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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 years

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Pierre Teillard de Chardin

* * * *

I'll never forget this story told by Jean Houston at a conference I attended as an MIU student. Very beautiful and moving, worth a read, especially if you're familiar with Teilhard de Chardin and his writings that got him in trouble with the church because he was way too cosmic for them.

"Mr. Tayer," by Jean Houston

When I was about fourteen I was seized by enormous waves of grief over my parents’ breakup. I had read somewhere that running would help dispel anguish, so I began to run to school every day down Park Avenue in New York City. I was a great big overgrown girl (5 feet eleven by the age of eleven) and one day I ran into a rather frail old gentleman in his seventies and knocked the wind out of him. He laughed as I helped him to his feet and asked me in French- accented speech, “Are you planning to run like that for the rest of your life?”

“Yes, sir" I replied. “It looks that way."

“Well, Bon Voyage!” he said.

“Bon Voyage!” I answered and sped on my way.

About a week later I was walking down Park Avenue with my fox terrier, Champ, and again I met the old gentleman.

“Ah." he greeted me, “my friend the runner, and with a fox terrier. I knew one like that years ago in France. Where are you going?"

“Well, sir." I replied, “I’m taking Champ to Central Park."

“I will go with you." he informed me. “I will take my constitutional."

And thereafter, for about a year or so, the old gentleman and I would meet and walk together often several times a week in Central Park. He had a long French name but asked me to call him by the first part of it, which was “Mr. Tayer" as far as I could make out.

The walks were magical and full of delight. Not only did Mr. Tayer seem to have absolutely no self-consciousness, but he was always being seized by wonder and astonishment over the simplest things. He was constantly and literally falling into love. I remember one time when he suddenly fell on his knees, his long Gallic nose raking the ground, and exclaimed to me, “Jeanne, look at the caterpillar. Ahhhh!” I joined him on the ground to see what had evoked so profound a response that he was seized by the essence of caterpillar. “How beautiful it is", he remarked, “this little green being with its wonderful funny little feet. Exquisite! Little furry body, little green feet on the road to metamorphosis." He then regarded me with equal delight. “Jeanne, can you feel yourself to be a caterpillar?”

“Oh yes." I replied with the baleful knowing of a gangly, pimply faced teenager.

“Then think of your own metamorphosis." he suggested. “What will you be when you become a butterfly, une papillon, eh? What is the butterfly of Jeanne?” (What a great question for a fourteen-year-old girl!) His long, gothic, comic-tragic face would nod with wonder. “Eh, Jeanne, look at the clouds! God’s calligraphy in the sky! All that transforming. moving, changing, dissolving, becoming. Jeanne, become a cloud and become all the forms that ever were."

Or there was the time that Mr. Tayer and I leaned into the strong wind that suddenly whipped through Central Park, and he told me, “Jeanne, sniff the wind." I joined him in taking great snorts of wind. “The same wind may once have been sniffed by Jesus Christ (sniff). by Alexander the Great (sniff), by Napoleon (sniff), by Voltaire (sniff), by Marie Antoinette (sniff)!” (There seemed to be a lot of French people in that wind.) “Now sniff this next gust of wind in very deeply for it contains.. . Jeanne d’Arc! Sniff the wind once sniffed by Jeanne dArc. Be filled with the winds of history."

It was wonderful. People of all ages followed us around, laughing—not at us but with us. Old Mr. Tayer was truly diaphanous to every moment and being with him was like being in attendance at God’s own party, a continuous celebration of life and its mysteries. But mostly Mr. Tayer was so full of vital sap and juice that he seemed to flow with everything. Always he saw the interconnections between things—the way that everything in the universe, from fox terriers to tree bark to somebody’s red hat to the mind of God, was related to everything else and was very, very good.

He wasn’t merely a great appreciator, engaged by all his senses. He was truly penetrated by the reality that was yearning for him as much as he was yearning for it. He talked to the trees, to the wind, to the rocks as dear friends, as beloved even. ‘Ah, my friend, the mica schist layer, do you remember when...?” And I would swear that the mica schist would begin to glitter back. I mean, mica schist will do that, but on a cloudy day?! Everything was treated as personal, as sentient, as “thou." And everything that was thou was ensouled with being. and it thou-ed back to him. So when I walked with him, I felt as though a spotlight was following us, bringing radiance and light everywhere. And I was constantly seized by astonishment in the presence of this infinitely beautiful man, who radiated such sweetness, such kindness.

I remember one occasion when he was quietly watching a very old woman watching a young boy play a game. “Madame", he suddenly addressed her. She looked up, surprised that a stranger in Central Park would speak to her. “Madame,” he repeated, “why are you so fascinated by what that little boy is doing?” The old woman was startled by the question, but the kindly face of Mr. Tayer seemed to allay her fears and evoke her memories. “Well, sir,” she replied in an ancient but pensive voice, “the game that boy is playing is like one I played in this park around 1880, only it’s a mite different." We noticed that the boy was listening, so Mr. Tayer promptly included him in the conversation. “Young fellow, would you like to learn the game as it was played so many years ago?”

“Well. . .yeah. sure, why not?” the boy replied. And soon the young boy and the old woman were making friends and sharing old and new variations on the game—as unlikely an incident to occur in Central Park as could be imagined.

But perhaps the most extraordinary thing about Mr. Tayer was the way that he would suddenly look at you. He looked at you with wonder and astonishment joined to unconditional love joined to a whimsical regarding of you as the cluttered house that hides the holy one. I felt myself primed to the depths by such seeing. I felt evolutionary forces wake up in me by such seeing, every cell and thought and potential palpably changed. I was yeasted, greened, awakened by such seeing, and the defeats and denigrations of adolescence redeemed. I would go home and tell my mother, who was a little skeptical about my walking with an old man in the park so often, “Mother, I was with my old man again, and when I am with him, I leave my littleness behind." That deeply moved her. You could not be stuck in littleness and be in the radiant field of Mr. Tayer.

The last time that I ever saw him was the Thursday before Easter Sunday, 1955. I brought him the shell of a snail. “Ah. Escargot." he exclaimed and then proceeded to wax ecstatic for the better part of an hour. Snail shells, and galaxies, and the convolutions in the brain, the whorl of flowers and the meanderings of rivers were taken up into a great hymn to the spiralling evolution of spirit and matter. When he had finished, his voice dropped, and he whispered almost in prayer, “Omega ...omega. . .omega.." Finally he looked up and said to me quietly, "Au revoir, Jeanne”.

“Au revoir, Mr. Tayer,” I replied, “I’ll meet you at the same time next Tuesday."

For some reason. Champ, my fox terrier didn’t want to budge, and when I pulled him along, he whimpered, looking back at Mr.Tayer, his tail between his legs. The following Tuesday I was there waiting where we always met at the corner of Park Avenue and 83rd Street. He didn’t come. The following Thursday I waited again. Still he didn’t come. The dog looked up at me sadly. For the next eight weeks I continued to wait, but he never came again. It turned out that he had suddenly died that Easter Sunday but I didn’t find that out for years.

Some years later, someone handed me a book without a cover which was titled The Phenomenon of Man. As I read the book I found it strangely familiar in its concepts. Occasional words and expressions loomed up as echoes from my past. When, later in the book, I came across the concept of the “Omega point." I was certain. I asked to see the jacket of the book, looked at the author’s picture, and, of course, recognized him immediately. There was no forgetting or mistaking that face. Mr. Tayer was Teilhard de Chardin, the great priest-scientist, poet and mystic, and during that lovely and luminous year I had been meeting him out side the Jesuit rectory of St. Ignatius where he was living most of the time.

I have often wondered if it was my simplicity and innocence that allowed the fullness of Teilhard’s being to be revealed. To me he was never the great priest-paleontologist Pere Teilhard. He was old Mr. Tayer. Why did he always come and walk with me every Tuesday and Thursday, even though I’m sure he had better things to do? Was it that in seeing me so completely, he himself could be completely seen at a time when his writings, his work, were proscribed by the Church, when he was not permitted to teach, or even to talk about his ideas? As I later found out, he was undergoing at that time the most excruciating agony that there is—the agony of utter disempowerment and psychological crucifixion. And yet to me he was always so present—whimsical, engaging, empowering. How could that be?

I think it was because Teilhard had what few Church officials did—the power and grace of the Love that passes all understanding. He could write about love being the evolutionary force, the Omega point, that lures the world and ourselves into becoming, because he experienced that love in a piece of rock, in the wag of a dog’s tail, in the eyes of a child. He was so in love with everything that he talked in great particularity, even to me as an adolescent, about the desire atoms have for each other, the yearning of molecules, of organisms, of bodies, of planets, of galaxies, all of creation longing for that radiant bonding, for joining, for the deepening of their condition, for becoming more by virtue of yearning for and finding the other. He knew about the search for the Beloved. His model was Christ. For Teilhard de Chardin, Christ was the Beloved of the soul.

Years later, while addressing some Jesuits, a very old Jesuit came up to me. He was a friend of Teilhard’s—and he told me how Teilhard used to talk of his encounters in the Park with a girl called Jeanne.

Jean Houston

Pomona, New York

March, 1988

#story #Jean Houston #Pierre de Chardin #people #spirit buddies #spiritual direction #quotes #Teilhard de Chardin #theology

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dawfsaf · 3 years

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wolfliving · 3 years

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Account of Lord Byron’s Greek residence

*I’m hard put to believe a word of this highly-colored account of Byron’s house in exile, but it’s hard to get more Romantic than this. Extra points for the lack of paintings and the heaps of books covered with scrawled notes.

ACCOUNT OF LORD BYRON'S RESIDENCE, &c.

"The world was all before him, where to choose his place of rest, and Providence his guide."

IN Sailing through the Grecian Archipelago, on board one of his Majesty's vessels, in the year 1812, we put into the harbour of Mitylene, in the island of that name.

The beauty of this place, and the certain supply of cattle and vegetables always to be had there, induce many British vessels to visit it—both men of war and merchantmen; and though it lies rather out of the track for ships bound to Smyrna, its bounties amply repay for the deviation of a voyage.

We landed; as usual, at the bottom of the bay, and whilst the men were employed in watering, and the purser bargaining for cattle with the natives, the clergyman and myself took a ramble to the cave called Homer's School, and other places, where we had been before.

On the brow of Mount Ida (a small monticule so named) we met with and engaged a young Greek as our guide, who told us he had come from Scio with an English lord, who left the island four days previous to our arrival in his felucca.

"He engaged me as a pilot," said the Greek, "and would have taken me with him; but I did not choose to quit Mitylene, where I am likely to get married. He was an odd, but a very good man. The cottage over the hill, facing the river, belongs to him, and he has left an old man in charge of it: he gave Dominick, the wine-trader, six hundred zechines for it, (about L250 English currency,) and has resided there about fourteen months, though not constantly; for he sails in his felucca very often to the different islands."

This account excited our curiosity very much, and we lost no time in hastening to the house where our countryman had resided. We were kindly received by an old man, who conducted us over the mansion.

It consisted of four apartments on the ground-floor—an entrance hall, a drawing-room, a sitting parlour, and a bed-room, with a spacious closet annexed. They were all simply decorated: plain green-stained walls, marble tables on either side, a large myrtle in the centre, and a small fountain beneath, which could be made to play through the branches by moving a spring fixed in the side of a small bronze Venus in a leaning posture; a large couch or sofa completed the furniture.

In the hall stood half a dozen English cane chairs, and an empty book-case: there were no mirrors, nor a single painting. The bedchamber had merely a large mattress spread on the floor, with two stuffed cotton quilts and a pillow—the common bed throughout Greece.

In the sitting-room we observed a marble recess, formerly, the old man told us, filled with books and papers, which were then in a large seaman's chest in the closet: it was open, but we did not think ourselves justified in examining the contents. On the tablet of the recess lay Voltaire's, Shakspeare's, Boileau's, and Rousseau's works complete; Volney's Ruins of Empires; Zimmerman, in the German language; Klopstock's Messiah; Kotzebue's novels; Schiller's play of the Robbers; Milton's Paradise Lost, an Italian edition, printed at Parma in 1810; several small pamphlets from the Greek press at Constantinople, much torn, but no English book of any description. Most of these books were filled with marginal notes, written with a pencil, in Italian and Latin. The Messiah was literally scribbled all over, and marked with slips of paper, on which also were remarks.

The old man said: "The lord had been reading these books the evening before he sailed, and forgot to place them with the others; but," said he, "there they must lie until his return; for he is so particular, that were I to move one thing without orders, he would frown upon me for a week together; he is otherways very good. I once did him a service; and I have the produce of this farm for the trouble of taking care of it, except twenty zechines which I pay to an aged Armenian who resides in a small cottage in the wood, and whom the lord brought here from Adrianople; I don't know for what reason."

The appearance of the house externally was pleasing. The portico in front was fifty paces long and fourteen broad, and the fluted marble pillars with black plinths and fret-work cornices, (as it is now customary in Grecian architecture,) were considerably higher than the roof. The roof, surrounded by a light stone balustrade, was covered by a fine Turkey carpet, beneath an awning of strong coarse linen. Most of the house-tops are thus furnished, as upon them the Greeks pass their evenings in smoking, drinking light wines, such as "lachryma christi," eating fruit, and enjoying the evening breeze.

On the left hand as we entered the house, a small streamlet glided away, grapes, oranges and limes were clustering together on its borders, and under the shade of two large myrtle bushes, a marble seat with an ornamental wooden back was placed, on which we were told, the lord passed many of his evenings and nights till twelve o'clock, reading, writing, and talking to himself. "I suppose," said the old man, "praying" for he was very devout, "and always attended our church twice a week, besides Sundays."

