#she was trying to force me to watch some kind of tik tok video about dance moves

[enemy-to-the-state]

my dad’s girlfriend: well you’d like this since you know a lot about theatre and entertainment

me:

[alatismeni-theitsa]

(1/2) I know this is some controversial topic and that you sometimes cover US politics, but what do you think the american left needs to improve to reach to more people and be taken more seriously?; It's unbelievable that in the very 2021, apolitical folk are still fallin into the whole "the leftist are a bunch of crazies" narrative, we may do some pushback the last three years against conservative politics.

(2/2)  But it's still not enough; on your personal opinion, what fundamental core value needs to be changed to engage to these apolitical people and that leftist want politics to improve the quality of life of the population without being labeled as a "petulant, whiney children" There's some greek-flavored advice that we can apply to our discourse? Thanks in advance :)

========================== END OF ASK ======================

Ooooo… Great question! And by “great” I mean “Do you want me to go down in flames and get cut a thousand times with pitchforks??” xD But it’s very interesting so I will answer it! And you will be subjected to an essay of 3.200 words 😘💅 (I want to be meticulous, don’t come at me)

Please assume the tone is light and conversational. I am not in a very serious or dramatic mood, and I don’t want to estrange any group by assuming the role of an all knowing tutor or someone who always has the high moral ground. This is just 1am blabbering.

I am not against leftists. On the contrary, I know their side so well that I think I have a solid opinion on its flaws. (I have friends who are left- okay I’ll stop xD) Needless to say, the right side also has flaws and the two sides often share flaws. But right now, we are only talking about the leftists. And of course, #notallleftists xD I recognize that leftists are ordinary and diverse people with empathy and capability of critical thinking and problem-solving (Did I mention I have friends who ar--) Jokes aside, I think my following is quite left leaning and I am not bashing them here. I am criticizing the movement as a whole and trying to see where it can be improved.

***** Anyways, I will generalize the bad traits for the sake of everyone’s time, it’s what I am saying! So, when I say “they” I will probably mean “some” or “the bad apples” etc.  *****

To begin, US leftists don’t want to, but they are accidentally imperialist xD Unfortunately, they don't know much about other countries, and they don’t usually have knowledge of countries they are talking about if they don’t have an immediate connection to them. Not knowing things is fine, but when people on this site are like “ugh Americans” this points to an ignorance and a sort of entitlement that doesn’t occur this often in other countries. My internet cycle is overwhelmingly leftist and yet I continue seeing willingness for ignorance all around - and when I check it’s not by conservatives.

Leftists think their (social and not) politics apply to every country and culture, that people in different countries classify themselves as they do in the US. And when people from those countries talk about their problems, there is always an American that wants to give input based on American politics, and without knowing the situation in this other country they want to talk about. Ironically, the last one is a behavior of conservative politicians. Conservative politicians and citizens sometimes think it’s fine to intervene in other countries for “the greater good”. Well, leftists do the same but on the internet. It stalls conversation and makes it messy and force foreigners to apply to American standards.

Because leftists don't understand social differences between countries, they project their own politics, and that can make them seem obsessed with skin color and blind to cultural diversity. They act like only Americans or certain countries have every lived through colonialism and suffered slaughter and slavery. (Because they don’t feel the need to study and learn further.) To an American that might not be the case, but when Americans converse with foreigners about foreign issues, they seem to have a blind spot.

They act as if only white, cis, straight people can be perpetrators of imperialism. Booyyy I have news xD Yes, of course white, cis, straight people can be perpetrators of imperialism, but the attitude that they are the first to blame, always, it’s faulted. I have many experiences, but let’s start with a very simple one, of an Indian American young woman who thought only a lota can clean you with water in the toilet, and that Europeans haven’t heard of bidets or any other means of cleanliness (or that they have the bathtub RIGHT THERE xD) One of the highlights was a Black woman insisting “Medusa was Black because my grandma told me” despite what Greeks were telling her.

Another thing that stuck with me was the case of a Greek who wanted to write about the people who happen to be a minority in the US (you would call them poc I guess). Many people from those countries were enthusiastic about the project and aided the writer as much as they could, sharing culture and realizing how many things in common they had. But it was from same populations in the US that the writer found people who blamed them for daring to write something outside of their culture. (To explain, most US Americans were fine, but only in the US were some who were hostile). Or, I have seen Chinese Americans being offended by a certain thing (I think it was something about fashion) saying “this is an offense to Chinese culture” meanwhile Chinese people from everywhere else in the world (99% of Chinese, I’d say) said “I don’t understand… this is fine!”

Many US American poc categorize all light skinned Caucasians of the world as White Americans and the rest are the “cultured” Black or Brown people. US Americans are now learning that Slavic cultures exist and it’s… something else to watch leftists realizing light skinned people can have great embroidery and they are not actually stealing Mexican traditional clothing xD (reference to an obscure “calling out” comment on tik tok).

I don’t specifically target US poc here, I am just mentioning that everyone conveniently forgets them as if they are untouchable and never said anything ignorant, while they are as active on social media causes as other Americans. In fact, if most poc are aligned to a side, that would be the Left. They are a very big part of the progressive movement – and that’s why I am giving so much space here for them – but then it seems they can’t have a share of the “bad” things of the leftist movement, only the good. Which is humanly impossible, to be always correct.

That’s one of the problems of leftism, that in a way pardons certain minorities and by doing that it not only lets the problematic bubbles grow but also infantilizes those minorities because it passes the message that “they can never do anything wrong”. While background matters when having an opinion, I see that skin-color goes ridiculously above opinion on these matters, which is not very egalitarian. When I argue with a person, the last thing I see is the person’s skin color. When someone says “ancient Greeks were actually a Black nation ad then they became White” I don’t care how this person looks like. No matter your skin color, you must take responsibility for the misinformation you are spreading. I won’t assume that because someone is a poc that they can’t study and learn more about the matter of discussion.

So… the “issue” doesn’t come from being white, cis, straight etc but from being raised as a US American. I don’t imply by any means that being a US American is bad. The last thing I want to do here is enforce guilt. (If you are feeling guilty already I must be mistaken in my wording so I am sorry for that). I am talking about certain beliefs that come with raised as a US American. Similarly, many beliefs a Greek can have are because of their environment. Everyone is affected by their background in one way or another. 

American leftists believe that even the piss poor British farmers benefited from colonialism – and still benefit perhaps on a systemic scale. So, with the same logic, even the lowest layers of the US American society benefit from imperialism and war crimes overseas. (Truth is the quality of living in the US is great and extremely progressive compared to most of the world, because of the US’ politics. I had analyzed this in a previous post). But American leftists never mention that when it comes to THEIR case, because it doesn’t give them an advantage.

To tie it up with how American leftists see the world, there is youtuber I like, who is a US American woc and one time she said “My country is bombing Brown people” in an annoyed tone and it just sounded so offensive I closed the video. It’s obvious the youtuber doesn’t support the bombing, but it was just the phrasing which left a bitter taste in my mouth the whole day. It was the fact that 1) she could make a statement in an annoyed/joking tone 2) people in those countries don’t identify as “Brown” outside the US (and you are talking about them now) 3) your country is indeed bombing them so maybe at least categorize them as they wish?? They have a certain ethnicity, so mention that and stop categorizing them like dog breeds! They already have the bombs, do you want them to hear Americans categorize them like that?

Moreover, many US leftists think they care about other countries while, in actuality, they don’t. They just want to make other countries have the exact progressive US politics - because that’s the only “correct” political system they know. That shows even in kind of superficial matters. In a movie about Greek mythology, they will make sure there is an American Arab, an American Black person, an American East Asian person etc (which would be a cast that would reflect American diversity, not Mediterranean) and are hesitant to cast Greeks or ask Greeks how the portrayal of the story and figures could be better and respecting.

Another thing, they take everything too personally. They think success and failure of a movement is highly dependent on them as an individual. It’s difficult for them to approach a harsh past or present situation in a levelheaded manner because they don’t realize this situation has been universal. So, they feel a special kind of guilt and that makes them over apologetic but also overzealous (like a righteous self-flogging zealot) and that is what drives people away. They combine that behavior with ignorance about the rest of the world, and you can see why a non-US American might want to keep their distance.

I had some Americans apologizing to me because their ancestors did something to Greeks and just… don’t. I know you have the best intentions, but it makes everyone – even me – feel bad. There is no need for apologizing because 1) you and your family did nothing wrong 2) it was centuries ago 3) this bad shit happens/happened literally everywhere. You might as well apologize for your people knowing how to cook. It’s FINE, really, it’s FINE. For instance, do you think I have a grudge on YOUR people running a slave trade six centuries ago while there was dozen active slavetrades in the area, and while Greeks of the Byzantine empire probably bought slaves some decades before they were sold to slavery themselves? Do you see what a mess this is? Not only it doesn’t fix anything, but you also put unnecessary weight on yourself, as an individual. It’s fine to be aware and trying to fix past mistakes - if it’s possible - but there is a certain delicate process that must be followed. Not… whatever this is.

To continue on the extreme individualism, leftists think it's the end of the world if they have done or said something controversial (and that's also because they have cultivated a culture where any small transgression is a potential danger to the whole society :p aka "the left eats itself"). Around them people feel they must tread on eggshells just in case they phrase a thing wrong or post something that could be linked to a person the Left doesn't like.

The left is also on the extremes, so I have to put 1000 disclaimers every time I say something. (I guarantee that the example with the Chinese people will be translated by some Americans like “Theitsa promotes Asian hate!!”) Do you know who doesn't annoy me if I don't put 1000 disclaimers? Certainly not Conservatives. I had more harassment from leftists than I had from actual nazis, even though my blog is not conservative or (god forbid!!) supportive of nazism or any type of supremacy. Even nazis completely understand my beliefs before they send hate. (It might be odd but I never had one not understanding my point xD) But the leftists who sent hate misinterpret stuff, or they don’t bother reading actual posts. The funny thing is that I usually agree with these progressives in 99% of issues but they don’t care asking or learning, they just decide our morals are opposite. I mean they don’t have to like me, but many leftists don’t even read the basics.

On top of that, leftists rarely want to have a conversation with a conservative. I don't say go and AGREE with a conservative, I say just talk. (see? I feel the need to clarify here because many leftists might say “Theitsa wants us to go and AGREE with conservatives! Does Theitsa want us to become nazis and homophobes???”) How does one feel they have to be sooo righteous and then cauterize every member of society who disagrees with them? Why do leftists rarely want to have a conversation? Some people were ready to attack me for referencing a meme which referenced Steven Crowder, as if that shows I am his supporter 😩 (Guilty by association is strong on the leftist side and it’s very reminiscent of authoritarian tactics, another thing that needs to be improved, to my opinion.)

I don’t support Crowder (I know Crowder has done awful stuff) but I shouldn’t be scared to admit I like the “change my mind” episodes. (Flash news, leftists, you might like a part from a person’s work and not 100% support that person!) I like the episodes because both sides are heard, the conversation is civil (for the most part xD) and I can see the thought process of the two speakers as they explain their worries and what solutions are out there.

Most of all, in those episodes I see how BOTH sides CARE about the SAME problems, it’s just the perspectives that differ. And those conversations highlight the issues the left hasn’t studied very well, so it helps the leftists understand what they need to learn in order to better society. But where the “immaturity“ of the leftist side can show is in the unwillingness to approach the “opponent“ as a human just like them.

(They might instead prefer to call Mexicans white supremacists and claim that “whiteness” has no color because quite a few poc voted Republican, as some leftist news sources have stated)

What is more, is it just my idea or conservatives understand leftists better than leftists understand conservatives? Of course both sides jokes about the other one but I am talking about the serious talks. Leftists just describe conservatives as horrible people who want all minorities to perish and we must not talk to them while, surprisingly, the conservatives are the ones who stereotype less the opposite side. (I am talking about the normal, moderate people). From what I have seen, most simple people who are conservatives DON’T want the US’ ethnic and sexual minorities to perish. They are worried about problems they don’t have a good understanding about. And the only way to make them understand it’s to… talk to them, show them what good the left to offer.

Some leftists think conversation is “emotional labor” but 1) that applies to actual labor as in… jobs, so stop invalidating doctors, nurses, teachers etc, 2) yeah, sorry, sometimes things get difficult and you have to explain your side. (As non US-Americans endlessly have to do for US-Americans). That was, is and will be life until the sun swallows us all. You can’t be THAT militant on social media with 100 posts per day and remembering 50 different campaigns about social issues but the moment someone genuinely asks you for directions on your side you shut them off with “why do you demand labor from me? Do your own research” (hint: most likely they have done their research, but they are stuck, and you don’t help them like this).

