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shofics · 3 years

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question 12, 5: modern university au !!!

Oh man, oh man. I actually had some ideas for a uni AU ages ago that never really became anything, and I’ve cannibalised it for parts for other fics since then (This is the outline I stole the ‘Wilde likes french vanilla coffee’, ‘Sasha has EDS and also possibly POTS’, and ‘Barnes, Carter, Cel, and Wilde all live together’ ideas from for Hope & Smith), but I do have the main ideas left over! It was a modern university AU + magic, so that’s what I’ve put down here. Another one that got frighteningly long, more under the cut <3

Hamid originally studies Pure Maths (this is… a real thing. As opposed to applied mathematics, I believe) because he wants to have a Fancy, High-Thinker Degree that his parents will approve of because it’s very intelligent but won’t necessarily understand.

His first year he takes what is basically the Magic 101 class, because he’s obviously got a natural proclivity for it so why not? It’s that format of ‘this is a generic overview of magic in general, let's take a week or two to go over some specifics for different things you might like to study so that you’ll be prepared.’ They spend a bit on magical history, bardic magic, would you like to study wizardry, or maybe the specifics of genetically inherited magics...

Hm. Yes, Hamid would actually like to study the specifics of genetically inherited magics, because everything they’ve gone over vis a vis wizardry is sounding fairly different to his lived experience and Oh Dear

He starts taking more magical history classes on the sly. His parents don’t need to know.

They eventually do find out, and there is what might be described as An Almighty Row. Hamid goes ballistic, his father goes cold, and Hamid declares then and there that he’s changing his major, screw all of this, he’s got one life and he’s going to live it how he wants, damn it.

His family will continue to pay for his school, of course. They don’t want the disgrace of him having to drop out. But his father makes it very clear that if he does decide to study magic instead, he’s not coming home.

Hamid studies magic. Hamid’s not coming home.

Wilde and Hamid met in that introductory class, and continued to be friends even as they never actually managed to take another class together.

Wilde studies bardic performance as a subset of the magic department, is trying really hard to fit in the requirements to get a degree in journalism as well, and also writes for almost every publication on campus, and works with the student theatre groups; they’ve performed some of his plays, and he has also been known to step in as a stage manager or a head of costumes or an assistant director (or even, on one memorable occasion, an actor) when necessary (when does this guy sleep).

Wilde is able to pull strings and charm people in specific ways enough to get Hamid a job as a stitcher in the costume shop with the theatre department, putting costumes together. He also manages to find Hamid a place to stay over winter break while the campus buildings are closed, after it becomes evident that Hamid’s parents won’t be paying for non-university housing anymore.

Hamid ends up staying with Azu, who has her own flat and has been dithering for ages between wanting to become a family practitioner and wanting to become some sort of social worker. Hamid is inconsolable, and Wilde is not good at consoling anyway, but it turns out that Azu is. Hamid helps her reorganise her entire schedule to allow for both eventualities, she listens in rapt attention as he takes her through his designs for the next show the theatre department is putting on, they bond over the fact that they’re both so far from home and far from their families, and by the time everyone else comes back to school and classes start again they’re practically attached at the hip. Hamid spends almost as much time at Azu’s as he does at his own dorm.

Wilde’s like, alright, that worked ridiculously well! Nice job me

Sasha starts out as an engineering student due to a scholarship that Bi-Ming Gusset helped her get, and she is instantly the darling of every engineering professor that has her in their classes; nobody knows anything about her other than that she’s wickedly good at what she does.

Cel, who studies engineering and theoretical physics and takes biology classes wherever they can fit them in, is their TA at one point. Cel is able to find out more about Sasha as a person than anyone else has ever managed- paradoxically, as anyone who watches them interact will note that Sasha never seems to talk and Cel never seems to stop, but, just like the designs they create together, it doesn’t look like it should work, but it does and it’s very hard to explain why.

At some point, to satisfy some general requirement, Sasha takes an education class. Sasha… really enjoys the education class? Sasha might want to study education? Sasha freaks out a bit. Sasha is having a really rough time of it recently, a lot of chronic pain and worrying physical problems with no clear cause, and really doesn’t need to stress about her future plans on top of everything else.

Grizzop is a pre-med and, unlike Azu, 10000% sure of it. He wants to be an EMT, and is part of the emergency response team at the university. When Sasha knocks on Zolf’s door at three in the morning, because he just so happened to be the one who was closest, and tells him that she just fainted for the first time and doesn’t know what to do and feels like she might again, and Zolf panics and calls the first response team, Grizzop is the first one to show up. Which is good, for Sasha, because she’s pretty thoroughly freaked out and desperately in need of friends at her sides.

Zolf is also a pre-med, not really because of any active desire to go into the medical field but just kind of because he needed something to believe in that was an easy ticket away from his family, and if anyone asks it has absolutely nothing to do with his brother’s death, shut up.

Zolf becomes Sasha’s designated Please Come With Me For Moral Support person as she begins a diagnostic process that lasts months and comes up with absolutely nothing. As a result, he’s there to watch as doctor after doctor basically throw up their hands and declare her either a medical oddity or a liar. She and Grizzop are both certain she’s got some sort of chronic illness, some autoimmune disease or something, but no one seems willing to diagnose her.

Zolf loses faith in the institution of medicine as a whole, starts to spiral a bit- and then spirals a lot. He ends up having to take a year off to sort out his life and his brain and his own mental health problems.

He moves out of campus housing and applies for as many jobs as he can- he’s not going home and he’s not asking for money, good grief, he’d rather stick his hands in an air fryer- and ends up with a couple odd jobs he bounces between every week, including constructing sets and running lights for the theatre department. This is how he meets Hamid, who he clashes with instantly, and Wilde, who is stage managing, who he also clashes with instantly but who really does his best to mitigate between them.

Do shenanigans ensue? Yes. Yes, absolutely. Sasha takes great amusement in winding Zolf and Hamid up and pointing them at each other, and Wilde gets caught between finding it equally as hilarious and also Sasha please, it’s literally my job to make sure the people working on this show don’t murder each other, help me out here

#Can you tell I have extensive experience with uni theatre #And also with chronic illness and the medical field as a chronically ill person #my post #my writing #glassandmarigolds #rqg #prompt fill #rusty quill gaming #rqgaming

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couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 3 years

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PLEASE post your deh dream concepts

thank you for enabling me queen

OKAY first of all, I think it would have worked better as a straight play instead of a musical! there are moments, like 'sincerely, me' for example, where the singing just cheapens the moment. like, that song is a fun little bop! that they're...singing about fabricating a dead child's emails in order to lie to his family? lmfao it just Doesn't sit right imo. don't worry, I'm gonna work Ben Platt singing into it tho, just hang on.

Second- there was a show Daniel Radcliffe did on broadway about social media privacy a few years ago, and I remember it was interactive, the audience all logged onto a specific wifi network and used their phones during the show, it was cool! Dear Evan Hansen like....Tries to involve social media commentary but it just kinda gives up on it. like, they flash some fake profiles with a projector, and briefly shows Alana dramatizing what Evan told her online, but that's pretty much it??? I think it would have been super cool and unique to work the audience into the story like that. like...when I was in high school our school had a specific facebook page where people could anonymously compliment other students? and I know other schools have had similar things like that. they could set up a site that's supposed to be the school's media along those lines, and have the audience post on it (regarding the events of the plot) and have it read out during the show. maybe it'll even effect the climax if we wanna get fancy- some audiences might be more sympathetic to Evan while others want him to have harsher consequences! who knows! I just feel like the musical really dropped this whole 'how can we Connect' message it was going for and it'd be really cool to see it used better

Third- okay so. the letter writing thing. like, that IS an actual therapy thing but it's a bit...weird? I feel like most therapists recommend journaling over that also it feels kinda mean lmao 'no one will talk to me all day so I have to write to myself' ksjddklf. and Evan doesn't really...have much of a personality? like, he has an anxiety disorder, he's ashamed of his home life, he likes trees. that's kinda...it? like despite going on a complex arc he's not a very fleshed out character, it's weird. and since ben platt legally has to sing- I propose Evan likes song writing. it's something that's a little more relatable than the tree thing, and it also just adds to him lol. his 'I Need To Escape This Town' energy = he wants to be a musician. it'll show he's good with words when writing them down- which helps him fabricate the emails with Connor. Zoe's in band, so it gives the two of them something to bond over that doesn't involve Connor. maybe the letter itself was a weirdly formatted song he was working on, or maybe the therapist thought he'd like the letter thing bc of songwriting- but we can see it progress trough the show, like Alana wants him to write and perform a song about Connor and the Murphy's think that'll be so sweet! or maybe when he finally fesses up he writes a song about the whole mess and posts it online or something to that effect. I just think it'd be nice.

(also hi literally why is his therapist not a character??? feel like that's someone who might have a lot to say about the situation lmfao)

Four- focus more on Evan's suicidal thoughts??? omg like the big reveal they had was good but it was never like. revealed to anyone around him and overall just kinda passed over in the grand scheme of the plot like. bro. the show is supposed to be about this kid's mental health

I think...straight play, social media interactive, and then Evan's secret DOES get exposed- whether by people finding holes, the murphy's exposing him, or Evan cracking by himself, something like that. the 'one year later' part at the end, Evan posts a video explaining his side of the story and sings a song dedicated to Connor (maybe a little you will be found rework?). those are my biggest ideas anyway. the show holds a powerful story but I just feel like tweaking it would make it so much better idk

#dear evan hansen #deh #musicals #evan hansen #asks #molly mumbles #sunsetinsanremo

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ballerinaroy · 4 years

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Chess Pieces

They were children raised as soldiers. They weren’t expected to survive the war. Ao3

Ron was the first of them to die. He did it so deliberately, without so much of an ounce of hesitation, that in the months after Harry was convinced that Ron had been planning it all along. In the middle of an ambush, wand blasted from his hand, one moment Ron was at his side, fighting towards Hermione so they could make their escape and in the next Harry was shoved forward with such force that he crashed into Hermione’s body upon landing.

Immediately, Harry had wanted to go back. His brain could not comprehend the notion there was even a possibility that Ron could be dead. Even after seeing the blinding green light engulf his body. Even after seeing the determination leave his eyes. It took all of Hermione’s strength to stop him. With tears streaming down her face and hands that would not stop trembling, she worked as quickly and diligently as ever to perform their protection spells in order to keep him safe.

“We have to go back,” he demanded, stalking her around the musty wooded area she had taken them to. “We have to go back Hermione, we can’t just leave him there.”

“It won’t change anything,” Hermione told him through gasping sobs, “It’s over.”

For weeks, whenever Harry closed his eyes he could only see Ron’s face alight with determination and fear as the green light took over his body and he went crashing to the ground. He awoke screaming Ron’s name, tears streaming down his face as the last memory of his best friend washed over him. It haunted him.

“He was always going to do it,” Hermione said out of the blue one dusk as she stared into a half-empty glass of whiskey. “Don’t you remember when we were eleven on the chessboard?” she looked up at Harry as if he were a stranger and she was uncomfortable sitting so close to him. “He was always going to sacrifice himself for you if it came to it.”

This did nothing to help the growing ball of guilt in Harry’s chest, eating away at him. One day he was going to have to tell Mrs. Weasley how it happened. How could he explain what Ron had done for them?

“I’m sorry,” he offered, but it was more of a cry than a formation of words.

She stared at him for a long moment, finished her glass, and then got to work.

When Harry saw Ron for the final time in the forest he wore the grin that was in all of Harry’s fondest memories.

There was only one thought on his mind, one question that had never been satisfied. “Did you know?”

The not solid form of Ron nodded and smirked. “I taught you chess, didn’t I? You have to make calculated losses if you stand a chance at winning.”

For some time Harry had the gnawing feeling that he had been a piece in a greater game. To hear Ron make himself into one too did not make Harry feel any better.

“We weren’t going to make it out mate,” Ron continued patiently as if explaining something that should have been obvious to Harry. “We couldn’t have gone on without you and if it was between you or me it had to be me. It’s what we agreed to, Hermione and me, it’s what we promised. Our job was to keep you safe, our job was to get you here.”

This did not explain how Ron could have possibly been so brave in a moment when Harry was so completely terrified.

Hermione’s death was much more deliberate.

Harry had never considered losing one of them, but with Ron gone he braced himself with what seemed inevitable, there was no guarantee they would survive this war. Hermione didn’t sleep. Every time Harry awoke she was sitting there, writing furiously into a journal or reading heavy books with such vigor that Harry worried her head might explode with the information she absorbed. No longer did Hermione want to make conservative moves towards victory, she was thirsty for blood and revenge and consumed with the loss of the person she’d loved completely but now could never be with.

They never stopped moving, each day a different task and new mission. Intelligence which made Harry’s head spin was tracked in Hermione’s books. When they came across Death Eaters they made no attempts to hide. In the game of cat and mouse, they were the predators. The first deliberate killing made Harry feel sick and as if he could physically feel his soul detaching though his wand did none of the spell work. Hermione never let him.