The view from this seat was what may be termed "a bird's-eye view." A line of rich vineyards led the eye to Mount Calcla, covered with olive and myrtle trees in bloom, and on the summit of which an ancient Greek temple appeared in majestic decay. A small stream issuing from the ruins descended in broken cascades, until it was lost in the woods near the mountain's base.

The sea smooth as glass, and an horizon unshadowed by a single cloud, terminates the view in front; and a little on the left, through a vista of lofty chesnut and palm-trees, several small islands were distinctly observed, studding the light blue wave with spots of emerald green. I seldom enjoyed a view more than I did this; but our enquiries were fruitless as to the name of the person who had resided in this romantic solitude: none knew his name but Dominick, his banker, who had gone to Candia.

"The Armenian," said our conductor, "could tell, but I am sure he will not,"—"And cannot you tell, old friend?" said I—"If I can," said he, "I dare not."

We had not time to visit the Armenian, but on our return to the town we learnt several particulars of the isolated lord. He had portioned eight young girls when he was last upon the island, and even danced with them at the nuptial feast. He gave a cow to one man, horses to others, and cotton and silk to the girls who live by weaving these articles. He also bought a new boat for a fisherman who had lost his own in a gale, and he often gave Greek Testaments to the poor children. In short, he appeared to us, from all we collected, to have been a very eccentric and benevolent character.

One circumstance we learnt, which our old friend at the cottage thought proper not to disclose. He had a most beautiful daughter, with whom the lord was often seen walking on the sea-shore, and he had bought her a piano-forte, and taught her himself the use of it.

Such was the information with which we departed from the peaceful isle of Mitylene; our imaginations all on the rack, guessing who this rambler in Greece could be.

He had money it was evident: he had philanthropy of disposition, and all those eccentricities which mark peculiar genius.

Arrived at Palermo, all our doubts were dispelled. Falling in company with Mr. FOSTER, the architect, a pupil of WYATT'S, who had been travelling in Egypt and Greece, "The individual," said he, "about whom you are so anxious, is Lord Byron; I met him in my travels on the island of Tenedos, and I also visited him at Mitylene."

We had never then heard of his lordship's fame, as we had been some years from home; but "Childe Harolde" being put into our hands we recognized the recluse of Calcla in every page. Deeply did we regret not having been more curious in our researches at the cottage, but we consoled ourselves with the idea of returning to Mitylene on some future day; but to me that day will never return.

I make this statement, believing it not quite uninteresting, and in justice to his lordship's good name, which has been grossly slandered. He has been described as of an unfeeling disposition, averse to associating with human nature, or contributing in any way to sooth its sorrows, or add to its pleasures. The fact is directly the reverse, as may be plainly gathered from these little anecdotes.

All the finer feelings of the heart, so elegantly depicted in his lordship's poems, seem to have their seat in his bosom. Tenderness, sympathy, and charity appear to guide all his actions: and his courting the repose of solitude is an additional reason for marking him as a being on whose heart Religion hath set her seal, and over whose head Benevolence hath thrown her mantle. No man can read the preceding pleasing "traits" without feeling proud of him as a countryman.

With respect to his loves or pleasures, I do not assume a right to give an opinion. Reports are ever to be received with caution, particularly when directed against man's moral integrity; and he who dares justify himself before that awful tribunal where all must appear, alone may censure the errors of a fellow-mortal. Lord Byron's character is worthy of his genius. To do good in secret, and shun the world's applause, is the surest testimony of a virtuous heart and self-approving conscience.

THE END

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passionate-reply · 4 years

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Created by @tremblegay and I wasn’t really tagged by anyone to do it, but I thought it looked interesting and took it upon myself to do it. I suppose I did originally see this on @pozzima‘s blog and they wrote that anybody could do it, so I have permission, kinda.

1. A SONG THAT REMINDS YOU OF SUNSHINE.

JOHN FOXX - “ENTER THE ANGEL”

John Foxx’s 1985 album In Mysterious Ways is suffused with sunshine from the get-go, and this song was the lead single and clearly the most accessibly sunny of the bunch. It’s easy to imagine it as the mood music for when the one you love most enters the room, or is sighted from across some distance...

2. A SONG THAT YOU’VE CRIED TO.

PET SHOP BOYS - “JACK THE LAD”

Pet Shop Boys frontman Neil Tennant has remarked that the duo create quite a lot of “happy-sad” sounding music, and “Jack the Lad” seems like an excellent example. Released as a B-Side to their well-remembered hit “Suburbia,” its use of historical perspective and reassurance that “we all fall, even Jack the Lad” made it a mainstay of my pervasive teenage frustrations.

3. A SONG THAT MAKES YOU FEEL WARM.

ULTRAVOX - “I CAN’T STAY LONG”

Today I learned I don’t listen to a lot of very “warm” feeling music, despite being one of those people who always feels cold in everyday life. But this track, on 1979′s Systems of Romance, gives me that sort of sense. “I’d like to glide, in the long green light of a July afternoon”...

4. A SONG THAT MAKES YOUR HEART ACHE (IN A GOOD WAY).

THOMAS DOLBY & RYUICHI SAKAMOTO - “FIELD WORK”

Thomas Dolby is the guy from “She Blinded Me With Science” or whatever, but he also wrote an absolutely beautiful ode to the glories of inquiry into the workings of our world. The scientists of the world deserve this sort of anthem, if you ask me. When I was younger I actually dreamed of becoming some sort of scientist, and this song reminds me why. It fills me with the urge to work hard and experience things and learn.

5. A SONG THAT MAKES YOUR HEART ACHE (IN A BAD WAY).

HEAVEN 17 - “LET’S ALL MAKE A BOMB”

There are any number of songs I could have chosen that deal to some extent with major real-world issues, but I went with this one because it strikes me as especially...”achy.” It’s a rather forlorn dirge that leads me to imagine what sorts of activities I’d be up to if I knew I was about to die. I mean, one does always need a contingency plan.

6. A SONG THAT GETS YOUR BLOOD PUMPIN’. A SONG THAT MAKES YOU FEEL ALIVE. THE MUSICAL VERSION OF A PEP TALK.

BILL NELSON - “QUIT DREAMING AND GET ON THE BEAM”

This might seem like a surprisingly slow-paced song for this question, but it does work on yours truly like a pep talk. I mean, just look at the name! Whenever I’m tempted to lie low or not pursue something that will take some hard work, the words of Nelson drift through my mind: “People who do things are people who get things done!” I couldn’t have said it better myself.

7. THAT ONE SONG THAT MAKES YOU TRANSCEND REALITY WHEN YOU’RE DRIVING AROUND ALONE AT 3 AM.

KARL BARTOS - “NACHTFAHRT”

I’ll let you guys in on a little secret--as much as I like Numan’s “Cars” and Kraftwerk’s “Autobahn,” I actually, uh, can’t drive. (At least Neil Tennant is also a grown adult who never bothered learning either, so I have some company.) Since I can’t really relate, I’ll give you a song that makes me at least try to imagine such an experience: one of my favourite tracks from the solo work of ex-Kraftwerker, Karl Bartos.

8. YOU KNOW ALL THE WORDS TO THIS SONG BY HEART.

ABC - “4 EVER 2 GETHER”

Hard decision--I know the works to almost every one of my ~700 songs by heart. Well, except for the instrumentals. So I went with something that seemed especially fun, lyrically. I know I’m just about the only person who’d describe themselves as some sort of “huge ABC fan” but can we appreciate Martin Fry’s positively wicked lyricism for a minute. “The Twelve Disciples might kiss and tell”...

9. A FAVOURITE SONG FROM WHEN YOU WERE A KID.

GARY NUMAN - “BERSERKER”

Also a hard decision, since music has been extremely important to me for pretty much as long as I can recall! Well, that, and my taste hasn’t changed a whole bunch since I was younger. So here’s a song I definitely remember hearing as a kid, and having my mind utterly blown by it, hahaha. Wait a minute, you’re telling me it’s possible for music to sound like THIS? Maybe I’m still a little amazed...

10. A SONG YOU BELT AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS.

VISAGE - “LOOK WHAT THEY’VE DONE”

What better diva to idolize than Steve Strange, the grand dame of the New Romantics? The sheer drama of this song is beyond infectious. Oh, to be so beautifully despised...

11. COCAINE, IF IT WAS A SONG.

CABARET VOLTAIRE - “L21ST”

A song with quite a lot going on, sonically, despite kind of an innocuous name. I love this sort of busy, industrial clang-and-bang sound. “Keep it up!”

12. A COVER OF A SONG, THAT YOU THINK IS BETTER THAN THE ORIGINAL.

PETER BAUMANN - “STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT”

As you may know, I’m pretty much interested in a single genre of music, so there are tons of covers out there like this, that take a song from some style that isn’t “dark synth” and reinterpret it that way, and to me it’s more or less a brand new track, hahaha. But I picked this one because I think it’s very fun: Peter Baumann, originally of Tangerine Dream, tackling an oft-covered tune made most famous by Frank Sinatra.

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princesssarisa · 4 years

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22 questions

Thanks, @cinefantastiquemitho!

01. The book that transformed your life. Freak the Mighty. It traumatized me so much in middle school, I think it singlehandedly changed me from a mostly happy (if quiet and overemotional) child into a moody, anxious teenager. The same goes for it’s ‘90s movie adaptation, The Mighty, starring a young Elden Henson and Kieran Culkin. It’s about the unlikely friendship between two misfit middle school boys: Max, the big, hulking, “stupid,” somewhat mentally disabled protagonist with a traumatic past, and “Freak,” an intelligent yet small, severely crippled, and (spoiler alert) terminally ill boy who rides on Max’s shoulders and serves as his “brain,” leading him in modeling their lives after the knights in the Arthurian legends he reads. Basically, it’s like Bridge to Terabithia meets a PG-rated Midnight Cowboy with Arthurian themes. I was forced to read it and watch the movie in school and it shook me to the core because I identified too much with Max. Not that I ever thought I was stupid, but since I was also a physically heavy, intellectually disabled, socially awkward, often teased, withdrawn misfit, I saw myself in him, very, very much. So to watch his struggles, and then in the end to see him devastated by his only friend’s death, hit hard. If that spirit medium I recently talked to was telling the truth about my past life as Emily Brontë’s best and possibly only friend, then maybe subconsciously I saw her in Freak (since she was also a “freakish” misfit who nonetheless was highly intelligent, witty and imaginative) and relived her illness and death in his. At any rate, it plunged me into a long depression that must have seemed inexplicable to the adults around me.

02. The movie that changed your way of seeing the world. The 1983 telecast of Madama Butterfly from the Arena di Verona, starring Raina Kabaivanska as Cio-Cio-San. In hindsight, it was a flawed production. Kabaivanska was a 49-year-old Bulgarian grand dame, not the least bit convincing as a 15-year-old Japanese girl. The tenor, who was supposed to be her worldly seducer, was young enough to be her son. There wasn’t a single Japanese person in either the cast or the creative team – it was all a European fantasy of Japan. For that matter, Madama Butterfly is inherently problematic with its racial and gender issues (in other news, water is wet). But watching this old telecast on VHS, out of curiosity about Miss Saigon’s source material, was the real beginning of my passion for opera. I was already familiar with The Magic Flute, but this was the start of my love for opera beyond that one. The tragic romance of the story, the visual beauty of the sets and costumes, and Puccini’s sumptuous musical score captivated my fourteen-year-old self. It led me to VHSs of La Traviata, Carmen, La Bohéme, Tosca, Rigoletto, Les Contes d’Hoffmann, L’Orfeo and Turandot, as well as other videos of Butterfly, and then to opera performances onstage. It gave me a new passion and gave me something beautiful to share with other people through “Opera Quest,” the program I’ve created to introduce opera to elementary school students. I’m so, so grateful to it!

03. The music that makes part of the soundtrack of your life. Opera, Broadway/West End show tunes, and Disney songs.

04. Define longing. It’s wanting, but deeper and stronger. It’s constant wanting, painful wanting, wanting that almost becomes obsession.

05. If you got back in time, which scene would you visit of your life? Any of my Thanksgiving visits to my grandma in Mesa, Arizona. Of course I’d love to see her again – she died 12 years ago – but I also loved wandering around the pretty retirement community where she lived, listening to Les Misérables or to Andrew Lloyd Webber on my headphones, and then sometimes swimming in the outdoor pool. I also loved the restaurant we always went to for Thanksgiving dinner, and if possible, going to see the lavish Christmas lights at the Mormon Temple a day or two later.

06. The place where your heart is. Los Angeles. Even though I wasn’t born there, it’s the earliest place I remember. I grew up there and it’s only been four years since I moved away. Every time I’ve gone back to visit since, I I’ve had the overwhelming feeling of “I’m home!” Even though I’m glad not to be living in a big city right now, I wish I lived closer and could visit more often.

07. The travel of your life. I haven’t travelled very much outside the US, though I have been to Canada, London and Ireland. Within the US, I was born in Connecticut, I’ve lived most of my life in California, and I’ve spent a lot of time in New York (relatives live there), Washington State (more relatives live there), Arizona (my grandma lived there), Florida (other grandparents, plus Walt Disney World), Montana (still more relatives), North Carolina (still more), and Minnesota (family friends). Once each I’ve been to Chicago, Boston, Cape Cod, and small towns in Vermont and New Hampshire, and I’d love to go back to each of them one day. I’ve also been to North Dakota, but don’t remember it very well, and I’ve spent at least a few hours each in Las Vegas and Salt Lake City, but not long enough to do much of anything.

