the black, enough to skim over the room and see the framed picture beside his bed on the nightstand. It sat alongside his luxite blade as one of his most cherished belongings. Keith picked the picture up and brought it close to his face to better see it in the darkness. Her arm around him, tight on the red sleeve of the Garrison uniform he wore for the date. She laughed at him when seeing him still in uniform, despite her getting so much more dressed up for the occasion. It was his first and only date and he lacked any real experience in the area but she was so patient with him as he stumbled through the motions.

He originally planned ahead and asked Hunk if he would be willing to help by preparing a meal for the duo but his friend immediately shook his head. At first, Keith felt guilty. It was Hunk’s last day on Earth too, what right did he have to make such a request and take up so much of the Yellow Paladin’s precious time? Of course, he was wrong. Keith misunderstood the meaning behind certain actions often. His mother leaving, his father running back into the burning building, Allura condemning him for joining the Blade of Marmora. He didn’t give himself time to think and understand the why of it. Thankfully, Hunk made a point of it to say it was not his place to be a part of Keith and Allura’s last night together, even as a culinary expert.

It was for that reason the Red Paladin spent the few hours before meeting Allura to find someone capable of helping and ended up doing so through Colleen Holt of all people. Pidge’s mother grinned as she saw him, then glanced over at her husband Sam on the other side of the room, who flashed Keith a similar knowing smile. He knew then that someone had told the Holts about his date and found it then especially annoying when Colleen feigned ignorance to force him to say it himself. She even managed to get him to blurt out he’s liked Allura for a long time and always found a connection to her. His face had never been redder than that moment.

He recalled news of the date reaching Coran and the old man confronting him that afternoon, accusing him of trying to plot a Galra coup once wed to Altea’s princess. He was struck with an initial stutter, confusion and embarrassment overwhelming him, as Keith was hit with the idea of marriage. It was an almost foreign concept given his upbringing. His mother and father had never married and no one ever even knew they were together. He did not even know they were together – or that his mother was an alien – until nearly two decades after and a trip across time and space.

Coran’s usual mixture of silly-stern kept Keith nervous the entire time leading up to the date but he somehow managed to find himself outside Allura’s chambers at the Garrison and calling her name in sync with the knock. The immediate sight of her – white hair usually worn up in a bun let down to the long flowing locks that stretched across the entirety of her back, the earrings in the shape of two leaves, the pink dress that ran only halfway down across her arms and legs, he remembered it all so vividly – left him speechless. He handed her a Juniberry flower that her eyes lit up at as she held the pot close to her chest and smiled back at him before asking how she looked. Keith’s smirk widened in the bed as he repeated the same thing he whispered softly to her back then. “Wonderful.”

They had enough time – thanks to Kosmo – to spend the remainder of the evening watching the sun set on top of the Black Lion. Between them was a single picnic basket and inside a Juniberry pie Keith prided himself on baking, though he did owe the ingredients and preparation to Colleen and Coran respectively.

The spot they watched it from was Keith’s favorite place in the world. It was where his father had taken him as a boy after his first fight, one Keith easily won and was nearly thrown out of school for. He thought his father would be mad – and to an extent he was – but he lifted Keith up over his head so his legs sat on the shoulders and his hands rested on the man’s messy short hair. When Keith transferred to the Garrison, he ended up at this same spot after racing Shiro, a race Shiro easily won. It was his special spot, for the people most important to him. He remembered turning to Allura and seeing the spot of red on her lips that she quickly wiped off with a napkin when he pointed it out and how he snickered when seeing her frantically remove it. He knew he could count Allura among those closest people too.

The night came and they climbed down from the Black Lion this time – Allura was not a fan of using Kosmo’s teleportation, or the wolf itself – before walking back to the Garrison. They stopped by a dead tree and Keith remembered the way Allura walked up and healed it with just her hands before turning to him and telling him that, after all that happened, she was grateful to have met him. It was Keith’s turn to look embarrassed but he managed to compose himself and say the thing that had been on his mind for the longest time, two years too long. He told her that he loved her and she then returned the words before embracing him.

Keith eyed the woman in the picture frame as though he were trying to pull her out of it with his mind to bring her back but he knew it was impossible. Healing all reality was never going to be without a cost. He just found it hard to accept the cost was his entire universe.

 The old man smiled gratefully as he took up the jar of food Keith held out and walked out from the front of the line, leading the next in Keith’s column to come up and receive the rations. In each container was a large volume of the same green goop that Keith and the other paladins survived on in the Castle of Lions. He remembered how just a little help from Hunk had enhanced it to the point of something worth looking forward to eating.

“Thank you, sir,” one of the men in Keith’s line said as he took his rations and turned around. Keith nodded, smiling, and then continued offering more until the entire colony had received their share. It was only a day’s worth of food but Keith had only been there to hand it out initially. Behind him was Zethrid, the muscular half-Galra former general, carrying a massive box with even more of the food goo, months of it at the least. She let out a groan as she placed the container down with the loads of others, totally at least three deca-phoebes worth for the group.

The people waved and smiled as he and the others got back on their ship and flew out. Keith normally took the role of pilot but today he was feeling a little under the weather, having had another of the reoccurring dreams. No, dream was not the right word for it. In a dream, you’ll see something. All he had were the sounds. The sounds of Allura’s voice, whispering to him as though she were right up beside him. It reminded him of the aftermath of Nacxella and the hug – more of a tackle, really – that she gave following his attempt to stop Haggar’s bomb.

“You look tired.” The voice brought his eyes off the comet field he had been eyeing from the red-visor window of their ship and towards its origin, Acxa. The blue-skinned, blue-haired woman was staring at him fairly intently, arms crossed and a quizzical look on her face.