“We have to keep you pure.” She told him as they scavenged through the belongings of their latest target.

Harry didn’t quite understand what she meant but felt as though he lacked the bloodlust necessary to complete the task anyway. He lost track of how many times they killed. Somewhere in the many books, Hermione kept he knew there was a list but he didn’t care to look for it. There was always another for them to hunt. One less Death Eater meant one less threat to watch over their shoulders for.

“Promise me you’ll destroy my body Harry,” she would tell him in the few moments she could look at him.

Since Ron’s death, they had hardly spoken. Every line out of their mouths was about strategy and what they’d learned. By sheer force alone, Hermione seemed to be speeding up the war. What was left of the Horcruxes, the cup in their bag and the last in their sights, were all but destroyed. It seemed, however, that Hermione’s bloodlust wouldn’t be satisfied and always she was coming up with another target.

“We could go and end this,” he told her, wanting nothing more than for this war, which had already stolen the thing he would miss most, to end.

“One more mission,” she told him and he had a sinking feeling about her latest target. “Then to Hogwarts. It’ll be something of Ravenclaws, you should go and talk to her ghost, maybe Luna or Padma will be able to help you. Get the sword back if you can, if not then the fangs are your best bet.”

Harry did not miss that she hadn’t said “we” once while giving him instructions. Looking back he should have known she wouldn’t be with him. Harry supposed he out to have tried to convince her out of what she wanted to do, tried harder to find the words to force her to focus on their mission. Only he wanted revenge too.

Hermione’s last kill was of the woman who’s wand killed the man she had loved. Once it was completed, Harry could almost see her body physically relax and surrender. He understood her request as he watched them tear her apart. It took hours for her to die. Harry watched from the rafters of the Lestrange Mansion as Rodolphus Lestrange exacted revenge for his slain wife. Harry wished to run, to depart, but made true to his promise and when the moment was right performed his first and final killing curse on the only person left whom he could trust.

In the forest, Hermione finally showed remorse for her actions. She begged Harry for forgiveness for what she’d forced him to do.

“I can’t take back what I’ve done,” Hermione said, “I should have never put you in that position Harry.”

“You’re the one that died,” he attempted to joke.

It was only later that Harry recognized the absurdity that in the moments before he was going to throw himself in front of Voldemort’s wand he was joking with his dead best friends.

When he turned to his mother and father, the fear in his chest was all but diminished. And when his Godfather assured him that death would be painless Harry found himself restless in wanting to end the journey and join his best friends in whatever would come next.

When Voldemort’s wand stopped his tattooing heart, it’s their greeting arms that wrap around him and surround him in warmth. For the first time in years, Harry felt whole. They tell him they’d been waiting for him at the station. Together, they boarded the train for their next great adventure.

#harry potter fanfiction #Harry/Ron/Hermione #golden trio #harry potter #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #angst #roywrites

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girls-scenarios · 5 years

Text

Behind the Scenes

Idol: Irene (Red Velvet)

Prompt: Hi is it possible to request rv irene and fem+idol reader? Maybe something like they are in a secret relationship and fans ship them alot and they try to be sneaky about their relationship. Little bit of angst and fluff. Thank you☺

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: I ended up making the reader more gender-neutral on this one. Also, I’m not sure how angsty this ended up being, but I hope you all enjoy!

♡ Tip Jar♡

You loved watching Irene on stage. She looked so cool and composed, like she owned the stage and didn’t care about anyone as she danced and sang. You knew the real Irene, of course. Bae Joohyun was slightly different than Irene. She cared about people’s comments more than she let on and smiled softly and liked forehead kisses and homemade meals. Joohyun preferred quiet areas, liked lighting candles and settling down in comfortable clothes to read a book or write in her journal. She was quiet and down-to-earth and friendly and sensitive and loving. Of course, on stage, she was great too. Her charisma and beauty were what had originally attracted you to her, and you loved that part of her. But you also loved the Irene that no one else saw. And you were always reminded of that when you watched her on stage.

“Someone is going to see you staring from the side of the stage,” your band mate commented as they walked past, patting your shoulder and making you jump slightly. “Maybe take those love-struck eyes somewhere else.”

“Do you really think they can see me back here?” Your group was next to go on, so you were watching Irene from the side, just in the dark and away from the cameras. But your band mate had a point. Sometimes fans had cameras that caught people in the background, and things like that had happened to you before. So you sighed and stepped back a bit further into the darkness. “Is this good, you think?”

“You should be fine.” Your band mate fixed their headset and raised their eyebrows, smiling at you. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on remembering the moves and lyrics to our song instead of your girlfriend’s?”

“Oh, whatever. I’ll be fine. I just wanted to watch her.”

“You’re whipped.”

“Careful what you say, there are ears around,” you leader reminded the two of you as they walked up. The music faded out and the lights dimmed, and you watched as Irene took her ending pose. “It’s our turn, get ready.”

As you walked past Irene to the stage, she sent you a little wink, and you couldn’t help smiling to yourself as you walked up on stage, keeping your head down. Even as you got into position, it was hard to control your expression, and you bit your lip, looking out at all the cameras focused in your direction. Shit, someone had definitely gotten that on camera.

There wasn’t enough time to think about it, though, and the music came on, prompting you to straighten out your expression and focus on dancing. Oh well. You’d just have to look it up and see later.

“Someone saw you grinning like an idiot the other day and now it’s all over the internet.”

“Now, who’s the one who winked at me and made me smile?”

Irene’s laugh echoed softly in her bedroom, and she put a hand over her mouth, as if trying to keep herself from being too loud. The two of you were sitting on her bed, chatting with each other after a long week of promotions. It had been pure coincidence that both your groups released a song at the same time, but it worked out nicely for the two of you, at least. Now that both of you were at the tail-end of promotions, there was a little bit more time to spend with each other, and Irene had invited you over to her dorm to chat and eat and maybe watch a movie, since neither of you had to wake up early the next morning.

“It’s cute, though. All of our fans think it’s cute.”

“I wonder if any of them actually think we’re together,” you said, leaning against Irene and looking down at her phone screen. She’d pulled up a grainy video of you smiling at her on stage from some fan account she’d found on Twitter, and you wrinkled your nose at it. “That’s such a cheesy video.”

“And it’s not even edited, so you’re that cheesy in real life,” Irene replied, smiling and raising her eyebrows. “I wonder if your fans know you’re such a cheesy person?”

“They know, I’m cheesy with them too.”

“Oh, so not just with me?”

“You know it’s different.”

She let out another short laugh and scrolled through the blog. As she did, you watched the photos and videos of “evidence” that your fans had compiled fill up the screen, along with links to fanfictions that you were almost afraid to think about. It was kind of surreal. So many fans shipped the two of you, and yet you both had to hide your relationship for the sake of your careers. Your dorms were actually in the same building, but even crossing from your dorm to hers was risky. And it was weird to think that it was risky to love.

“Hey, Irene?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think these fans would actually support us if we told them the truth?”

She paused scrolling, and was silent for a moment. The only sound in the room was from her diffuser as it whirred, working hard to fill the room with the soothing smell of eucalyptus. Then, she let out a sigh and turned to look at you, grabbing your hand.

“Probably about half of them. But I’m not sure we’ll ever know. Not any time soon, I mean.” She smiled, shaking her head. “It’s kind of sad, but it’s the truth. At least we have each other, and our members and friends and family. And I know we do have at least some wonderful fans that we know would stay by our side if we ever did announce our relationship. That’s what makes it better for me.”

You thought back to the posts you’d seen before, talking about how people had “better support (Y/N) and Irene if they do end up being a couple” and how your fans had said they’d “support you no matter if you were dating or not.” Smiling, you nodded your head and squeezed her hand.

“You’re right. We do have some wonderful fans out there. And honestly, as long as I have you, I’m happy.”

“You’re being cheesy again.”

“I’m just telling the truth.”

Irene leaned in to give you a quick kiss, then brought up her other hand to gently caress your face. Her hair was up in a messy bun and her glasses had slipped down her nose, and she was wearing sweatpants and a baggy sweater because Seulgi liked it cold in the dorms and she got cold easily. Her smile was a little bit crooked, but it was fond, and your heart squeezed as she placed her forehead against yours. “I’m happy as long as I have you too. I love you, (Y/N).” She was so straightforward, and even after dating her for so long, you could feel your cheeks flushing. Eyes fluttering closed, you captured her lips once again, kissing her slow and gentle as she moved into your arms, letting you wrap her up in your arms.

When you pulled away, you looked into her dark eyes and smiled, whispering out your reply before bringing her in once again, determined to savor the time the two of you had before you had to go back to your own dorm. “I love you too, Irene.”

The next time the two of you had a show together, you passed her and her group in the hall as they came back from performing and your group got ready. There wasn’t much time, but she still smiled and reached out her hand. For a brief moment, you captured her hand in yours, holding to tight before you had to let go.

“You did really well.”

“Good luck out there.”

And then she was gone, and you were getting ready to go upstage and perform in front of an unknowing audience. The interaction was brief, but your hand tingled from her touch and you smiled, closing your eyes and breathing in a deep breath before heading for the stage.

It was those moments that made all the hiding worth it. As long as you could feel her gentle touch and see her supportive smile, you could deal with your love only being behind the scenes.

The stage was big, and the audience was even bigger, their screams and cheers of admiration piercing your ears as you got into formation. But you knew that, back in her room, Irene was watching you. And that was what you thought about as you poured yourself into your performance once again, happy knowing that, once you were done, Irene would be there behind the scenes, waiting with a smile and words only whispered to you.

“I love you.”

#red velvet #irene #femifics #bae joohyun #red velvet scenarios #red velvet scenario #irene scenarios #irene scenario #girl group scenarios #kpop scenario #girl groups #kpop girl groups

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bubblesandgutz · 4 years

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Every Record I Own - Day 537: John Prine Fair & Square

I’ve meant to keep a journal during the pandemic as I feel like it’s important to chronicle this unique point in modern history from a personal level. At the same time, I already feel like I’m doing my daily dose of chronicling with these album posts, and adding more writing to my schedule will just keep me from finishing bigger ongoing projects. So I’m going to deviate from the alphabetical format for awhile as I feel like there’s a better way to maintain this blog while also talking about what’s going on in the world around us at the moment.

Yesterday, March 29th 2020, it was announced that American folk singer John Prine was critically ill with coronavirus. I’d spent the week prior living with a lot of stress because my parents were both symptomatic---bad coughs, body aches, fatigue, loss of taste/smell---but they’d gotten tested and the results came in on Friday that they were negative. At this point they’d been sick for nine days, so part of me hoped they’d test positive just so they’d have had it, gotten over it, and hopefully acquired immunity. Either way, in my mind the pandemic was receding back to being something out there instead of right here. And then the news about Prine dropped. Is this how the remainder of 2020 is gonna go? Constant worry about friends and family supplemented by the more abstract concern and grief over older artists?

A few years ago, I wrote about hearing John Prine for the first time. Looking back on it now, those words seem to fit the current climate pretty well, so I’ll just paste it below for anyone who cares to dig deeper.

It was 2005 and I lived in a one-bedroom apartment with my partner on Capitol Hill in Seattle. I was broke. I worked odd jobs between tours and sold off old records, clothes, books, and hiking gear to pay bills. Our rent had been raised, putting a strain on our already struggling finances. We didn’t have money to go out on the weekends, so my partner and I would often sit at home on Saturday nights and flip between SNL and Austin City Limits. We didn’t have cable, so we were pretty much stuck with five channels. But with a little drinkin’ and smokin’, we could usually make ourselves content for the evening.

That particular night, some old guy was on ACL. I liked a lot of folk and classic country artists, but I had no clue who this guy was. He started in on a song, and within the first two chords I was hooked. There was nothing flashy to the song. It was simple, humble. But it was perfect. It captured exactly what I like about old folk songs: it had a kind of intimacy to it that made you feel like you were listening to someone playing guitar on their front porch.

I’ve always been a big Dylan fan, and there’s a version of “Visions of Johanna” on his Biograph collection that has forever ruined the official album version on Blonde On Blonde for me. On Biograph, he performs the song without a band. Just him, his guitar, and a harmonica. At the end of the song, there’s a roar of applause. Even after listening to the song a thousand times, the cheering always catches me off guard. I forget that it’s a performance, I forget that there’s a crowd. For the seven-minute duration of the recording, it feels like Dylan is just telling a story to the ether.

I felt that way listening to this guy sing on ACL. When the song came to a close, I realized that my eyes had welled up. I chalked up my sentimentality to the beer. And it was late. And it had been a tough week. I flipped back to SNL to get my mind straight. During a commercial break, I flipped back to ACL and caught another number by the old guy.