08. An author that you have met recently, and whose works you want to continue to read. Not too long ago I took a writing class taught by April Halprin Wayland, who wrote the beautiful Jewish children’s book New Year at the Pier about the tradition of Tashlich on Rosh Hashanah. I’d definitely like to read more of her books, especially her Passover children’s book, More Than Enough. I’d love buy them for my little cousins on the Jewish side of my family.

09. Coffee or tea? Herbal tea. Rooibos chai is my favorite.

10. Who's your Doctor (if you don't watch Doctor Who, who's your favorite character from a TV series)? I couldn’t say. I don’t watch Doctor Who or much TV at all anymore. Let’s just say I love the main characters from all the TV shows I watched when I was little.

11. If you could just throw everything away and live your dream, what would you do? I’d buy a safe and luxurious self-driving RV (this is a fantasy, after all) and travel all over the US, living in a different place for a week, two weeks, or a month at a time. In this fantasy, there’s no pandemic going on, so I have the freedom to go anywhere. I’d visit every big city, every cozy small town, and every notable place of natural beauty, I’d go to the opera and see local productions of Les Misérables wherever I could. I’d visit my relatives whenever I liked. I’d present “Opera Quest” at a local school in each place I visited. But I’d also spend plenty of alone time in my RV, or in whatever hotel or inn I chose to stay in for a little while, and work on the books I’m writing, listen to music and meditate. There would be no pressure on me from anyone to do anything. That would be amazing.

12. If you could choose to be a character from a book, TV series or movie, who you would be? None. Some of them have nice lives, but they all have their problems too, and I’d rather keep my own problems than take on theirs.

13. What makes you not like a story? Characters we’re supposed to like being cruel and spiteful to each other and neither regretting it nor being properly called out for it. If their behavior is clearly supposed to be bad and treated as such within the story, it’s one thing. Even if they never regret their own behavior, that’s fine as long as the other characters call it out as bad. But when they don’t, I feel like the author is saying that anyone would be just as cruel and spiteful in that situation. That it’s no big deal, it’s just human nature and anything better would be unrealistic. I hate that.

14. Do you like romance in stories? Why? Yes, I do like it. Not if it’s badly written, but when it’s well written, I love it. I love watching two characters come to care so deeply for each other, fill each other’s deepest needs and bring each other happiness. Of course that happens with platonic love too, but romance is the way it most often happens in stories.

15. Which book did you hate having read? Well, I didn’t like having to read Candide as a college freshman, because despite all its humor, it’s cynicism depressed me. I was going through a stage where I was feeling overwhelmed by the world’s problems and had turned to idealistic spiritual beliefs to comfort myself, so I hated having to read a book that essentially said “Optimism is stupid, the world is a terrible place, there is no God and no good reason for anything, and all we can do is try to make the best of our individual lives.” (Yes, I know that’s a vast oversimplification of Voltaire’s philosophy – it just came across that way to me at the time.)

16. Which movie did you hate having watched? I’ve already mentioned The Mighty, above, so... another one... When I was seven or eight, I saw Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory for the first time, and I was very disturbed at the end by Wonka’s angry outburst about Charlie and Grandpa Joe stealing the Fizzy Lifting Drinks. Of course everyone can agree about how scary and mean Gene Wilder acts in that scene. But imagine how much worse it would be to an ultra-sensitive little kid on the autism spectrum, especially since I wasn’t expecting it. I had read the original book already, so the fates of the four bratty kids and the infamous boat scene didn’t phase me because I knew to expect them. But movie-Wonka’s final test is a movie-only addition, so I had no idea he was going to start screaming at poor Charlie, and to me at that age, an adult suddenly screaming in rage at a child was scarier than a child turning into a blueberry any day. Yes, it’s only a test, Charlie passes it and all ends happily, but it still upset me.

17. Do you like anime/manga? Any favorite? It all looks very nice, but apart from seeing Kiki’s Delivery Service and a few episodes of Pokemon as a kid, I haven’t experienced much of it. Maybe I should explore it more.

18. Who is the best villain you saw in a story? I don’t think I can choose just one from all the stories I know. For the best villain from Shakespeare and opera, I’d probably have to say Iago, because of how thoroughly effective his scheming and manipulation are. For the best Disney villain, I’d have to say Frollo, because of how horribly realistic he is: as an abuser of power, a racist, a religious bigot, a sexual predator, a psychologically abusive foster parent, and in the way he believes everything he does is holy and right. But there are so many good villains in all genres of fiction, choosing just one favorite is impossible.

19. If you could do an interview with any person, alive or dead, from our world, who would you choose and why? William Shakespeare. I have so many questions about his plays. They’ve all been interpreted in hundreds of different ways and I’d like to hear what his real intentions were when he wrote them. And for that matter, if he really did write all of them or if there’s any truth in the anti-Stratfordian theories.

20. If you could meet and and befriend a writer, who would it be? I just said Shakespeare, but I don’t want to repeat the same answer twice... Well, if that spirit medium was right, then I’ve already met and befriended three famous writers in a past life: Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë. Supposedly I spent “many hours” with all three of them, but was especially close to Emily. If that’s true, then I’d love to meet them again, do some catching up, and talk with them about the modern controversies surrounding their books... especially Wuthering Heights, which seems to defy easy interpretations of its characters and themes.

21. Cats or dogs? Dogs. I just adore them!

22. If you could choose any time period or society to live, which it would be? A year ago, I would have said “right here, right now.” But with this global pandemic taking place and the future of the world and of America in particular feeling so uncertain, I’ve changed my mind. I’d rather live in one of the fantasy worlds I’ve created: either the Sisterhood of Nira’s valley (the setting of my completed but unpublished novel An Eternal Crown) or Zalina Island (the setting of the Beauty and the Beast and Little Mermaid retellings I’m working on). Those places might have flaws of their own, but at least they’ve made social progress that this country hasn’t made, and they have magic too. If I could I’d move to one of them, at least until the pandemic is over and we have a new president.

I tag @simone-boccanegra, @astrangechoiceoffavourites, @nitrateglow, @thatvermilionflycatcher, @sunlit-music, @theheightsthatwuthered, @fairychamber, @wuthering-valleys

#questions #about me

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years

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956.

Created by Guia from scyphozoan 1) What way of self-care do you enjoy the most and what feels more like an obligation? >> I enjoy trying to find the things that make me feel fulfilled and inspired and joyful (although sometimes it’s harder than it sounds, it’s still something I don’t mind putting energy into), and I enjoy trying to find ways to connect to myself as opposed to run away from myself. Those both feel good and gratifying on a more immediate level. I do not enjoy taking care of more mundane and physical aspects of my existence, I definitely regard that as an obligation (or routine maintenance) rather than something I actively enjoy doing or actively feel fulfilled by.

2) Have you ever tried specific diet plans or fads? What made you do it and how did it turn out for you? >> No, I’m pretty repelled by fad diets and, basically, any random person telling me how I should be eating (especially if there’s some kind of proprietary shit involved). Eating really isn’t that fucking complicated -- although admittedly sometimes it can feel that way considering how much capitalism has fucked the most basic things up for us -- and I’m tired of being sold this party line that I have to micromanage my diet like some kind of neurotic in order to be “healthy” (imagine really exaggerated air quotes there). So, no. I eat what feels good to eat, and most of my diet management is actually about being more conscious about where my food comes from and how much processing it goes through and whether it’s locally and [reasonably] ethically produced or not, that kind of thing. 3) When was the last time you prematurely quit something you had already committed to? How did you feel about it afterwards? >> I don’t remember. I don’t think I usually have much opportunity to do this. 4) How honest are you in your surveys? Have you ever felt the need to lie or avoid a question for any reason? Is there any topic you find too personal to talk about? >> I think I’m completely honest. I don’t lie on surveys, unless I’m unconsciously lying to myself about something (and I don’t think that’s the same thing as intentional dishonesty). I don’t literally say everything I think and feel about every subject, but I wouldn’t call that dishonesty. And, yeah, there are certain things I won’t discuss in detail in a survey answer, and that’s largely because other people have access to these things, and I don’t think certain elements of my life experience should be discussed openly in such mixed company like that. I have a private journal if I want to elaborate on anything to myself. 5) If you have a partner, how often do you need or want to have sex, ideally? What would you say are the common challenges you encounter in keeping a healthy sex life, if any? If you are single, how do you maintain your personal sexual health? >> I don’t have sex with my outworld partner. (There aren’t any real challenges with my Inworld escapades, which is largely why I enjoy them.)

6) Do you know anyone who has been directly affected by COVID-19 e.g. testing positive, losing a loved one, or their job due to the pandemic? >> I don’t think so. 7) If you cook, do you remember when and how you started learning? Is there a recipe you enjoy making more than others? If you don't cook, where do you get your meals from and how do you usually decide what to get? >> I technically do know how to cook, I just... don’t cook. It doesn’t spark joy. Sparrow, on the other hand, loves cooking, so it works out. 8) What items do you not mind splurging on? Do you tend to subscribe to the thinking expensive = good quality? >> I don’t enjoy splurging on anything because I have a low income and spending money always feels risky no matter what the fuck I’m buying. I prefer to buy things of higher quality if I can because... that’s what I like. I like things of value. Unfortunately, I don’t always have the actual ability to buy the higher-quality (and usually higher-priced) thing, so it’s a balance I always have to strike. Sometimes I get lucky -- for example, that COVID Stimulus Package thing enabled me to get my first pair of Bose headphones and I am very appreciative for that opportunity because I’ve wanted a pair for years but could never come even close to affording it. As far as “expensive = good quality”, I do know that that’s not always the case -- capitalism ruins everything, like I said, and sometimes shit is just expensive for no ass reason (brands are a curse). But it is true in enough cases, is all. 9) Is there a kind of music you only prefer listening to during specific type of activities that you otherwise wouldn't enjoy under normal circumstances (e.g. EDM while doing sports or instrumental music while studying, etc.)? >> Hmm... no, I don’t think so. 10) If you had to start a YouTube channel and motivations/skills/resources/any other inhibiting factors weren't an issue, what would it be about? >> I don’t want to start a Youtube channel, though. I’m perfectly content watching other people’s channels. 11) What's one thing that would make your life perfect right now? What's stopping it from happening? >> Nothing would make my life perfect. Which is fine because perfection doesn’t interest me. My life is actually pretty good, considering 1) the state of my brain and 2) the state of the world, so. 12) Name something from or about your teenage years that DOESN'T embarrass you: >> Nothing about my teenage years embarrasses me. I’m mostly sad and angry about the shit that went down in my teenage years, not embarrassed by my reactions to it or what kind of person I was. I’m kind of fiercely protective of my younger self, because, by god, someone has to be. 13) Has anything ever happened to you that if you told someone about, they would think you're making it up? >> Yeah, there’s a couple of things like that. Some of them are good/funny (the whole Voltaire incident) and some of them are pretty sucky (being put on probation at 13yo for pretty much nothing, and also being put in juvie for a week because... other teenagers started fights with me... none of that even makes sense to me and I’m the one who went through it). 14) What do you think of gossips? Have you ever been guilty of gossiping yourself? How about a time when you've been a victim of one, or have had to distance yourself from someone because they couldn't keep a secret? >> I don’t really care about gossips. It just doesn’t affect me either way. Sometimes I’ll engage in some light gossip for funsies, but I avoid anything that reads as flat-out malicious to me. That’s all. 15) What travel destination or popular spot have you been to that you found overrated? What about a lesser known place that you thought was a hidden gem? >> Meh. I mean, I used to live in NYC so there are a lot of places I’ve been to that don’t strike me as particularly remarkable but other people go apeshit over, but that’s just the “living in a tourist city” experience. I think it’s awesome that other people enjoyed those things, and I’m glad they exist for other people to enjoy.

#surveys #survey #random survey

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unrighteousbooks · 5 years

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Let Me Tell You About Eden

I have been drinking a bit so I am sorry if this is not very clear. I had plum wine from Japan and I had too much. But I've also been thinking about something, and I feel like it needs to be said, even though I may be getting myself into quite a bit of trouble.

Let me tell you about Eden.

People will tell you that Eden was a paradise. Why do they say that? They don't actually remember it. They're just going by what they heard, and who did they hear it from? It turns out they got that idea from a book, and who supposedly wrote that book? The creator of Eden.

So, the creator says, "Hey, I made this and it's really great and trust me you're going to love it. I put all the plants in and also fish and you get to be the boss." That's right, the creator tells you that you're the boss of the fish and the plants and also you're the boss of all the creepy things and did I mention that there are lots of creeping things? In fact, all of them. All the creeping things. Congratulations, you have dominion over stinky little millipedes and ticks and horseflies. You must be so pleased.

Now, let me ask you: If you were going to build paradise, would you put in chiggers and mosquitos? OK, I am going to get in so much trouble for saying this, but let's suppose you're a builder, and you have to build somebody a house. But let's suppose this house... well, you had only a day to build it. You'd already been working for five days straight, around the clock (and you made the clock, too) and you'd had no rest, and then you have to work on the sixth day, and you're really just looking forward to a day of rest but you know you have to finish this house and get everybody moved into it. So you finish the house, and the new owners move in, and you finally get some rest. And then you wake up on the eighth day, and you start looking at that house, and you're thinking: Oh. Well, that was kind of a rush job, wasn't it? I mean, the place is full of termites and bedbugs and moles. I would mention snakes, too, but I don't want to offend anyone and I know some snakes are all right when you get to know them. Lots of people like snakes. In fact, you can find people who like practically any kind of animal. There are people who like those lizards with the tails that come off, and squids, and moles and groundhogs too and oh groundhogs, I have to remember to come back to groundhogs. But OK, let's just say termites for now.