If you are very tired and don’t want to explain (as it is your right) you can be polite about it and not blame the individual about their circumstances when they are trying to learn. If you DO want to explain but you get tired, be more organized. Have posts and F.A.Q.s ready, or send them to someone else (a friend, a blog, a youtube channel, an article, whatever). Instead of leftists arguing their positions, sometimes they are like “Do more research and realize I am right.” Yyyeah the other person is not gonna do that – especially because you haven’t pointed them anywhere or supported your position with arguments. Moreover, leftists can have the attitude of “I stand for PROGRESS, how can I ever be wrong??” Weeell things are not black and white and me, you, everyone has the potential to not have a not that beneficial to society position at some issues no matter where we stand on the political compass.

For the “petty whiny children” thing, I believe a lot of people might think that because the youth is usually making noise about progressive issues on social media. It’s true that oftentimes in social media discussions their emotions get the best of them (it’s happened to everyone) but combined with the lack of life experience they may have about the world, the argument sounds silly. (I heard one leftist university student say that the US shouldn’t have borders because borders are bad but then they realized they don’t want people to come and go as they please in the US, so she said there should be SNIPERS in the borders to shot everyone who tries to get in…….)

And, as I mentioned, the leftists are very quick to cancel and attack for the slightest transgression so people prefer to deal with the conservatives who can, at least, take a slight misstep, than meddling with people who are going to cancel them for doing or not doing a small, insignificant, but not ‘woke enough’ thing. Leftists are constantly checking each other to see if they are doing better and better (even in silly issues) and that can be intimidating to someone who is new to politics.

Some leftists get REALLY turned on by righteousness (Frollo villain style) and instead of trying to unite the society, they aim to divide it further. They don’t want to create bridges but burn them and find themselves on the “right side“ of morals.

And, last but not least, they don’t realize leftist propaganda is a thing. Malicious people are EVERYWHERE and they don’t just magically avoid the left. Leftists are not automatically super virtuous people. There are some manipulators and bullies around, so one has to be cautious even with leftist sources. (Cross-examine stuff, always. You might have the best intentions but accidentally share something nonfactual because you trusted a source).

Ok that was all, I think. To anyone who comments, PLEASE keep the tones down, have a conversation, take it slow, remember it doesn’t help us being hateful towards each other. (And causing serious friction wasn’t the purpose of this post). Oh, and if you need a clarification on something I said, before gossiping with your friends about how awful I am, do me the courtesy of first asking me what I meant xD

[mrs-nate-humphrey]

What do you feel about amandamaryanna’s video on gossip girl and cosplaying poor? It reminds me of those tik tok videos that are about the most insane rich person behavior you’ve experienced. I feel like it’s subjective because the characters Dan Vanessa and Zoya are basing their poor ness around THEIR environment. So yes, there are MANY people who are actually poor but compared to their UES counterparts they would be considered “poor” due to the fact that they do not have the insane amount of disposable wealth that the other characters have and I do not really see that as them trying to cosplay as poor.

Also what are your thoughts on her argument on GG not really talking about class consciousness and POC issues. Even though the characters Ursula, Jane and Raina had short appearances on the show, as a Black person I think that is was great that they added the few POC characters on GG because their identity was not the main focus of their characters. Usually with Black or POC characters they have to go through some racial turmoil as part of the plot and in GG they got to be rich UES-ers simply because they are. Even though GG is very verryy flawed Penelope, Nelly, Kati, Isabelle and Zoe were shown how POC characters can be rich like the white characters in the show as well GG is obviously a fictional show that’s not based on anything so I don’t think that racial income statistics/racial implications need to be talked about 24/7.

so i started watching this video & just ended up reading the transcript instead. anyway. under a read more:

like, yes. i agree with her on one hand - i think gossip girl 2007 messed up by making dan's grievances be connected to financial status, because the humphreys certainly weren't "poor". like i think this point she says makes sense to an extent:

The comparison between outsiders and insiders and gossip girl is all about relativity. To the average viewer it seems absurd that a character like Dan is supposed to represent the outsider when he is so farther in than any of us could get.

But honestly, something i hate is how people who talk about this show act as if everyone who's watching is expected to know the prices of rent in new york city, etc. like i did NOT realise how expensive that loft is until someone else mentioned it to me and i would not have guessed! who is your "average viewer" - is it an American? someone who lives in New York? someone who lives in Brooklyn? you can't just define an average viewer in that way, i feel! like you are making a BIG Assumption there and it's not necessarily accurate. people who aren't american watch american tv! such is the world we are living in.

but keeping that aside, yeah: dan and jenny had stable and secure housing, the guarantee of meals, and were attending expensive private schools, so i think the show's messaging regarding class was a little strange. they definitely weren't in a financially unstable situation.

but also, you're right. like, dan and jenny weren't super duper broke, and at no point do they actually act like they are, tbh. dan is very 'oh my parents sacrificed so much to send me to st jude's' and jenny is very 'damn i wish i was richer' but there isn't really an instance where the humphreys seem to view themselves as being extremely poor, that i remember at least. in s1, jenny says something along the lines of, "we're humphreys; we're not exactly royalty." and like. she is not wrong! they're financially stable kids, but they're ordinary kids living in an environment where everyone else has the safety net of millionnaire parents to fall back on, and however much money rufus has, he isn't that.

so i think it's a grey area, like, YES, the humphreys have wealth related privilege (i don't know if this can be said for v, because honestly we don't know much about her living situation, but we do know that she works as a waitress for a bit in s1, and also that she's homeschooled, so she isn't shelling out big $$ for school fees.) but also dan and jenny are treated as 'less than' because they are considered nobodies.

and i feel like THAT is the angle the show should have taken. not "i am oppressed because i am not rich" but rather, "everyone at school alienates me and treats me different and it's making things so difficult for me." whenever people say that dan and jenny acted like they were more oppressed than they actually were i'm like. they were both, in different ways, made to feel small and insecure and hopeless, at school? like of COURSE they're gonna feel victimised. dan is treated like he doesn't exist, and jenny is treated so horribly that i don't even have an adjective. like. i think the writing of the show would've been much stronger if it had focused on THAT and not made it a class thing.

i haven't watched the reboot beyond ep02, so i'm not gonna comment on that.

so yeah, i don't think it was 'cosplaying poor' as much as it was 'showing wealth related stuff extremely inaccurately.' like an anon told me, portraying nyu as community college is super inaccurate, as well. and it makes no sense? like i don't know why they had to do this and why they couldn't just... shoot at a regular community college. gossip girl 2007 did not care for representing poor people at all, like, if you watch the show you can tell that it just luxuriates in this aesthetic of like: more food than anybody can eat at every meal. so many luxuries. unnecessarily expensive things everywhere. like the show was very much luxury porn. to me it felt like it wasn't cosplaying poor as much as it was offering people a chance to wank off to the rich. & maybe because of that, the humphreys weren't allowed to be poorer. gg 2007 wasn't supposed to represent all of NY, it was supposed to represent the uber rich elite. and then you have dan and jenny humphrey, and vanessa abrams. they weren't allowed to be rich, because we needed a class conflict. but they weren't allowed to be poor, either, because this show was all about rich people aesthetics. so we got something weird & in the middle instead.

people forget that chuck was canonically a billionnaire - like, that is a LOT of money. and he is dan & jenny's peer! sadly, i think solely because of THAT, a lot of the oppression the humphreys face... checks out. like chuck being shitty to both dan and jenny - he' has an unethical, absurd, uncomparable-to-whatever-the-humphreys-have amount of money. he can do whatever he wants & buy his way out of there. rufus humphrey's ten thousand dollars or whatever amount he mentions are like pocket change to that guy. if jenny is gonna be treated like a commodity by everyone around her, do her upper middle class roots and expensive loft really matter? well, not do they matter as much as like. can they protect her? (we've watched the show. we know the answer is no.)

re: the characters of colour... i think it's subjective. i ADORE raina, and honestly, if we'd had a NJBC that was nate, serena, blair & raina, the show would've actually been AMAZING. like raina was such a cool character to me - i liked that she was driven, passionate, intelligent, sensitive, caring, fun-loving, thoughtful.... she wasn't on the show for long, but her character felt really solid and fleshed out. i remember a review (idk who wrote this one) in which someone felt that raina's character was "lazy" because a lot of her traits and her backstory paralleled chuck, but i strongly disagree. on raina, those traits were interesting. on chuck, any backstory and larger motive felt like a carpet to cover the dust that was his predatory nature, and to me, felt forced and off. like. this dude assaulted people, i don't care about his daddy issues. but raina seemed SO amazing. her backstory actually fit her personality and gave her depth, and to me, didn't feel forced.

i liked ursula, too! she was a really minor character, but she had a whole arc, and i liked that a LOT. her friendship with serena was very cute! i sadly do not remember jane. i think she was... someone's assistant? but i don't remember who. but i agree with you about raina and ursula, their arcs were very interesting and did not end up being about racial trauma & all that, which, like you said, is refreshing when done right.

that said, i think blair's minions were, uh, an example of blair's racism, and i think it would've been cool if the show unpacked that. blair uses her minions as a status symbol - her 17th birthday at kati's place which is anime themed (?) leaves a bad taste in my mouth because it feels very tokenising of a culture that blair isn't a part of? it would be different if blair treated her minions with respect and dignity and like they were her equals and peers, but she doesn't. the word "minions" itself makes me flinch because it's such a "oh you're inferior" kind of word. it felt to me very much like - they never got to be characters in their own right. they solely existed to prop up blair. and i think that is racist. there was a sense of "Oh, I can't be racist! I have a Black friend and an Asian friend" from Blair - like that's what kati & is were to her. and i think that is a big problem, especially glossed over like that.

i also do think that racial stuff doesn't always need to be the focus! but i don't think it can ever be completely ignored, either. an example of something that is maybe unintentionally racist, but racist nonetheless, is how dan cuts vanessa out of his life entirely but forgives his white friends for treating him farrrr worse. it's an inherent double standard, because dan kind of went "oh yeah. my threshold for white people fucking me over is really high, but if my Black best friend who's so close we're practically family does something even slightly wrong i'm going to cut her out of my life 4ever." did the writers realise this? i don't know. maybe they just didn't think about it. but this is exactly the sort of double standards and racist bullshit that woc, especially Black women, have to face irl (though of course i don't need to tell you that at all), except here, the narrative doesn't even address that, hey, maybe dan's being a dick by reacting this way. and i think that's a problem, too.

[capaldifiction]

Graham Norton Show - Lewis Capaldi x Reader

I apologize for how long these have been taking me to get to, but I hope you like your request 💙

Paring: Lewis Capaldi x Actress Reader

Word Count: 2,014

Description:  Based on this request: “Where the reader and him are doing the interview on Graham Norton show and being funny as hell and everyone knows they are dating even if they didn't say it. Can you also add then having long cute stares at each other.”

Warnings: Some swearing

“And welcome our next two guests, Y/N and Chris Pratt!” Graham Norton calls out as the two enter the set to applause. Waving to audience quickly, Y/N smiles before turning to shake the hands of Graham, Jared Leto, and Tom Ellis before taking her place next to Tom, with Chris sitting to her left.

“How are the two of you doing? Enjoy your trip back home to the U.K. Y/N?” Graham asks.

“Real good,” she respond with a small smile, relaxing back into the couch. “Long flights suck, but being back home is always great. Haven’t gotten to get back to my actual house yet, but what can ya do?”

“I’m doing great,” Chris nods in response. “Got to film and now promote this film with this fantastic woman right here. She’s hilarious, and gives me a run for my money as set prankster.”

“Oh?” Graham asks noticeably intrigued. “And what kind of pranks is Y/N pulling?”

“Oh nothing that great,” Y/N insists, her cheeks reddening as she tries to talk it down.

“How long do we have?” Chris asks with a grin toward the audience that cheers in response.

“Give us one good one,” Graham insists.

“Hmmm,” he says as his gaze drifts to the ceiling of the set. “Probably the prosthetic zombie finger she stuck to the bottom of my coffee cup, then filled it with my coffee and brought it to me. Took me an hour to finally see that sucker. We’re standing there discussing the next scene, I take a sip and seeing a freakin’ finger coming up out of my coffee and chucked it.”

“He screamed like a little girl,” Y/N grins cheerfully to the audience’s laughter. “It was fantastic.”