Keith gave a small smile as she stepped a little closer. “Some trouble sleeping,” he confessed while turning away. He could feel her eyes on him even sterner than before and with brows raised to further emphasize her skepticism. It was a half-truth and Keith thought it better to give that than the full thing. He was sure mentioning Allura would only draw the others’ concerns unnecessarily. It was just a couple of nights in reflection.

Looking at the reddened reflection of himself coming off the ship’s window, he saw bags under his eyes that told him it was much more than a couple of nights. Acxa seemed to notice them too. “We’ll be meeting up with the Atlas soon, you should get some rest before then.”

“Yeah,” Keith nodded, his gaze back on the comets. He did not notice her leaving but soon Acxa was gone and he was alone in the room.

“Keith, it’s been so long!” Hunk’s hug was so tight that Keith thought he might break under the grip but he managed to squeeze his arms through the vice grip to reciprocate the gesture. “There are so many things I have got to tell you about!” A whimper came from beside Keith and the former pilot of the Yellow Lion released the hold on his friend to greet Kosmo too. “And hello to you too,” he laughed while reaching a hand down to pat its light blue fur. “Man, he’s gotten big.”

“And still wants to jump up on me,” Keith chuckled. The three began walking through the Atlas, passing by halls that contained familiar memories. The former pilot to the Black Lion glanced into the greenhouse Colleen grew the juniberries in and the kitchen unit where Keith learned to bake the pie. Then came the old rooms he and the other members of Voltron stayed in. He froze as they passed Allura’s while Hunk and Kosmo continued on.

“Go have fun,” she told him in that room after the ship docked for Clear Day.

“It wouldn’t be fun without you,” he wished he had said back then. It would have been different had he stayed instead. Could he have stopped her from accessing the entity? Would it have been better that way? Those were two questions he had asked early on after her sacrifice but they soon faded. One still gnawed at him though: what you could you have said to get her to come with you? Not for the entity, not for the war or Honerva or the team. Just to have another night, another memory with her. Why had he not fought harder to have something else?

Kosmo’s whimper pulled him away from the door and he met Hunk’s saddened eyes. “We…we should go meet Shiro and Iverson.” Keith nodded and followed.

At the brig was Iverson, Shiro and another man with dark brown skin and short hair, smiling welcomingly at Keith and Kosmo. “Cadet,” the former Garrison instructor began as he approached, Shiro following close behind.

“How have things been going with the Blade of Marmora?” Shiro asked, though Keith was sure he already knew. They all kept in touch in some way or another, through direct messages using the Coalition’s shared communications or actual video chats. In the case of Pidge, who had often become so consumed with her work she went days without sleeping – which would normally have been a concern, if someone did not know that was just how she was, the group would receive notification logs of her progress. She had gotten something called “CHIP” running apparently, last he heard.

Keith described their latest work while Shiro nodded as though it were all new information and not from the most recent message Keith sent out days prior to their arrival on the Atlas. By the time he was done, Hunk had already left and managed to convince Kosmo to join him with the offer of new treats and Iverson and the man beside Shiro both moved on to other work. Shiro, though, grinned all the while and then placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder when finished. “That’s good work you’ve been doing, I’m proud of you, Keith.” The two former pilots of the Black Lion shared a smile before Shiro then added, “Allura would be proud too.” It stung a bit, the sudden comment. Keith knew he was not the only one thinking about it but he never heard anyone else say it and that helped to lessen the pain slightly.

Shiro seemed to notice the subtle changes in Keith’s expression the same way Acxa did. His brows furrowed and his lip bent a bit, the bags under his eyes making his demeanor all the more noticeable. Rather than comment on the observation though, Shiro simply suggested that he and the rest of Keith’s crew stay the night on the Atlas which Keith accepted.

“I’ll always be with you Keith and I’ll always love you.”

He panted loudly as he shot out of the bed and grasped his head. It stung badly, like there was some pressing against his skull from the inside to try and pry it open. The harsh needling continued as he sat up on the bed and clutched the sides of his head, wincing. Finally, like an explosion, it let out one last jolt of pain before stopping and he grimaced before slowly removing the fingers at his head.

He was in his old room on the Atlas. Kosmo slept close by, at the foot of his bed. He had to be careful not to disturb the wolf’s sleep. Keith was not sure why he was getting out of bed but he left the room and entered the dimly lit hall. He trailed along it until finding himself outside the same room he hovered in front of while touring around with Hunk. His hand moved up to knock before stopping, realizing nobody would answer.

He entered and looked around the empty space, inspecting it as though he were searching for clues. There was nothing to find, he knew. Allura was gone and there was no mystery behind it. All he was doing was wondering what could have been.

His first thought was to leave the room right then and go back to sleep but his eyes fell to the bed they laid in and the thought of having spent another night struck at his heart. He inched closer to it and saw her laying on it with that determined but sullen expression she often had, the one they seemed to share. “It’s okay,” he wanted to tell that face, “you’re going to do it. You’re going to succeed.” Allura seemed to have always been racked with responsibilities and guilt for what had befallen the universe since the destruction of Daibazaal. She was always careful about how she described it though, once she accepted him as half-Galra; to condemn the entire ten thousand years of history meant condemning Keith’s incidental existence, which he already had done enough of himself.

He could feel her hand on his chest, telling him that she was grateful to have met him. That the War, the Galra’s conquest, was able to create something meaningful. Something beautiful. “Something wonderful,” he could hear her whispering again to him.

“I’ll always be with you Keith and I’ll always love you.” Her lips were against his and he could feel her body pressing against his chest, her arms locking around his back and the embrace as he reciprocated.

“I’ll always love you too,” he whispered to the ghost of a memory as the image of Allura in that moment faded from his mind.