This one was even tougher to hold it together through. I have a hard time buying into folks younger than me singing about rough times. But gimme a song by an old guy about riding a Greyhound bus and starting his life over again… I can’t even handle it.

In hindsight, 2005 was definitely a rough year for me, but I also remember it fondly. When I listen to John Prine now, it serves as a reminder that joy can be salvaged out of the low points in life.

#john prine #everyrecordiown

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axelsagewrites · 5 years

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Puck*Purple Piano Project

Ship(s): Noah Puckerman x reader

Request: Negative

Warnings: Not really. Anxiety maybe

Masterlist HERE

Wattpad HERE

I walked through the school, camera in hand and a pass around my neck. When I chose journalism as one of my subjects, I knew I'd have to take photos and interview people but that didn't stop my skin crawling when my teacher decided I and Aaron would be the ones covering the glee clubs 'purple piano' project.

Aaron was beyond uninterested. He was clearly just taking the class to fill a column and shoved the camera and notebook into my hands as soon as the bell rang. "So how do you wanna manage to workload?" I stuttered out.

"You do the photos, interviews, writing, and formatting. I'll put my name on it. Got it?" he said. I nodded quickly. He grunted in response and walked away to his hockey friends. I'm not scared of him...I just don't like confrontation...?

"Kill me," I muttered under my breath as I walked through the corridors. My teacher had given me a 'journalism pass' while glee was on so I could try to get some photos and interviews. He made the mistake of assuming I'd have help.

Biting my lip, I fidgeted with the camera from next to the door to glee. I could hear music and I didn't want to interrupt. When I heard the song finish, I took a breath before knocking. A few seconds passed when the door opened.

Mr. Shue looked a little confused, "(Y/N) if this is about Spanish I can't talk- "

"It's not about that," I cut him off. He looked surprised, "Oh sorry um," I grabbed my pass and held it up, "I'm supposed to do a story on the um purple piano thingy?" it sounded like a question.

It must've worked because he smiled, "Yeah of course," he let go of the door handle, letting the door open more. I glanced over to the room of confused teenager's id never spoken too before. "What do you need to know?" snapped my attention back.

My hands began flicking through the notebook, frantically trying to find the page, "I have a few questions about it if that's okay. And possibly an interview,"

"Perfect," he said before walking into the middle of the room, "Right guys looks like we're going to hit the papers. This is (Y/N) from journalism and they are going to do a story on the purple piano project. Told you this project would be exciting," I loved his enthusiasm, but the groans and eye rolls told me I was the only one, "They've got some questions and they need an interview. I'm assuming (Y/N) while want to interview a couple of you," He glanced at me and I nodded, my eyes darted back down to my notebook, "Maybe some photos as well?"

"If that's alright with everyone," I said, checks tinging pink.

"So," Mr. Shue clapped his hands, "Who volunteers to do an interview?"

You could hear a pin drop. Unfortunately, it only lasted a moment before Rachel stood up. "I'll do it. I'm sure you'll all be supportive since we all know that I have a way with words Afterall," Oh my god I'm going to die.

"Uh uh. I don't want Berry representing us," A cheerleader from the back yelled.

"So, are volunteering Santana?" Mr. Shue asked.

She folded her arms and sat down, "I never said that. Do you really want Berry speaking for us? We get slushied enough,"

"Hey!" Rachel spun on her heels to glare at Santana, "I'll have you know I have practised for interviews for years. I know what I'm doing," when she turned to look at me, I could feel hope drain from me. "I'll have to have a copy of your questions first and I've got some of my own if you need anyway,"

Santana scoffed, "At least Rachels enthusiastic," Mr. Shue said, "You need to be proud of glee or people won't listen to us,"

"They look terrified," someone chuckled. Okay, maybe I was but still, rude. My cheeks flushed and I glanced over to where it had come from. Puck. I knew who he was. He'd never spoken to me, I'd always walked the other way, but I heard stories.

Suddenly bickering started. Within seconds it was full-on yelling. Mr. Shue turned to give me a sorry glance. It didn't end till some boy stood up and almost shouted, "Fine, I'll do it!" the room went quiet. he turned to Santana, "Happy?"

She glanced between the boy and Rachel, "I don't like it but its better,"

Rachel pouted. The boy sighed and turned to her, "You do so much for us that you deserve a break Rachel,"

She pursed her lips before rolling her eyes, "True," she sat back down, "Finn can do the interview,"

Mr. Shue sighed and turned to me, "Sorry about that," I just nodded, "You guys all take a break and calm down I'll go into the hallway and answer some of (Y/N)'s questions. Okay?" A few grumbles were heard before they all grabbed their phones. He rolled his eyes and led me into the hallway.

He shut the door and turned to me, "Sorry about that. Finn's a good guy. I'm sure your interview will go fine. So, what do you need to know?"

"Just a few basic questions," my hands were clutching my notebook. I began scribbling down his answers so I could write up the background information. "That was the last question," I said, celebrating in my head.

"Alright. If you need to know anything else just come ask," He said. I nodded as I stuffed my notebook into my bag, "Are you going to be okay (Y/N)?" Mr. Shue looked genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit nervous, I guess. They can be...intimidating,"

"I'm sure your interview will go fine. I'll ask Finn about time and tell you in Spanish. That way you can go calm down." Mr. Shue said. I nodded along, "Finn's nice, I promise,"

Finn might be nice but that didn't help. When Mr. Shue told me the only time Finn could meet was Thursday lunchtime in the library I almost jumped out a window. I had to do an interview and I had to lose some lunchtime? Uh.

I figured things couldn't get much worse. I was wrong.

Coming to the library a little early, I began setting things up. I had my question sheet and had brought my phone to record. When I'd been questioning Mr. Shue I realised my hand definitely couldn't keep up.

As I was straightening everything up someone flung themselves down onto the chair next to me, "So this is what a library looks likes?" I felt like I was about to fall through my chair. That wasn't Finn. "Do you come here often?"

I looked up at Puck and froze for a second. He rose an eyebrow, "Um sometimes," I snapped out of my shock, "Wh-wheres Finn?"

"Sick," he rolled his eyes, "he called around to ask someone to fill in so here I am. Now let's hurry up. I don't want people thinking I want to be in this place,"

"Is it alright if I record this so I can take notes later?" I force out.

"Is my voice just that irresistible?" Puck leaned onto the table, eyes burrowing into me.

"No, it's just it helps get better notes and any quotes," my eyes fell to my notebook as I mentally kicked myself. "I won't post the recordings or anything,"

I looked up as he sat back "Sure I guess,"

"Okay so first question..." I only had a few questions for him, but Puck had a magical way of making everything take forever. Somehow, he found a dirty joke in everything or I had to try to pull an answer out of him. "Why is glee so important for you personally?"

"I get out of class,"

I hold back an eye-roll, "We all know you'd just skip so why glee?"

Puck sighed and leaned back in his chair, "I don't know. Chicks dig it?" I groan and just sit my notebook down. "Look I don't know," Puck said, "I just like it I guess,"

"Is it music? The performance?"

"Everything. I always liked the music. Music lets people be a lot more honest without being judged," Puck shifted in his seat a little.

"Do you think people are judging you?"

"Well yeah," he scoffed, "Look at me. Teachers think I'm a slacker, people here all think I'll shove them in a locker, my mum thinks I'll be in jail by 20. Everyone judges you. You could sing your heart out in a song and no one cares because they assume it's an act,"

His words shocked me into silence. Puck stared at the desk for a few seconds before looking up, "Wow um I- "

"Like I said, chicks dig guitar." Puck slumped back into his chair, "How many more questions?"

"That's it," I said, pausing my voice recording. "Actually, just wondering what name I should put down?" He rose an eyebrow, "Puck's surely not your real name. is it?"

"Kinda. Its Noah Puckerman," Puck stood up and grabbed his stuff, "Wait are you going to put all of that in?"

"Um, some of it. I'll quote some stuff and clean it up a bit. If that's alright?"

"Yeah, whatever. Later, loser," He stood up.

"For what it's worth," I start which causes Puck to wait, "I don't judge you,"

"Yeah right," Puck rolls his eyes.

Maybe it was a bit of a fib, "I mean you sat hear and answered all my questions. You can't be all bad,"

"You'd be surprised what I can be," Puck put his bag over his shoulder and rushed out the library. Every person he walked past jumped out the way.

All I had to do now was get some photos. I'd seen the purple pianos around the school, so I had some pics of empty pianos. I was trying to get a better shot of one of them sitting in the hall, but I was amongst a crowd of people. The crowd seemed to vanish all at once and I glanced over my shoulder and almost jumped out my skin, "Noah," I said, eyes wide. He'd been standing right behind me which convinced everyone to move.

His eyes scrunched for a second then something seemed to click, "Why'd you call me that?"

"It's your name?"

"Everyone just calls me Puck," he shoved his hands in his pockets.

I felt my skin starting to burn, "I'm just used to using first names. I'll use Puck if you prefer," Before the library Noah made me feel scared now it was more like a nervous feeling. I just really didn't want to mess up. Especially after his last answer that was way deeper than I expected I didn't want him to think I was judging him. I guess I kind of had...

"It's um fine I guess," He said, "Look um Rachel's organised some song thing for this piano thing. If you still need pictures you can come and um get them,"

"Yeah that'd be great," I smiled. Honestly, the way my teacher droned on and on about photography and journalism was beginning to worry me but if I got a shot of a performance I wouldn't have to worry.

"Cool um gives me your number and ill text you when and where," The way he grinned made me a bit nervous. He rolled his eyes "I'm not going to do anything with your number," My face went red as I pulled out my phone because does anyone actually know their own number. The looks people gave us didn't help. "I'll text you. Later (Y/N),"

Seemingly true to his word he didn't do anything to me. No prank calls, no extra telemarketers, no weird texts. Just a time and location.

I was a little late as I walked into the auditorium, but I quickly realised the song. They were performing 'You Can't Stop the Beat' in bright purple clothes. They were just going into the chorus when I grabbed my camera.

Since there was no one else there I was able to get a shot from almost every angle. As I was snapping pics, I realised I couldn't see Puck. I felt...disappointed? I'd decided to try to get a closer shot so climbed up onto the side of the stage, making sure to stand back. I was lining up a shot when I happened to glance at the band.

Puck was playing the guitar at the back of the stage. You could barely even see his face. I quickly snapped a couple shots. When I saw his head turn, I darted off the stage. The song just finished, and I got the last couple shots.

They all seemed to be out of breath, fair enough, and Rachel started clapping, "We did its guys," Santana rolled her eyes and everyone else ignored her.

Finn jumped off the stage and walked up to me as I was looking at the photos. "Sorry I couldn't make it to the library. Was Puck alright? Did you get all your questions?"

"Yeah, it went great. I was typing it up last night. I think it's gonna be good," I said truthfully. I wasn't too confident normally, but I was proud of my work. Now I had the photos. "I should probably thank Rachel,"

"What for?" Finn asked.

"Puck told me she said I could come to take photos of this," I said. Maybe she hadn't mentioned it?

"Uh, Rachel never said that," My face scrunched up, "Not that you're not allowed too," Finn said quickly "You are but Rachel never invited you,"

"Oh, I um just assumed," I said.

Before I could say anything, else someone ran over, "Oh photos. can I see?" It was a lanky pale boy I think is called Kyle or Karl or something.

"Yeah sure," I brought up some photos and a mini crowd formed as they all tried to spot themselves.

Luckily the crowd started to die down, "You know you got some really good shots," Rachel said, "I can't wait for the article. You've got so many good pictures I can't wait to see which one you chose,"

I didn't know what to say so just smiled awkwardly. Rachel wandered away with Finn and thankfully it was over. The room was basically empty apart from the band packing the stuff up.

Puck had his guitar in a case and walked over to me, "Your pictures work out?"

"Yeah um they did. Thanks for telling me," I said.

"Well, I figured Rachel and you know would um like them," Since when did Puck trip over his words? "Text me when your articles out,"

"Of course," I smiled. He gave a quick, but still awkward, smile, before walking away, muttering under his breath.

I was able to finish my article over the weekend and brought it in ready for Monday. Puck hadn't texted me. I didn't expect him too but as I went to text him that I was handing it in I couldn't help feeling a little bad. As I walked into the school, I passed him though. I wasn't a 'smile at people I kinda know to say hello' person but as I passed Puck, I mentally prepared myself and smiled. He smiled back quickly before going back to his friends who hadn't noticed.

There was a faint smile on my lips as I walked into journalism. It quickly vanished when Aaron walked up to me. "You finish?"

"Yeah um I- "

"Give it," He rolled his eyes. My hands quickly rummaged through my bag and every second felt like an eternity. As soon as I pulled it out, he grabbed it out of my hands. I cringed as I saw the paper crease. He grunted something before walking up to the teacher's desk and dumping it down like it was nothing. I took my seat and sulked for the rest of class.