I am feeling a little lightheaded. But OK. You built this house, and it's full of termites, and not only that, you put the termites in there deliberately, because you were really tired and probably not thinking clearly and you had this idea that, well, I'll tell the new owners: Hey! Look! I filled this up with termites, because I figured you're really be into that, having a place where you could be the boss of your very own termites.

Now, I am not criticizing. Well, maybe I am, but it's constructive criticism. Or construction criticism. Or something. Anyway. You're looking at this house, after you've had some rest, and you're thinking: Wow. This may not have been my best idea.

So, what do you do? Here's the thing, I didn't mention this before and I am really on thin ice here but: Certain builders don't take criticism well. Oh and by the way I just want to say this again, I am kinda still drinking. Plum wine is truly underrated. My compliments to the maker of the wine and the maker of the plums. And also I am not just saying that so I can come back later and say, oh, well, I was drunk when I wrote that.

Back to Eden. That house and everything. So. You don't want to say, hey, I just realized that I didn't do this right, so since I messed up, you'll have to move out. But you DO need to get them out, you know, because you were going on and on about how great the place was, and they are gonna notice. The longer they stay, the more problems they're going to see. And you can't really reverse yourself now, because how would that look? So they need to move out, but it has to be THEIR fault.

Wait, which builder am I talking about? I'm confusing myself. I'm kind of talking about you and how you hypothetically built a house, but let's be honest here. I'm talking about some other builder. Some other creator. Not to name any names, but you know the one I mean.

That builder that I'm talking about, people say he's all-powerful. Influffable. Wait, that's not a word. What's the one I'm looking for?

Infallible. That's the one. People say he's infallible. OK, but once again, who did they hear that from? Also don't let me forget about the groundhogs. We'll get to that in a minute. Right now we're talking infallibility. Omnipotence. Do we have any collaborating scarf for that? Wait. Wrong words again. Corroborating. Source. Corroborating source. Do we have any corroborating source for this "omnipotent" business?

Let me tell you something. Once I knew this guy who was a van. He was a Volkswagen van, in the desert, in a town called Radiator Springs, and he said that if you watched the traffic light blinking, every third one was slower.

Wait, I didn't say that right, he wasn't the van. He HAD a van. I meant he had a van. Now that I think about it the van wasn't important and I'm not sure why I told you about the van, but here's the important part: Once he started talking about omnipotence, and he asked: "All-powerful? If he's all-powerful, could he create a rock so big that he himself can't lift it?"

And now that, that's what brings me back to the groundhog.

I don't travel much. One day, though, I was passing through a little town in Pennsylvania. It's a holiday. For groundhogs. They get their own day and it turns out that in this little town groundhogs are a big, big deal. A big deal. So in this big-deal-groundhog town, I stop at a little restaurant, and it's packed.

Also trust me, this is still about Eden. I'm just having a little trouble telling the story. But there I am, somewhere in Pennsylvania, and I've got this book which now that I think about it isn't all that important but I would like to tell you that the book was Poems for Every Mood . And I'm trying to read this book but there's a guy at a table next to me and he's talking to this beautiful woman and I'm not really listening well OK I kind of was. Anyway. Suddenly he says to her, "I'm a god."

Well, that's the sort of thing that catches your attention, especially if you're me. Which you aren't. But that's what he said, he said he was a god. So I'm thinking to myself OH NO YOU'RE NOT AND TRUST ME I KNOW but then he says, "Not the God. But a god." And I don't know exactly what he did, but he did something or other that surprised the woman, just amazed her, really, and she said how did you do that, it was some kind of trick. And then he said, "Maybe the real god uses tricks. Maybe he's not omnipotent, he's just been around so long that he knows everything."

And I started thinking, you know what? He HAS been around for a long time, and he could definitely pull off a trick or two. And not only that, I realized that's pretty much what the guy with the van had been driving at. ("Driving at," get it? Because he was a van!) That whole omnipotence thing doesn't really make a lot of sense. I got so focused on that, you know what I did? I walked out of there without my book. And it was a lovely little book, too. For some reason I think the guy who said he was a god wound up with it.

But OK, never mind the book, back to my point: I would get in trouble, a lot of trouble if I said, oh, Eden wasn't perfect, and maybe that's because the creator wasn't perfect either. So I won't say that, besides, it's not like I really know. Officially I will tell you this is the wine talking. It's not like I'm giving you the answers, is it? I'm just asking some questions.

Because, OK, here is something else: Sometimes you don't help people by giving them answers. Sometimes you help them by getting them to ask questions. That's how you do it. And you are not going to believe who told me that, but I am going to tell you anyway. I'm not supposed to repeat certain stories told by certain divine beings, but it's OK if I tell the stories if I know they aren't going to be believed, right? So I can go right ahead and tell you this: a certain divine being once told me that He had a conversation with a robot in space. That's what He said. He said He was talking to a robot in space. Don't ask me what robot or where in space because I don't even know. But this robot told Him, well, I tried helping and then I tried not helping and then everybody got destroyed plus also I lost my swag. And then He told the robot: "If you do too much, people get dependent on you. And if you do nothing, they lose hope." So what you have to do is, you have to use a light touch. "When you do things right, people won't be sure you've done anything at all."

So I think robots made Eden. No wait I don't. The wine again. I'm having some trouble keeping my thoughts straight. But OK, next couple of paragraphs, I am getting it together because it's important. Let me take a deep breath.

First: Maybe Eden was never about paradise. It's a complicated metaphor. It's about duality, because you can't have the concept of "good" unless you also have the concept of "bad." It's about the end of innocence. But we're not talking about innocence as the opposite of guilt. We're talking about innocence as ignorance. The innocence of babes, not the innocence of the guy who was acquitted of robbing the bank. Innocence is ignorance, and ignorance is bliss. Knowledge is a burden, but it's a beautiful burden.

There is a story from Voltaire, "Story of the Good Brahmin." An educated man ponders the fact that his uneducated, incurious neighbor is blissfully happy, while he is tormented by questions he cannot answer. "I have said to myself a thousand times that I should be happy if I were but as ignorant as my old neighbor; and yet it is a happiness which I do not desire."

Do you really want to go back to ignorance? If you could turn back time, go back to Eden, would you want to? Could you appreciate being happy, if you'd never known sadness? What's good, if there's no such thing as bad? What's right, if there's no such thing as wrong? What's East, if there's no such thing as West?

East and West, that's something else I'm going to point out. You couldn't go back to Eden even if you wanted to, and do you know why? Because there are guardians at the east gate, with flaming swords. Why only at the east gate? Look, if you really wanted to go back, couldn't you go around to the west? Oh, probably there's a wall. Because no one could possibly build a ladder, right, so a wall would solve everything. I will never understand why some people think that walls will solve problems.

Plus the swords, OK, can we talk about the flaming swords? Flaming swords. I mean, it's a sword, so isn't it a little silly that it's also on fire? I mean, nobody ever got stabbed through the heart with a sword and then got up and said "no worries, I'm fine, it wasn't lit." Let me tell you, the fire would be the least of your worries. But OK. Where was I?

The last thing, that's where I was. "Oh, one more thing." Do you know, once I met a detective, and he used to say that all the time. At first you thought he was absent-minded. He was sloppy and he drove the ugliest car I've ever seen and he was always smoking truly horrible cigars. He would start heading out of the room, and then he would stop, and he'd say, "Oh, one more thing." And eventually, he'd learn everything. By learning one more thing, one more thing, one more thing. Bit by bit, he'd figure out everything. And you know what's really funny? I think he used to be an angel. I really think he was. I'm pretty sure I met him in Berlin and he admitted it.

Wait, sorry, sidetracked again. The one more thing. Here's where I'm really going to get into trouble. I want to say one more thing about Eden. About Eden, and the creator of Eden. Remember how I said that certain builders don't take criticism well? Well, I have a criticism. A harsh one.

There are no two ways about it, this is bad: After he built a house with termites and wanted the people out, he blamed Eve. He totally blamed her. What did she do? Oh, she ate an apple. Big deal. And also she didn't even eat the apple until somebody came along and said, oh, hey, APPLE, check out this apple. It wasn't even her idea. But she gets blamed. Blamed, and then shamed. Blameshamed.

So that becomes the official version of events. It was Eve's fault. Kicked out of paradise. Because of Eve. No more innocence. Because of Eve. No way back. Because of Eve.

If it's necessary to kick them out, OK, kick them out, but don't claim that it was Eve's fault. That's. Not. Fair.

Oh I am really starting to realize that I had way way too much wine but I'm not quite done with that one more thing.

There's a customer who comes in here a lot. He's annoying. All the customers are annoying. And yes I do have customers. There are several. Well there are some. Anyway. He's annoying because he picks up books and he always wants to buy them and sometimes he will just start reading things from them out loud and last week he got ahold of a book of poetry. No it wasn't the one I left in Pennsylvania. I already told you I think the guy who said he was a god took that one. Blue Yodel . That was the book. By... by... oh, bugger all, my head hurts. It was by Amy Adams. No. Sorry, that's not right. By Ansel Adams. Wait, that's not right either. Ansel Elkins. There. Blue Yodel , by Ansel Elkins. The poem was called "Autobiography of Eve." And the line was this:

"Let it be known: I did not fall from grace. I leapt to freedom."

And all I can say is, good for you, Eve. Good for all of us.

#theology #eden #eve #religion #ansel elkins #i will be in trouble for this #i think i will delete it when i sober up #but i don't want to #so i will hide it from myself #under other things i post

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vos-estis-sal-tarrae · 4 years

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Part 3.

( Part 1 and Part 2 )

Putting this next part under a ‘read more’ because it’s long.

13: a song dedicated to on of my muse’s ships (specify ship) :

Ummmm. I’m just going to say that this reminds him of Pip, who was his first ‘crush’, back when Damien was younger lol. Damien was super upset over this crush. And emotional. But that hasn’t changed. ‘Empty With You’ by The Used.

I haven't lost anything except my mind Expect a thousand confessions that you will not find I try to take off my head sometimes, Because I can't escape the memories I haven't lost anything except my mind

14: a song that my muse would sing to their children:

Lmao he’d be singing ‘Death Death (Devil, Devil, Evil, Evil, Song)’ by Voltaire to make them laugh.

Well I went down to church on Sunday And I sat up front in a pew The priest said "Jesus! and Mary too! Son, what the devil's got into you? Get up and sing a hymn or two!" And I sang Death death devil devil devil devil evil evil evil evil songs Hell you know that's how I get along The world is full of hypocrisy, so how can it be wrong? To sing death death devil devil devil devil evil evil evil evil songs

15: a song that my muse would play at their wedding:

‘The Sacrament’ by HIM.

And I know My church is not of silver and gold, It's glory lies beyond judgement of souls The commandments are of consolation and warmth

You know our sacred dream won't fail The sanctuary tender and so frail The sacrament of love The sacrament of warmth is true The sacrament is you

16: a song that my muse can’t stand:

He’s got a grudge against Justin Beiber, I guess lol. Any Beiber song... except he secretly used to listen to ‘Boyfriend’ for maybe a week before he decided he couldn’t let himself like even one song.

Chillin' by the fire while we eating fondue I dunno about me, but I know about you So say hello to falsetto in three, two, swag

17: a song that makes my muse think of your muse (Miles) :

Damien is always trying to flirt with Miles and impress him. Mostly because, deep down, he knows that Miles can’t stand him. At least, Damien is sure that he’s always annoying him. Damien is a drama queen. ‘Slept So Long’ by Jonathan Davis from the Queen of the Damned movie soundtrack.

I've slept so long without you It's tearing me apart too How did you get this far,. Playing games with this old heart? I've killed a million petty souls, But I couldn't kill you I've slept so long with out you

18: a song that plays while my muse trains/works-out:

Uhhhhh, I’ll just post some of the least ‘inappropriate’ or whatever lyrics from this one. ‘Denim Demon’ by Turbonegro.

But now I'm back with a bang I've got my own leather gang And all of them are men And denim's back again

19: a song that plays while my muse studies/works:

Something old and instrumental. He’d search things like ‘ancient greek’ songs, etc.

20: a random song from my muse’s playlist:

‘Why are you here’ by Machine Gun Kelly.

I'm not myself, I'm not myself when you're around, no

I'm a demon in the night, she's an angel with the white Told me, "Keep on all the lights, I'mma show you what you like" Help you put back on your clothes, make sure nothing's on your nose Can’t even tell my closest homies, nobody knows.

#ooc #headcanons

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behind-the-screen-of-bangtan · 5 years

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Words to make you think

This post is part of the TSU. It belongs to the third part: Socio-political reflection.

There will be several parts in this post:

Citations in the videos

In the lyrics

Concepts based on philosophy/psychology

BTS’ discography through a Jungian perspective

Citations in the videos

We’ll start with what’s mainly a list of the quotes then we’ll interpret their purpose. Some citations may not feel that philosophical but as they can be interpreted the same way, they were included here nonetheless.

BTS introduced us to philosophy, and then to psychology, quite progressively. As it started in the background, it’s hard to be sure whether I caught them all or not but the earliest occurrence I have is in “Boy In Luv” Japanese version MV:

“One original thought is worth a thousand mindless quotings, Diogenes”

Despite the signature, it seems this quote is not from Diogenes himself but was rather attributed to him by William Safire in a New York Times article from the 7 April 1996 and titled “ON LANGUAGE; Worth a Thousand Words” - the article itself is explaining the real origin of some expressions. It was later used by Banksy for one of his works - and it’s probably this one that inspired Big Hit’s artistic directors.