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Selflessly golden

Genre: Fluff, Idol AU

Pairing: idol!Jungkook x Reader

Warning: No warnings apply.

Author’s note: Happy twenty-first birthday to the golden maknae, our beloved cinnamon roll whose sweet character is too good for this world: Jungkook!

Even though this shall never be read by the actual lad himself, I nevertheless hope he has a day filled with love and friends. 

Here’s to more years with you.

Masterlist

The scent of burned out candles hangs in the air, the barely noticed homely atmosphere mellowly illuminated by the former Christmas lights now functioning as fairy lights draped over the shedua beams, the tranquillity disturbed by the occasional sniffle or soft snore coming from the man who has finally come home to the palm green sheets after months of touring, just in time for the birthday today: his.

Arms pull the body back once the other presence resting on the collection of pillows in shades of ink black, snow white, stone grey and a forest tone matching the duvet, further igniting the wanting to simply lie down once more and curl up against the figure whose ghost has provided comfort in the period the real persona was away. Fingers clamp around the restriction and endeavour to pry it loose, but the attempt fails as the hold strengthens and arm veins, created over many intense hours in the gym and practice room, pop out. A nose presses itself into the fabric of the stolen shirt smelling of passionfruit with a bitter orange tang that now functions as a sleeping top, drowsily mumbling against the covered skin with the slightest hint of neediness. ‘Y/N, don’t... go. Stay... here. Wanna... cuddle.’

Though the temptation to give in is great, it is nevertheless resisted, even as a second attempt fails and the muzzling of already messy ebony locks whilst smiling affectionately at the barely awake boy clinging on like a koala does not much more in the way of escaping the bed. ‘Kookie, let me go. It’s time for breakfast.’

Evidently felt through the clothing, lips pout and despite not seeing it directly, the hesitant frown portraying being caught in the battle between food and a few more minutes of sleep is undoubtedly formed on the young man’s handsome face. In spite of not being mentally prepared for any sort of meal as of yet, the stomach rumbles with the wish for nourishment, but it does not seem to faze the current company. ‘Come on, I’m hungry.’

A lie, but otherwise, there will not be enough time to set up the first surprise of the day, which will only be beneficial to the both of us.

‘I just... back. Missed... you. Few... min-‘ the rest of the ungrammatical sentence is left unspoken as Jungkook has slipped into unconsciousness again, the aftermath of giving concerts night after night with very little time to rest in the meantime, the precious days off which were, as per usual, spent with phone and Skype calls to home at sometimes foolish hours when not being with the rest of BTS, reclaiming the artist.

The hold weakens enough to achieve the set goal of fleeing the bed for a few moments to quietly slip away to the hallway of which the floor is made of oak, gleaming after yesterday’s bi-daily clean-up session, and an alabaster and grey-striped wallpaper adorning the walls before heading down the white-lacquered stairs and arrive in the small kitchen, furniture and appliances tinted in matte shades of dusk, set against bleak walls on top of a cypress linoleum floor.

Soon the narrow space is filled with the scent of freshly baked bread, that truly stems from the reheated multigrain buns bought at the local bakery, and the clamor of a meal consisting of the dreamer’s favourites in the process of preparation against a backdrop of the playlist composed by him during this tour and sent the moment it was finished. Since it was received, it has been constantly put on replay, so much so that now even the unknown songs are known by heart. It was the only thing directly connecting us beside the contact through screens via texts or calls by blue light.

It is a piece of home continuously away travelling to bring amazing music to those deaf to it and to those who have heard it before and follow it like the Pied Piper.

It is the exclusive loving part of him meant solely for one pair of ears, the way through which to say the three simple words that have ever only been said out loud by myself: “I love you”.

It has never been easy, especially in the beginning when management wanted all boys to focus on their careers as idols, even more so after debut, romantic interests being seen as mere unnecessary interference and a potential distraction from reaching the set goals. After all, the fans would have to be given a chance to explore the personalities of seven handsome young men, maybe even have a shot with them, unlikely as it is. Flirt a bit on stage and during fanmeets, show aegyo that captures the hearts of ARMYs around the globe and never give off the message of being in an established relationship.

The fights with agents and even their own manager have always been inevitable once the subject comes up, Jungkook fiercely refusing to give up on the one thing that feels like a home outside the dorm shared with his best friends, who have tried to talk him into surrender in the past with clenched jaws and heavy hearts, ashamed to be asking the maknae to abandon what gives at least some sense of normalcy in a reality that is constantly getting busier as fame grows. During those days, the phone calls were stained with a hint of sorrow on the end of the man who was a mere boy at the beginning of the journey that has been going on for the past five years, sobs desperately trying to be contained since the gravity of the situation did not have to affect the other party as it did him.

But it did, since a break-up in best interest was frequently thought about as copious factors seemed to be against us, so many people just waiting for the opportunity they pushed to appear and be taken advantage of. Once, the idea was brought to the table during a quiet gaming night in, Jungkook going silent at the inquiry at first only to burst out into an uncharacteristic passionate argumentation without room for commentary as to why the very concept of going our separate ways just so others could gain their right was absurd. Tears began to well at the suggestion of living without one another when the well-reasoned rage had subsided, the memory of the shivering shattered composure of the beloved still imprinted in the arms that held him tight throughout the night with the promise to be there when morning came and all the mornings thereafter.

And that promise has never been broken.

From a small Tupperware box in the lacquered cupboard overhead, is the small cupcake retrieved that was left over from the batch made a week ago, all others given to friends coming randomly over to fill the silent apartment for a few hours when the one it is actually shared with is not around, and specially saved for this occasion, this being emphasized by the silver wrapper and golden-sprayed buttercream on top.