The day didn't get better but at least it didn't get worse. My friends let me rant about Aaron during lunch so that was good. Towards the end of lunch, my friends all had to head off to a class early since their teacher was anal about timeliness.

I went to my locker to get some stuff to study for my next period which thankfully was a free. I'd just opened my locker door when it was slammed shut. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I-uh- "

"You didn't put my name on it!" He was holding a copy of the article id written. I was basically cornered against my locker as he held the paper up in my face "You had one job and you could even do that right,"

"It's not my fault," I said meekly, instantly regretting it.

"Oh yeah?" He said, moving back a bit, "Well this is mine," When I saw the slushie in his other hand I screwed my eyes shut. I hadn't been slushied before, more unnoticeable than unlikeable, and expected the cold to wash over me.

"Hey!" Was followed by a thud and feet scuffing the floor. I opened my eyes to see Puck pushing Aaron into the locker beside me, "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Back off singer boy," Aaron spat.

Puck grabbed his collar and lifted him up against the locker, "What did you call me? Huh?" Aaron went white. Puck let him go and shoved him again, "I asked you a question!"

"Noah calm down!" I tried to keep my voice low as a crowd started to form.

"No, I wanna know what he called me," Puck glared daggers into him. Now I don't like Aaron, but I also enjoy not having a school record.

"I-I didn't say, anything, man," Aaron said.

"Noah please," I walked right up behind him, "Walk away,"

Puck glared at him before turning around to storm away. I didn't know whether to follow. Then Aaron turned to his friends, "Look at him walk away,"

"What did you just say?" Puck was back.

"Noah!" My voice was sharp. I grabbed his arm and tried to drag him away. There was no way I could force him to do anything, but he let me lead him away.

I kept walking, leading him, till there was no crowd. I pulled him into the empty glee room. "What the hell were you doing?!" I asked.

"He was going to slushy you," Puck said as if I asked why he didn't kick a puppy, "What did you want me to do?"

"Not start a fight and make this worse? Embarrass me?" I almost yelled. I steadied my breathing, "Why do you think people judge you when you always jump at people at any second?" I said before thinking.

His face fell but was replaced by anger, "That isn't fair. I was defending you,"

"You scare me!" My eyes were getting watering and my heart was beating, "Puck you used to terrify me. I would walk the other way encase you decided to throw me or my friends in a bin,"

"I'm not like that- "He tried to say.

"You did it to that boy in glee every day. He was known as bin boy for crying out loud. If you keep getting into fights out in the real world, you'll end up in jail- "

"That isn't fair!" He yelled. I wasn't frightened. My breathing was ragged, and I wanted to cry but I wasn't scared of him. "You don't get it," Puck's voice was almost a whisper. "It doesn't matter what I do people assume the worst. Everyone thinks I'll turn out like my dad. I want to make something of myself, but people won't let me,"

"Because you prove them right," I snap, "Every fight, every insult, every detention, you prove them right. People who make someone of themselves do it because they work despite the judgement not because of it. Think about what you want not what they think,"

"So, I was supposed to let him slushy you?"

"Why does it matter to you?"

"Because you didn't deserve it. Because I like you!" Pucks neck was going red and he began pacing, "Because your nice and you work hard and you don't get angry and you don't judge me and you-you," His breathing was getting faster.

"Noah!" I say. He pauses, "You need to calm down."

"How am I supposed to calm down? He was about to slushy you?"

"Noah every time you act out, they win," I walk up to him, he doesn't move, "It's your turn to win. Calm down, do your homework, make something of yourself. Where do you think he's gonna be in 5 years? Probably working a minimum wage job with three kids figuring out all the ways to avoid child support. If you don't want to turn out like your dad you need to work for it," I said, "You gotta start somewhere,"

"I don't know-how," He walks over to the nearest chair and drops onto it.

Sighing, I walk over and sit next to him, "Breath. Noah, you need to breathe," He doesn't look up. I place a hand on his shoulder, and he looks up, "Every time you get mad take a breather. Take a breather then decide. I know you were trying to do something good, but you need to take a second when this happens,"

"What if I make the wrong decision though? What then?"

"Try again," I said. "No one's perfect. Not every choice is a bad one,"

"Yeah well, I don't exactly have a great track record for doing the right thing,"

"And I don't have a great track record for doing the brave thing," I said, "I play everything safe. I'd never be able to stand up for myself let alone someone else. You wouldn't have stood up for me if you didn't care, you wouldn't have taken Finn's place if you weren't a good friend. Face its Puck, you have a heart,"

He rolls his eyes, "Prove it," I crack a smile at his words.

"Well I mean you did kinda say you like me," I mumbled, taking my hand off his shoulder.

"I did didn't I," He sighed, "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. Defiantly not scared,"

"I'm not scared," I cut in. Noah rolls his eyes, "Maybe of Puck but not Noah. Noah's nice,"

Noah turns to face me, "I mean what I said. I don't typically ask it like this but (Y/N) will you go on a date with me?"

"With Noah? Definitely."

#glee imagine #glee #glee ships #puck glee #glee puck #noah puckerman #puck #noah puckerman imagine #puckerman imagine #glee puckerman #noah puckerman x reader

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sweetdreamsjeff · 5 years

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LAST GOODBYE the lost Jeff Buckley interview

One of the most revealing – and spine-chilling – interviews of Jeff Buckley’s short life was conducted for a fanzine with a small readership. Phil Smith resurrects it here, with thanks to Andrew Truth for the interview and extensive contributions

In 1995, fanzine journalism was giving the established music press a run for its money. Andrew Truth had been producing Plane Truth since 1988 but issue 15 (circulation: 500) was to be his last. It had interviews with the usual unusual selection of bands, some fondly remembered and some largely forgotten.

Lurking at the back of the fanzine was an encounter with Jeff Buckley, son of Tim and on the way to becoming a legend in his own right. Andrew had conducted the interview on 3 September 1994, before Buckley’s show at what was then The Hop & Grape (now part of Manchester Academy). Buckley had only just released Grace and started touring with a full band, which Andrew remembers him enthusing about. The album was yet to slow-burn its way into the hearts of millions. He had been recording a Mark Radcliffe session and playing Reading Festival and likened the part he played at the latter to being “a circus performer”. He was about to leave for the continent for further dates. His father’s reputation preceded him and for that reason, Andrew steered away from questions about family. They got on like a house on fire, Buckley rambling excitedly about his favourite music, playing live, his choice of cover versions, songwriting and immortality.

Buckley introduced himself by impulsively diving onto Andrew’s cafeteria table. He launched unprompted and with a distant air into part of one of his favourite interview topics, a solo LP by Deep Purple’s Jon Lord, as if transmitting thoughts from a superior galaxy and with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He dabbed sandalwood oil behind his ear while mimicking a cockney accent and singing jauntily: “‘Now we’ve made it, I’d like to do my orchestral piece called Gemini Suite about the signs of the zodiac.’ [Lord’s LP is] Great! It’s partly Bonanza, partly every horrible cliché. Like in Warner Brothers cartoons, Bugs Bunny music. It’s the funniest shit alive, all that 70s stuff. I can’t listen to it for long [though]. There’s a difference between indulgence and exploration.”

It had been Buckley’s questing approach in addition to his poetic soul and natural vocal talent that had drawn Andrew towards him at this early stage in his international career. Buckley settled into the interview, describing his nomadic upbringing as “a preparation and a curse, but everyone’s childhood is. It’s made it easier [for me to tour]. You’re the stranger constantly. People will find occasions where they’re readily accepted but other times, equally [the] weight of hostility comes towards you for no reason at all. I still attract the same things from childhood. People come to the shows and either run away screaming or really like it.”

Andrew expressed his contempt for middle-ground mediocrity in music. Buckley was more nuanced in his response, describing its fleeting effect: “Nothing [from the middle ground] comes to mind, that is ’cos I’ve forgotten it already. I’ve forgotten the effect and which art it was that gave me the effect. Either you remember Bob Dylan or you remember Michael Bolton.” Bolton was another Buckley interview hobby horse and appears to have been the bane of his life, and he was arguably a collective figure of hate for all alternative music fans at the time.

At the gig, Andrew described Buckley as bouncing about in a style that induced cries of “Kangaroo!”, his face dramatic and furrowed in anguish, seeming to curse injustices with disbelief. “People project tremendous amounts of personal low self-esteem and high self-esteem upon the stage, in equal parts sometimes. That’s the catharsis of going to a live show. If the performer is right, this is very co-dependent, but people go there to unload. There is this loud person who has come to a few of my gigs and her friends insist that she’s a very nice person but she can’t help but shout at me up on the stage. It’s something I just accept. It’s not like when Murphy’s Law played at The Plaza and four or five fights erupted within the space of 46 minutes. I don’t look out to see whether I’m connecting because it’s not up to me. I look out to see where the music should go. If the crowd is hot because their skin is hot due to the temperature, the set will be different. Or if it’s very cold outside and still, I’ll want to be the fireplace as best I can though sometimes I can’t accomplish it. I’m aware of the energy in the room. Moods and music fly about of their own will and they have no order and you can be either open or closed to them and that’s how the gig will go. Either from the stage or the audience, people open to emotions, movement, stories, feeling and dancing.”

Andrew asked Buckley about the unusually high number of cover versions on his first couple of releases. “It’s usually everything about [the song that attracts me], not just one thing. It’s different in the case of [Van Morrison’s] The Way Young Lovers Do. That came about because my friend Michael, who eventually joined the band, had a dream about me and him singing [it]. On a whim, I got it together and performed it one night. Then it became something else because the tempo I liked, the feel of it; the words and the song got into me. Any time I take a cover and wear it on my sleeve, it’s because it had something to do with my life and still marks a time in my life when I needed that song more than anything ever.”

Andrew expressed some shock at how good a rescue job Buckley had done with his Lilac Wine cover, as he previously disliked the Elkie Brooks version. Buckley said: “The version I’ve heard is Nina Simone’s. I’m not even sure who Elkie Brooks is. I don’t think it’s always a fair decision to have homogeneity for its own sake. I think that human beings contain many people… I do believe that there’s this one soul that lies directly through Edith Piaf and the Sex Pistols, I really know that exists: Joni Mitchell and John Cage; Billie Holiday and Bad Brains. An album in itself is a moment and the music may require for me to make an album that’s totally homogenised but not as a rule. It’s good to be varied because without knowing what sides there are to you, knowing your depths, you pretty much die. You never change and you stay in the same unbeatable format but, sooner or later, you become obsolete.”

Failure to evolve is to stymie yourself, suggested Andrew.

“That’s true. I’m not even that concerned with changing,” Jeff replied. “Just with discovery, because through discovering you may stay on one thing for a long time. Just evolving is important. Deliberately changing all the time is like making off with somebody who must change position in order to get into every [sexual] position and you never get anything started. ‘Would you please keep still, throw away the Kama Sutra and love my ass!’”

Buckley confessed to a couple of songs to which he would feel unable to add anything: “Parchment Farm Blues by Bukka White and Well I Wonder by The Smiths because I always end up doing it exactly like Morrissey does. The impetus for having covers was necessity. In the middle of a show taking people into a world that was completely my world, ‘boom’, right over there we’re into I Know It’s Over from The Queen Is Dead.”

In a segment of the interview which Andrew admits makes him a little queasy now, he picked up on Buckley’s Eternal Life and asked him if he desired immortality. Tim Buckley died young of a heroin overdose and his son was to tragically drown in 1997, only a few years after the Plane Truth interview.

“It is possible and it happens all the time, but just not in the way you want or expect it,” Buckley Jr said. “Beyond death, I know nothing but in human life… some people have a love for people around them that is so powerful and carries so many gifts with it that even when they die, people are still accomplishing things through this person’s love in them, because this person said, ‘I see you’re a writer. I see this postcard here and you’re killing me in this, you’re a great writer.’ And he’s saying, ‘I never thought about writing before. ‘But anyway, you’re a great writer and this is a great piece of work. I don’t even want to touch War And Peace, this is it,’ and, ‘boom’, he gets hit by a car and this person goes on to be a great writer or remembers that belief, against his own hope. It’s very strange, in that way, he’ll become immortal, he’ll always be remembered. He’ll be alive in people’s hearts, inside people.

“Then there’s books, records, movies, images. Here’s immortality in a nutshell: Marilyn Monroe, James Dean. They’re all around you but they don’t exist. That’s immortality in my cynical world. That’s Tinsel Town immortality, which is bullshit. They’ve lost immortality because they’ve lost their appearance as mortals. They’re symbols, gods, tools and puppets for people. There’s a fine line between being a god and a puppet...The Bible is used as a puppet and it’s untouchable and sacred but people use it as a pair of roller-skates or joke toilet paper with a psalm on every sheet. Being mortal and rooted in the earth is a very excruciating joy and not a lot of people can take it. Sometimes they just want to be famous, with no substance underneath, no work, no reason. To be famous and known and loved. They think it’s being loved but it’s just being worshipped and idolised and that’s not even being understood. It’s not even in the ballpark. It’s better to have people around you who understand you and when you come up to people in the street and talk about bagels and talk about the game, to have that connection there, it’s very important to me.