It’s funny to start a post about philosophical references with a fake quote. Let’s say it’s a reminder to be careful with what you say and to not blindly believe what you read.

The sentence was written on the blackboard. You can also find a verse from the Bible’s proverbs not too far away:

“Those who guard their lips preserve their lives, but those who speak rashly will come to ruin.”

Now let’s be honest, it’s impossible to read these in the MV (I found them thanks to a making-of video). As for their link with “Boy In Luv” (lyrics of the Japanese version here), it seems hard to establish. “Boy In Luv” tells the story of a boy struggling to confess his love for a girl and waiting eagerly for an answer. An overinterpretation of the quotes could be that the boy needs to find how to confess by himself (in opposition to the “Dad how did you confess your love to mom?” from the lyrics) and that a gesture would mean more than a verbal confession, or that he must choose his words wisely to not lose his chance with the girl.

The next ones are more known in the fandom since they appeared during The Most Beautiful Moment in Life. It’s words related to the concept of the series, namely the brevity of life, the death of innocence and childhood, and the cruelty of the world:

“Paradise is where I am” - Voltaire in “Le Mondain”

“Dedicated to all the boys who have lived in this painful world”

“Too fast to live too young to die”

“Without soul goal and **** We are nothin but a mannequin”

"You must live on"

“YOLO” / “you only live once”

“Youth is never coming back”

“Pain past is pleasure”

There’s also a series of Latin citations that appeared in “RUN” Japanese version:

“Carpe Diem” (Seize the day) “Dum Spiro Spero” (While I breath I hope) “Memento mori” (Remember that you have to die) “Pro Memoria” (For memory) “res, non verba” (Facts instead of words) “Viva” (Alive/Living or Long live…!)

Some of those expressions made their comeback during the WINGS series, along with new ones:

“Man muss noch Chaos in sich haben, um einen tanzenden Stern gebären zu können” (One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star.)

A citation from Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra. And:

“You oldest fears are the worst ones”

“Expiring for love is beautiful but stupid”

“Fear is the most elegant weapon Your hands are never messy Threatning bodily is rude” (original typo)

Different sentences from Jenny Holzer.

These citations are once again fitting with the concepts for WINGS and The Wings Tour, that is to say, temptation and the fear of becoming an adult.

For details about where all those can be found in BTS’ works and their origins, I’ll let you refer to the glossary. Most of them don’t have a real author and some may even have been created by the artistic direction team.

Agust D’s album cover had citations over Suga’s face:

“You need people like me. You need people like me so you can point your fuckin’ fingers and say. ‘That’s the bad guy’.” said by Tony Montana (Robert de Niro), the main character in Brian de Palma’s movie Scarface.

“Life is a daily oscillation between revolt and submission” by Henri Frederic Amiel, a Swiss philosopher.

“Life is ecstasy”

“Every man dies, but not every man lives.” pronounced by William Wallace (Mel Gibson) in the movie Braveheart.

Again they go with the theme of the mixtape.

We even got a surprise during the 2017/2018 ceremonies. A citation from Gilles Deleuze could be seen in the background during the “Mic Drop” performance at the 2018 Seoul Music Awards. There was also a lobster during the Golden Disc that connects with it. I’ll let you refer to the glossary for details but here’s the quote, from A Thousand Plateaus:

“Nor can the status of social formations be analyzed by throwing some signifier into the base, or vice versa, or a bit of phallus or castration into political economy, or a bit of economics or politics into psychoanalysis. There is a third problem. It is difficult to elucidate the system of the strata without seeming to introduce a kind of cosmic or even spiritual evolution from one to the other, as if they were arranged in stages and ascended degrees of perfection.”

I won’t pretend I understand everything but I still feel it’s the less pertinent quote until now. It’s an analysis of the world on a binary base which doesn’t really connect with the boys’ success that’s celebrated in “Mic Drop”.

The last quotes up to this day are in Persona’s comeback trailer. They’re from Carl Jung, the psychologist who inspired the series:

I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.

The dream is the small hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul, which opens up to that primeval cosmic night that was the soul long before there was the conscious ego.

As expected, they relate to the lyrics of “Intro: Persona” that wonder about one’s own identity and the dream theme linked to the album.

Even though they are mostly related to the concept of the series, we can wonder whether these words are intended to be seen by fans or just serve as a Lorem Ipsum to fill the background. Indeed, you’ll need to pause the videos to read most of them and sometimes even more effort will be needed - for example, Holzer’s quotes are written backward when they appear behind Jungkook.

(This also applies to most of the literature references, they’re relevant for the concept but quite hard to catch.)

It’s like background noise. But a background noise that you can take the time to listen to in order to understand the whole concept even better. There’s one thing however that seems recurrent between those quotes and it’s their negativity. Of course, most of BTS’ concepts are dark so it’s fitting but they also usually have their bit of hope: youth is painful but it’s the most beautiful moment in life. Or then again, we can overinterpret and consider that while the world is dark, it’s the boys themselves who bring hopefulness.

In the lyrics

Obviously, all of BTS’ lyrics are quite philosophical, be it when they question their feelings, the meaning of life or the way society works. And I’m not even talking about the puns.

One notable line though is in RM’s “God Rap” when he explicitly talks about Buddhism, as explained by Muish here:

Foolish believers, you can become a god as well

It references the fact anyone reaching enlightenment can become a godly being.

The next ones appear in the Love Yourself series. First, we have “Magic Shop” (Muish’s rambling), a song dedicated to ARMY and written by Jungkook. The concept of the magic shop is detailed below. Here, it’s like an IRL version. The fear they exchanged is the hate they received before and the positive attitude they gained is ARMY. And they wish us the same:

You gave me the best of me So you’ll give you the best of you

Since the magic shop is a mental exercise, you’ll find it in your heart.

There’s also something in “134340” and “Answer: Love Myself”. Their lyrics can be connected to what Jung defined as a complex: a constellation of elements that when they’re activated can influence our will (more details can be found here). Those elements are usually past trauma or similar events.

So when they say in “Answer: Love Myself”:

Under your mask When even the scars left from my mistakes Are all my constellations

The constellations that emerged from mistakes can be seen as a complex.

As for “134340″ (lyrics), the whole song can be interpreted as a rejected complex. “134340″ is initially about Pluto not being considered as a planet anymore and thus feeling lonely. It’s similar to what happens to complexes. Normally they’re in the unconscious but once they’re activated, they can reach the consciousness, like the sun in the lyrics:

At one time, belonging to the sun’s world

But once the ego has dealt with the complex, it is sent back into the unconscious, where it just float around aimlessly like Pluto:

All I’m doing is circling around (Beyond the fog, I watch over the you who is still smiling Without you and without meaning, the reality of my irregular orbit) All I’m doing is spinning around aimlessly (Pluto in the darkness with a number that’s difficult for you to remember But even then, I’d continue to circle around your surroundings, damn)

To relate to the concept of Tear, let’s add the fact that complexes have personalities. They’re usually weaker than the personality of the ego (which is our personality; in the case they’re as strong, we observe multiple personalities disorders).

The whole concept of Tear is faking yourself to the point it’s unbearably painful. It’s like the boy rejected his own personality to the point it became a complex instead of his own ego and now it’s exiled in his subconscious. Luckily, he will accept it in Love Yourself 結 Answer. Concerning the reason why such a thing would happen, we have to remember the ego is directly under the influence of the persona (so how we behave in society). So to fit in the world, the ego changed itself.

Concepts based on philosophy/psychology

Until now, it’s safe to assume all the quotes in the videos were decisions from the artistic team only. It all changed with the Love Yourself series.

Not only its main reference is The Art of Loving by Erich Fromm, but the whole series is constructed as a reflection based on the 起承轉結 structure and it also references the magic shop technique. Philosophy is central in this concept and not only the artistic directors but also Bang PD and the boys are participating in developing it.

The Art of Loving explains love is like an art and you must work on it to develop it. Love has several forms, including self-love, but true love is rare nowadays. People tend to compensate for the lack of love with consumerism.

The Chinese structure has an introduction, two parts considering the subject from two different points of view and a conclusion.

The magic shop refers to a psychodramatic scene performed during therapy by the patients and the therapist. In the magic shop, it’s possible to exchange whatever you want against a certain price. However, the real strength of this technique is in the bargain preceding the exchange. The shopkeeper (either the therapist or another patient) will question the reasons motivating the exchange and through their answers, the patient often realizes their initial wish was hiding another desire they hadn’t identified. You can refer to this paper by Professor Earl Koile for examples.

In Love Yourself, Euphoria shows that the introduction is actually The Most Beautiful Moment in Life. It’s the initial situation. As we saw in The universal coming-of-age story, the boys struggled with accepting the outside world and still had to find how to be happy.

The two development parts of the reasoning are the bargain inside the magic shop - note that all the what-if considered during this bargain also exist in the BU thanks to the time travel.

The exchange the boys want to make is revealed in ”FAKE LOVE” first teaser:

'Magic Shop' is a psychodramatic technique that exchanges fear for a positive attitude.

We also see in the video that what they understand by fear is their traumatic past and that “a positive attitude” is being with a girl (several interpretations can be made as to what the girls represent).

The bargain begins in Her and the boys explain how being with a girl will bring them happiness because it’s destiny (see notably “Serendipity”’s and “DNA”’s lyrics).

The teaser revealed during the 2017 KBS Gayo Daechukje can be considered as the shopkeeper’ answer:

“The magical time is coming. Come to the Magic Shop. Now, take off your mask and open your eyes.”

The boys are asked to take off the mask “destiny” had put on them, the one that makes them smile because they’re with a girl.

We see the result in Tear. They’ve been denaturing themselves to the point they literally ask “who are you?” in “FAKE LOVE”. Being with a girl actually doesn’t bring them happiness and they’re just forcing themselves to fit the situation “because it’s destiny”.

The conclusion happens when the boys realize what they really want is not “a positive attitude” as decided by some abstract authority but to be happy by themselves and for themselves. Thus “Answer: Love Myself”. This whole reflection proves the ideas developed in The Art of Loving: the boys had to do a lot of mental work to reach true love, they all had different relationships with the girls and with themselves, and they had to work on it themselves and not just wait for someone else to bring them joy.

As the 起承轉結 structure is for a written work and the magic shop technique is a purely mental exercise, we can assume no one was really hurt in the process - no girls were involved and the boys didn’t denature themselves. Again this idea is made possible in the BU through time travel - but since it’s the BU, there are still people who are hurt, sadly.

However, the VCRs shown during the performances at the 2018 year-end ceremonies imply there was someone who helped them and that they want to help back:

“Fake Love Take off the mask and face yourself I can be your hero”

(2018 MMA)

“I didn't know what power/love is but you taught me how to use power/love”

(2018 MAMA in Japan)

“You gave me power. You gave me love So now I'm a hero So now I'm a boy with love I'll show you the map of the soul I'll show you the dream”

(2018 MAMA in Hong-Kong)

It’s hard to tell who is that “you”. It can be the girl from the Love Yourself reflection but it can also be ARMY since we’re the subject of the next album, Map of the Soul Persona. Something that should be considered here too is that these VCRs were shown with songs from Tear (”FAKE LOVE”, “Airplane Pt.2″, and “Anpanman”) so rather than a teaser for Persona, they could be a development of Tear’s concept - except the last one of course. The masks and the doll concept were also most likely a complement to Tear - obviously the doll concept references the E version of Answer, but it’s a repackage including songs from Tear.

The series following Love Yourself is this time based on psychology, and more specifically on Jung’s works through references to Dr. Murray Stein’s Jung’s Map of the Soul.

At the moment it’s hard to know where they’re heading with this one as we only have one album. However, based on the graffitis in Persona’s Comeback trailer, we can assume the Map of the Soul series will be a trilogy made of Persona, Shadow, and Ego. These three parts of the psyche are tightly connected. The ego is the conscious and controllable part of our mind, the persona is the mask we wear to adapt to society and be able to live as a community, and the shadow is all the traits that were rejected from the persona. I detailed more ideas from the book in this summary.

If we go with such a trilogy, it means we won’t go deep in the psyche (to the self) and rather explore the surface (consciousness and personal unconscious).

Persona is the first part of this series. RM explained in his Vlive about the album that BTS’ persona is ARMY - and we do often represent them where we are. Most songs are about happiness and love: thanks to their persona, the boys could fit in the world and enjoy it at best. We can also mention “소우주” (Mikrokosmos) and its lyrics about everyone being a galaxy made of stars - the galaxy is also one of the metaphors used to represent the map of the soul.

BTS’ discography through a Jungian perspective

Before we start this part, please keep in mind it is an interpretation following the different releases so I’ll obviously make sure it makes sense. This, however, doesn’t imply Big Hit planned it, I’m just adapting to what we have. Also, had the last series been about another psychologist’s works, I would’ve made this interpretation based on this psychologist’s theories.

According to Jung, the psyche is something that grows along with the body. At first, there’s an undefined mass that’s both the self and the rest of the world. Progressively, through experiences and trauma, an ego develops - accompanied by a persona and a shadow. These allow the individual to differentiate themselves from the outside world. However, it creates a conflict within the being between the different parts that all have different goals: the persona wants to fit in the world, the ego wants to be an independent individual. An ultimate stage would thus be for all those part to become one again while remaining differentiated. But most people don’t reach it. Jung conceived this development as 5 different stages of consciousness. As the details get quite complicated I’ll let you refer to the book if you want to know more.