It is placed on the large serving tray fished from the drawer beneath the gas plate on a small saucer beside the two winter white red-rimmed dishes of multigrain buns - one displaying two stuffed with a bacon omelette cut in half to fit the tiny breads and the other plating two filled with a natural omelette on a bed of lettuce - beneath the medium-sized bowl from which two forks protrude filled with a fruit salad and two glasses of banana milk.

Our favourites, unfortunately not showcased in unison enough in the years spent together, but each time they are, the mere sight provides an indescribable comfort that can only be endeavoured to be described as a safe haven in a world that is ruled by the madness of the public eye and even this description does not come anywhere close to the actual feeling.

Upstairs the bed seems to be empty aside from the sleeping blanket burrito that rolls instinctively over at the sound of footsteps heading up the stairs, their creaking loud in the morning hush and making the nose scrunch up in the hope the noise does not wake the dreamer, bare back exposed to the cool September air blowing through the window of which the curtains softly sway on the breeze betraying there is still someone occupying the sheets.

Gently the tray is set down on the basswood nightstand that was formerly a crate used for the transport of goods in the harbour, reticent steps made around the bed to sit down on the edge of the other side and let fingers glide over smooth muscled skin, writing the message that still is showing in everything we do: I love you. Jungkook has never said the three words out loud, but rather shows it by texts checking up on well-being or just to wish a good night or good morning, and if there is time, the conversations held deep into the night, some resulting in dozing off together whilst the Skype call keeps going only to see the “call ended” screen come morn because the internet connection has fallen away during the night. However, there have been fortunate days when the sleepy face of the sweet singer displayed on the screen is the first thing seen at the beginning of the day.

Notwithstanding, it never beats this: being in the same room, able to touch each other instead of endeavouring to do so by holding our hands to the electronic wall separating us, hearing the softest of sniffles and snores which turn into appreciating hums when digits run through silky onyx locks, the colour he always returns to even when the more crazier ventures befit the young man quite well too.

A wavering hand wanders the air for a bit before clamping down on the forearm, giving it a powerful jerk which makes the body fall on the mattress, head resting on the collection of pillows once more. The sleeper turns on his side and wraps strong arms around the waist, pulling us together in a tight embrace, wherein I instinctively curl up into him. A chaste kiss on the forehead is followed by the drowsily mumbled uncharacteristic words that were thought never to be heard directly. ‘I love you too.’ From beneath full lashes of hooded eyes, the dark friendly orbs light up with a slight hint of mischief at the view of surprise etched into my features, a grin reminiscent of a bunny forming on the lips. ‘Good morning, by the way.’

‘It’s your birthday, not mine.’ Once there had been a joke about how it would be a splendid present for growing yet another year older to hear the reciprocated confession out loud instead of it being shown through gestures and although it was laughed off, the serious hint of contemplation in Jungkook’s gaze could not be denied.

‘Not important, doesn’t make me want to say it less because I should do so more often. You always tell me you love me and I never confirm it.’ Long fingers caress the left cheek, push a strand of hair gone astray aside and trace every detail of the face. ‘I really should.’

‘You’re too sweet, but I know you rather show than tell and that’s perfectly alright. Nonetheless, do you know what you really should do now?’ An eyebrow rises in confusion, forehead slightly creasing in wonder as to what requires to be done, making the corners of the mouth curl up in delight at the prepared surprise waiting to be seen. ‘Turn around.’

The warm protection fades, the temperature seeming to drop with a few degrees immediately when the hug is broken off to turn to the bedside table from which the comforting scent of freshly baked, reheated, bread permeates the air. With clear glee, Jungkook hoists himself up and picks up the tray filled with food to place it on our laps after me following suit, back resting against the cushions and nestled into his side, sheets covering our legs. ‘You did this?’

‘Of course, silly. It’s your birthday.’ Briefly, there is a silence as an unsure gaze drifts off to the sheets, staring deeply into the palm green at the sudden realization of a privilege that has been had all this time yet the meaning of it has never fully dawned until now. ‘And I’m glad you share it with me even though the guys can come over to celebrate.’

Every year if the singer is home, even during tour when thousands of ARMY sing “Happy birthday” and organize amazing projects, it is simply us two truly celebrating his birthday either via Skype after the show to talk the night away or in this way with the whole day to ourselves to play “Overwatch” and binge watch anime. The day after is preserved to hold a kind of after-party with the rest of the band and even then, I am there. That is pure happiness for the maknae: having all the ones who are held dear get along and coming together to rejoice in the growing older of one who is loved in return just as much.

The reverie is halted by the swipe of a finger over the nose, leaving behind a dollop of golden buttercream. Surprised by this sudden act, eyes dart to the side where a teasing lopsided grin challenges me to do something in return, before it turns soft and the frosting is nipped off with a tender kiss that changes into a sugary trail of pecks to the lips. 

‘Tomorrow’s another day fit for festivities, but we’re all still knackered from the tour so I don’t think they’d be up for it. Today, I just want to lie in bed with you, relax and eat this. Once a year I can be selfish, so you bet I’ll make use of that chance.’

A shake of the head, denying the statement laced with what can be mistaken for egotism via a reassuring voice nuancing it. ‘You’re still being selfless. I mean, you can easily rest up by finally catching up on all those hours without sleep like the others, energize the way we introverts do by simply being alone and yet you want to spend the day with someone, with me. I can’t call that being selfish because that would entail doing what I just said, even though we would be alone together.’