“If I wanted to be famous, I’d assassinate the President. There’s no life in it. There’s nothing wrong with being famous for something you do well or uniquely like if I invented the cure for AIDS, I wouldn’t mind being very famous. It’d be a great achievement. Or if I wrote a song that everyone loved, I wouldn’t mind that. It wouldn’t mean everything. That wouldn’t be the object or I’d be a junkie for fame, ‘I wasn’t famous for my orange juice song. It’s a great song but nobody likes it! I must suck!’ I have to be attuned to that and must have an everlasting relationship with this particular thing that there’s a public and then there’s me. At any given time, I am the public and Evan Dando [Lemonheads] is him and I understand that exchange. It’s a very strange arena and lots of people get thrown to the lions. Lots of people come away victorious for a time but then they’re out of the arena, that’s the end of it.”

Andrew ended the interview by asking about whether Buckley regularly wrote songs based on dreams, as Mojo Pin had been. “Dreaming, both waking and asleep, [is] a reservoir of mine. The thing is, there’s no difference for me between dream states and living. They both carry truth to them. I can read them both. I feel things in my dreams and I feel all the things that human beings’ lives bring them, except sometimes there are purple monsters or a chocolate dog trying to wake you up, but it’s still all very valid to me and I read situations in waking hours just like I read them in my sleeping hours, my sleeping hour, my lack of sleep world.”

#Jeff Buckley #LAST GOODBYE the lost Jeff Buckley interview #phil smith #andrew truth #lost interview

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carolynpetit · 5 years

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Reason to Play, a Journal--Entry One: Fortnite, MGSV, and Finding Ourselves in the Act of Play

Hi.

This is the first entry in what I hope will be an ongoing journal of play. I wanted to start by explaining my thinking behind this project.

Right now, I’m looking for a reason to play. I’m always wary of games that seem to offer nothing beyond a mildly pleasant occupation of my time, and right now, I find such games downright inadequate. Unworthy. These are horrifying times, and yet, like so many of us, I find myself exhausted by it all. Unable to maintain the levels of rage and resistance that the actions of the current administration demand. I see it all becoming normalized and I feel powerless to stop it. And as the days and weeks and months go by, I feel as if this numbness accrues. I become increasingly detached, not just from the horrors of the moment but from myself. I start to wonder where the person I believed myself to be has gone.

I believe that art is most vital in times like this. I love this quote from Kafka:

“I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound or stab us. If the book we're reading doesn't wake us up with a blow to the head, what are we reading for?...We need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us. That is my belief.”

If a game isn’t going to be the axe for the frozen sea inside me, if it isn’t going to cut through the numbness, shake me up, break my heart, fuck me up, do something to rehumanize me, it is not worthy of this moment.

But I might find what I’m looking for anywhere. I’m not talking just about games that explicitly comment on fascism or racial injustice or economic inequality. Yes, I think it’s essential that we have art, including games, that confronts these things directly, but it’s also true that a game can have the noblest aims and leave me cold, while a throwaway moment in a big-budget mainstream game of the sort that certain gamers like to call “apolitical” can crack my heart wide open.

Like most of my writing about games, this journal will be a place where I fully embrace the subjectivity of my own experience with the games that I play.

Okay. Here we go.

Testin’ My Mind, Shakin’ My Body in Fortnite

Yeah, okay, Fortnite’s a Battle Royale. That’s just a fact. If you’re playing solo, which I almost always am--I’m uncomfortable teaming up with random players, though on occasion I’ll play duos with a friend, which makes for a completely different, really exciting dynamic--you drop onto the island with close to a hundred other players, and the way you win is by being the last player standing. Now, I encourage conversations about the violence inherent to the format, as well as about all the other aspects of Fortnite that people rightly raise concerns about--the way in which it’s monetized, Epic’s pattern of repeatedly profiting off of dances associated with artists and communities of color without compensating the artists or communities that created them. All of it. But if we’re gonna go to the mat with Fortnite on these aspects (and we should), let’s also at least have a full, multifaceted conversation about why we play Fortnite, how it feels, and the moments that can emerge from a fully invested experience of the game.

Did you know that earlier this year, a massive beast that had been frozen in ice under Polar Peak broke free, that huge footprints showed it had made its way to the sea, where it’s occasionally been spotted, roaming the waters around the island? Did you know that right now, a towering robot is being built in the remnants of the volcano? It seems inevitable that soon, a massive Pacific Rim-style fight between them will take place, almost certainly resulting in a new wave of major changes to the island. Indeed, the island is always a place in flux, changing in big and small ways. It’s alive in ways that I’ve always wanted my game worlds to be alive. Landing near Loot Lake a few weeks ago, I was excited to see that the massive power cable that runs through the area was shredded and sparking, as if perhaps the monster had taken a bite.

But the life of the environment wouldn’t mean much if it weren’t for my encounters with the lives of other players. The other day, I was trying to complete a challenge that required me to get a certain score on a balloon board at one of the numerous little beach party setups that currently dot the map. Jumping from the bus, I swooped down to a spot in the desert, opened a chest, grabbed the weapon, and made my way over to the nearby board. Another player got there just before me, and I stood still, hoping to indicate that I didn’t want to stop them from completing the challenge. They froze for a moment, but then proceeded, and when they hit the necessary score, a little celebratory explosion of confetti occurred, and I got credit for the challenge, too.

Basking in the glow of our shared little moment, I wanted to walk away then, wishing them nothing but the best in the match ahead. But then they took a shot at me. In that instant, a sinking feeling ran through my whole body, a physical expression of “Aw, why’d you have to go and do that?” and in an instant, I obliterated them. It wasn’t a victory. It was more like putting someone down. I didn’t feel good about it, but it sure was a real feeling. Something surprising and immediate that emerged from my encounter with another living person. And that’s what I’m here for.

Yes, Fortnite is a Battle Royale, but so much of the experience of Fortnite is about unexpected occurrences like this, and about the things we do in the stolen moments between the shootouts and build battles. The other day, I got so caught up in playing a silly memory game I stumbled upon that I wound up getting caught in the storm. Not long before that, I danced with John Wick to raise a disco ball in an abandoned lair so we could snag a fortbyte, one of this season’s collectibles. These are the things I really remember, not my win-loss ratio or all the times I’m eliminated by players much better than I am before I quickly hit play and hop on the battle bus all over again.

I’m eager to return to the island because the island itself feels vibrant and alive, emanating a kind of Spielbergian Americana and optimism, but also because of the vigorous bodies and exuberant identities I get to inhabit while I’m there. The mix-and-match nature of Fortnite’s customization means that one round I might be a sprightly female wizard with a sleek laptop on her back, and the next a nerdy, purple-haired gamer girl with a satchel full of potions and spellbooks. “Fun” may be overemphasized in some of our conversations around games, but it certainly has its place, and playing as these colorful characters, well, it’s just fun.

Every character in Fortnite plays exactly the same, but they don’t all feel the same to me. I just unlocked a black variant of the character Sentinel, a robot or power suit that looks like it might have appeared on Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers, and I think it looks kinda cool, but I sure don’t want to be it. On the other hand, playing as Elmira (pictured above) feels good. And oh, do I love the way that some emotes make me feel. Tweeting recently about an emote called the Laid Back Shuffle, I wrote:

I’m almost always pretty uncomfortable in my body, for a number of reasons related to my appearance and my transness and things. The easygoing physical exuberance of this emote, the way that the avatar performing it, whatever avatar that might be at any given moment, appears to feel so loose and free in their own body, makes it really appealing to me, like a virtual experience/expression of a sensation that I’ve never known IRL. I think emotes have some kind of power beyond whatever power we often think of them having, perhaps particularly for those of us who never really feel comfortable in our own skin.

And all the kids playing Fortnite that we’re so worried about, let’s remember that their experience of this game isn’t as simple as just trying to slaughter everyone else on the island. Setting aside whatever value there may be in the particular type of complex thinking and skill-building that it requires to try to simultaneously outbuild and outgun your opponent, there’s also the fact that they, too, are experiencing the life of Fortnite’s island, having encounters with other players that play out in unexpected ways, and experimenting with self-expression. Yes, their opportunities for that exploration and expression are gated by money, and that’s a real issue, but that doesn’t change the fact that a young person finding that they feel particularly cool when playing as a woman in red with a bionic arm is valid, and maybe even valuable.

II. MGSV and What I Know Is True

I set The Phantom Pain aside for a few years after hitting a mission that I found maddeningly difficult, but something called me back to it. Now I’ve powered through the mission that gave me so much trouble, and I’m making progress again. I enjoy the geographical roughness of its environments, and the way you really have to deal with that roughness, often lying flat and crawling along the ground. The truth is that I spend far too much time alone in my apartment, and though it’s no substitute at all for the real, natural world, when I take my time being rooted in one spot to scout out locations and tag enemies before making any dangerous moves, I feel the shape of the space around me in a way that I rarely do in games.

The other day I fought a grueling boss battle and then, finally, when it was over, hopped onto the helicopter to return to base, exhausted by the ordeal. Just as we were about to lift off, Quiet hopped on, hanging off of the side of the chopper as the rotors above her head spun faster until we lurched up and away from the ground. She held my gaze the whole time. I think a lot of games look at the player too much. They want you to feel like the center of the universe, the only person who really matters. But that wasn’t the feeling I got from this moment. I’d just fought for my life, and the way she looked at me, without malice or sympathy for what I’d just been through or anything, made me feel like I was being sized up. Looked at in a real way. Seen.

Do you know that feeling--Does this happen to everyone or just me?--that feeling where, for a moment, your awareness kind of spreads beyond yourself and you’re suddenly very aware that what you’re experiencing is something real that is happening in physical, three-dimensional space at this exact moment in time? It’s a feeling I get sometimes when I’m in a moment that I wish I could make last, or that I really want to remember. Sharing a last drink with a friend before they move away, that sort of thing. This feeling of momentarily being very much rooted in myself but also outside of myself and acknowledging, This is real. This is something that happened. That moment where Quiet was looking at me in the wake of the momentous battle I’d just fought felt something like that.

It didn’t happen in real, physical space, but virtual space is a valid space, too, a space where real things happen. Sometimes when I’m playing Fortnite I’ll see the hillside where a friend and I once sped away from attackers on a Quadcrasher, bullets whizzing past our heads, and I’ll think, We were there. That happened. These moments become part of my relationship with the ever-changing island, just as my memories of San Francisco become part of my relationship with the city.

On another recent mission, I was sneaking my way through an enemy outpost when, from a nearby building, I heard the familiar sounds of Spandau Ballet’s “True.” To be honest, I never liked “True” much. The Phantom Pain takes place in 1984, and as a kid in the suburbs of Chicago in that year who sometimes saw the video on MTV, the song felt too airy and ethereal to move me. But recontextualized in The Phantom Pain, I heard it differently. That precise ethereal quality made it such an effective contrast to the grim military seriousness and the tactile terrain that my heart began to ache.

The presence of 80s pop songs in the isolated military outposts of the game is politically fascinating to me. It says something about how American and British cultural exports are absorbed by the entire world, but it’s largely a one-way street. A Pakistani friend of mine in high school had grown up with Sting, Bruce Springsteen, Elvis, but I’d never heard Pakistani music in my life. I don’t understand why so many players are so intent on not considering all the political dimensions of a game like this. They only make the experience infinitely more fascinating, even if and when they reveal the game’s failures.

The songs also allow for the creation of some great moments. I snuck into the building where the song was playing just so I could snag the tape, and the next time I was in the helicopter, I played it, and as the opening notes of “True” played, I panned the camera slowly around Big Boss, creating a very short music video that I honestly found exciting.

I tweeted the clip, jokingly commenting that I’d “won Metal Gear Solid V by creating this beautiful moment,” but it had really felt this way to me. Creating this moment had been as fun and rewarding to me as anything else the game offered. Playing MGSV isn’t just sneaking and shooting, or at least for me it isn’t. This, too, is play. So obviously, I get frustrated with the “Git Gud” players, those who feel that games are at their best when they’re perfectly calibrated tests of raw skill, that the only thing that matters is having an awesome KDR, or earning the highest possible rating on missions, or whatever.

But the truth is that it’s not just hardcore gamers who set limits on our notions of play by talking about games like this. A lot of us do it, even a lot of us who consider ourselves emphatically opposed to the “Git Gud’ brigade. We do it when we look at a game like Fortnite and see it only as one simple thing, a struggle to be the last remaining survivor, without at least acknowledging all the other things a player might go to the game for. We do it when we deny the possibility for moments of strange beauty to emerge from even a grim, ugly, grossly misogynistic game like MGSV. We do it whenever we, ourselves, adopt a limited, conventional understanding of what it means to really play a game, rather than fully engaging with all the different ways that we can find ourselves and each other in the spaces that games create.