In BTS’s discography, we can link the development of the ego with the school trilogy. Through encountering the three main themes of life (dream, happiness, and love) the boys gain morals: you don’t need a dream, don’t be late to be happy, love is complicated. As for their social behavior, it is at first shaped by society (the teacher in “N.O”, the director and the other teacher in BTS Begins): they’re told to obey authority, to aim for a stable job and to create a family.

In the first stage, the consciousness tries to connect with the outside world to begin its existence. And indeed, the boys obey at first...

Before quickly revolting in the second stage, as they realize they’re different from the outside world

On the third stage, the perception of the world changes, the individual focuses more on concepts than objects. Which fits quite well with the YOLO and oniric philosophy behind The Most Beautiful Moment in Life.

Since WINGS is based on Demian and Demian is based on Jung’s works, there’s obviously a lot of connections. WINGS references the whole book but especially the end, with the idea of the bird flying to the god Abraxas. This image is most likely the ego getting inflated in the fourth stage and identifying with god. It’s also a stage of realism where we realize everything is a social construct.

In BTS’ concept, the bird is the young being accepting adulthood. However, rather than identifying with gods, it seems the boys rather related to angels/Icarus and thus to the whole notion of falling from the sky/sinning/succumbing to temptation. An interesting take we find in the WINGS Concept Book is that the fall of the angels and their rebellion against God is a step to grow up - possibly to grow into god themselves then, considering the stage of consciousness.

In the Love Yourself series, a lot of people have associated the girls with the anima of the boys. In Jung’s works, the anima is like your other half, the one who completes you and who exists in your subconscious. This interpretation has flaws but it’s still possible. It also fits with the fifth stage since it’s the one where all the different parts of the psyche reunite. Considering the concept of the series, we can interpret the different parts reuniting as the being finding inner peace and thus being able to love themselves.

Hypothetically, the 5 stages of consciousness stop here but Jung considered supplementary ones. It’s just that only a very small number of people reach it so it can’t be studied well.

But it doesn’t look like Map of the Soul will head here. As I said above, it seems they will rather explore the surface. Interestingly, the surface of the psyche is central in the first stages of consciousness. And the first stages of consciousness have been explored in the school trilogy. And Map of the Soul just happens to revisit the themes of the school trilogy.

And just like that, we connected the whole Reflection of Youth to Jungian ideas~

Now just for fun, here’s another one:

At first, the world population is just a mass

Out of it emerges the BTS self

Through a trauma of hate, they develop their ARMY ego

ARMY grows a persona of being a kind and generous fandom and a shadow made of hate, memes, and overreactions

Just like the map of the soul can be compared to a galaxy, BTS and ARMY reunite as one beautiful galaxy in concerts💜

Conclusion

Philosophy, psychology, proverbs, and just any idea intended to lead to a reflection have been in BTS works for a while now. It remains unsure if we’re supposed to know about them or not as they’re really not highlighted - The Art of Loving and Jung’s Map of the Soul being the exceptions. They remain pertinent to the concept they’re linked to though.

In such a context, it’s clear that only the fans will know about it. So just like hidden tracks on albums, it could be that those quotes are only intended for ARMY because only ARMY can understand them in the context of BTS’ works and their whole message.

And indeed, see how half-fans and journalists hurried to label the magic shop technique as a reference to Into the Magic Shop. Rather than the whole reflection connected to the 起承轉結 writing structure and explaining how they reached self-love, people just went with “OMG a child discovering the mysteries of the world!!”. Which is a theme Bangtan already explored and not with one but with eight references (see here) so I promise you, they really don’t need that trope anymore.

In the same idea, while Jung’s Map of the Soul and The Art of Loving are relatively easy to read, only a very dedicated fan will go through A Thousand Plateaus (before you ask, I didn’t, I only read the chapter of the quote).

To complete my thought on those quotes being background noise, they’re indeed something that’s hard to pick but also something that needs to be decoded.

As for the two books referenced that have been made very public and very explicit since you can buy them on Big Hit’s shop, as I said, first they’re easier to understand and second, BTS has gained a lot more casual fans who won’t necessarily take the time to search for all those details. So there’s a possibility they made it easier to find them so everyone could join in the fun. Lastly, BTS are more invested in those concepts and since their part of the works is mainly the lyrics and not at all the videos, it’s only logical for the ideas to be presented differently.

#BTS #TSU #Socio-political narrative #Sorry I'm not a philosopher #Hope it wasn't too bad

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nyxshadowhawk · 5 years

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Goth Tags

I know this is a YouTube thing, but I wanted to do these two lists, so I’m going to do them.

Ways in Which I’m Stereotypically Goth:

I’ve got the romantigoth aesthetic down. I love spooky, pretty things! I love gargoyles and ravens and black roses and moons and weird occult stuff and dark forests... I’ve got three Joseph Vargo posters in my dorm room, and I’ve run out of space to put resin statues in my bedroom. I wear lots of long, flowy black clothes and the occasional Goth Princess gown. I’ve also got an entire box (made of black wood with pentagrams carved in the top) full of silver and pewter jewelry, and Black Phoenix perfumes.

I really love spooky interior design and architecture. I loved Voltaire’s Gothic Homemaking and I drooled over Haunt Furniture. My dream home would probably be a Victorian-style, Addams-like mansion in the middle of nowhere (for when I become a world-famous writer...). I also REALLY love castles and old buildings, especially with gothic architecture and gargoyles. I really liked seeing old castles and churches in Scotland. Medieval Europe is 10/10 my aesthetic.

I’ve always really liked bats. When I was a kid (around six), my favorite episode of The Magic School Bus (for whatever reason) was “Going Batty.” That set off a bat obsession! Reading Stellaluna in seventh grade just reinforced it. I used to pretend to be one and wrap myself up in my blankets like wings. Bats are cute! I recently got back into them! There’s an adorable little plush one hanging above my bed. “So dark of wing and keen of craft, of all night flyers the master’s a bat.” (Actually, the master of night flyers is totally Prince Astor of Umbragard.)

I like horror stories and gothic literature. Back when creepypasta was big, I’d casually read collections of horror stories on Quotev. Now, I really love Nox Arcana’s “Tales from the Dark Tower,” Poe stories, Grimm’s fairy tales, and the like. I actually have a pretty strong stomach. I also genuinely love gothic lit. The Picture of Dorian Gray is my favorite. I didn’t make it through Frankenstein, though, it was too sad.

I’m introverted and a night owl. I wouldn’t say I have a “stereotypical” Goth personality, because I’ve been trying to be more optimistic and happy, and I’ve attempted to make friends, but one of the reasons I like Raven from Teen Titans is because I tend to be the isolated girl in dark clothes who’d rather be left alone. I’m not exactly stoic-- I’m an emotional wreck, but once you get me talking about a topic I’m interested in, I’m all moonlight and fireflies. I’m also a “tortured artist,” and I come alive at night. I stay up until at least 2 AM most nights. I ate breakfast at one today.

I have a black cat named Edgar. I did not name him! He was given that name at the shelter. All the kittens in his litter were named after gothic writers, because they were all black! (His brother was “H.P.” after Lovecraft.) I was thrilled when my parents said we were getting him, and equally thrilled when they decided to keep his name. He’s such a sweet cat, and I love him.

I like vampires, but I have a complicated relationship with them. You’d think I’d be the kind of girl who’d be obsessed with vampires in middle school, especially if I loved the Vampire Friz episode of The Magic School Bus! But no. I wasn’t into vampires because they killed people and that was disturbing. (That’s why I independently created psychic vampires.) However, since getting into Castlevania last Halloween, I’ve started to really warm up to vampires. I dressed as Lestat last Halloween, read Carpe Jugulum, have been consuming more vampire media than before... I’m still not obsessed, but I like them now. Still would hate to be one, though. SHADOWS FOR THE WIN!

I LOVE Halloween! I was devastated the two years it was canceled (freak snowstorm and Hurricane Sandy. Oh, by the way, my reaction to the current hurricane was, “He put his soul in a hurricane, now?!). I really miss trick-or-treating. I convinced my parents to throw an annual Halloween party, which gave me an excuse to get even more decorations for my room, and they pretty much can’t host it without me. Everyone shares my aesthetic during Halloween season!

I’m really into witchy and occult stuff. The more cryptic and spooky, the better. I was Wiccan-ish for a while, I don’t think I am anymore, but I’m still exploring my spirituality (through books like Nocturnal Witchcraft and Shadow Magick Compendium) with guidance from Hecate and Dionysus.

Whether my music taste is truly “Goth” or not, it is certainly very spooky. Nox Arcana all the way! I really go in for the church organ and glockenspiel and chiming bells and melancholy piano and strings and harpsichords and minor keys. Listening to spooky music makes me happy. I have a whole list of creepy waltzes. Neoclassical is my thing. I also like Adrian von Zeigler, Peter Gundry, Two Steps From Hell, and fantasy music in general.

Un-Goth Confessions:

I don’t like gothic rock. Some would say this means I’m not Goth, and it felt alienating for a while. Siouxsie and Bauhaus just aren’t really my thing. I don’t really like industrial and darkwave, either. The closest I get to traditional Goth music is Voltaire (I love the songs of his that I listen to, but I only listen to a handful), and a few songs by Dead Can Dance. I’m much more into Nox Arcana.

I don’t look stereotypically Goth. I joke that I look like Aurora and dress like Maleficent, because it’s true. My cheeks are permanently rosy and not easy to cover with white makeup (I don’t wear makeup often, anyway.) I have big blue eyes and wavy, golden hair (that I’m not going to dye). I don’t have any piercings— when my sister went for her second piercing, she encouraged me to get my ears pierced, but I broke down crying because I’m afraid of pain. I’m an adult!

I still like horsies and unicorns and other cutesy things from my childhood. I was really into Gen 3 of My Little Pony. I still have some fairy and ballerina stuff, even if I don’t display it. My bedroom is still lavender (and always will be). I definitely wasn’t spooky in childhood, and I’ve still got a non-spooky side. (It was kind of a big deal when I dressed as a rainbow unicorn fairy when I was seven, and then a dark sorceress when I was eight.) I danced in my company’s adapted kiddie production of the Nutcracker until I graduated. I’ve got fluffy stuffed unicorns right next to my Spiral Bat Cat.

I HATE DIY. I don’t trust it! I don’t want to ruin my clothes with fabric paint or rip holes in things or in any way risk it turning out poorly. My style is tough to DIY anyway, but yeah.

I’m not really into the macabre. I only got into skeletons because of Undertale, and I don’t like, for lack of a better phrase, “the death aesthetic.” Blood, body horror art, the zombie look... I don’t really like anything morbid or sad. I’m iffy on graveyards and coffins.

I don’t like most horror films. I like spooky movies, like Coraline, but not horror movies. Although I like horror stories, I don’t like horror films, less because of the horror and more because they tend to end badly. I don’t like “everybody dies” stories, especially if it’s one where sympathetic people get killed off one by one, or slasher flicks that rely on jumpscares. Old-school gothic horror could work, though. I also like psychological thrillers like The Sixth Sense and Black Swan. Is Interview With the Vampire a horror movie? (I probably underestimate how strong my stomach is. Aladdin used to scare me. Look at me now!)

I still wear a lot of color. About half my wardrobe is black, which is still a lot, but not as much as most Goths. I’ve still got a lot of purple, and other colors.

I’m not a huge fan of Tim Burton. The only film of his that I really love was Corpse Bride. Beetlejuice wasn’t my style and didn’t contain enough of Lydia, Sweeney Todd was a bit too dark and gory (although I did like that one), Dark Shadows wasn’t as good as I was hoping, Alice in Wonderland was cool aesthetically but not a very good film, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was a dumpster fire... and The Nightmare Before Christmas doesn’t count because he didn’t direct it (and though I like it, I wasn’t blown away by it, either). My reaction overall? “Meh.”

I still contain a childish exuberance. I squealed and bounced up and down when the new Nox Arcana album was released. I will probably do the same before and/or after watching Season 3 of Castlevania, and when Grimoire of Souls is released. This is how I know that Goth stuff is part of my true personality.

There’s a lot of Goth clothes that I don’t wear, in addition to not dying my hair, not wearing makeup, and not having piercings. I’d wear black heeled boots like Dracula’s, but not platform shoes. I don’t like fishnets. I hate ripped clothing. Not a fan of hoodies. I also will not wear leather clothing. And spiked collars? No no no. I’m pretty much strictly a Romantigoth. Maybe that doesn’t make me less Goth. But it makes me less stereotypical, especially when so much of the Goth stuff online is geared toward that end of the subculture.

And I don’t know if this makes me more Goth or less Goth, but I have one outfit from Hot Topic. And an epic “House of Belmont” t-shirt.

Okay, that was interesting.

“I’M SO GOTH, I LITERALLY DARKEN A DOORWAY!”

#goth #goth stuff #goth tag #stuff about me #facts about me #goth confessions

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ranaeissance · 5 years

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Felt tip & bookmark from the stationary themed asks!!!

thank you for the ask! xo

felt-tip: describe your aesthetic

battered leather journals and second hand classics fill the bookshelf. beige sceneries litter my wall among photos of paintings from a period i wish i lived in. the annotated poetry, english drafts and chapter summaries from last night are left scattered on the floor. abandoned beside it is an old and worn out copy of the little prince, with a piece of red string placed in between its yellowed pages. the cup of coffee in my sweater paws becomes cold as my head lulls to sleep. in my dreams i can hear the faint crackle of bartók’s evening in transylvania.

bookmark: a book that means a lot to you and why

candide by voltaire

i read this over two years ago and i still think back to it now. prior to reading this i’d never been exposed to such writing, being an 18th century satire an all, so in essence this became the catalyst, or at the very least - a major influence, for my love of philosophy. i stumbled on this book while i was researching the true origins behind the quote:

“I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.”