The singer’s head resting on top of mine, fingers entwine in the temporary hush in which the denial is contemplated whilst stares fix on the bundle of digits, his thumb softly caressing mine, until Jungkook breaks the silence. ‘Is it selfish to want to spend the day with the one I want to keep to myself since you’re a source of energy aside from solitude and I get jealous whenever I notice other men giving you attention, even my own friends, or is it indeed generous to, tired as I still am, spend the little energy I have regained with the girl I always feel like is being neglected during touring despite all that we do to keep in contact?’ A loving kiss on the back of the lifted hand, followed by one on the left temple, a soft chuckle once the joyful grin is noticed and formed by his doing. ‘I don’t know, but what I do know is that I find happiness either way.’

Nevertheless, it is evident the former applies since the young man is all but egocentric.

The maknae is charitable in the colour the artist has made his own, has formed into a title.

He is selflessly golden.

[liketherogue]

LOWREZJAM Post-Mortem

From August 1st to the 16th I spent an inordinate amount of time working on my first game. As someone who has only spent the past couple of months pursuing game development in earnest, I needed a way to stop generating an assortment of half-baked concepts and prototypes and instead release a completed product. LOWREZJAM allowed me to do just that, but perhaps not in the way I was expecting. 

My experience in gamedev thus far can best be summed up as a trial-by-fire-where-everything-is-on-fire-and-new-fires-keep-popping-up.

The trickiest part of this whole process has been bridging the gap between expectations and reality. I’d tried to establish manageable goals for myself, and I don’t think my rationale was too unreasonable: a game limited to a 64x64 canvas using PICO-8. The constraints were so small that a game just had to get made, right?

That was how LOWREZJAM began for me: cleaning the barrel, loading the chamber, and priming the trigger just so I could shoot myself in the foot down the line. I’d read several beginner's guides to game development and gotten it into my head to not start with my dream game. That was fine. My roguelike dating sim will just have to wait. From there I reasoned, “Well, why not use arcade games as a template? They’re simple and straightforward with plenty of replay value.” Not a terrible point of view to approach the project from. No, instead what was terrible was how much I allowed that initial concept to evolve into a Frankenstein’s monster patchwork of ideas and mechanics. The game, whose final release title is A-Taco-Lypse Driving, was supposed to be “an arcade-style vertical scroller where you deliver food to customers while avoiding hazards and battling enemy competitors. Easy enough, right?*

*see previously linked video

The original proof of concept drawn by my brother. 

With a concept in mind, most of the time spent on the game was taken up by learning how to code. I’d attempted other projects in Lua before, but this was the first time I’d really dug into the language and what it was capable of. In spite of my best efforts, the problems that arose seemed to be unending. For every issue I solved two more would pop up in its place. 

One of the issues I encountered early on. Lesson learned: be better organized.

For several days my process essentially boiled down to throwing possible solutions at the wall until something stuck. The big paradigm shift that increased my productivity occurred when I approached the game on its more elementary levels. For something that involves so much math and logic, it’d taken me longer than it should have to realize that planning out possible solutions with discrete data and information produces better results.

Remember kids: always show your work.

This was also the point in the development process where I realized my scope was larger than I had anticipated. In a bit of interesting retrospection, my friend Julian had the notion that I may have bit off more than I could chew and warned me as much. In a recent conversation with him, however, he admitted that it was something I’d have to find out for myself. While coding proved to be the bulk of my challenges, I most definitely learned more than just programming. Ironically enough, my focus on shoring up coding deficiencies resulted in me neglecting perhaps the most important part of the game: the gameplay.

Believe it or not, the released version of the game is just as cluttered and messy, if not moreso.

I had gotten so wrapped up in getting my game to work that I completely forgot to take a step back and figure out if the the game was fun. The development process for me was a triage of shoddy mechanics when it should’ve been a clear roadmap of priorities. My mistake was in not understanding what my limits were and what I was capable of. This goes back to my conversation with Julian where he helped me realize that perhaps this would be (and it was) a fact that I would just have to learn the hard way. The hard way ended up looking like:

Start with a nugget of a game idea

Add more facets/features to that nugget

Figure out how to program it into the existing build

Realize there are roadblocks and obstacles popping up that prevent me from easily implementing these features

Spend time to try and work it in anyways

Be pressured by the deadline and shift focus onto another aspect of the game

Realize these features also have their own roadblocks and obstacles

Back to Step 2 and keep jumping around Steps 2 to 8 depending on the mood of the day

I saw the words “Runtime Error” more times than I care to admit. And I’m already admitting having seen them a lot.

What was interesting to see in how I worked was my tendency to fall back to my comfort zone. On a micro level this meant fixing the issues I could immediately address and/or knew how to address. On a macro level this meant stepping out of the developer role into the manager role. I was fortunate enough to work with two incredibly talented individuals, my brother, Noah, and my friend, Grant, who helped to produce the visuals and sound respectively. Coming from a background in the arts and entertainment, it took me (comparatively) little effort to crystallize a final vision for the narrative aesthetic and tone for the game and communicate that to the rest of my team.

Original game is 64x64 but PICO-8 scales screenshots up to the engine’s default 128x128 resolution. Here you can see the ravaged post-apocalyptic wasteland of the distant future: 1999.

The end result is a game that has a strong personality, but is severely lacking in mechanics. There were far too many moving parts that weren’t intuitive and didn’t mesh well with each other, pitfalls of the game that stem from the seat-of-my-pants approach I took with the development process. 

The final PICO-8 Cartridge.

In spite of all the glaring flaws with gameplay and the amount of stress I endured, creating this game left me with a complete and utter sense of satisfaction, something I haven’t felt in a long while. This was entirely a labor of love and I think (read: hope) it shows. 