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I’m currently looking for work. If you enjoy my writing and are in a position to do so, please consider supporting me on ko-fi.

#MGSV #Fortnite #Reason to Play

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flyingthehedge · 5 years

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5 Unsuspecting Tools of the Hedgewitch

Witchcraft has its own set of "tools" or magical objects that are often employed during spells and rituals, including brooms/besom, wands, athames, chalices, etc, to enhance the magic performed. Lists of these tools are found in every book on witchcraft or Wicca, a flood of blog posts, and a large number of Pinterest boards. However, there are many tools witches often use that are not talked about. Here are 5 unsuspecting or little talked about tools of the hedgewitch, tools I commonly use every day in my practice.

1. Poetry. This is a pretty big one for me. First, poetry offers us melodic ways to cast our spells. They teach us how to organize and memorize spells in an easy yet beautiful format. Poetry is extremely easy to memorize, just like a song, which is why so many witches create rhyming spells or spells with iambic pentameter. You don't always want to carry your Grimoire or BOS into a ritual and it's much more powerful to have a spell memorized so you can speak it with conviction during your spell or ritual. Furthermore, poetry offers us some amazing magical correspondences. For example, my favorite poem is The Poison Tree by William Blake. Because of this poem, I associate apples with revenge and death. Another favorite of mine is The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. For me, the albatross represents innocence, patience, and purity. The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe is also a favorite of mine and as a result, I associate ravens with death, remorse, and lost love. Whatever the poem, you're going to find some pretty powerful correspondences that speak to you as well as an understanding of how to construct your spells if you use and read poetry.

2. Science. This may seem out of place for some of you. How in the world can magic and science coexist? Thankfully, the Hermetic Principles do a pretty good job of explaining the connection between science and magic, which has been covered numerous times, including by myself. Either way, magic works within the confines of our physical world, so understanding physics and chemistry will give you a pretty good understanding of energy, motion, and ingredient reactions. You construct better spells and perform stronger magic when you grasp scientific principles. Furthermore, science offers us a slew of correspondences. Garlic, for example, is well known in the medical community for being antibacterial and antiviral. In the magical community, we associate this with protection because garlic literally protects you from infections! Water is a know purifier, hence why we associate it with purification and renewal, while certain flowers are the first to grow in spring, making them associated with rebirth. Lions represent strength because physically they are strong, being able to take down prey larger than themselves, such as the water buffalo. Science offers us a greater understanding of our world and therefore a better understanding of the magic we perform. The two cannot be separated, and they shouldn't be. If you have to ignore science to perform magic, you may not be doing anything other than lying to yourself. Many of the correspondences you read in a book are based on science, and it's important you know WHY the correspondences exist if you are going to use them or write your own.

3. Tackle Boxes. Alright, so moving away from literature to more practical everyday objects. I have a lot of tackle boxes. I mean...like 4 or 5. I use them to organize crystals, herbs, and other smaller magical objects I collect, like acorns, petals, insect parts, and feathers. This is a valuable organizational tool for witches, so utilize them. You can purchase some at Dollar Tree, Walmart, or Amazon for next to nothing. In Dollar Tree, they tend to be sold near craft items and school supplies, although you may need to check with a store associate. You don't need "witchy" bottles or chests to organize your supplies. Modern tackle boxes are just as useful.

4. Scrapbook Supplies. I freaking love scrapbooking supplies, and I mean LOVE them. I had to stop going to craft stores because I was buying scrapbooking supplies faster than I could use them. I used to be super into scrapbooking. Now I am super into using my scrapbooking supplies for magical purposes. I use the papers to write spells, using colored papers or patterned papers to enhance the magic. For example, I use green paper for money spells, while rose floral papers get used in love spells. Furthermore, scrapbooking supplies are an excellent way to work with your Grimoire or BOS. You can decorate pages with papers, stickers, stamps, and so much more. Go wild and crazy! Seriously! I find it boring to spend time just writing and drawing. I plan on including many more pages in my Grimoire in the future that incorporate the supplies I already have. It is a great way to fill your magical book with your own power and personal creativity.

5. Calendars. I talked about all my calendars in one of my first posts of the year, so it shouldn't be a surprise they made this list too. From almanacs to personal planners, calendars play a role in helping us keep track of astrological events, major holidays, and our personal lives. They allow us to better plan spells by allowing us to work with the moon cycle, days of the week, or times during the day. Calendars also allow us to plan future spell work so we have everything we need when the time comes. If you are planning an elaborate ritual, you are going to need to set apart time to write the ritual and purchase any items you may not have. I also keep track of my goals, blog posts, hedge riding dates, and sometimes even my dreams. I make constant little notes off to the side in all my planners/calendars. It can be something as simple as how I'm feeling or more complex, like a premonition or omen or synchronicity. Keeping a calendar is like keeping a journal, at least for me. Mine is an integral part of my magic practice, and it should probably play a role in your magic as well.

So there you have it! Some may be unfamiliar or shocking, while others you may already be using. Help me add to the list. What are some unsuspecting or little mentioned tools you use in your magical practice?

#hedge witch #hedgewitch #witchcraft tools #tools of the witch #witch #pagan #neopagan #occult #wicca #wiccan #ritual tools #witchy #spell #magick #magic #ritual #witches of tumblr #pagans of tumblr #witchblur

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hopevalley · 5 years

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Hi everyone! I hope you’re ready for another Tumblr Special™.

Let’s talk about some stuff that’s been on my mind lately.

I’ve been working on my pet project, When Calls the Heart: Reimagined, and my bud @trash-god has assured me that the current first draft isn’t complete garbage, but the discussion we had eventually led to talking about Mark Humphrey and then character-related stuff and as usual I couldn’t shut up.

Before that, I just wanted to drop the update about Reimagined. I don’t know if that’ll be its actual title or not. It’s hard to title a novelization. On one hand you have the option to title it the same as the show, but it’s not the show, so then you’re kind of stuck feeling like you have to come up with something at least slightly different, but it’s still also technically fanfic, and—

Yeah. There’s also the potential for something like this to really blow up in a big way, at least word-wise, so that makes a title even more important. I’ll definitely be out there barking my wares like a peddler on the street, but like...here on Tumblr and especially on Instagram where there are a ton of fans. Twitter too, probably. Considering I have to type this five billion times across social media to try and garner some attention (and hopefully feedback) for it, I’d rather not be embarrassed by the title, or turn people away from it because they think it’s a regular fanfic and not a novelization of the show.

Which leaves me with very few options.

When Calls the Heart: The Novelization

When Calls the Heart: Reimagined

Some other title with a subtitle of “A When Calls the Heart Novelization”

It sounds simple but it’s not. “The Novelization” makes it sound like it’s following the show super precisely. “Reimagined” makes it sound as if it deviates in a big way. Something else could just be too much to type but at least it implies it’s an interpretation. What if this ends up getting absolutely huge and needs to be split up into parts, though? That makes it more difficult.

I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ve made it about five minutes into the first episode, time-wise, and have four thousand some odd words. It’s not even a complete chapter—more like an introduction and the beginning of the first chapter.

But something I noticed in those first five minutes of the television series is that...everything is so incredibly rushed. The pacing is awful. I think I might have talked about this a bit in my ‘episode write-up’ of the first episode, but even though it works well enough for this series (especially considering its S1 budget and everything) it would all be terrible for a narrative choice.

I mean, sure, the first chapter could start with Elizabeth on her journey thinkin’ ‘bout where she’s going, ruminating on her own hubris, and then BANDITS. Cut out and back in to her arriving in town without much of an explanation or showing how she personally handled the whole bandit thing. Then have Abigail, Cat, and Florence steamroll the heck out of her while the narrative laughs at rich, silly Elizabeth who isn’t afraid of hard work but is scared of a mouse.

But that isn’t what I want. Elizabeth as a character, especially the introductory character we’re going to get to know and love over the course of hundreds of thousands of words (in theory, of course), deserves better than that. The narrative cluster from the TV show served its purpose; it flung us right into the thick of things. Which is fine for TV and less fine for what would essentially be a book.

Again, don’t get me wrong, but I want Elizabeth to be the kind of character we don’t know everything about right away. I don’t want to spill every detail of her life right from the get-go. I don’t want her to come off as too obviously rich, especially in her own narrative. I want her observations and mannerisms and attitude to reflect the fact that she comes from money without stating it outright.

I also feel that Elizabeth as a character lacked a lot of attention in the show that, again, worked okay for a tv show, but would be doing her a disservice in a novel. She needs hobbies, passions, random relateable thoughts, habits, joys (especially the quiet kind), and motivation. Not to be That Person, but she needs a personality. As the main character it would just be completely unforgivable to have hundreds of thousands of words dedicated to a character that is dull to read about. Remember, books don’t give us the visually appealing scenes that the TV show does. Elizabeth’s smile, her hair, her fun outfits and hats... Those things can’t distract a reader from the fact that she isn’t a very well-fleshed out or understood character.

It also can’t distract from an insanely rushed narrative.

Tons of people watch WCtH for Erin’s performance of Elizabeth. They won’t be reading this novelization for that reason, because Elizabeth is not Erin.

(Though of course you can imagine her in the role if you want to and most readers will; it’s just not the kind of thing that can carry a book the way it can a piece of visual media.)

Reimagined is, as of right now, just a slight deviation from what we’re used to. Elizabeth has hobbies, interests. She is a passionate teacher who took the position in Coal Valley for Reasons You’ll Read About.

I really liked aspects of the Elizabeth portrayed in the film by Poppy and in the novel by Janette Oke, and some of those tiny things can and will work their way into this version of the story, too. I’m on board with Elizabeth being a writer, but I’m not on board for that being used as journal exposé writing for Narrative Ease and not to really go all-out in showcasing it as something she’s truly and honestly passionate about. If I want to see a movie that did a great job of showcasing a passionate writer, it’s Anne of Green Gables/Anne of Avonlea. Sure, Anne’s flair for flowery writing and drama was embedded into the voiceover bits and had some narrative function, but it was SO clearly a part of WHO SHE WAS that when you thought about who Anne was, you thought, oh, she’s a teacher for her job but she’s a writer at heart—especially when she learns to write from the heart (instead of what she thinks will make her successful).

I don’t expect Elizabeth to be that type of character (she’s far too sensible), but I need her to have a passion. A person doesn’t just take a teaching post in Nowhere Valley, Canada, in 1910 and not have a good reason for it. What drives her? What motivates her? What makes her happy?

And when it comes to writing...what is it about writing that she likes? Enjoys? What’s the best part of it? The worst? I wanted to like Elizabeth’s writing arc because duh, I’m a writer, but it didn’t spark any joy in me because it was just too flat. If you give me half a chance I’ll tell you all the best parts of writing, and the worst, and the most frustrating, and the most rewarding. I’ll talk about character growth and development. I’ll talk about cadence. I’ll talk about self-indulgence.

Elizabeth’s passion for writing existed for one reason: “she writes in her journal for easy skips in the narrative.”

I think she’ll keep her writing passion in Reimagined, but she’ll have other things that matter to her, too, and hopefully if it’s consistently presented it won’t feel like it’s there just to carry a plotline (only for it to disappear afterward).

It’s been fun so far! Elizabeth has been surprisingly nice to write. I won’t lie, though; it’s hard to follow the show enough to make things feel like a novelization while still deviating where it makes sense to. One small example is the conversation that Cat, Abigail, and Florence have with Elizabeth when she gets to town; the TV show didn’t do a bad job with it at all, but when it’s written out exactly the same it feels intensely rushed and out of character/unrealistic. Again, it’s something that got the job done in the TV show, but is nigh unreadable in novel format.

And it’s not the info dumping, either. It’s just the way the characters go about things; it’s not hospitable, it’s not kind, it’s not thoughtful... and we know from later episodes that Abigail is the pinnacle of hospitality and kindness, and Cat isn’t too far behind her! Even Florence isn’t a monster.

So there has been an attempt on my part to twist things slightly, where mayyybe what Florence says that sounds so rude is really just Florence Being Florence (and observing a truth/reality, not always being awful), and where Elizabeth isn’t mocked on top of being doubted, and of course where some concern is shown for her well-being after her stagecoach was robbed and no doubt didn’t show up in town IN THE FIRST PLACE. I mean, how could they NOT know why Elizabeth was late? Being late by a few days or a week was NOTHING back then. It happened ALL THE TIME. (Thanks, weather!)

So yeah! The project is going. I was really getting into writing it last night, and I’d be working on it now, but I’m just too tired to feel useful.

For those wondering about Abigail...she’ll be there. I like the original character and I’ll try to move forward with that person in mind.