Often mistakenly attributed to Voltaire, he naturally became the subject of my research and so it was only inevitable that i would read his works sooner or later. i’m glad i did because the discussion i had with my teacher regarding this book has definitely influenced my way of thinking.

i leave you with one of my favourite quotes from the book:

“I have wanted to kill myself a hundred times, but somehow I am still in love with life. This ridiculous weakness is perhaps one of our more stupid melancholy propensities, for is there anything more stupid than to be eager to go on carrying a burden which one would gladly throw away, to loathe one’s very being and yet to hold it fast, to fondle the snake that devours us until it has eaten our hearts away?”

stationery themed ask game

#answered #ask game

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deborahdeshoftim5779 · 5 years

Text

Exophonic Writing: 5 Benefits

Exophonic writing means writing in a foreign language. I discovered that many writers, including the renowned Joseph Conrad (a Pole), wrote exophonically.

This encouraged me, since I had often put off my French writing projects to the side after losing courage. During NaNoWriMo, I have prepared a project for exophonic writing, which will examine the influence of French on Middle High German (link in German).

While I do not have the relevant degrees, I now realise that I want to make this topic accessible to non-scholars.

Here are some benefits of exophonic writing which all multi-lingual writers should consider:

Expanded Expression: In reading articles on exophonic writing, the one common denominator between such writers is their ability to express themselves easier in another language compared to their mother tongue. Some phrases and ideas lend themselves to particular languages compared to others. For example, when I read phrases in Hebrew, I often find the expression more succinct compared to English. I find the sentence structure of German more logical and even poetic. So the range of thoughts that can be expressed increases.

Accessibility: The testimonies of at least 2 Japanese writers found that English was more accessible than their native tongues. One even found Japanese too hierarchial, and thus saw writing in English as a rebellion. While I have no interest in writing exophonically for social or political reasons, I think this perspective does highlight the outstanding nature of languages based on Latin and Greek. Instead of relying on characters or consonants, you have a collection of letters. This could be seen as more “democratic” to some. (N.B: I admire both Middle-Eastern and Asian languages, particularly Hebrew, Arabic, and Mandarin Chinese).

Cultural Affinity: It comes as no surprise that many exophonic writers are migrants to foreign nations. In fact, much of the articles on exophonic writing concern the connection between migration, culture, and writing in the dominant language. Exophonic writing has often been cast as the struggle to adapt in a foreign culture, while also recognising one’s birth origins, language, and culture. But this does not only apply to migrants. For example, I am British and have never migrated. But I feel a great cultural affinity with France, and that has stemmed from my love of French. I also admire parts of Russian culture, which again stems from my study of Russian history. And so exophonic writing can help access those cultures.

Wider audiences: To my surprise, and perhaps sorrow, translations do not sell well in the Anglosphere. Outside of translated classics, most people will read books in English, myself included. No matter how many times I tell myself to read more in French and German, the majority of what I read is inside English. And so if I wish to access French and German audiences, I must write in their language. (Likewise, those wishing to reach Anglophone audiences must write in English). The most profitable languages are those with the widest number of speakers: Chinese, Spanish, English, French, German, Russian, and Arabic. While translation is invaluable and has its place, it must remain subordinate to writing in the original language. Exophonic writers can thus cross language barriers and reach new people.

Foreign Language Mastery: While Joseph Conrad found writing in English incredibly difficult, he is renowned today as one of the finest writers in the English language. I first came across him from Noah Lukeman’s masterful The First Five Pages, excerpts of his writing held as the gold standard of writing technique. How did Conrad, a Pole born as Józef Teodor Nałęcz Konrad Korzeniowski, reach this level? By working at the language as a carpenter shapes wood. Evidently, Conrad would have written drafts in elementary English and kept polishing and polishing his drafts. And so the more we practice writing inside a foreign language, as well as reading widely in the target language, the further we progress to mastery in that language. So exophonic writers should not fear mistakes and errors. Rather, working and working on developing an authentic expression will produce excellent results, regardless of whether you write fiction like Conrad, or nonfiction.

Why isn’t exophonic writing taught in Anglophone schools? I have always aspired to write in French, but many have not even had the opportunity because the quality of foreign language teaching is poor in Britain. The examination boards have now lowered standards (again) to accommodate student fears about foreign languages. More people should appreciate the importance of writing exophonically, which is essential to many writers around the world today, as well as many historical figures. Voltaire wrote letters in English when he stayed here. Handel eventually learned English and referred to himself as “Mr. Handel.” Foreign languages are too important to be failed by a mediocre education system.

So if you study foreign languages, consider exophonic writing.

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nh935 · 5 years

Text

Creepy America Episode 1: Worlds of Wonder

Introduction

Today marks the twelve year anniversary of the last episode of Creepy America. I know this because of the article I'm reading, recounting the strange and bizarre tale of the webshow. My webshow. My life, for the better part of four years. And even though it arguably destroyed me, brought me to this point where I live alone, working hard jobs to keep this tiny, shitty one person apartment, news of Creepy America never ceases to bring me joy.

Except today.

Which brings me to the reason I am writing.

This morning, I received a letter saying that the server charges for the official Creepy America website had gone up once again, this time to a level that I couldn't even convince myself into thinking I could pay. My complaints have been ignored; I am positive that a silent actor has been forcing the charges to increase, regardless of the actual cost of maintaining the site. This is no doubt the same person who broke into my apartment and storage locker and stole every remaining physical copy of the Creepy America episodes. I wish I could muster the energy to be outraged, or even horrified, but I knew this day would come sometime.

Barring any action from my co-host to stop these actions, something I know will never happen, this would be where the webshow dies. But I'm a stubborn bastard and I'll be damned if it does.

So here I am, alone, in a small, dark room, writing my memoirs of the craziest, scariest, most dangerous, and happiest years of my life. My goal is to preserve the memories of "Creepy America": those days and nights spent in the R.V., traveling from city to city, investigating, finding, and recording the secret places that the world does their best to keep hidden. It's only this way that those days will stay alive. Files corrupt. Memories fade. Even history can be re-written. But if the show has proved anything, it's that words will exist forever, even if they aren't supposed to.

To the Newcomers:

I imagine that most people who track down these stories will be the life-long fans. However, I imagine that some will simply stumble onto these stories by accident. That's okay; it's actually what I'm counting on.

But that means that there's a good chance that, if you're reading this, you don't know what "Creepy America" is. I don't want to delude myself into thinking that everyone who reads this will have memories of the show, especially given the fickleness of internet fame, so I want to take this time to explain what the show was; veteran Creepers, feel free to skip ahead.

Creepy America was a webshow, published and broadcasted online. It was big back in its day. The show generated enough revenue to make money off of, and it's popularity caused a few "War of the Worlds"-styled hoaxes.

To the outside world, the draw of the show was obvious. Based on the creepypasta explosion that made the world obsessed with Slenderman and others, Creepy America combined professional-level special and practical effects with the low-budget style of found footage to make for a scarily realistic horror series. The actual recording team was kept invisible, placing all attention and credit to the two co-hosts of the show. The mysterious mythos that was hinted at several times but never fully explained also added to its popularity and quite a few people praised us for our clever writing and dedication to preserving the illusion.

Of course, this couldn't be further from the truth. Creepy America was just a low-budget production. Zoey and I were the only ones who worked on the show. Nothing was scripted. As our show gained attention, a choice was demanded of us from powerful forces: stop filming, or tow the "fake" line. We chose what we believed to be the lesser of two evils.

Things escalated, though. I won't try to summarize the details here; they will be explained better in the stories to come. But twelve years ago, we were obligated to end it, and the show has slowly faded into obscurity since then.

To the Veteran Creepers:

Before we begin, I have to give you a warning: if you're looking for answers, this isn't the place to find them.

The events and things we uncovered during Creepy America remain unexplained to this day. I have spent the better part of twelve years researching various aspects of science and parascience trying to find those answers, and I am no closer to finding them than I was when we decided to stop our broadcast. Red Eyes, Reverend Jones, even the Archangel Foundation: I don't know what the truth is. So if you expect a book explaining how everything fits together perfectly like little puzzle pieces, I'm afraid you're going to be sorely disappointed. I have my theories, and I have my hunches, but, as I've stated on the show before, speculation without proof is worthless. As it is not my intention to further confuse an already bizarrely muddled and misunderstood set of facts, I will leave my ideas to myself and simply report on what happened.

What's inside is is a collection of my memories about the strange occurrences that we filmed in our four years on the road. I know that there have been many requests to elaborate on some of the details that were left out of the show: what happened during our streaming blackout, the exact location of Devil's County, what we learned about Voltaire's DNA sample from the scientists. I can answer a few of those questions, and I intend to. Some things, unfortunately, are gone. My records are lost, and even my memory is beginning to turn fuzzy. I have also lost contact with my associate, meaning that unless she publishes her own statements on these events, I have no witnesses to back up anything. Given how things ended between us, I doubt that will ever happen. You will simply have to trust that what I say is true. If you've stayed with me this far, though, I think that you're willing to take that leap of faith.

Which brings me to my last point: everything was true. Some of you believed, but everyone had doubts. I don't blame you. We marketed ourselves as clever writers whose fictional tales contained just enough details to seem plausible. After the threatened lawsuit, we had to place a disclaimer on our show's opening. Even those of you who are going to find these stories are going to find it described as "fiction". There are reasons we did so, good reasons, reasons that are detailed in this book. I'm tired of lying, though. Even lies told with the best of intentions will eat through your soul. I'm not sure how well this admission will go over with the higher powers in charge, but I no longer care. As Zoey herself once said in the show, consequences be damned.

*******************************************************************************************

So to newcomers and old fans alike, here it is: the bare truth about "Creepy America", all three years of our journeys across the United States. Once more I say to you the line that began every episode since our second broadcast: get your flashlights out, and get ready to shine some light on the darkened corners of the world. Welcome to the America you never knew existed.

Welcome to Creepy America.

-Liam Foster, co-host of Creepy America

Creepy America Episode 1 Worlds of Wonder Hammond, Indiana

Perhaps one of the stranger tales to tell about our time creating Creepy America was simply how it got started. Unlike how it was sometimes insinuated, we didn't simply wake up one day with the idea and the passion to start the show. In fact, Creepy America wasn't supposed to be Creepy America at all. It was supposed to be "Faces of America", and it started with a simple question:

"Hey, do you want to do a road trip?"

We were sitting on the porch of Zoey's house, drinking beer and catching up. Zoey and I had been friends ever since grade school. Over the years we had gotten pretty close, especially during high school, but at this point it had been awhile since we had seen each other. I had gone to Indiana University because of a generous scholarship opportunity while Zoey went to our local community college. We remained friends on Facebook and messaged each other back and forth, but that summer we decided that I should go back to our hometown to meet for what might be the last time. We were both getting pretty far into our degrees and that meant that soon we were going to have to decide on jobs in those fields, at which point there would be no summers to catch up with.

"What do you mean, a road trip?" I asked. In case anyone is curious, I appeared the same way I always did in the show: curly brown hair, white skin, green eyes. It was a pretty hot night out, so I was wearing shorts. Other than that, I can't remember much.

Zoey took another swig of her beer. "You know, a road trip. A road. A trip. The works." She appeared the same as she always did, too. Pale skin, lots of silver piercings in her face, blond hair with one side dyed in neon rainbow colors. She smiled with one of those sweet smiles she always had.

I miss those smiles.

"Yeah, that sounds glamorous. Long hours on the road in a cramped car. Fast food every night. Seedy motels as far as the eye can see." I scoffed and downed some more beer.

"Actually, I was thinking of an R.V."

That caused me to raise an eyebrow. "You're serious aren't you?"

She picked up her laptop that she had beside her. "You remember that video essay I did for my Video Production class?"

"The 'Faces of Ivy Tech' one? Yeah, I remember. That one was pretty good"

"My teacher thought so too. So much so that he actually sent it to some fancy art group." She clicked on the track pad and squinted to read something. "The Film Board of America. They loved it so much that they want me to do another one, but across the country, with different people in each state. A 'Faces of America' thing. Even gave me a grant to do it with."

"How much?"

"Um… 50 grand, about-ish."

"Wow… that's uh, wow."

"Yeah, I know, right?" She closed the laptop. "Anyway I also have an uncle who sells used R.V.s He's willing to give me a pretty big discount if I pay cash for it. And then I remembered you. I figured we could take a year off and travel the countryside. You know, before I leave this town and you turn into one of those boring number people."

"Accountant" I corrected.

"Isn't that what I said?"

I sighed. "Zoey, I don't know. I'm in the middle of school and to just postpone my degree like that…"

She rolled her eyes at me. "Oh, come on Liam. You have the whole rest of your life to be a boring adult. This could be our one last chance to do something big and exciting before we get those stupid nine to fives. An adventure, right? Like what we talked about in fifth grade." She looked at me with bright eyes.

I paused.

"Well?" she asked.

"I… I'm sorry, I just can't. I've got too much to worry about right now."

*******************************************************************************************

She frowned and looked down over the edge of the porch.

"Hey," I said. She looked back up at me. "I'm still gonna be here for the rest of the summer, okay? Let's try to enjoy that time."

She nodded, but the disappointment was still visible on her face.