Organization is still very much an issue I face as an artist and developer. Maintaining focus and discipline towards a project is a difficult endeavor, especially knowing myself and how easily I lose interest or steam. But understanding my shortcomings is worthless if I don’t take steps to rectify them. The first step to avoiding these mistakes in the future is to take it slowly, ensuring that above all a finished product will have polish. What that means for me is understanding my limits, both in terms of what I can and can’t do. 

And maybe, just maybe, that roguelike dating sim I have floating around in my end will someday end up on somebody else’s screen.

-Kyle

[theconservativebrief]

As a former journalist who went to work at a startup, solicitations for tech industry events show up in my inbox with some frequency. But this was a new one:

“We are bringing together the sacred plant medicine Ayahuasca with leaders at the world’s most innovative startups,” the email said. “Together we will go on a journey to deeply explore our individual and collective purpose.”

Over the subsequent weeks, follow-up pitches about the Costa Rica retreat offered testimonials about the benefits of ayahuasca from the likes of the bestselling author and entrepreneurial figurehead Tim Ferriss and pro surfer Kelly Slater. “Every participant will be positively transformed. The lives they live, companies they build and examples they set will transform the world.”

My first thought is that I would love to be a fly on the wall at such an event. But there’s a point that gets lost in the sensationalist glee surrounding the idea of a bunch of tech bros tripping in the jungle: “Counterculture,” whether that means partying, looking down on mainstream religion, or embracing a hodgepodge of eastern religious values, is the norm in “Silicon Valley” — a catchall term I’m using here to broadly describe the technology workers not just in the Bay Area but also in New York and Los Angeles.

If you don’t fit into that — whether because you’re older, belong to a traditional religion that comes in conflict with countercultural values, or just aren’t that into partying — it can be hard to fit in. And that matters in an economically dominant field that’s hard enough to penetrate even without cultural obstacles.

Working in the industry, especially as a former Googler, when I hear allegations that tech companies have a baked-in bias against conservatism or claims that conservative employees didn’t feel comfortable being open, my immediate reaction has been: Well, of course they don’t. And such allegations have become a chorus on the right. But I think the kind of conservatism that Silicon Valley is hostile to has less to do with politics and far more to do with lifestyle.

Julie Fredrickson, a longtime tech entrepreneur and conservative Christian, tells me she frequently feels her religious beliefs are out of place in the tech world. “I’m confident that discovering I’m a Calvinist would lead to some awkward conversations I don’t necessarily want to have with Silicon Valley folks,” says Fredrickson, CEO of the cosmetics company Stowaway. “People who have actually, very carefully considered belief systems, whether religious or otherwise, don’t always feel safe expressing it.”

“What, really?” is a typical reaction among the entrepreneurial class when she mentions her religiosity, which she avoids bringing up unless asked, says Fredrickson. She added that she feels the need to explain her faith to reassure previously skeptical parties that she’s “rational.”

Fredrickson also was not raised Christian and frequently mentions how she came to it on her own terms and in tandem with her love of math (“a long story,” she says). It’s a stark contrast to the industry stereotype that anyone who adheres to organized religion must have had that belief imposed on them by their family.

At Google, few co-workers would blink an eye if you told them that you spent the previous weekend attending an electronic music festival in an otter costume, but you might get some funny looks if you admitted you went to church every weekend. I used to prowl around on a listserv of Googlers who considered themselves agnostics, atheists, and skeptics; the responses on a thread about the revelation that a small group of Christian employees had booked a conference room for a weekly prayer group ranged from, “We employ people who pray?” to “Is that really appropriate to do at work?” (Note: This is a company that hosted Justin Bieber concerts and pie-eating contests at the office.)

Religious conservatives aren’t the only people who find themselves shut out of Silicon Valley’s hegemonic culture. Thanks to its well-documented worship of youth — which ties back to the same ’60s-inspired counterculturalism — ageism is just as pervasive as one might expect.

It is, I think, the industry’s most insidious “-ism,” in part because of how little attention it gets. There was no hashtag activism movement launched when nearly 300 people joined an age discrimination lawsuit against Google, or when a report found that job opportunities in Silicon Valley started to dry up when employees hit their late 40s. It was even revealed that cosmetic surgery treatments were soaring in the Bay Area on behalf of employees who were afraid of looking their age.

Silicon Valley’s biases reveal a deep distaste for anything that could be considered “square.” The euphemistic HR term “culture fit” is meant to ensure employees are comfortable with a company’s ethos and attitudes. In reality, it’s a concept that’s more often used to exclude employees, regardless of age, who would prefer a quiet dinner at home rather than join their co-workers for Thirsty Thursday.

An obsessive attention to culture fit becomes an even bigger problem as the tech industry expands and continues to be a major driver of job growth, and companies like Amazon and Apple announce enormous new headquarters that may wind up in parts of the country that — the horror! — may have voted for Trump in 2016.

That’s why, upon reading about James Damore’s decision to bring a class-action lawsuit against Google for discriminating against white male conservatives, my mind jumped not to aggrieved Trump supporters, but rather to culturally conservative people, particularly those who follow traditional Western religions.

In Silicon Valley, to be perceived as inadequately open-minded — as defined by the norms of this peculiar culture — induces awkwardness at best and, sometimes, outright hostility. It’s a place where that false binary of “rationality” versus “faith” is often accepted as truth.

Half of tech workers identified as atheist or agnostic, according to a survey by the Lincoln Network, an organization dedicated to advancing principles of economic conservatism in the tech industry. That’s compared to just 7 percent of the US population who identify as atheist or agnostic (although an additional 16 percent identify as religiously unaffiliated, but without either of those two labels), and the respondents in this particular survey skewed slightly conservative.

At Google, I spent every day in a work environment with a specific cultural uniformity — one with its own rituals and deities that come to feel decidedly contradictory for a population that so fervently rejects “faith.”