But back to the whole thing with Mark and et cetera. It’s really interesting how many WCtH characters got the short end of the stick when it came to character development. They have too many characters for the amount of episodes they get a season, which resulted in like...everyone dating for absurdly long periods of time (that had nothing to do with character-reasons until they felt they had to add that stuff in there to force it to make sense). It wasn’t just Jesse and Clara, either. Obviously Elizabeth and Jack took way too long to get together...and Abigail and Frank dated for literal years and should have had something related to that being..a plot for them. I think it might have been interesting in ways Jesse/Clara can’t be, just because Abigail had a long marriage with Noah and she’s much older than Clara, so she brings all that into a new relationship. Clara’s got different issues and sadnesses to work through.

Obviously it didn’t just result in characters dating for insane lengths of time; it also gave us a lot of just..nothing. This conversation started with Frank, because we were talking about Mark Humphrey, but he’s just one example of a handful. The series focused a LOT more on plot driven stuff than character driven stuff, which makes sense, but look at Frank’s character. He got an arc, and then when it was over, he just kind of became a very backseat background character. We might as well have named him Abigail’s Boyfriend at that point, because he hardly did anything that wasn’t related to Abigail DIRECTLY. He didn’t even really get scenes with Cody, which...c’mon. We deserved those. (The best we got was the Christmas movie where the peddler has his old Bible from prison but that whole thing was...not nearly as good or meaningful as it could have been, and of course IT DIDN’T GO ANYWHERE.)

But then it also happened to Lee, and Jesse, and Clara, and Carson and Faith and—yeah, you get it. I feel like if we had 20 episodes a season this wouldn’t be so bad (each recognizable character could easily get a two part episode plotline), but it’s a symptom of plots > character storytelling. More episodes won’t fix that if they just dump in even more bad plots.

S6 was a large improvement in many areas but they REALLY dropped the ball with Bill overall (easily one of the worst parts of S6 just because he went from being such an involved character to kind of a joke/rag doll that nobody knows how to include in a sensible way) and the children aren’t characters so much as tiny plot devices...that frankly aren’t even particularly interesting.

I’m really looking forward to seeing what they’ll do with S7. I hope it’ll be good! I really want them to get their footing onto solid ground and do the best they’ve ever done. They have something really wonderful and I want to be able to tell people “this series found its way and is worth checking out even if it’s usually not your speed.”

But it’s hard to do that when the characters always end up feeling secondary to the (poorly constructed, not very engaging) plots.

So we’ll see! These are things I can improve upon in Reimagined, but I’d really like the show to do some of that work, too. (Better late than never, right?)

#wcth reimagined #and other shenanigans

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fromdirectorstevenspielberg · 5 years

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“I talked to Steven about this yesterday. I asked him very specifically. What happened is a journalist was onto a story about this and had heard a rumor about Steven. They called a spokesperson to get a comment and honestly, just twisted it around.”

Jeffrey Katzenberg comments on rumours that Spielberg wants to ban Netflix films (and those of other streaming services) from qualifying for the Oscars.

This story has rumbled on for over a week now, and I really hope this draws it to some kind of an end because it’s nothing more than a storm in a teacup. Let’s review the story so far.

Spielberg has indeed spoken about Netflix films, stating that he wants to preserve the theatrical experience and that a film that does not get a theatrical run is a TV movie that should not qualify for the Oscars. Here are those quotes:

“I hope all of us really continue to believe that the greatest contributions we can make as filmmakers is to give audiences the motion picture theatrical experience. I’m a firm believer that movie theatres need to be around forever.”

"Once you commit to a television format, you're a TV movie. You certainly, if it's a good show, deserve an Emmy, but not an Oscar. I don't believe films that are just given token qualifications in a couple of theaters for less than a week should qualify for the Academy Award nomination."

Further to these quotes, Amblin issued a statement (the one Katzenberg refers to), and this can be seen below:

“Steven feels strongly about the difference between the streaming and theatrical situation. He’ll be happy if the others will join [his campaign] when that comes up [at the Academy Board of Governors meeting]. He will see what happens.”

Nowhere in any of those quotes does Spielberg dismiss the quality of Netflix films (he is not using ‘TV movie’ as a pejorative) or argue that there should be a blanket ban on their qualification for an Oscar. The numerous reports that he is stating such things are simply not true and are drawn more from speculation, click-bait headlines and poor journalism than anything that the man himself has said.

What we can draw from these comments is that Spielberg believes that a meaningful exclusive theatrical window should be in place: that to qualify for an Oscar, films should have to play for a certain time in cinemas before they are available on a streaming service. The Hollywood Reporter speculated that this window may be four weeks, but there have been no comments from Spielberg stating that so we can’t be sure that he actually believes it.

Indeed, amongst all the chaos, the real truth of this debate has been lost: we don’t actually know what Spielberg wants to do (if indeed he wants to do anything) with regard to Netflix and Oscar qualification. What we do know is that he does not hate the platform, as some have suggested. He was pictured celebrating with the Roma team after the Oscars and has worked with Netflix in the recent past, both directly (through 2017′s docu-series Five Came Back, which he appears in) and indirectly (through The Haunting of Hill House, which is an Amblin production).

Spielberg’s also been very vocal about his love for TV, a medium which he got his break in and which Amblin continues to work and thrive in to this day.

“I love television. I love the opportunity. Some of the greatest writing being done today is for television, some of the best directing for television, some of the best performances [are] on television today.”

Also lost in the madness is the fact that Spielberg almost took Lincoln to HBO because he didn’t think it would find a big enough audience at cinemas. In a joint interview with George Lucas, the following was stated in The Hollywood Reporter:

"I think eventually the Lincolns will go away and they're going to be on television," Lucas said. "As mine almost was," Spielberg interjected. "This close - ask HBO - this close."

So, what’s to be learned from all this? Not much really. We still don’t know exactly what Spielberg thinks of how streamed films should be dealt with at the Oscars. Perhaps he really does think they should be banned and perhaps he really does dislike Netflix.

But considering his actions, that’d be quite a strange stance to take and nothing he’s said so far suggests he believes it. If there’s anything that can be drawn from this debate, it’s that everyone should wait for clear statements and consider them with clear minds before jumping to conclusions that may not be true.

#Steven Spielberg #Spielberg #Netflix

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juhlcho15-blog · 5 years

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sailor-cresselia · 5 years

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okay so that article on burnout i reblogged immediately before this post.

i started to write a freaking tag essay and realized that was a terrible idea.

so here, have a post under a cut.

(also, like, there’s probably going to be copious swearing because? i’m actually trying to avoid censoring myself for this one? we’ll see.)

The decision paralysis, the concept of ‘not meeting adult-hood landmarks because they don’t exist anymore’, the idea of ‘being one of the more productive people on the work floor is still not enough, because i can’t get things done at home’...

well fuck, i’m in this fucking picture and i don’t fucking like it.

i mean, i suck. i know i suck, and people just get mad at me when i say that. and i’m damn well aware they’re mad at the sentiment and not at me, but since i’m the one thinking the bullshit, then they’re mad at me for it existing. it’s just that they don’t see it that way.

because my brain is dumb, which means i’m dumb.

anxiety fucking sucks, and i’m not even sure if that’s one of the things i was diagnosed with anymore, because the only ones i remember were ‘depression’ and ‘aspergers’, but. like. i’m not sure the depression one was accurate, and technically speaking aspergers doesn’t exist anymore? because god fucking forbid we want to have something to call it. also, they didn’t actually tell me the autism one until i was entering high school, and i’m pretty sure that i’d been diagnosed mid-middle school. and also i’m not even confident i remember any of that correctly, since everything blurred together pretty much immediately.

the sentiment of “There’s a word for it” is so fucking important, especially when you have trouble putting things in words. when your mouth and brain are running at different speeds, and you can’t say the thoughts before you lose track of which sentence you were on, you need to have a phrase ready. But if you don’t, you get the pauses that frustrate everyone including yourself, and mean that nothing actually gets said.

see: every fucking time i try to talk to anyone.

i got sidetracked again. i was planning to ‘copy’ the tag essay over here. whoops.

The thing about the ‘decision paralysis’ that the article mentioned... well, one of the many things about it, is that you can’t actually explain it to someone who doesn’t go through it themselves. See again: “There’s a word for it.”

I have yet to be able to explain to my parents that “No, i really have trouble with making a fucking decision on how to find the music you want for that playlist. I can’t figure out what search terms to use, because I don’t actually know what you’re talking about for ‘dinner music’, and the explanations you were able to give didn’t. actually. y’know. help.”

That’s not their fault, that’s on me being stupid and dumb.

i can’t make a decision because i freeze up. I freeze up because i know i will inevitably get some part of the decision wrong, and it doesn’t matter how infinitesimal that part is, it’s still wrong. and having been in the ‘advanced track’ or whatever the hell we called it at my school, i got convinced that even slightly wrong is completely wrong. and that’s just not okay.

i don’t even think that sentiment actually came from the teachers? or the lessons? or anything really? but welcome to america, where if you’re in the ‘high performing’ section, you somehow get convinced that anything less than perfect is as good as a failure.

(where you go on a vacation to disney in fourth grade and are still required to write the mandatory journal entry every day, even though you don’t. know. what. to. say.)

(a lot of those ‘daily writing assignments’ we did wound up being my first forays into fanfiction actually. ... i don’t really know what my teachers thought of those particular entries. wish i could find some of those notebooks, it would be good to post for a laugh.)

but i digress. again.

i can’t explain the ‘i’m not able to make a decision’ thing to anyone. because i freeze up when trying to figure out how to explain it, and that leads to the awkward pauses in speech, which leads to a completely different form of freezing up, because i don’t want to annoy people.

Being annoying is basically the same as being wrong and failing, after all.

And. like. i know that getting stupid, mundane things ‘wrong’ isn’t the end of the world. i’m well aware of that, you don’t need to keep reassuring me of that, okay? because that reminder just makes me feel worse, because it means i’m getting upset over stupid fucking things, instead of anything that’s actually bad.

which just leads to another thing that i can’t explain to people, because feeling wrong about stupid things means that I haven’t made enough of a successful effort at being better at being a functional person. That’s what winds up frustrating them, which makes me start tearing up because that’s just what fucking happens, which leads to me just not talking anymore.

because emotions are the enemy and are so often the wrong ones and so much as mentioning them just makes everyone else angry, so. it’s just. best. not to bring it up.

Like, i know that all of this is dumb. so i’m being dumb for thinking that way. But i can’t actually explain that vocally, because then people (my parents) assume (probably) that i’m saying i’m not intelligent. i can’t explain that no, that’s not what i’m saying. i’m saying that the thought itself is dumb, and that the act of thinking said thought is dumb. not that i, myself, am not smart. i know i’m smart. i’m just terrible at being smart.

so i can’t explain that. because there are different definitions for what ‘being dumb’ entails - there’s ‘i’m not intelligent’, which i think is what they conclude i’m saying when i try to explain this stuff, when it’s really, really not. what I’m saying is that the action itself is what’s moronic. but i can’t get that across without tripping over my damned tongue and pausing, and grumbling about dropped words, and frustrating everyone involved in the conversation to the point where i wind up just saying never mind, it’s not important, and changing the subject. or walking away. or letting them change the subject, because fuck knows i’m just going to get that wrong somehow too.

i can’t even fucking put something in the grocery cart when we go shopping, because that’s being super fucking rude and inconveniencing everyone. I’M TWENTY EIGHT AND I CAN’T ALLOW MYSELF THAT.

I live with my parents. that’s another failure, here in the states anyway. because i’m not independent, it’s not even the ‘starting a family’ bullshit, it’s the ‘not able to live on my own because i’m obviously not trying hard enough to not be a fucking dysfunctional coward’ bullshit.

also, for some reason everyone i know in real life, like, people who went to high school or college with me, all think it’s really out of character when they hear me swear? i dunno, because they think i’m too polite or something?

guys. no. it’s that i didn’t talk. ya know, because i’m a fucking coward. or shy. or whichever term you’ll accept for ‘human interaction is fucking terrifying and i’m going to get it wrong somehow whenever i try, so i’m just not going to fucking try that.’

(seriously, people, if i tell you i’m a coward or shy, whichever one i go with, please don’t tell me that that’s not true? because that’s like. the one way we could agree about my rampant social anxiety issues, and i would like people to accept that as an explanation for once, instead of trying to reassure me that it’s not true. because it is. those are the nice, socially acceptable ways of putting the problem.)

(also, like, reassuring me that ‘things are okay, you don’t need to get upset’ actively makes me more upset. It ALWAYS has. That’s not going to change anytime soon. For fucks sake, please stop saying that i ‘don’t need to worry.’ i’m well fucking aware of that, and when i literally ask you to stop saying that, and you say you’re going to make sure to remind me it’s okay, you are literally just making it worse and means i can’t fucking talk to you.)

basically everything is dumb, and i’m dumb and sick of being dumb, which means i’m even dumber and i can’t say a damn thing about it, because it’s rude and inconveniences everyone, and it means i’m. not. trying. hard. enough. to. make. life. work.