“Well we can’t expect anything less… from the one rumored to be dating our hilarious musical guest of the day,” Graham teases.

“No clue what you’re talking about,” she insists, her eyes immediately leaving Graham’s.

“Oh? So you’re denying the rumors of you and Lewis Capaldi?”

“Absolutely.”

“I mean,” Chris butts in with a shrug. “He was on set an awful lot for someone who lives in Scotland when we were filming in Canada.”

“Well yeah, we are friends, I never said we weren’t friends and he never visited me, we live near each other and see each other all the time and he had some concerts in North America so he dropped by a few times to hang out and see the set,” she rambles quickly as she tugs at the bottom of her shirt in embarrassment.

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” Tom Ellis throws in, raising his eyebrows.

Jared and Graham laugh as Y/N sinks further in the couch and reaches for her drink on the table.

“Bit thirsty there Y/N?” Jared teases.

“Parched,” she quips back with narrowed brows to her former costar.

“So the film you two are starring in is ‘End Of The Living,’ care to give us a taste of what it’ll be about?” Graham asks looking at Y/N and Chris.

“Well my and Chris’ characters are neighbors in an apartment building that don’t really get along. They deal with seeing each other on an occasional basis, but generally avoid each other. Then all hell breaks loose as the zombie apocalypse basically breaks out, and they have to work together to survive.”

“Annnnd then they fall in love,” Chris adds with a chuckle.

“Naturally, nothing says love like zombie guts and certain death,” Y/N nods with a carefree smile.

“And here on the couch we have a vampire, two zombie hunters, and Satan himself,” Graham summarizes as he looks at his guests who laugh in response. “It’s a nice light promotional day isn’t it?”

“Zombie hunters are no match for Morbius though,” Jared jokes looking over to Chris and Y/N.

“Says you,” Chris throws back. “But if we can’t Star Lord will wipe the floor with him since he’s in his world.”

“In all due respect,” Tom jumps in, “None of them can take on Lucifer.”

“And with that, we should go to a break, when we get back we’ll see our musical performance from Lewis Capaldi!” Graham shouts as the cameras shut off.

Giving pointed looks to the men around her, and sticking her tongue out at Jared, Y/N’s attention is finally caught by the instruments being brought in for Lewis’ performance.

She nods at his piano player Aiden as he gets settled, then smiles as Lewis himself comes out onto the set. The typical nervous expression always etched on his face before a performance there. He looks up to see her gaze on him, and smiles wide before sending a wave her way.

Smiling in turn she waves back at him as she watches them finish setting up, ignoring the scoffed laughed from Chris beside her.

As the lights brighten again, the cameras come back to life as Graham steps in front of the camera, “And here to perform his newest hit, two-time Brit winner and Grammy nominated singer Lewis Capaldi!”

The cameras turn toward Lewis as he begins the song, and Y/N leans forward with her chin in her hands as she watches the performance intently, standing up and applauding loudly as Lewis hits the last note.

Finishing up the song, Lewis sets his guitar down and gives a wave to the audience before heading over to the couches. Shaking each person’s hand down the line, he stops to pull Y/N into a side hug, whispering something in her ear causing a smile to spread across her face.

After all shaking hands, all the guests take their seats once again. As Chris sits back down, he places his arm on the couch behind Y/N, while Lewis takes his seat on the other side of him. Lewis’ gaze lingers on Chris’ arm for a moment with a frown before forcing it away and looking to Graham.

“Fantastic performance Lewis!” Graham says looking over at him. “Now where do we start? The new album you have coming out or the triple platinum on your last one and the two Brits you’ve gotten since you were last here?”

“The new album Graham,” Y/N says before Lewis can respond, throwing him a look. “You’ll give him a bigger head if you go on about the other things.”

“And that’d be a bad thing Y/N?” he asks with a teasing tone.

“There’d be no living with you if it got any bigger,” she sighs dramatically.

“Living with him?” Jared asks as he looks between the two, noticing Lewis’ gaze lingering on her a moment too long.

“W-well yeah,” she answers hastily. “We live pretty close, I see him pretty often.”

“Speaking of you two living close, do you also go on some of his tours Y/N?” Graham asks. “You appear on quite a few of his social media posts from Instagram to Tik Tok, and everyone’s loving seeing that side of you when you usually play such serious roles.”

“Well we just always have a good time. I have gone on some of his tours when I’m not working, get to see some cool places with a good friend of mine. And we’re both a little weird, so it makes for some interesting videos I guess,” she shrugs.

“Let’s take a look at one of them now,” Graham says, gesturing to the screen beside him.

The screen changes to a clip of Y/N wearing a Lewis Capaldi merch t-shirt and a pair of black sunglasses as she stands atop a large table singing the lyrics to ‘Grace.’ Throwing her head back, she starts dancing to the music, when the camera pans over to Lewis also doing the dance from his music video and singing the song at the top of his lungs.

“I’m not ready to be just another of your mistakes!” she yells out as the camera follows Lewis moving in front of the table she’s dancing on. As she finishes the line, she launches herself onto his back, a look of panic on his face as they both crash to the ground in front of the camera, followed by a chorus of obscenities.

As the clip fades out, Lewis and Y/N have equally red cheeks as they make eye contact and look down at their drinks while the audience and other guests laugh.

“And what were you two doing there?” Graham asks with a grin.

Lewis runs his hand through his hair breaking his gaze from Y/N back over to Graham, “That, that was a less than sober rendition of my song and Y/N trying to kill the both of us as my piano player filmed us.”

“Ok but we were on his tour and had too much to drink and it seemed like a good idea at the time,” she defends.

“Alcohol would do that,” Tom teases.

She smiles at him sheepishly before taking a drink, “Alright we don’t always make the best choices, but we do make the fun choices.”

“Fuck yeah,” Lewis agrees with a grin, his eyes quickly widening before muttering a quiet apology.

“So about this new album, what should we be expecting from it and when?” Graham asks.

“Well there are the artists that really want to reinvent themselves for their next album, really try something new and push the boundaries of music,” he replies. “And that’s not me. It’s gonna be more sad shit, and hopefully if you liked the first album you’ll like the second. We’re looking at it coming out in May of this year.”

“No inspirations for happy love songs in your life huh?” Chris asks with a knowing smile, glancing at Y/N next to him who quickly looks away from Lewis.

“Nope, I’m sad and alone,” Lewis confirms, his gaze once again drifting to Chris’ arm behind Y/N on the couch, then to her eyes as a content smile spreads across both their faces.

“Right then,” Graham chuckles as he stands up from his seat. “That’s all we have time for tonight. Give a big round of applause for my guests tonight, Lewis Capaldi, Chris Pratt, Y/N, Tom Ellis, and Jared Leto! I’ll see you next week everyone!”

Once the cameras have shut off, the guests all stand up to bid their goodbyes to one another.

“It was great seeing you again,” Jared says, pulling Y/N into a quick hug over the table. “We really need to work together again some time.”

“I get pranked enough in my personal life to go up against you again,” she chuckles setting her empty glass down on the table. “You take it to a whole new level Leto.”

“Oh you know you loved it,” he teases patting her shoulder.

“Of course, snake in my dressing room was the best,” she says while rolling her eyes but smiling. “It was good talking again. Hit me up sometime again sometimes. And it was great meeting you,” she says turning to Tom.

“You as well,” he responds with his own smile. “That goes for all of you, I had a great time.”

“Same here bud,” Chris says throwing an arm over Y/N’s shoulder and extending it for a fist bump at Tom who bumps it with a smirk, his gaze going to a very obviously uncomfortable Lewis behind Chris.

“It was fucking fantastic meeting you all,” Lewis interrupts after a moment. “All of you are amazing. But if you don’t mind…” he reaches around Chris to snag Y/N’s hand, who he quickly pulls out of his grasp and to his own side.

Placing a quick kiss on her cheek, he mumbles, “Let’s get out of here.”

Y/N nodding in agreement, follows Lewis off the set hand in hand with shy smiles on their faces as the last few remaining people in the audience cheer.

Turning to look at the other two men, Chris smirks and crosses his arms in victory, “Fuckin knew it.”

-----

Extra Notes: As to why I chose Jared Leto, Tom Ellis and Chris Pratt. Chris Pratt I thought would be a good funny guy that would mess with Lewis and Y/N a bit (and I’m a big Marvel fan so I’ve seen some of his interviews lol). Jared Leto just because I’ve been a fan of him and his band for a really long time and just thought he was someone I could write alright. And Tom Ellis because I felt like the Lucifer show fit the vibe of this, and I had the chance to see a live panel of him at a Comic Con I went to where he was just a really cool guy.

Masterlist

Request List

[stressedkitkatttt]

My Little Quarantine(Alternate)

Here is an alternate to My Little Quarantine. Starts out the same until the last race. Sorry this took so long to make, I had scatterbrain with this one and one too many ideas that I finally managed to narrow down and this is the outcome.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: smut, dominant reader, Chris being stubborn

Anon: I loved your Chris story My little quarantine!!! IS there any chance you could do a part 2? Like if she won the third round and has control over him for the first time?