One quick scan through the email from the ayahuasca invitation, and a pattern of vocabulary emerges: “Sacred,” “purpose,” “transformation” — with this kind of language, you may as well be in church. Companies profess to be driven not by mere secular profit but a belief in changing the world; until his death, a speech by Steve Jobs was treated like a sermon.

Yet tech’s avowed rationalism and skepticism has some very obvious contradictions. There are prominent factions in Silicon Valley who would scoff at anyone’s belief that Jesus Christ could really perform miracles but who would have no problem believing a tweet that read “Just turned water into wine!” if it came from Elon Musk.

And as proved by tech’s reaction when Musk claimed he was pivoting from electric cars and batteries to selling flamethrowers and space cars, there are plenty of people who don’t question him when he’s joking. This, in turn, willed Musk to take himself seriously: He was joking at first, but enough people took him at face value that he ultimately sent one of his cars into space and sold 20,000 flamethrowers in around 100 hours.

It’s because Elon Musk sounds like he’s grounded in the language of science and invention, even when he’s being ridiculous. In recent years, Silicon Valley, or at least a sufficient number of prominent people in it, have shown themselves to be highly susceptible to some pretty irrational behavior if an idea somehow sounds scientifically valid.

In his forthcoming book Super Natural, which was previewed in an opinion piece for the New York Times called “Don’t Believe in God? Maybe You’ll Try UFOs,” psychology professor Clay Routledge argues that faith is a fundamental part of human behavior. Routledge explained to me over the phone that rationality and irrationality don’t exist in a binary. “Every person experiences both sides of these neural systems.”

For Routledge, people who are religious understand that they can switch between both sides of their brain — the rational and the more intuitive. He believes that people who flat-out deny that they have a more intuitive side have a tougher time distinguishing between the two. “The irony is that a lot of times it’s people who actually are religious explicitly, and know that, that are better at switching between the two modes,” he explained.

Everything I’m calling out about Silicon Valley comes with a caveat: I’m guilty of participating in much of this. I have gone to my fair share of counterculture-inspired events at the invitation of tech industry colleagues and thought little of it. I’ve also generally felt welcome and comfortable amid tech companies’ relaxed corporate cultures that encourage employees to bring their personalities and identities to work, blurring the line between the personal and professional. My thinking had always been, well, who wouldn’t like this?

But perhaps there are few more important mantras in Silicon Valley than the simple reminder that not everyone is like me.

Last month I ended up going to a tech retreat in hipster beach mecca Tulum, Mexico — the kind of event where the agenda included both sunrise meditations and parties until 4 am and was likely to draw the kind of crowd that felt it had the stamina for both. Much to my relief, it wasn’t like that: Many attendees were visibly older than the millennial demographic, and though there was an open bar every night, there were also alcohol-free meetups for those who were sober or in recovery.

Some people had even brought their small children along for the weekend. Yes, there were those late-night poolside parties with DJs, sweat lodge ceremonies, and talks about astrology too. But there were plenty of people there who I couldn’t imagine signing up for a Tim Ferriss-endorsed ayahuasca retreat any time soon.

The people who don’t fit today’s stereotypically freewheeling Silicon Valley mold, whether due to religious faith, family status, or simply a distaste for partying with their co-workers, are likely in the majority. As my former Google colleague Adam Singer tweeted in the wake of a notorious (and likely sensationalized) Vanity Fair piece about alleged “sex parties” in Silicon Valley, “99.999% of folk in Bay Area don’t go to sex parties, microdose LSD at work or drink water from the toilet.” (That last item a reference to a New York Times article about an outlandish trend of drinking untreated “raw water.”) Singer concluded: “But they make for good media stories to talk about the fringes.”

He’s right. But when the fringes have enormous influence over the culture and its perception, there’s a problem. Silicon Valley holds vast economic influence, and it needs to be open to hiring and retaining employees who don’t fit its image. Without it, paradoxically, an industry and culture that professes progressivism, open-mindedness, and a devotion to science and empiricism ends up becoming the most exclusionary and prone to magical thinking.

Caroline McCarthy recently finished the residency program at TED, in which she researched the advertising industry’s role in political partisanship. A former journalist and Google marketer, she now works in digital advertising.

First Person is Vox’s home for compelling, provocative narrative essays. Do you have a story to share? Read our submission guidelines, and pitch us at firstperson@vox.com.

Original Source -> Silicon Valley has a problem with conservatives. But not the political kind.

via The Conservative Brief

[coolculturegram]

NATIVE LANDSCAPE ARTIST AND CO FOUNDER OF THE CROW’S SHADOW PRESS, JAMES LAVADOUR, DISCUSSES THE IMPORTANCE OF ART IN DEVELOPMENT AND HOW IT EDUCATES AND ELEVATES THE HUMAN CONDITION. 

James Lavadour is a Native American painter and printmaker, famous for his landscape paintings. His career as an artist was greatly supported by fellow tribe members on the Umatilla Indian Reservation and local artists in the community. After realizing that there was an incredible amount of creative people living on the reservation, but little to no resources for them, he was inspired to give back to the community that gave him so much. Lavadour decided to create an institution, The Crow’s Shadow Press, to provide resources and support to fellow tribe members. Lavadour believes in empowering and elevating others through the arts and education.

1. You’re a co-founder of the Crow’s Shadow Institute of the Arts. Can you tell us more about your organization's mission and programs?

When I actually began making my living as an artist, I realized there were many artistic people in my community on the reservation and in many other Native American communities with a very deep, ancient genius, but with no resources, no access to technology, no money for grants or materials or organization or networking or anything [like that]. So I came up with the idea of an organization that would address the needs of artists in my community. The Crow’s Shadow Institute of the Arts is a non profit art facility located on the Umatilla Indian Reservation in Northeastern Oregon and we’re 25 years old. Our mission is to provide social, economic, and educational opportunities to Native Americans through artistic development.