... see, if i could, like, print this shit up and hand it to my therapist tuesday? (if that’s even what the meetings are? i don’t fucking know at this point) that might help. or it might get me in hot water. so i’m probably not even going to try.

because the usual reaction from pretty much anyone ever is ‘are the medications not working anymore?’ and that’s. not true? i think? they’re working. i think. but it’s not like i’d know what my actual baseline is without them. because i always feel physically awful if i miss them, but i’m an anxious wreck either way. and since said state of being a wreck is to different degrees from day to day, it’s not like i’ve got a baseline for with the medications, either.

fuck everything, is basically what i’m saying.

... i can’t tell if i got off topic or not anymore. i’m gonna go edit this for spelling and spacing issues now, because while keeping typos in might be more authentic and natural, it also means i feel like an idiot for not being better at typing when i know full well i’m spelling things wrong.

not going after capitalization though. that’d just be a pain in the ass, and caps and italics are a part of tone.

you will have to pry my formatting from my dead, colder hands.

(i run really fucking cold, or at least my extremities do. like, i can put my hand on my face, and i know that it’s way too cold to be normal. i’m pretty sure that’s a bad sign, but it’s literally always been true, so. ??? that’s just how it is.)

(yeah, wow, there were a lot of typing fumbles in here. all of those are gone now. this got stupidly long. why am i allowed to write again?)

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nctinfo · 6 years

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[TRANS] NCT U Interview for Vogue Korea ‘Super Youth’ March 2018 Issue!

In an era of uncertainty, NCT made its debut like an organism with a free survival method that expanded and transformed. The cells of NCT U in 2018 are Taeyong, Jaehyun, Doyoung, Mark, Lucas, Jungwoo and Winwin. On the border between boys and adolescents, they show how much they can live in the black frame.

Lucas’ white shirt is from (Dior Homme), denim pants are form (Rag&Bone at Beaker), belt (Bottega Veneta). Doyoung’s shirt (Saint Laurent by Anthony Vaccarello at Boon The Shop), denim pants (Levi’s). Mark’s t-shirt (Juun.J), denim pants (Bell&Nouveau). Jungwoo’s denim jacket, pants (MSGM). Winwin’s top (Juun.J). Taeyong’s knitted vest (Maison Margiela at Boon The Shop), denim pants (MSGM). Jaehyun’s shirt, denim pants (Calvin Klein Jeans). The last idol that I have given a line to public broadcast as a fan, is H.O.T. When I was dreaming of a reunion in 17 years through <Infinite Challenge>, I met NCT U, NCT's unit. It took three days to understand the organic, futuristic and neolithic group called NCT. Jung Hyungdon, who runs the idol program, asks NCT's team, "So what is NCT?” I found and watched NCT’s neat videos on Youtube. For fans, it might be a familiar term, but it's a simple matter. NCT stands for 'Neo Culture Technology', which is a concept of infinite opening and infinite expansion. Any number of members of the unit may be increased or changed. NCT U, NCT127, NCT DREAM are active in NCT. In April 2016, NCT U, who made their debut with the digital single '7th Sense', has five members, and NCT U who sang 'Without You' has three. The NCT U of 2018 I met had seven. In 2018, NCT's full members are 18 members, including new members (Lucas, Jung Woo and Kun). It's like a rap with a rhyme. “NCT is a completely new group format. It may take a while, but if you understand it completely, you'll definitely like NCT with a new system and form!” (WINWIN) "NCT is like a brand.” (MARK) "NCT is a team that is not trapped and always pursuing newness.“ (JUNGWOO)

NCT is coming to life. If each member were to be a cell and when they unite, they create a new organism. Not only the members but also the music, performance and (fashion) style will vary depending on the case. A minors-only team, NCT DREAM, are boys with an innocent image riding on hoverboards and sing 'Chewing Gum' before they become men. Named after Seoul's longitude 127, NCT 127 emphasizes the masculine image and dream to conquer the world. NCT U brings out different performances and matches the style of the song like a separate unit. These newcomers are rather pleased with this repetition of reforming and changing (the concept). "Sensible ballads, hip-hop, splendid performances, it's nice that I can show you many different sides of myself" (JAEHYUN) “I can show you a fresh image every time.”(LUCAS) “For the fans, we can often comeback with different looks ”(WINWIN)

Until now, idols always have a certain key style, character, and identity. Like these specific adaption: sexy, feminine and beastdols, and like how GIRLFRIEND, Boyfriend, Oh My Girl and Seventeen have their identity explained through the team name. NCT aims for 'de-identity' (t/n: not having one specific identity) and rather adapts to the future. We don't know how the future will look like, there's not one thing that's for sure, it can change quickly and I know many adaptions/preferences will coexist. SM, who has always been a half-foot ahead with new/fresh idol styles, has this time taken a whole-foot ahead (which is somewhat difficult to understand) and introduced a new union of idols to the front. In 2016, during a business summit, head Lee Sooman said SM would be reborn as 'New Culture Technology'. The stage was decorated by NCT (Neo Culture Technology). They are what SM describes as the future.

NCT also has SM's past. SM has made successful artists through trial and error. EXO's perfect worldview and narrative, SHINee's hitbox and Red Velvet's refreshing images. It can be fully implemented to the cell combination of NCT. "Because our team can change continuously we're trying to show you good music and performances like our sunbaenims" (DOYOUNG). "NCT has a variety of colors. We think, the more colors, the more beautiful and pretty it is" (TAEYONG). Before the appearance of groups with 9 or 11 idols was shocking but 'there must have been one member you'd like'. Now you can say that NCT has all you want in an idol group, music, and performances. This style sums up "tal-style (different-style)" and rather creates NCT's own style. "It's our goal to create NCT's own genre. We want to reinterpret NCT's various concepts with a quality feel. "(MARK)

Mark is active through all of NCT 127, NCT DREAM and NCT U. Though there’s probably no idol that doesn’t work hard anywhere, you can see how hard they are working in a tough world with infinite scaling just by looking at Mark. He has been writing lyrics for a long time. These days he writes his lyrics on his smartphone and keeps a diary on his notebook. “Even if it isn’t for an album, I still often write lyrics by myself. Though the feeling of being a producer is still far away, I am constantly trying to be creative because I’m greedy” (MARK)

Even when they talk about their favorite musicians, they always end it with their 'willingness to try'. "Like Frank Ocean, I want to be a musician who is continuously searched for and lingers in your mind. I have a habit of listening to many great singers like him. It's for my own development. And to become a great singer, I first have to become a good person so I can appreciate the world a little bit more and fill up my heart generously." (MARK) The same goes for the other members. "Every day I practice, study/research and try to broaden my horizons." (JAEHYUN) "I think the fundamentals are important. When I become a better person, my songs and dances will also be heard and seen better. " (TAEYONG) "I always watch other singers and different stages to analyze them." (JUNGWOO) "I practice, practice, practice." (LUCAS)

With my auntie mind, I want to tell them that they are doing well and can run less (hard), but I'm not in the position to say this. They have a dream. The dreams of racers don't easily let themselves get exhausted by the restrains of the world. For them, the tough times should be overcome before they can be sad. "I organize my thoughts through conversations and I keep a journal for myself" (MARK) "I create a box/space of my own and try to see my true self." (TAEYONG)

The burden of Taeyong, leader of NCT, would be heavier than the other members. "It's not easy to gather all the NCT members in one place. Since trainee days, I always thought it was important to get acknowledgment from the team first. I try to take initiatives and imagine myself in their shoes. At first, I thought it was not going as I wished it would, but that was a wrong thought. It shouldn't go according to my will, but according to the will of everyone. It takes everyone's effort and that's what makes a team. I'm grateful for the members who come along well and work hard." (TAEYONG)

Many things change, but what has/will never change in NCT. "Our connections with our fans. This applies to other teams as well, but for our team, our connection with our fans is really important." (DOYOUNG) "What never changes is our view of the world. Even when we're not together, I think that empathy with one another through our dreams and music is permanent. The standard of our music that matches our worldview will also not change. It's our responsibility to prepare in good conditions." (MARK)

NCT U's keywords for the upcoming comeback are empathy, dream, and NCT. "The goal for this comeback is first of all, for all the members to have fun without getting hurt. I'm also worried about the new members who will make their debut. And I want to meet many fans again. We need more communication, sympathy, and connections with the fans." (TAEYONG) "In a society where there is superficial and fragmented communication, because of a busy life or for other reasons, we wrote a message through NCT's music with hopes of empathizing with one another. We will be the bosses that will lead you to empathy/genuine connections. Please believe and follow us (laughs)." (JAEHYUN)

Translation: Esmee, Selin, Teddy @ FY! NCT (NCTINFO) | Source: Vogue Korea

— Please take out with full credits

#NCT #NCT U #taeyong #doyoung #jaehyun #winwin #jungwoo #mark #lucas #Vogue Korea #Vogue Korea: March 2018 #t:trans #t:interview

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awkblkwmn · 6 years

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Saturday - 8/25/18 - HOME

Romantic Comedies suck.

Not in the cliche way they normally do.

And not the ones (mostly) with A-List actors on their way up the Hollywood ladder.

I'm talking about the Hallmark Edition Made for TV movies.

I don't know if Netflix, Amazon, and Hulu and just trying to give people their first chance in the spotlight but MAN - some of these actors (most of the actors) in these B rated movies are God-awful,

But...if I were to be completely honest, I kind of love them. I'd probably be open to watching more of them in the preview trailers didn't well...tell the whole story in them. And I just don't know how to watch a movie without watching a trailer first.

Then, there's that other jealous part of me that gets irritated by the fact that these "A-Star" people are out there actually doing it - striving for there acting dreams, terrible talent and all... while I sit on my ass at home getting smashed on honey-jack and flipping between watching their B-rated breakouts and k-dramas.

...One day these journal entries won't be full of complete angst, total self-sabotage, and arrogant whining.

Won't fucking be today though.

In all actuality, even though I am indeed at home on my ass a part of me knows that this is probably the "safest" place for me to be. I have an extravagantly terrible issue with spending money that I really don't have on purchases that are fleeting and hold an average life expectancy of 24 hours max.

If you haven't guessed already, 90% of those purchases are indeed food and booze.

And I said I was gonna sober this month lol

Right, right, away from the self-loathing bitching and moaning...

Looks like this is Day 2 of journaling - an accomplishment I actually haven't made in over 10 years, maybe more. Sad right? But true.

My attention span is something wonderful. Even with all the ideas in my head, floating around like a constant spin cycle in my mind, it's very hard for me to metaphorically take the time to remove the finished load out of the washer and put into the dryer sans on paper or my MacBook. I barely fold and put away my actual laundry so you know for a fact these little scribbles rarely make it to an online format, which really is a bummer.

I've learned - wait no - those aren't the right words...

I've recently realized and accepted that I've got mean-streak of attention whore-itis. Not sure if it developed from dancing when I was a little girl or from being a high-level athlete for more than half my life, but sometimes all I want are people paying attention to me and telling me I'm freaking awesome.

I used to - still to a socially acceptable amount - be embarrassed and a tad ashamed about it. But now, since the gene has been ignored for a VERY very long time, I'm embracing it more than ever and trying to find more productive ways to feed the beast than being the "hot-ish drunk girl" at the bar.

Karaoke is a nice outlet. I love to perform and truly think I could've been a singer in another life, maybe even this one if I had been serious about pursuing it.

I like art and dancing too. When I draw something and share it with the world and the world loves it, I feed off it insanely so. There are even times where I'll work on something at work and feel a foolish amount of pride from someone saying my designs were nice.

And don't even get me started on how much I love it when people say I can bust a move.

But nothing, nothing makes me feel more alive than when people appreciate my writing. Writing is probably the rawest, most authentic way that I express myself without worrying about what other people will think. In writing, you truly see into the inner machinations of a person's mind and soul.

You see how they talk, how they think, how they feel, how they believe, how they wonder.

Someone can write a statement no more than a few words and you can draw so much of their mindset and standard of being from that alone.

That's why people like to text. That's why I like to text. I read words in real time; as if the person was sitting right there next to me. I hear the tills in their voice, the loudness of their laugh, their relaxed disposition, their angled smile. I see them.

A person texting style in this day in age is more than just words, It's their signature, a shadow of who they are.

Nevertheless...I'm getting distracted.

And very artsy fartsy lol.

I'm home alone right now, hence the veggie (ahem boozing) out and taking care of my roommates' dog.

Shes one her first away trip with her boyfriend and I'm so proud of her!

Hmm...

I was going to write more, but I think my thoughts are bit paused for the day...

Maybe I'll come back in a bit, we'll see.

Til then -

<3 Payton Tulie

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