DISCLAIMER: Do NOT  think it is okay to take my stories and post them somewhere else without my EXPLICIT PERMISSION. Do NOT  think it is okay to take anyone else's stories and post them somewhere else without their EXPLICIT PERMISSION. Giving credit does NOT count as permission. You may reblog my stories, you may NOT repost my stories without MY PERMISSION.

~~~~~~~~~~

You and Christopher have been in lockdown for two months. You both were experiencing some cabin fever, and Chris was beginning to get on your nerves. You love him and all, but seeing him every day with no breaks, save for going shopping and when he was on video calls with the guys, it was obvious you were beginning to reach your limit. Even with your little breaks, when you came back from the store or he finishes the video call, he's right beside you again, cuddling with you, teasing you, pulling small pranks for Tik Tok... You name it, he's probably done it to you. And since he couldn't go see his friends and cause mischief in person, he turned to you.

Finally, you manage to settle him down from his antics by offering to play Mario Kart. He agrees and you both sit on the edge of the bed, getting comfortable. You choose your characters and choose randomly on the race selection menu. You had fully expected him to kick your butt but when you began to win just about every race, you got a little cocky. As your character crosses the finish line for the sixth time in a row, you throw your hands up in triumph, looking at Chris with the biggest grin.

Chris sighs and rests his face in his hand. You nudge him with your shoulder, "Doesn't feel too good when you're constantly losing, does it?" He fixes a hard stare on you, but it has a lightness to it, so you know he's not actually upset that's he's been losing for the past 10 minutes. When his face lights up suddenly, that signature Christopher Vélez smirk on his plump lips have you raising a brow.

"How about we up the stakes a little bit?" He says. "If I win, I get to fuck you every which way I want and you don't have any control. If you win, you can have the control and fuck me however it pleases you. All within reason, of course."

"What's the catch?" you ask after thinking over the idea he was proposing.

"There is none. All you have to do is beat me. Best of three races. The only rule is that we randomly select the races so we can't rig our chances of winning."

You mull over the idea. On one hand, you know that you're pushing your luck. If you continue to race against him, your luck will run out eventually and he'll beat you sooner or later. If that happens, he'll win the upper hand and you'll have to give up control for the night. But on the other, there's the sweet idea of being able to tie Chris up, tease him mercilessly like he's done to you many times in the past. You look at him. "So if I win... You'll let me take full control?" Your breath hitches a little when he nods his head.

Would it be worth the risk? You feel so conflicted before you decide to take your chances. It's not often you get to have total control in the bedroom. After all, Chris is a dominant man when it comes to the bedroom. You smile at Chris and accept his offer. He smiles back and he gets up and uses the restroom. You move from the bed and stretch your legs, feeling a little giddy at the prospect of having Chris at your mercy, begging for you to let him cum. You're quickly brought back to reality as he exits the bathroom, returning to his spot on the edge of the bed. You join him and prepare yourself.

Chris selects the random button on the race menu and it chooses an easy course; Toad's Turnpike. You breathe a small sigh of relief. A pro to this is that it's an easy track. The con is that because it is easy, Chris has a higher chance of beating you. He does play this game more than you and knows some of the courses like the back of his hand. You were decent at the game, but some of the tracks give you a hard time while Chris seems to fly through them with ease. You take a deep breath and take a glance at Chris. He has his game face on, eyes glued to the screen with every intent on winning.

Lakitu comes down and counts down from three. When the lights turn green, you and Chris both gain speed through the starting boost. Because he started in seventh place, and you in eighth (total bullshit in your opinion), he easily slid past the NPCs and into first. You were close behind him for the first two laps until you got close enough to him on the final lap, close to the finish line, where you knocked him into a car. Chris practically growls as you pass him and cross the finish line. He turns his head and glares at you. You return his sharp look with a shrug, "You said the only rule was that we needed to use the random select when choosing the tracks."

"Still a dick move..." He grumbles under his breath, turning his attention back to the menu. He selects the random button again, this time it lands on Yoshi's Circuit. Oh great. You didn't particularly like this track due to its tight turns, and you've seen the way Chris handles those turns. This isn't one of his favorite tracks but he's kind of good at it. And just as you suspected, he beat you. You cursed those the pin-hair turns like a sailor and rolled your eyes when Chris rubbed the victory in your face. Whatever. You beat him seven times before this. You'll let him have his fun and get it out of his system.

But suddenly you feel a little nervous. This meant you each had won one race and now this final track would be the tie-breaker. You silently pray that the game is on your side and picks an easy track for you. But, as fate would have it, it chooses one of your worst nightmares. Rainbow Road. You groan mentally. Great. You were decent at the game, but even the pros can have a hard time on this track. It requires one's full attention and no distractions. You were gonna be royally screwed. And possibly in the literal sense. You clear your head and zone in on the screen. You weren't going to let him win. Not this time.

Chris starts in first and you in second. You both hit the starting boost and take the first few corners just fine. With the first lap gone, and Chris still in a steady lead, you grab an item box and to your luck, it's a red shell. You're far enough behind him that you won't catch up to him but you can still see him in your sight. You make sure to time your red shell launch just right, hitting Chris as he's taking the second turn, ruining his drift and sending him over the edge, leaving you to take first place. You hear his angry huff beside you but you don't spare him a glance, too fixated on winning.

His character is brought back to the track and he manages to keep second place and stay a little ways behind you. To Christopher's luck, he snags a red shell and he smirks. He throws the item and it hits you while you're in midair. You want to yell in frustration but you refrain and take a deep inhale and focus on getting Chris, who has taken first place. You need to get into first place before the end of this lap. You needed to win. You manage to get behind him before the last few turns. You both hit the last item box and you pray to get a red shell. Unfortunately, you get a green shell. This is your last chance to win this bet. You have to time this right.

Nearing the last turn, you're just close enough to be able to get a good enough shot. Suddenly Christopher leans in close to your ear, "I can't wait to have you cum on my cock over and over again until you can't take it anymore." You bite your lip and feel yourself react to his words. You try not to let his words affect you. As you round to the last turn, Chris takes his drift tight to edge. Perfect. As you come up behind him, you throw the green shell and hit him around the middle of the turn and he slides off.

Christopher's jaw drops. You cross the finish line, your own jaw drops slightly. He doesn't attempt to move his Kart and the race finishes when the 7th place NPC crosses the finish line. You look over at Chris and see him still in shock. And you were too. You won. A big smile makes its way onto your face as Chris slowly turns to face you.

"So what was it that you were saying? Something along the lines of cumming on your cock till I couldn't take it?" There was a cockiness to your voice that you tried not to show but how could you not? Chris huffs and tosses his controller and pouts. You place your controller down and scoot over to him. You lean over and begin to nibble on his ear. "I'll make you feel really good Christopher." He groans at the sensation and turns to crash his lips against yours. He grabs your hips and falls backward onto the bed, laying you on top of him.

You continue your makeout session until Chris slowly starts to take control, starting by sliding his tongue against yours, and you know if you let him keep this up, he'll be in full control of the situation. You pull away from his supple lips, which were now red and swollen from the force he was putting into the kiss. He pouts and tries to bring your lips back onto his but you place your hands on his chest and sit on his lap. "Chris..." Your tone had his attention on you. "You lost the bet, I'm in control tonight." He groans and lays down.

You hop off of his lap and he watches you go to the closet and pull out a silk rope. As you begin to walk back to him, he tries to gain some control. "Are you sure you want to do this?" You raise a brow.

"Christopher, you made the bet," you say as you straddle him. "If you can't handle the consequences of your own bet," you bring his hands together and up to the headboard to tie them, "then don't make the bet in the first place." He squirms and tugs the rope. Of course, the rope doesn't give in to the pressure. You take a step back and admire Chris in this position - completely powerless to whatever you had planned. You've been dominant before, however, you've always been the one tied up. You were going to cherish this.

"Now, where to begin?" You place your fingers on your chin, pretending to think. You walk over to him so that you're between his legs. He looks at you defiantly.

"You won't get anything from me," he grins widely. Oh, so he thinks you can't be dominant? He'll be eating his words and saying your name by the end of this. You don't respond to him, instead, you start massaging his thighs through his pants. He watches and quickly gets tired of your teasing antics. "Fuck, just touch me already! I want to get this over with." He plants his feet on the bed and bucks his hips, moving your hand from his thighs and closer to his dick, which is slowly starting to harden.

You give him a sharp look and remove your hands altogether. He returns your glare with his own and you just shrug your shoulders. "I can do this all day Christopher. If you're a good boy, this will go by quickly. But if you keep acting up, I can just leave you here." He huffs and looks anywhere but you, silently submitting. You return your hands and slowly make your way towards his growing bulge. When you do reach it, he's rocking a semi, barely pushing up the fabric of his pants.

You pull down his pants and leave his boxers on. You continue to massage, getting closer and closer to his dick. The closer you get, the more sensitive he is and the harder he gets. You look up and find him clenching his jaw and looking up at the wall. You grab him suddenly through his boxers and he bucks his hips at the sudden touch. He looks at you and tries to sweet-talk you.

"C'mon mami, if you let me go, I can make you feel so good."

You smile, "Nah, I think I'm good where I am. You, however, should watch what you're doing. If you keep trying to take control, I'm just gonna leave you here. And you know that I'm not bluffing." He breathes in and out deeply. You finally get tired of not being able to feel him and you finally relieve him from his boxers. He's almost completely hard now and you begin to stroke him, giving attention to his tip and base when your hand reaches it. He begins to squirm yet he's still silent, holding in his moans.

You just shrug and continue to tease him. After a few moments, you got tired of his stubbornness. You tap his thigh and call his name. He drags his eyes away from the wall and looks into yours. "You can tell me what you want, you know. If you want me to stop teasing you, you need to tell me what you want." He doesn't reply. "And remember, if you're a good boy, I can give you what you want." You go back massaging his cock, completely content with bringing him to the edge and back.

Over time, your teasing slowly builds an orgasm inside Chris and his breathing becomes heavier. His control cracks and his hips buck upwards with the motion of your hand. You look up at him, "Is there something you want?" He grinds his teeth and shakes his head no. You get back to bringing him closer to the edge, stroking him till he let a whine slip through his lips and his body tightened, which is when you stop your movements and let him come down.

His head whips around and he glares at you, lips parted slightly from his heavy breathing. "What the hell?!" He growls. You just sit back and throw your hands up innocently, pissing him off even more.

"I told you, if there was something that you wanted, you can tell me. But you wanted to stay silent, so I'm gonna continue this until you tell me what you want. Tell me Chris, is that so hard to do?" He grunts decided he's had enough of your little game and he closes his thighs, just enough to put pressure on his shaft and balls, grinding them together to create friction.

A moment later you were on him, a hand on his throat applying just enough pressure to have his full attention on you. Placing your body between his legs forced them away from his dick. "You're bringing this on yourself, Christopher. Now you'll be lucky if you cum at all tonight after that stunt. If you do it one more time, you won't cum for a week." For a moment, a surprised look clouds his eyes. But the hard look in your eyes lets him know that you mean business.

He swallows and nods, and you release his throat. You decide that he needs to be punished for this. An idea almost immediately pops into your head and you smirk. You climb off the bed and Chris' heart almost jumps out of his chest, thinking that you were going to leave him. When you start taking off your clothes, taking your time doing so, he bites his lip and eyes your body. When your fully naked in front of him, he watches you intently. You climb back onto the bed and settle yourself between his thighs, giving him the perfect of your sex. His eyes go wide as he realizes what your about to do.

You begin to slowly run your hand down your body, running over your breasts and give them some attention before making your way down to your sex. You spread your lips and begin to softly rub your nub and Christopher's eyes get darker by the second. Your breathing gets heavier and you slowly start to apply more pressure, small moans escaping past your lips. You see Chris' cock twitch and it drove you crazy knowing that he was getting impossibly harder by his thoughts of how he wanted to break the restraints and tear you in two.

Chris didn't know how much more of this he could take. He really shouldn't have said those things at the beginning of this whole ordeal, because now he was going to have to eat his own words, something he hates doing. You were right, if he made the bet and its rules, he should be able to deal with the consequences. His cock twitches again as you moan out his name, sliding a finger into your warm walls.

He could probably cum alone from the sight in front of him. He wants to tell you to just do something. Ride him. Suck him. It wouldn't matter to him, just as long as you let him cum. But his ego, and the words he spoke earlier, held him back. He watched as you continued to get off on your fingers, moaning his name. He groans internally and grits out, "I'm sorry." It was quiet, even he could barely hear himself. You stop suddenly, wondering if he said something.