2. How would having access to an institute like this when you were younger have impacted you?

I don’t know. There were people in the community that gave me a lot of personal support. There was a fairly prominent Northwest artist named Betty Feves known for her ceramics and sculpture, and she also taught violin and took in apprentices to her house, to her studio. She was on the school board and on the first Oregon Arts Commission and she created an art curriculum for the high school and community college. She was the first real activist I ever met that actually made art and lived in the community, that was concerned about the people she lived around. She was an artist in the community, not just a career artist in galleries, and that kind of thing. I began to see what kind of influence [art] has. Insight and power that it has in a community. One day she knocked on my door and said ‘I hear you're an artist, I want to see your stuff.’ That’s how we started a friendship. And from then, she used to have exhibitions and invited me to show pieces there and eventually I got a show with the University of Oregon because of her, a traveling exhibition. And from that I got picked up by the Sacred Circle Gallery in Seattle, which is part of the United Indians of All Tribes Foundation.That’s where I began to learn my chops as far as being a professional artist and out in the galleries and that kind of thing. There are different opportunities today than there were back then when I was coming up. There wasn’t any opportunities. It used to be people just went to the Institute of Indian Art, but now we’ve got people all over the place and all the major universities and colleges and art programs so it’s a different world for Native American art these days.

3. Your Wikipedia described you as a troubled child, do you feel that art saved you? If yes, how so?

I don’t look at it quite like that; I think I was dyslexic, and I still am and I was a poor student and I had family problems too. I wasn’t stupid, I felt stupid because I couldn’t read very well; I never could. Anything to do with math or reading was enough to make me drop out of school. I eventually figured out how to read, you know--just slow. I think that art, science, and technology are all the same thing. I think there’s a way we become educated as beings. I always think of human perception as a prism and the light of existence passes through that prism and refracts this whole spectrum and so you can’t really separate in that sense, red, yellow, from blue because it’s all spectrum, so one light. And somehow that created spectrum is reflected in science, technology, and art is all the same energy just refracted in a spectrum of perception.

4. What do you think are some of the biggest reasons for the cultural division we are seeing in the country today? Do you think that art has a role to play in combating it? If yes, what is arts role in combating it?

Racism is one, that's a big one. Sexism, another one. Religion, the conflict of religion is another. Dogma. Nationalism that’s a big one. It all depends on what you think art does well. Is art used like propaganda or is art used to educate and elevate the human condition? I personally think that that’s what art does. Artists dive into this deep ocean and they bring back gems of knowledge and wisdom that are conducive to the tranquility of humanity. I think that art expands our human perception of reality and helps us become educated so we can see those things in bigger contexts.

5. Especially with the passing of Columbus Day and Thanksgiving just around the corner, do you have any thoughts on how the American educational system teaches children about Christopher Columbus, the arrival of pilgrims, and how Natives and indigenous people are represented? If it can be improved, how so? 

Real history has to be taught before you can have any real concept of reality otherwise it’s just propaganda nonsense and things built on prejudices and bigotry and half baked ideas. It’s not based on the real idea of human development, human potential. And encouraging that to grow and shine.

6. There is a movement to decolonize museums. What are your thoughts on this and what are your thoughts on how museums showcase Native art and work with Native artists?

Honestly, if you look at museums and who's on the board of museums, where that wealth came from, you can’t look at any museum and not realize [that] a lot of them were just vanity things for rich people and that’s how they got started as places to put their stuff. But I’ve also met a lot of people who believe in art and have sincerely tried to open museums up and make them more accessible. Things need to be reassessed in a lot of ways, from top to bottom. That’s not what I’m concerned about. It’s much more exciting to find new life out there, new possibilities, new ideas, new potentials and start new fires and new geniuses out there and people really concerned about humanities. I don’t know. I’ve read that and I‘ve been involved with museums. Native Americans and contemporary Native American art, the only museums they can get in, these are contemporary artists, were natural history museums. They weren’t given shows in mainstream art museums. You got to take work where you can find it and make the most out of it.

7. With your years of experience in the art industry, what advice would you give to an aspiring, young artist?

There’s only one thing and you’ve got to work work work work work work. There’s no prescription for where a person’s creativity lies unless you’re looking to get into a music industry or some other thing but it’s not really an industry. I don’t know what kind of foolishness it takes to think you can make a living at it and I always believed I could and I don’t know why I was so optimistic about it because I’m not a very talented artist, I just work hard at it I guess and I believe in art and that art is an uplifting force, nutritive force, informative force, it educates, it elevates and it does wonderful things for a human being and I think that’s probably it. If a person loves art and sees that as a calling they just need to be encouraged more and more. I encourage anybody to do that, but they’ll find out pretty soon if it’s something they want to do for a living or not because there’s no industry, you have to find your own place in the world.

8. So I only have one more question and then I’ll let you go. What’s next for you? Do you have any exhibits or shows or any programs you’d like us to promote?

Well I’m just coming down from a very busy season of the last 10 months. I had 3 exhibitions and now I’m in my work season. I’ll probably have a show at my gallery at PDX contemporary art in Portland, Oregon probably sometime in 2018 and there will be group shows for sure but if you could plug them that would be really great!

To learn more about James and his art. please visit: 

http://crowsshadow.org/

https://www.facebook.com/CrowsShadowPress/

https://twitter.com/Crows_Shadow

https://www.instagram.com/crows_shadow/

To learn more about Cool Culture, please visit: http://www.coolculture.org/about-us/about