You lean up, "What?"

He tears his eyes away from your now-glistening sex and looks into your eyes. "I said I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"Touching myself earlier." You nod.

"Do you want me to touch you?" You say as you settle between his legs. He nods. "Use your words. Tell me what you want."

He cracks, "I want you to fuck me. I want you to ride me and watch you fall apart on top of me." You grin, seeing as he's now realizing you're in charge. You don't waste any more time and quickly straddle his lap, rubbing his tip against your folds before slowly sinking onto him, enjoying the stretch. He groans and throws his head back. You give yourself a moment, the extra stimulation you gave yourself earlier loomed over you.

You balance yourself on his chest and begin to move your hips, more grinding into him. "Fuck baby," he moans. You moan in response, feeling his tip just barely brush your sweet spot, making your thighs shake. When the grinding isn't enough, you begin to raise your hips and back down, setting a fast pace and the only noises in the room are both your moans and hard breathing.

"Fuck, Chris!" You can feel your orgasm building inside you and reach down to your clit to give yourself that little push. Chris opens his eyes and moans, seeing you play with yourself again is what it takes to have him spilling over the edge, with you moments behind. Both of you are breathing hard and you can barely hold yourself up.

"Can you untie me, please?" He asks, still trying to control his breathing. You nod and reach up, untying the silk and he grabs onto you, rolling to his side and bringing you into his chest. You relax into his embrace. "Hey nena," he calls out to you as he begins to draw mindless circles. "That wasn't so bad," he suddenly leaned over and whispered into your ear, "but now I'm gonna show you how it feels to have no control."

You grin as he rolls you onto your back, reaching over to find the silk rope. You may not have been able to do all that you wanted this time around, but that didn't mean you couldn't next time.

You definitely wanted to do this again. ~~~~~~~~~~ Taglist: @cracraforfandoms​ @kmsmedine​ @kikixfandoms  @xmaudjexo @richardscurls​

[michael-radi-the-glamorous-life]

Words Words Words

Words matter. Word choice matters. And context is everything.

I have often heard the saying that “words are magic,” and it’s difficult to disagree.

We can utilize language to create so many things:

We can create visuals to be imagined.

We can conjure emotions.

We can make peace.

We can force conflict.

We can make art.

We can tell stories.

We can build entire worlds.

Words are extraordinarily powerful, and it’s good to occasionally take stock and think about the way words affect our lives and the world around us.

Plus, it just might help your art as well. 😉

Choice

The English language is a fantastic and strange little mixture, made up of Germanic Anglo-Saxon roots with heavy borrowings of Old Norse, Norman French, Parisienne French, Latin, and oh-so-many more languages throughout time.

Basically, it’s language stew.

But that means that - unlike so many other languages around the globe - English has a built-in flexibility to adopt words, which expand its vocabulary and allow for nuances in its synonyms.

We can say essentially the same thing in multiple ways, but with each way meaning something only slightly different.

In other words (ehn? see?) - Word Choice Matters.

Let’s look at an example.

The following three phrases say, at their core, the same thing:

Killer Kitties

Fatal Felines

Deadly Cats

All three of these phrases are expressing something that means “some form of feline creature with the ability to kill.” However, due to the slight changes in the word choice, they each give off a slightly different intention in their meaning.

To me, “Killer Kitties” sounds either like a YouTube compilation video of extremely not-so-ferocious kittens trying sooo adorably hard to be predators, or like an anime series of a cute, crime-fighting cat squad.

“Fatal Felines” sounds like the title to a bad film noir starring actual cats, or some Natural History Museum exhibit on the world’s various cat predators.

And “Deadly Cats” sounds more factual and almost boring in comparison to the other two, like a half-hour filler program on NatGeo airing at 11am on a weekday.

Three phrases that all contain the same information, yet they create such different results. Words matter.

Context

Context is Queen. She rules all.

As great as word choice can be in conveying a thought the way that you specifically intend, the context in which it is said can alter every intention you had.

And to clarify, by context I mean: Who is saying it, To Whom it is being said, Where it is being said, When it is being said, Why it is being said, and How it is being said.

There are a lot of variables, which is exactly why context can be so tricky and important.

Let’s take a simple, often-said phrase as our example:

I love you.

“Aw, what a lovely choice of words for an example, Michael!”

Or is it? Dun dun dun.

The utterance of this phrase from one human being to another in various contexts has been the driving force behind a mass of storytelling and media throughout humanity’s recorded history. It’s a powerful phrase that can change drastically dependent upon its context.

Who Is Saying It

Let’s begin with Who is saying it:

A small child?

A parent?

A friend?

A significant other?

A lover?

A friend who wants to be more than a friend?

A stranger?

You may have noticed that you felt fine with the options at the beginning of the list, but felt less so by the end. And you see how expanding on the idea of “a friend” into “a friend who wants to be more than a friend” changes the context?

Well, what about if we do the same thing to “a stranger”? I’m assuming you didn’t feel great about that one upon reading it, but let’s expand our word choices to be either:

“A stranger you’ve been on five dates with, been flirting with for a month, and has now completely opened up to you and said ‘I love you for the first time.’”

“A stranger you’ve never seen before in your life trying to follow you home from the bar.”

The meaning of “stranger” is suddenly different based on its own context and who is saying the word. Context is powerful.

To Whom Is It Being Said

This one is fairly intuitive.

We may often say “I love you” to people in our lives, but we mean it differently depending on who we are speaking to.

And this is mostly because the love we feel for various people in our lives is different. Love is a large conglomeration of complex emotions and there are many nuances.

Think about how the meaning of that phrase would change if you were to say “I love you” to:

A colleague

A friend

A parent

A friend’s parent

A grandparent

A teacher

An acquaintance

A date

A boyfriend/girlfriend

A spouse

An ex

A boss

It can just keep going

How deep is the love you’re expressing? Are you just expressing, or do you want something in return? How would you define that specific love?

All of these can change depending on the person you are speaking to.

Where Is It Being Said

Many a sit-com episode and rom-com film have had climactic scenes based on this idea, particularly when “I love you” is being said romantically between two people for the very first time.

And this is again fairly intuitive.

It’s quite different to tell someone for the first time in the middle of a candle-lit dinner date than it is to say it for the first time in the middle of a break-up.

But even with dramatic situations aside, where we say it can still alter the strength and meaning behind what we say.

For instance, let’s assume you are with a friend you love deeply. How does saying “I love you” change in depth and meaning when either:

They’ve just made you laugh raucously with a joke that only the two of you would get.

You’re comforting them at a funeral for their older sibling.

Oof. Context matters.

When Is It Being Said

Let’s use the example I mentioned above of saying it for the first time during a break-up.

Even in the midst of a single conversation, when that phrase is uttered can make all of the difference. For this example, let’s assume the person in the couple saying it for the first time is the person being broken up with.

Here are three thoughts:

If “I love you” is the first thing said in the break up conversation, perhaps it was said with joy and expectation, but it instead becomes the impetus for the conversation and the break-up itself.

If said in the middle of the break-up conversation, perhaps it becomes part of the person’s argument as to why this break-up feels sudden and has taken them off-guard.

If said at the end of the conversation - even as the last word - perhaps it becomes a desperate, last-ditch effort to get the other person to stay.

Small changes to the When can alter the emotional state both people are in, and therefore change the intention behind the words.

Look for this the next time you watch a romantic comedy - it’s kind of fun to analyze!

Why Is It Being Said

Ultimately, the Why is attached to the combination of Who-To Whom-Where-When. Not that it isn’t important to note, but it is often generated by the surrounding circumstances.

We rarely say things just to say them - there’s usually a specific intention behind it.

To continue with this idea of love, we don’t stop loving people just because we aren’t saying it every second of every day. Which means that there must be an environmental reason that we choose to say “I love you” when we do.

Here are a few examples:

A parent tucking their child in for bed after a particularly difficult day for the two of them.

A just-married couple sitting on the bed, taking off their shoes, and exhaling, being alone for the first time since the reception ended five minutes ago.

A friend to their best friend who just delivered the goofiest and most public prom-posal in the middle of the school cafeteria.

With the remaining context, the why becomes apparent. What motivates us is fodder for good stories.

How Is It Being Said

More than anything, the way we say something is a window into our current emotional state.

People often believe that the way they speak tends to be a reflection of their current environment.

How many times have you heard a teenager say that they’re only being defensive with their parents because “they’re just so annoying” or “they keep asking so many questions”?

But the way we say something isn’t based upon the outer environment, it’s a reflection of how we feel internally.

Perhaps that teenager is being defensive when asked about how much homework they have because they’re feeling entirely overwhelmed by the amount of work they have to do, and it’s difficult or them to speak about. Or perhaps it’s because they plan to never do it, and parents can’t know that if they never knew how much there was in the first place.

The other side of How has to do with inflection and intent.

Context matters to determine the meaning behind word choice, but words have different meanings and connotations to each of us individually and culturally. An extreme example of this is how the “c-word” for female genitalia is a highly-charged and taboo word in the US, but a commonly used utterance in the UK.

And this is also where the internet and social media becomes a tremendous issue.

Ever gotten reprimanded on Facebook or into an online argument with someone who cannot understand the context behind your words?

Or have you ever gotten angry at someone because you saw something they wrote and you put your own tone on their words, making it become inflammatory?

The internet is great for communication in so many ways, but it makes context difficult and intended inflection almost impossible.

The more contextual information we have, the better off we are.

So perhaps the “kids” really do have it right by communicating mostly through Facetime, Instagram, and Tik Tok. Who knows?

And So

I love words. They bring me joy and they are the basis of both my art and my career.

But remembering their power and their importance is necessary to good communication and also to building a better world.

Take that extra time to think through your word choice and the context - and not just the context for you, but for the other parties involved as well.

You may just find a better balance in the world you create.

[baradorable]

My opinions on the current anime season. I’ll go over come popular shows and try to warm you up to some hidden gems.

Attack on Titan (Season 4)

I ended up liking this show a lot more than I thought I would. I ended up binging the first three seasons in like a week. Now I’m impatiently waiting for more episodes.

I will say that I’m kind of mixed on this one, though. Like I know they want to flesh out the country of Marley, make the war less one-sided and establish how villainous Eren is later, or whatever. I preferred it when the characters were fighting the enigmatic, monstrous force of titans. The political drama was like the least interesting parts of season 3. (That, and Eren being kidnapped for the millionth time.) Regardless, I’m still liking what we have so far, and there’s only one thing that makes me hesitate.

Gabi Braun. Fucking Gabi Braun. She’s so fucking obnoxious. She’s like Eren, except without the character traits that made him interesting. We have less reason to care about her, and her story is mostly just a retread of Eren’s. And I’d tolerate that if she wasn’t such an obnoxious cunt all the damn time. “But euuhughhg Gabi is a kid and she’s brainwashed! She’s actually really well-written!” Yeah, but she’s still an annoying little shit and less sympathetic than the other Marleyans we’re focusing on. She shouldn’t be the main focus character.

“Did you see it happen?” BITCH. There’s being brainwashed and there’s being a fucking moron. And don’t give me that “Well, in real life, brainwa-” Yeah, I don’t care. She’s not real. The only thing real about her is the headache she gives me.

So she’s this unlikable kid who came in and killed a fan-favorite character. I loved Sasha. Everyone did. But I’ll live. (Unlike her.) But she just HAD to be killed by fucking Garbage Braun of all people. Honestly, if Falco killed Sasha, I’d get over it. He’s a way better character than Gabi. I could go on and on about how he works better on a fundamental level, but none of you are even reading this post in the first place. So whatever.

8/10

Beastars (Season 2)

It’s good. I don’t like it as much as season 1, but I’m enjoying it a lot. It’s not a show I actively wait for, but it’s always pleasant to see.

7.5/10

Cells at Work!! Code Black

I never saw the original Cells at Work, but this show makes me not want to. Because I don’t think it would be as good as Code Black.

For those who haven’t seen it, Cells at Work is basically about humanized cells working in a body. You follow a red blood cell as they deliver oxygen, and you encounter all sorts of issues and quirks you see in a body. From sicknesses, to infections, to even cancer, you actually learn a lot. It’s genuine edutainment.

Black is set in a body that’s incredibly unhealthy. The characters are scrambling to survive and keep a failing body going. There’s this growing sense of dread each episode as the body grows worse and worse. You get frustrated because these characters don’t deserve the Hell they go through, and you just want to shout at the human to eat healthy, quit smoking and shape up. Because you care about the cells and want them to have a better work environment.

It’s really fun and makes me feel guilty for my unhealthy habits.  

7.5/10. Maybe 8/10 if these last few episodes keep up the momentum.

Dr. Stone

I really liked season 1, and I’m liking this season so far as well. I prefer the set-up and use of tech in season 1, season 2 is kind of moving too fast with tech while the story is a little slow. But despite all that, this show is still great and is on track to becoming a classic. If it weren’t for Attack on Titan, it would be Anime of the Season for me.

8/10

Jobless Reincarnation: 

A 40-year-old NEET gets isekai’d into the body of a baby. You watch this child with an adult mind grow up and learn about this magical fantasy world. It’s pretty good, I like it. It has good humor, nice characters, interesting lore, and a fun magic system. 

If you ever watched Isekai Cheat Magician? (Of course you didn’t. No one did.) This is what Isekai Cheat Magician wishes it could be.

I give this show a 7/10. It loses points because it made me think of Isekai Cheat Magician just now.

Ex-Arm

No words. Except four words: Go watch this show.

Oh boy. This show is. This show is a doozy. If I had to explain, I would say it’s like... shit. Because it is shit. But it’s very entertaining shit.

The story and characters are cool, but unimportant. You just can’t get into them because the animation is the highlight of the story. It just blows every other aspect of the show out of the water.

What kind of animation are we talking about? If I had to describe it, it would be the visual equivalent of that girl on Tik Tok who made a video series where she plays a Jewish girl during the Holocaust. It’s like a present you would give your eyes, if you hated them and wanted them to die.

Some characters are 2D, but the rest are 3D. And not even good 3D, because this shit is worse than those bootleg mobile games with stolen assets that don’t fit together. They had to censor kisses because they couldn’t animate lips moving, and pushing their faces together would just make their models clip. One of the characters has a wide-eyed smile all the time, no matter the situation, because there’s like no animation for her expressions. This show makes the 3D Pokemon games look like fine art.

Another thing I’d like to mention is the opening song, if only because I can’t tell if it’s good or terrible. I genuinely can’t tell if I like it ironically, or unironically. Either way, it’s perfect for this show.

So yeah, I love this show. It’s such a fucking mess in the best way. It always brings a smile to my face. I just wish the story was bad, so I can have another level of awfulness to enjoy. This show never fails to make me smile. Anime of the fucking decade right here.

HELLO, HELLO/10

Kemono Jihen

It’s kind of like Inuyasha, except without the humans, Naraku has big boobs, the Shikon Jewel/life stones aren’t that important yet, Bakugo from My Hero Academia is on the cast, everyone is a 12-year-old with bad fashion sense, and it’s a lot more generic in premise and execution.

So, nothing like Inuyasha. Honestly it’s more like My Hero Academia in terms of vibes. I still enjoy it though. My favorite character is probably the little fox girl because I like her design. But I also like the little fox boy because I’m not entirely sure what game he’s playing, but I’m into it. 

6.7/10

Redo of Healer

It’s basically just rape hentai with a budget. Honestly, I appreciate the boldness of the show, if anything. (Aside from the fact that they don’t show any dick or vag. How cowardly.) The sex scenes are decent and frequent, so no complaints there. I’m not really into rape (been there, getting raped isn’t fun), but a true hentai connoisseur can still appreciate it.

Plot-wise, it’s neat. Making the main character a revenge-seeking rapist fighting even worse rapists is an interesting take. And there’s a lot of fun creativity in how he uses his powers, though I wish they explained them more. Like I get how he’s doing everything, but breaking it down would make them feel more intriguing. He’s also a broken self-insert power fantasy, but it’s nice seeing one that’s smart, evil and methodical. 

In execution, it’s a pretty generic story with generic settings and plots. The lead’s carrying the whole thing, though I can’t help but like the villains for being so over-the-top evil. If nothing else, the audacity and sex scenes make this show worth watching. Pretty entertaining.

Re: The harem. Setsuna is too young and innocent for my tastes, but I like her. The white-haired girl is cool, she’s my favorite even though she hasn’t really done anything yet. Freia’s meh, but I like the idea of her being a major cunt despite the memory wipe. 

I give this one five rapes out of ten. And if you like this show, I recommend reading that one Megg, Mogg & Owl comic where the characters become obsessed with rape-based puns.

Re:Zero (Season 2, second half)

I love this show. The first season was pretty good. The second half of season 2 was also pretty good, and the plot was shaping up to be great. But now we’re in the second half of season 2, and it’s meh. Which is really disappointing for such a great show.

Like, I get what they’re trying to do: they’re shaping up alliances, digging into the characters’ pasts, moving everyone forward, yadda yadda. But this arc is so slow now. It feels like we’ve seen nothing but flashbacks, characters standing around and talking, flashbacks, more talking, flashbacks. There’s so little action to break things up. The mystery and exploration from earlier episodes is gone, since we pretty much understand the important things. We’re just left waiting for the things they’ve been building up to, to finally happen. 

“AEUUGHG You’re Just an action anime fanboyyy, this is serious plot and excellent story!!” It’s endless exposition, flashbacks that go on way too long, and characters standing around and repeating the same points over and over. Compare how the story was delivered in the previous season. 

6/10

The Promised Neverland (Season 2)

Boy, did this show go off the rails in only a few episodes. What the fuck is even going on in this show anymore?

I ranted about this show on Twitter, but it pisses me off. Season 1 was a well-crafted, suspenseful show about these kids using their brains to unravel the mysteries around them, plan a daring escape from their captors and try to survive in a world of monsters. It was easily one of the best anime of 2019.

Season 2 skips about 80 chapters and off-screens tons of development. Like Norman fucking shows up in season 2, all fine and dandy with his own personal army of freaks. Also he lead his own escape, learned a ton of info AND found a way to auto-kill all their enemies, and we didn’t even get a flashback of any of this. Now Emma’s bitching about saving demons, even though they’re all assholes who probably wouldn’t change their ways even if they could. But she’s an iDeAlIsSTTT!!!!! But she was an idealist last season and had to learn how to compromise when faced with the reality of the situation? And the whole William Minerva plot, which was a major driving force in the last season, was handwaved away and unceremoniously dropped?

So yeah, I dropped it after episode 4 or 5. It’s not even fun to hate-watch I’d give it a 3/10 on its own, but it gets a -2/10 for ruining a great legacy.

Sk8

Free!, except they’re skating instead of swimming. It’s a well-animated show with an interesting premise: undergound gay skateboarding. The battles are fun, the characters (while cliche) are appealing, and it’s fun. And yeah. 

But I dropped this one because Langa is boring as a lead. Canadians, they don’t deserve representation. He’s a fine character besides that, but he’s gotten way too much screentime over the other protag, Reki. Reki was just pushed aside and the show quickly became about Langa. Which is sad, because I feel like this show would have benefitted from making them both stars. Especially since the characters’ friendship is a key selling point.

Ended up dropping this show. I read through later comments that they’re making a plot point about Reki falling behind, but even the fans are having their doubts that he’ll have a satisfactory story. And even if they make him a real protag again, the show’s been so imbalanced that I don’t think it’ll matter. Especially since we only have like 4 episodes left.

6/10

Yashahime

The sequel to Inuyasha, staring Sesshomaru and Rin’s twins, and Inuyasha and Kagome’s daughter. Except 2/3rds of the main cast are dull, and most of the stories are blatant retreads of Inuyasha plots, starring retreads of Inuyasha characters.

Think I’m kidding? The first episode was about Mistress Three-Eyes (Mistress Centipede but with three eyes instead of two) coming to eat the character’s magic sacred jewels. Rainbow fucking pearls, what the hell is this shit plot. Fuck you.

“Euhrghhghgh but they’re just paying homage to the old show!” Nah, they’re fucking ripping it off every step of the way. 

The most frustrating thing about this show is how Moroha, Inuyasha and Kagome’s daughter, is such a great character. She has great dynamics with other characters because she’s so lively. She has the best traits of her parents, while still being unique on her own. Then you have Sesshomaru’s kids, who are just Kagome 2 and Tsundere. The latter has more depth than that, but she’s  not that great anyway.

Guess who’s the focal point of the series? The fucking Kagome knock-off, followed by the tsundere. Moroha is a minor character who is often forgotten by the plot, or reduced to a joke. The already-boring plots are exacerbated by them ignoring best girl to focus on 

And I’m not alone on this, too. Read all the anime forums, pirating websites, and pretty much anywhere talking about this show. Moroha is the most popular character, far and away. People like her way more than the twins. 

4/10

[thatonedood]

to my nephew.

trayvon.  tamir.  sandra.  sean.  amadou.  deonna.  ahmaud.  george.

julieta.

julieta degracia was a security screener at the king county courthouse.  since 2009, when working at the courthouse in downtown seattle was a regular thing for me, i noticed something about most of the people who stationed the metal detectors and x-ray machines as i entered the courthouse.

they were mostly filipino.

so it made me proud to see her and her co-workers every time i would walk in.  it felt like i was greeting all my aunties and uncles before i would get to work.  it made me even prouder that they knew that one of them was practicing as an attorney in that courthouse.  not that it projected any sort of status on me.  but that i was representing them and our community.

julieta was more than a security guard.  or a pseudo-auntie of mine.  she was a mother.  a grandmother.  a wife.  a sister.  a daughter.

julieta mattered.

to everyone except those who make decisions that matter.

often times, it’s people that look like us that occupy positions that decision makers deem dispensable.  that if someone left, you could just as soon plug someone else right in and it wouldn’t matter.  security screeners, fast food workers, maintenance workers.  they work hard for so very little...

respect.

julieta matters because she was forced to work in the middle of a pandemic.  i doubt she was provided the same level of protection that judges and county council members are afforded.  she literally was on the front line.

she passed away earlier this month from complications with COVID-19.  her death was preventable.  her death was unnecessary.

i also don’t mean to mention her name with the others i started with as a way to say the manner in which julieta passed away is the same as theirs.  it’s not.  but there is one common thread:

their deaths were unnecessary.  our legal and political systems do not care about people that look like us.

we’ve been using the hashtags #SayHisName and #SayHerName for years now.  and this really only reflects the deaths at the hands of police that were recorded and circulated on social media.  police brutality and police-sanctioned homicide has existed for decades and centuries, way before tik tok’s and IG live.

if these systems did value our lives, the people who make decisions that affect whether we have access to testing, or are able to hold police accountable in a meaningful way, or ensure that disproportionality doesn’t exist in how COVID has decimated communities of color, or ensure the humanity of those that are incarcerated during a worldwide pandemic would stand up for us (because we, too, are americans) and advocate for communities like ours that are perpetually disenfranchised and disadvantaged.

but it’s too easy to say that.

if things were equal for everyone, then the people that have power would lose it.  the people that have money would lose it.  the people that have status would lose it.  oh and by the way, we just so happen to elect some of these people.

if things were equal for everyone, then we wouldn’t feel threatened when a white person who doesn’t understand their privilege calls the police on us when we were just trying to get them to follow park rules.  we know what happens when police are called to the park about a male of color who looks threatening. tamir rice knows.  we shouldn’t fear doing the right thing.  we shouldn’t fear living.

nephew, we are not safe.  i wish i could tell you something different.  but you knew this when you saw the video of that officer’s knee against mr. floyd’s neck.  all it takes is for someone to decide that we are no longer needed in this world and they can make it so.  either by policy or by force, we are not safe.

so what do we do?  you can be angry.  you can be mad.  you can cry and feel sad.  and i feel those exact same things.  i’m not going to tell you to stop feeling those things.

what i will tell you is that we need you.  the world needs you.  no matter what you do in life, do not be afraid of conversation, the kind that challenges people out of their comfort zone.  do not be afraid of the truth, no matter how much it may hurt.  stand tall with those that look like us and those that are being constantly treated like we are less than human.

and when you do these things, do it with the kind of unapologetic love that cannot be killed.

i wish the world were not on your shoulders, but they are.  you were born into a family of loving, strong warriors.  your people’s history is rich with those that have fought injustice and inequality on many levels.

and now is your time.  your village will guide you at every step.  and when the weight is too much, we will hold you up.  when you fall, we will be at your side to make sure you stand up stronger than before.

and when you fail, do not be angry with yourself for falling.  pay more attention to how you get up.

because my son is going to be watching.  one day, he will be right there at your side.   

but i also i hope you’ll never have to write to him what i’ve written to you.  i love you, nephew.

[theseadagiodays]

April 13, 2020

Interstices

Definition: an intervening time or space

Synonym: Aperture - an opening or gap

Gap - a space or pause between two things

Pause - a suspension of movement or activity

Space - a continuous area or expanse which is free and available

Whether our rhythms have slowed or accelerated in this moment, we all currently sit at an interstices.  A place in time between what came before and what comes next.  An uncomfortable spot for most of us, because humans habitually seek certainty.  But this time is also an opening, an opportunity where we can be free to explore new ways of being.  A time to suspend old habits, and invite shifts in perspective.  In some schools of Buddishm, they have a term for such in-between times.  “Bardo is an intermediate, transitional, or liminal state between death andrebirth.  A state of great potential for liberation, since transcendental insight may arise with the direct experience of reality” Wikipedia

But most of us resist making space in our schedules because it gives too much room to look at the bold truth of our lives.  Like the clear expanse of a mirror, this time is revealing much that we need to remember, but also much that we don’t want to see.  The decreased GHG’s from limited transport have clarified our skies and caused animals to rapidly return where humans had previously dominated.  The gardens we’d neglected are being tenderly tilled.  And the friends we’d forgotten for decades are reaching out to reminisce.  But the work that does not feed our souls, or the incessant self-deprecating thoughts, or the spouse who irritates us (speaking generally of course), or the wallpaper we regret having bought, all glare us in the face daily and force us to reflect on our real priorities and desires.  However, all at once, this can be too much for us to take in.

I remember a Vancouver talk, on my birthday in 1998, where the Tibetan monk, Chogyam Trungpa said it amazed him “how much North Americans busied their lives so as not to know themselves”.    If this is true, it strikes me that in order to assuage our fears about looking at the skeletons in our own empty closets, perhaps we can try to look at space entirely differently.

In music, space or silence can be incredibly potent.  Violinist, Isaac Stern describes music itself as “that little bit between each note—the silences which give the music form.”  One of my favorite composers, Arvo Part is a master of silence.  The pauses in many of his halting melodies require the listener to become an active participant - to fill the space with their own interpretations,  just as we can do during this time.   His Psalom for strings is a mesmerizing example of such writing.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m-Ssbik_dmY

Visual artists have also created substantive beauty from negative space. The images below play with absence and presence, illustrating that our perception can entirely shape what we choose to see.  Similarly, if we can stretch our understanding of what is currently missing from our lives to recognize the space this allows for other things to present themselves, it may fortify our patience and acceptance with the way things are.

But if none of this brings solace during challenging times, and we still need to cling to hope, we can remember that, invariably, after rest always comes activity.  Bamboo is a prime example of this, as noted in this proverb about the slow but mighty grower, “the first year it sleeps, the second year it creeps, the third year it leaps.”

So, if we emerge from COVID anything like North America emerged from the 1918 flu epidemic, maybe we can finally look forward to an era where flapper dresses come back.  I know that I’d personally find the next Roaring Twenties a welcomed resurgence.  

April 14, 2020

Finding Stillness in Uncertainty

For hours last Tuesday, in a persistent drizzle and strong wind, I wandered my neighborhood aimlessly with a broken umbrella, mourning the shut restaurants, scared faces, and unhugged friends I hadn’t seen in weeks.

But today, the air is still and warm, and the scent of pregnant magnolias saturate my senses while I bathe in birdsong.  

Photo by my friend Cheryl’s 12-year-old son, Noah

Such is the mercurial nature of life in this pandemic.  Still, as best I can, I try to walk my talk.  Be the master of my own attitude.  Contribute where I can.  Live mindfully and gratefully.  But some days this is much harder than others.  However lately, Vancouver’s unseasonable summer weather has made this infinitely easier.  As someone who suffers from seasonal effective disorder, and who’s had a love/hate affair with my rainy though lush city, it makes me realize how important it is to find conditions condusive for optimal living. With the improved weather and a large park right behind my home, I am enticed to greet each morning with a slow, present-minded walk.  A moving meditation.  

I have also been grateful for the opportunity to lead weekly guided meditations for my husband’s work team.  His colleagues are front-line workers of a different sort.  They run our local transit system which is still critically needed by those who must continue to work in public settings, or who do not have the privilege of their own vehicle.  But with covid-fear and enforced social distancing measures, Translink is losing $3 million a day in ridership fees.  So, they are under enormous stress to adjust their service plans, make difficult decisions about lay-offs, and continue to try and plan for a very uncertain future.   However, it heartens me to know that people who find themselves even more work-burdened during this crisis still recognize the need to slow down, even for brief moments, in order to be more productive later. So, I thought I’d share a recording of one of these sessions, which people can follow at home.  It is less than 15 minutes long, just short enough to carve out of any day but still possible to dramatically alter your nervous system.

https://youtu.be/x2fjRvBB6x0

And finally, this poem by Martha Postelwaite speaks to the gifts stillness can bring.

Do not try to save the whole world or do anything grandiose. Instead, create a clearing in the dense forest of your life and wait there patiently, until the song that is your life falls into your own cupped hands and you recognize and greet it. Only then will you know how to give yourself to this world so worth of rescue.                       -   Martha Postlewaite

April 15, 2020

Timely Artists’ Responses

I am normally a minimal social media user.  However, ironically, my Facebook and Instagram feeds have been my saving grace during this period.  This is probably helped by the fact that, over the years, rather than racing to accumulate friends, I have mostly only followed those people in my life who I trust to direct me to moments of grace and beauty.   Consequently, many of the links in this blog have come from my own community of thoughtful, kindness-oriented, arts-minded friends and family to whom I’m hugely grateful.

Some of my friends are the actual creators of these daily doses of inspiration.  Like my Toronto-based buddy, Lorne Bridgman (https://lornebridgman.com), whose in-demand work has graced the covers of En Route (Air Canada’s in-flight magazine), Monocle, and Travel & Leisure.  (A coup for us, since way back in 1997, we were probably the only people who ever landed him as a wedding photographer). Fittingly, his stirring nighttime images of abandoned playgrounds during the pandemic tell a very powerful story.

I have been keeping my own mental ledger of these “never before corona” scenes (like our yellow-taped playgrounds) which I observe every day.  The most striking of these I captured with my iphone just yesterday.  These four beachcombers appear to be metred-out models of social distancing with their perfectly proportioned pose.

Artists the world round are similarly documenting this time through a variety of expressive mediums.  Below, are a few of the most creative that I’ve discovered so far.

The New York Times delivers again, with 17 Artists Capture a Surreal NY from their Windows

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2020/04/16/nyregion/coronavirus-nyc-illustrators-window.html?action=click&module=Editors%20Picks&pgtype=Homepage

Katherine Lam, Queens, NY

Or this Beijing-based British map artist, who instead of his elaborate filligried-illustrations of sprawling urban areas, now maps what’s between his four walls.

https://www.cnn.com/style/article/gareth-fuller-maps-coronavirus-quarantine/index.html

Globally, graphic designers have also used their talents to advocate, provoke, or amuse: https://www.dezeen.com/2020/03/18/coronavirus-covid-19-graphic-design-illustration/?fbclid=IwAR3bUYBwSkCtlj_yhlDkvUtGOFBDBJGMYXiDl3do74Gqm4JdHbkxTET48H8

Oliver Jeffers, beloved Irish children’s author and illustrator

And for 80’s kids like me, this new release, No Time to Love Like Now, from an old fave, REM’s Michael Stype, sends a sparsely-layered musical message from his home studio that feels highly appropriate for the times:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=1&v=MYgpEcXf2S4&feature=emb_logo

Finally, as I’ve stretched my social-media muscles, I confess that I’ve even ventured to Twitter and Tik Tok at times.  Most of us over-30 have probably been oblivious to the phenomena of social-media influencers, like the 15-year-old "reigning queen of TikTok", Charli D’Amelio, whose whether-you-like-it-or-not, down-to-earth appeal and smooth moves have charmed 48 million followers! But, as vacuous as many of her make-up tutorials have been, she is now using her reach for good with her originally choreographed Distance Dance which, for everyone who posts their own #distancedance video, will trigger Proctor & Gamble to donate to one of a variety of non-profits feeding those most vulnerable and hit hard by the virus.   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fS6913bBVek

April 16, 2020

Home Cooking

I truly believe that we all have an “inner artist” if we just find ways to tap it.  But it saddens me to hear how quickly many people say they have “no talent”.  Creativity is not magic.  It’s what humans have harnessed since time immorial to survive, adapt, and thrive.  Creativity also increases exponentially when there are constraints on our resources. The elegance of a haiku is a pure example of this.  Limited to just 5, 7, & 5 syllables per line, this simple container lends itself to essential and beautiful nuggets of expression accessible to all.  Here’s a timely one from the #quarantinehaikus project that I mentioned earlier:

I’m in quarantine But all my ideas are not. This month, they happen.

Similarly, another creative pursuit that has most given humans a window into their own creativity is the culinary arts.  Sure, for some their adventures as gourmands consist of little more than ramen, canned tuna, a boiled egg and Dijon mustard for a pantry version of Julia Child’s Salad Nicoise.  But quarantined living is certainly inspiring more imagination in the kitchen than usual. Though this expression may be overused, “necessity is the mother of invention” has perhaps never been more universally true.  However, if you’re trying to limit your grocery trips to once per week, and your mind happens to draw a blank when you open your cupboard, here are dozens of recipes that you can try with what you might likely already have on hand:

https://cooking.nytimes.com/topics/self-quarantine-recipes

My own constant culinary muse is my great friend, Belkis, whose Instagram page, Epicurious Travelista (below) is a visual and delectable treat.  Most of her images include recipes.  And while they might look elaborate, and sometimes indeed they are (this is a woman unafraid of churning her own butter, or making her own tortillas from scratch), her resourceful Honduran roots influence many exquisite meals that she makes from only a few simple ingredients.  So, for those wanting to spread their chef’s wings a bit wider, you can check out her page here:

https://www.instagram.com/epicurious_travelista/

April 15, 2020

Zoom Masters

Of course, Zoom has been the victor and the enemy in this digitally-dependent time, both allowing multi-generational families to share seders, while at the same time stealing private details from citizens.  But one can not deny that the extent to which people have exploited this format for good has been inspiring.  I’m biased towards the musical collaborations that the format has spawned.  But don’t be fooled.  This technology, designed for one-speaker-at-a-time, does not render performances like the one below, easily.  Each frame has to be recorded separately (with consistent click tracks, to keep everyone in time), and then carefully edited together in post-production. These are highly stylized efforts. And this one takes it to another level with its choreographic complexity.  So, while I wish everyone to have a weekend where they can Get Down, Stay Down, here’s a treat to enjoy:

https://www.theverge.com/2020/4/8/21213608/coronavirus-zoom-music-video-thao-and-the-get-down-stay-down?fbclid=IwAR3PIGg8lcGMLgQrJGISDcjrRbcy3eQG2XI-sqbc-BOGs5f8s5PNRPf54H4

[ecotone99]

[FN] Sorry Creatures

Victor Winthrop was going to jump; he just needed to prepare.

He closed Tik Tok; dance videos were one of the few things that kept him entertained. He loved to move, and watching others dance gave him an understanding of their humanity.

His feet dangled down, doing their own dance over the edge of the building. It was going to be a long drop.

He was a fairly normal looking boy, but small and slender, with jet black hair and eyes to match, his skin as pale as the moon. He could be 10, he could be 16. He was neither, nor in between.

He sighed, the sigh of a bored, rich kid. He zipped his hoodie up, tighter than it needed to be. It fit well, was shaping. His chest budded, thanks to the small false breasts on the jacket.

She pulled up YouTube and went to her favorite makeup tutorial. It was better to make yourself pretty for this, she reasoned. Not that they tended to care.

She finished, quickly, almost an expert at this point. She even had a few tutorials up herself, as Vicky Winston. Now that she was a pretty girl, too young to be out alone this late, it was time. She shrugged, and pushed off from the building.

The wind felt good in her hair. She didn't fight the fall. Didn't flinch as the ground came rushing towards her. Life was mostly boring, she reasoned, so why should this be exciting?

As she neared the ground the wind resistance went slack, gravity let go, natural forces gave way, and she set her feet, draped in gentle schoolgirl flats, delicately on the downtown sidewalk. It was dark, late, and the night sounded out a booze soaked anger. This city had more cheap dive bars than necessary, to keep the populace distracted. They took ample advantage.

She was hungry, and tired of the numbness. Some rush, any rush, to stop the bored, racing thoughts. The prepackaged food fed one hunger, the roaring stomach, but did nothing for the mind's satisfaction. It was time to set a trap, and take some prey.

She found an appropriate door step, to a large apartment building; Vic probably owned it, but that was hard to be sure of when you had so many. Dimly lit and poorly patrolled by police, like the rest of the city. That's the way she liked it, so the patrol patterns matched. This was the city built by the Winthrop family, after all.

She sat, scrolling through Instagram. Vicky Winston had a good number of followers for a girl in middle school, but not enough to draw unwanted attention. Just enough to finish a disguise, which to be honest was something more. Some of her dms were gross, but none from anyone nearby. She forwarded them off for later research.

Men wandered by; some said she was out too late. Some looked at her, as hungry as she felt, but glanced away quickly, not daring or cruel enough to do anything about it. They weren't bad enough for her to take. One would be, eventually. At least one, on any given night, always was.

"Hey, girl, where's your parents?" came the gruff, not unexpected voice from down the sidewalk. He'd be hard to see in normal night vision. His drunk, sloppy, slovenly look was obvious to Vic. He was grinning, like a man ready to receive a gift.

She grinned back. "I dunno, mister. Just me out here, all alone. They yeeted me right to the curb." replied Vicky, with heavy emphasis on just how alone she was. He jumped at the bait. Rubbing his hands together in anticipation, his pace quickened towards her.

He stopped in front of her, big and unkempt, his clothing a messy mass of folds and wrinkles, hiding his anger and shame. She heard his heartbeat all the same; smelled his blood. She was ready for a taste, for his fear, his desperation, his death.

He lit a cigarette, slowly, turning it. He was going to try to burn her with it, that much was obvious. Vic decided that she'd put it out in his eye, after she rips off his junk. "I guess you're needing a man to look after you, baby. I'll be your daddy." He says, unkindly, a predator, reaching for her.

She skips out of reach, twirls toward the alley. Her skirt spins with her, giving him peeking glaces of her corpse white legs. He follows. "Only if you can catch me." She says with a giggle, and dashes into the darkness.

The drunk, messy man follows, and dies a horrible, bloody death. Once he starts screaming, he doesn't stop, not until he physically cannot. His soul still screams, though. No one calls the police. No one comes to look. Not in this city.

Vic is crouched, wild eyed, monstrous, devouring handfuls of blood scooped from the body, slurping them up in hungry gulps. At least until laughter, the pure, wild, unfiltered kind, the kind that has people wonder at madness, slashes through the air. Victor, all thought of Vicky gone in the hunger, just his wild self, stands, eyes still wide with animalistic urge, his gooey hands going to his ears. She's back. His heart races, pounding with new blood and excitement. Finishing his meal, quickly, like a kid who can't leave the table until he does, he fades into the shadows, and we find him again on a rooftop, clean, pulling a bodysuit over his flesh, deploying protective layers and dark padding along his body. He finishes with a hooded flourish, pulling the mask tight, large bat ears now framing his disguise. His battysuit, the hero fanthems call it. As for him, they've dubbed him Kid Echo. One of the longest surviving heroes in a city that chews them up and spits them out, just another flesh puddle to be cleaned in the morning, like the man in the alley.

He shrieks, a piercing, bat-like sound, and the world exposes itself to him. He jumps from another building this night, a higher jump than humanly possible, and pulls his cape behind him. Gliding towards the sound, the chaos, the fury, the excitement, and yes, that soul stabbing laughter, he soars to see Their Jester, and to continue their dance.

He glides to the source of the childlike laughter; sounds said to be mad coming from adults, a freedom not allowed to them. She's in a grocery store this time. So people inside will be stealing, devouring candy, throwing food, bashing in each other's brains to get to checkout first. The cashier has probably started a fire. Right on cue the fire alarm goes off. Now they'll be giggling as water falls on them, and she'll be there, in the middle, intoxicating, laughing along, laughing at the world, swearing that she didn't make them do it, she just set them free. He jumps, another quick glide to the front of the store. The windows are shattered. He calls his piercing challenge, the sound echoing through the store. He sees them, wild, insane, joyous as they die. She hears him and turns, her own face now joyous. She skips from the store, humming, and they meet again. His heart pounds anew.

She's strong and tall today. Her hair was blonde, so blonde, but she's a mess now. Laughter to the point of tears, her make-up's run away at a panicked pace. Her grin, too wide, too mad, too uncivilized, was angelic in its joy. Her eyes turned to his, as manic in their stare as his when he feeds, and her laughter bubbles from her lips, red and swollen. Her chest heaves with each breath. She's amazing.

"Batty boy's back, babes!" she shouted with a flourish, and madmen and wild women flooded from the store. Some, the ones with unresolved anger and violent designs, sped toward him, brandishing bloody cans and throwing fruit. Not one laid a finger upon him. He dashed through them, breaking ribs and noses, crippling, paralyzing, but never killing. He will ruin them, but not set them to peace. Not at his hand, nor fang. They are dispatched quickly, a pile of brave fools, only done with their assault due to inability to continue. Some are stuck with glue, some bound with rope, some twitching.

Victor Winthrop, Kid Echo by trade, billionaire elder statesman, teen make-up guru, and an old boy with a dozen other lives, steps before his nemesis, his quarry, and his oldest living friend. It's another battle to be had, another to win, and another chance to reach her. "TJ!" he shouts, his voice ragged, his chest tight. He's always unnerved by her presence. Other villains, more dangerous to him by far, are met with nerves of steel. She makes him as much quivering jelly as the organs he spilled in an alley not an hour ago. "Stop this, please! I can help you, I know I can." His tone is pleading. A long held request to help, denied again and again.

She smirks, then turns her head contemplatively to listen. "Oh, my little one, They aren't done tonight. Not yet, we have more fun. They're hungry for a show. They need a good laugh, and what kind of jester am I if I do not provide?" she asks, not unkindly, her tone one of a knowing friend pitying the small mindedness of another. She throws her hands up and laughs maniacally. Her passion intoxicates his blood fueled body. He lunges at her, hands hard and curved to claws, to rend at her.

His hands meet her flesh. She is soft, and warm, so warm, on the outside. It makes him uncomfortable. She does not crumple like the rest, their soft, wet squish, as blood is rung out of the flesh sponge. No, she is hard, strong. She smiles at him, her eyes alluring orbs of insane adventure. So bored with life, he wanted nothing more than to jump in. Then she smashed her head into his face, and he fell back, tingling in excitement, thrilled for the pain. He was alive in battle.

They circled, he a careful predator, pulled taut; she a cornered beast, bucking, breathing heavily, eyes rolling, sweating. He could smell her. Too sweet by far, today. Unusual, but not unique. There has been candy, before.

He would dash at her, taking small cuts, little victories. She swung wildly, stronger but slower, looking to crush. It was hard going, but she cackled merrily along the way, panting, sounding too breathless to continue.

"Take the mask off, kid. Lemme see that cute little face." She taunted, always teasing. Only she ever got to him. There was enough real blood in his body to make him flush, and his cheeks burned red. She could see a bit of that, peeking out from under the mask. She stopped fighting, bouncing and clapping instead. Her breasts heaved. He remained uncomfortable, still a child in some ways. In others he longed for her. "Aww widdle Victor wuvs me," she mocked. He growled in rage, charging her. They slammed to the ground together, he furiously atop her, she below him in mirth.

It was a mistake. He knows not to get too close. Her hands come up, tight around his neck, and she hugs him hard, face smashed to her bosom. "Enjoy yourself, you little pervert." She whispers as she crushes his neck. "I'm sorry," she intones, and might mean it.

She rises, throwing his body aside. Sirens can be heard in the distance. She delights in their music. On the ground, automatic protocols administer a large dose of perfectly crafted synthetic blood, and Victor Winthrop begins to heal, the alchemical numbness already setting in.

The police arrive. They don't belong. Winthrop, through backdoor bribery, owns them. They were a show of force and little more. This was a city for heroes to test their mettle, not for peasants to squabble over scraps. Victor, hero to many, did not possess the kindest heart. Yet he did not want to see these eager rookies die. Better to burn out or sell out than her insanity. He focused on mending.

The other shoppers, those too cowed to face an infamous vigilante, gleefully ran towards the newly arrived cop car. The officers, fresh and afraid, opened fire the moment they emerged. Bullets poured into the shoppers, and they fell in a gooey mess. Victor thought he smelled ice cream. That's new.

TJ sauntered towards the police. Victor watched her hips sway. He struggled to rise.

She paused, cocked, a hand on her hip, the other twirling in the air, tracing out patterns only she sees, only she understands. "Have you come to play, my sweet babies?" She asked, nonchalant. The two men looked ready to run.

"Stop, TJ! Don't hurt them!" He swallowed his pride, said the Magic Word. "Please." He tensed. She didn't always listen.

"Fine. I'm bored. Feed me." She pouted to him, too cute to be mad at. So they went to a diner.

They had a table; no one would turn them away. Dark forces at play through the city's black nights. You didn't resist, you just made way. She was smiling. She looked happy. Her eyes were calm. "Here again, you old romantic?" She made it sound like a date. He fidgeted.

"You always like it." He shrugged. It was a little gesture, the shrug, and the diner. He was a creature of the small things. She lived a bigger life.

The food came. She ate big, gulping mouthfuls, ravenous. He had done the same earlier with his portion of pervert. He never judged her for the things that would bring scorn from him toward any other. He had no scorn for her, only pity.

She laughs, suddenly, the laugh that cuts into his brain, that fuzzes up his connections to reality. He is undone in her unnaturally unnerving aura. He wonders if she knows his thoughts. He wonders many things about her. Little flecks of her food hit his face as she finishes her amusement. The staff looks elsewhere, wisely.

She looks at him, gazes into him, their blackest abyssal natures probing at each other's sins. He shivers. She stirs his only order, black coffee, with her finger. "Drink up, dear." She sucks the coffee from her finger, slowly. He sips. She strokes his face as he goes slack. "I'm sorry, kiddo. Today I just have a message for you, from Them." She gives him a kiss, soft and sweet, on his numb lips. He tastes cake. She didn't order anything sweet.

She stands and leaves. Their waitress raises a knife, giggling, and throws it at a customer, screaming about how tired she is of hearing from him. The cook exclaims "I've always wanted to try this!" and presses his face to the stovetop. His soft laughs are hard to discern over the sounds of sizzling flesh.

Kid Echo doesn't care about any of them; They're lost sheep, and not his responsibility now. He only had eyes for Their Jester. He cannot move, but she positioned him for the show. She is outside, standing in the road. Waving to him, still laughing, always in on the joke. He struggles to move, desperate. A tear of blood falls. He is barely able to manage the softest "No."

A truck plows into her, going well over 100, crashing in the distance with havoc all around it. She herself explodes, cake and ice cream showering the area. The largest piece, erupting from her head, smashed into the diner window. It says, in frosted letters, "Happy Birthday." Damn, he'd forgotten. He was getting old. He missed her already.

Back home. Tired, numb, so often numb, sick of it all. The show, the pretence, the order. He bellowed out for Allen, in the tone only known by children of grand privilege. He scurried in, a humbled, loyal mutt of a man. His father, Al, had mostly raised Victor, until Victor rose again, and since then it had been Allen's task. He met it, though never with pleasure.

Allen was an obedient creature of duty. That suited Vic just fine. He didn't need friends; he had multiple accounts with over 10k followers, some with many more. He was infinitely rich, able to play at any game. What more did a boy need?

"It's my birthday, Allen."

"Yes, sir. 70 wonderful years, hmm?"

"And forever a boy."

Allen began to undress him. Victor was above the drudgery of house work, you see. He peered at the old young man's costume, the neck crumpled and hard to remove. "You were injured. I'll need to..." he trailed off, shock on his face. Victor had never seen the look from him. Grabbing his jaw, the man turned his head for a closer look. "Oh, my. Master, apparently you may not be a boy forevermore, after all. You have a pimple."

Now it was Victor's turn for shock. For horror. He pushed Allen away, only gently, but his strength surged, and the man fell with a bruising descent.

"I do not. I do not!" Shrieked the panicked thing, the lights flickering.

"From a bat boy to a bat man, you'll become. Oh, dear. Calm yourself, sir." Pleaded Allen.

Victor would not. "You aren't my father! Don't you tell me what to do!" He demanded, childishly, kicking at the prone man. He shrieked his awful bat call, and Allen was deaf for the rest of his short life. He welcomed both punishments gladly, if it makes you feel any better.

Allen, forever dutiful, put his hand to his face. He nodded, decisions made. Pulling a wooden stake from his coat, he leapt at his ward, shouting, "I'm sorry I failed you, boy. For my father!"

Victor Winthrop, at the cusp of teenage angst and self-loathing, lashed out. He gave in to rage, and all was red.

Across the city, in a bank, like any other bank, people stood, bored and waiting, to move money from one place to another, to buy things with that money. They sighed, one and all, and madness took hold. Or freedom, if you really listened to Their Jester. The largest of them, a broad, towering man, stopped his check writing, cocking his head to the side, listening to secrets of the universe. Their Jester adjusted his crotch to comfort and personal taste, to the left, and then stood, proud, nodding, as violence and destruction were set loose. Those that died collapsed into piles of gold coins, with pictures of laughing men on the faces. Money was burned, and TJ basked in the fire, his large hands held out to the heat.

Victor watched the security footage; he was connected, he saw it all. Anyway, this was Winthrop First National. That was his money, no matter the names on the accounts. This was personal.

Vic watched TJ's form on the screen. He was huge today. Showy in his size. Magnificent. He traced the image of him on the screen, tenderly.

It wouldn't feel right to try to match him as a man, but he could feel pretty. That would be nice, to be called that. Victorious Vicky would accept this challenge today, Victor's old wartime propaganda persona.

"Stop!" shouted Vicky, righteous and commanding, as befit the role. Vic liked telling others to stop. Liked control. TJ laughed, a deep chuckle, pleased amusement.

"Nice to see you, Vicky!" He approached her, a mighty oak over a quivering rose bush. She raised her fists for battle. He smiled, sweet and a little sad. "Not today, pretty lady." He touched her chin, right on the pimple, caressed it. His thumb was massive, and rough. She leaned into his hand. "You won't need these, soon." And with his free hand he poked one of the padded breasts, laughing.

She knows what it is now, finally, after all these years. She doesn't feel like a monster around him. She feels real. She feels.

"I'm, I'm" she stammered, unsure of how to finish. He did it for her. His thumb moved to her lips, covering them. Silencing her. She resists the absurd, intrusive idea of taking it in her mouth.

"Whatever you want to be, kid." And quickly his hands close tight on her again. He has hurt her this way before. He likes it, she knows that. She doesn't mind. He is twisting her neck, pulling, tearing, ripping, until her head is torn free. He throws the body aside, as garbage. He holds Vic's head softly, with care. His eyes are soft, his face is kind. "I'm sorry, you know. I really can't help it. It's just who I am." The smirk is too knowing.

Their Jester sets Victor Winthrop's head down on the hilltop, under the heavy shade of a great old tree, the place of their first battle, so long ago, under a smaller, younger tree. Vic's eyes are turned toward the city, his city.

"It's your turn to be free." Their Jester leaves, into that city, to set it to chaos.

Over the days, barely healing from such destruction, he watches equivalent destruction tear his city apart. Buildings explode, their adjoining neighborhoods burn, and bands of people rage and riot through the streets, all set free. Winthrop's legacy is dead. He was ruined.

Later still Vic laughs, tears falling from wide, wild eyes. Head now astride a new body. Walking toward the city, they stride comfortably, casually, laughing with real happiness. Somewhere, deep in the city, a booming chuckle replies. Vic follows after TJ, as Vic will always do.

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