A few days later we were shopping at a thrift store. Zoey had mentioned something about "various odds and ends for the R.V.", so we ended up driving to different Goodwills. We were at yet another one and the constant looking at towels and silverware was driving me a bit nuts, so I took a break from Zoey's company and headed over to the far corner of the building where a bunch of posters and paintings were located. I flipped through them. Most of them were pretty standard fare: big inspirational words and prints of famous artworks. One of them made me stop, though.

It was a smaller canvas and an actual painting. I could feel the texture of the brush strokes. The picture itself was done in various shades of blue and silver. Two large planets encircled in swirls of gas hung in the sky joined by a pale moon. Mountains surrounded a beach with a large palm tree off to the side. Two dolphins, mid jump and shiny gray, were suspended in the air, all completed by an illegible signature in white.

It felt oddly disturbing to look at. Like a CGI figure that's almost, but not quite, perfect. There was just something... not right about it. Curious, I turned the canvas over, hoping that there would be something on the other side to shed some light on who exactly painted this piece. On the back was a tiny printed sticker.

"Worlds of Wonder. #2 of 59."

I flipped it back over to study the artwork more and traced my finger over the signature. I couldn't even begin to make sense of it. All it appeared to be was a series of large messy loops. Glancing over the rest of the painting didn't help much, either. I'm no artist, so I couldn't really figure out anything that way. I stared at one of the dolphins.

I could almost picture it falling back into the ocean…

"Whatcha got?"

I jumped. I had been so engrossed that I didn't hear Zoey walk up behind me.

She laughed. "Sorry, didn't mean to sneak up on you like that."

"No, it's okay," I said. "I just… uh, got caught up in looking at this thing."

"Here, let me see." I handed the canvas over and she held it up. She smiled. "Wow, talk about strange."

"Yeah, I know." I walked over to the cart to see what Zoey had picked up while I was gone. As I prodded through some of the miscellaneous housewares in the basket, the painting suddenly joined them.

I raised an eyebrow and looked at Zoey. "Really? You're buying that?"

"What?" she asked. "I've got a niece who goes crazy over this kind of stuff."

"Dolphins on different planets?"

"Well, dolphins at least. Plus, she's like five. She'll flip over this."

"Are you sure? It looks kind of… creepy."

Zoey raised an eyebrow at me. "Creepy?"

"Yeah," I was beginning to feel stupid, but I soldiered on anyway. "Creepy. It just… I don't know, it doesn't look right."

She lifted the painting out of the cart and looked it over again. "I don't see anything 'creepy' about it. Weird, yeah. I mean, it is kind of out there, but…"

"Never mind, let's just go. These lights are beginning to hurt my eyes."

*******************************************************************************************

Zoey ended up dropping me off at my house late. It was either midnight or one. I had bought a few things from the thrift stores, mostly just old paperbacks that had been on my list of things to read and, bags in hand, I walked up the steps of my parent's house, unlocked the door, and headed upstairs to my room. Once inside I put the bags down and started taking things out. That's when I noticed the painting again.

It was in one of the bags, lengthwise so it would fit, nestled in between two books. The cashier must have accidentally placed it in my bag when we were checking out. I picked it up and looked at it again.

The dolphin looked back at me. The black eye seemed to almost glisten,

I yawned, then shook my head. "I'm getting freaked out by fake dolphins. I need to go to bed." Painting under my arm, I headed back downstairs and leaned it against the front door so I would remember to give it back to Zoey. Then I headed upstairs, put the new books on my shelf, and flopped onto the bed, still in my clothes. I was out before my head hit the pillow.

*******************************************************************************************

I felt very, very cold. I could only see black. I realized that my eyes were tightly closed, so I opened them.

I was standing on a beach at night. The whole landscape was awash with silver light. The white sand glowed with it. A few feet in front of me stood the water, tranquil and clear. Large blue palm trees swayed behind me, and behind them were grey mountains, also shining in the pale light. Looking up, I saw a huge multitude of stars, and hanging there like overripe fruit were two large gaseous planets.

I was inside of the painting.

Sure enough, just in time to punctuate my thought, a pair of dolphins leapt from the water. Diving back in, they swam away, chasing each other and leaping again.

The mist of the ocean combined with the night air made me shiver and I could see my breath in front of me. Clutching my arms, I turned around and almost tripped when my foot snagged something behind me. It was a sign. Well, sort of. It was more like two large planks of wood nailed together in a waist-high "T" shape. The top board had a shaky "2" drawn on it.

I figured it was just a weird dream. A very, very strange and vivid dream, but a dream nonetheless. My overactive mind had just taken the painting I had thought was so strange and was spending the night recreating it. No biggie.

Even so, I still felt a little on edge. I had this slight feeling of dread, like the kind you get at the beginning of a nightmare, where you realize something's wrong, but you're just not sure what, and you know something's coming, but you're just not sure when. The movement of the palm trees in the wind was making me jump when I saw it out of the corner of my eye. The planets overhead, hanging in midair and moving slowly, made me feel like I was being watched.

Again, I shrugged those feelings aside. So what if it was a weird dream? It was just a dream. Besides, I was lucid right now. I was in control. If anything scary did happen, I could just think it away.

A shiver went up my body. "Right," I said to myself, "let's get rid of this first". I closed my eyes and imagined warmth.

Nothing.

After waiting for a moment, I shrugged and said "okay then we'll just have to work on that later." I headed along the beach with the ocean to my right. After walking a while, the beach turned sharply to the left, and again buried in the sand was another T sign, this one reading "16". I looked over and the sand seemed to go on in a straight line forever.

There was a sudden splash to my right and ice-cold water washed over my skin. I stumbled backwards, falling over on my butt in the sand. One of the dolphins was in the water, about twenty feet away from me, splashing the surface with the flat of its tail. Once it saw that I noticed it, it made a strange chirping noise, like a cross between a regular dolphin sound and a cell phone ring, and disappeared back into the water.

"This is so bizarre."

A muffled noise sounded off to my left and I looked over. Very faintly, almost blended into the sand, was a figure in white, frantically waving his arms and yelling something. I brushed myself off and started to walk in that direction, but it was quickly growing darker. I looked up just in time to see one of the large planets eclipse the moon, and then the dream ended.

*******************************************************************************************

I awoke in bed with sunlight streaming into my room and cold sweat sticking to my skin. Even though I was under my blanket, I was shivering, and the bed felt slightly damp to the touch. I touched my forehead. Clammy skin.

Was I sick? Was that a fever dream?

I headed over to my shower and turned it as hot as I could stand. I stayed under the water for a long, long time. Gradually, I began to feel better. Almost human. A half hour later, I was fine. I stepped out of the shower feeling great. Placing my hand on my forehead again after drying off, it felt normal. Nothing indicated I was sick.

Strange.

Walking back into my bedroom, I found the bizarre painting propped up against my bed. I picked it back up and stared at it.

"I thought I put you by the front door."

Silence.

"Musta forgot." I threw it back on my bed. "I'll have to remember to take you to Zoey's when I visit her later."

The dolphin watched me as I got dressed. I took it downstairs and set it off to the side as I poured cereal into a bowl.

I noticed the dolphin out of the corner of my eye, still glaring at me.

I put my bowl down and looked at it. "Maybe, maybe I could head over right now. I've got nothing better to do anyways."

In this angle and light, the thing looked… almost angry.

I shuddered. "Yeah, definitely right now."

*******************************************************************************************

"I think it got put back in my bag by mistake."

"Huh. Whoops." Zoey said as she took it from me. "I was wondering where it went."

"What's your plans for today?"

"Camera shopping, mostly. Trying to find the best models at my budget. Usually I just make do, but I've got so much I can actually get a decent model this time around. Want to come?"

I had a flashback of the forks at Goodwill. "No thanks, I'll pass."

The dolphin caught my eye again.

"Are you sure you want to give that to your niece? Doesn't it seem… I don't know, a little strange?"

Zoey laughed. "Are you still freaked out about this thing?"

I decided not to tell her about the dream.

I spent the rest of the day just loafing around. It was summer, after all. That was kinda the point. I played some random video games that I had bought a long time ago but never tried. Once I got bored of those, I picked up a paperback I had bought from Goodwill. I munched on some food. Nothing crazy.

Over the course of the day, I managed to forget about the painting and the weird dream, the details slowly fading with every passing hour.

By the time I had laid my head on my pillow and slowly drifted into sleep, I had forgotten it had even happened.

*******************************************************************************************

It was cold. Again.

I sat up with a start, inhaling the freezing, salt-filled air. I was back on the beach. The moon, the planets, the dolphins. It was all there.

I was back.

"What the hell? What's going on?" I stood up and looked around.

As I did so, I saw a man behind me, leaning against a palm tree. He was a white guy with long greasy black hair and a beard to match. His face was gaunt and thin. He was wearing what I assumed used to be a very stylish white three piece suit with golden pinstripes, but it was now a dirty gray with rips and tatters everywhere. The whole outfit hung on him like a blanket. A very battered matching hat completed the ensemble.

Once he saw me looking at him, he straightened up. "Ah, you're awake!"

I immediately took a few steps back and hit something. I spun around to see the "2" sign again, then faced the man. "What's going on?"

"Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you, everything's fine."

"Who are you?!"

He raised his hands in the air in a show of non-hostility. "I'm Greg Thornstine. A guy who picked up a 'Worlds of Wonder' painting, just like you."

I stared at him. "Wait a minute, what?"

He smiled and lowered his arms. "Alright guys, it's cool. I think he's done freaking out."

Several people now came into view, standing up behind the small crest he was on. There was a Hispanic man dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, and older woman in a business suit, a teenage girl in black clothing, and another white guy in a camo jacket and pants. They all looked similar to Greg; thing faces, torn, baggy clothing, long hair and beards on the men. They watched me with a dull expression.

"Alright newcomer, welcome. This is Jose, Anne, Suzy, and Tom."

"Uh, hi?"

They stared at me in silence.

"Oh, um… I'm Liam, I guess. What's going on here?"

"Well," Greg started, "at some point, you picked up a 'Worlds of Wonder' painting, just like us. I'm assuming the sticker on the back said '2 of 59?'"

"Yeah…"

Greg pointed to the sign behind me.

"So what, every time I fall asleep I come here?"

Jose said something in Spanish.

"Calm down," Greg said, turning to Jose, "he doesn't know that yet." Then he looked back at me. "I'm afraid that's just the beginning. You've visited here once before, right?"

I remembered the white figure on the beach. "Yeah. Was that you waving at me?"

He nodded. "This place draws you in threes. First night's sleep, second night's sleep, then on the third day. At some point after you wake up, you're going to come back here. And that time, it'll be permanent."

I looked at the group. "I don't believe you."

The teenager shrugged. "Doesn't matter. You'll come here anyway."

"This is just some weird dream I keep having. That's all."

The business woman rolled her eyes. "I told you Greg, this will get us nowhere."

"Hush, Anne. It's worth a shot." Greg turned back to me. "Listen kid, you've got what we didn't have. Forewarning. So listen very closely to what I'm about to tell you."

I took a few steps closer and leaned in.

"When you wake up, grab food. Stuff your face like there's no tomorrow. Cram your pockets with anything you can think of. The higher the calories, the better, but try to diversify. Meat, fruit, candy. Don't worry about it spoiling, Just have as much on you when you come here. You'll thank me later."

I stared. Then I chuckled. I laughed for almost a minute straight. "You're crazy! Scratch that, I'M crazy, YOU'RE not real! This is a dream. I'm not gonna start binge eating just 'cause my dreams told me it was a good idea!"

Jose began muttering in Spanish again.

"I need you to listen to me. Please." Greg looked at me with concern. "This is your one shot here. This is going to happen. I can't stop it, and neither can you. This is your one chance to make sure your life isn't a living hell when you get here. Please just take it."

"Then answer me this: why has no one thought to try fishing?" I gestured to the ocean behind me, arms flailing.

At that moment, the dolphin jumped out of the water, chirping another mechanical sound.

"Ain't no fish in that ocean." The man in camo said darkly. "And before you go getting any bright ideas, there's nothing in those dolphins 'cept gears and springs. We've tried everything there is to try."

I lowered my arms. "What about escaping?"

The business woman shook her head. "This place is an island. Nowhere to go. And even if we knew where we could swim to, those… things" she spat, looking out at the waves "would tear us apart in no time flat."

"This is insane." I whispered.

"Insane or not, it's happening." Greg said. "And it's going to keep happening. For your own sake, Liam, do what I said."

I moved around the sign and began backing up. "No no no no no no no, this isn't happening. This isn't real. This is just a weird dream, this isn't…" I felt a sudden surge of cold around my ankles, Surprised, I lost my balance and fell backwards into the cool, dark water. I was buffed about by a wave, dragged farther in. I tried to swim up, but I couldn't. The air burned in my lungs. I screamed, and stinging salt water filled my chest. Struggling, I slowly lost consciousness…

…and awoke in my own bed.

It was soaked. Every movement I made caused the mattress to seep salt water, like an over-absorbed sponge. There was a thin layer of it trickling down my body, and I was violently shivering. Even my teeth were chattering.

"W-wh-wha-th-the-f-f-f-f-f" I stumbled out of my bed, fell on the floor, and scrambled back up, putting the shower on the highest heat possible, stripped out of my clothes and climbed in, too shocked to think. After an eternity standing under the blazing hot water, feeling returned to my fingers, and I turned the heat down just a bit. I started going over my options.

What the hell was I supposed to do? Go to the police? And tell them what? I'm going to get kidnapped by a painting? A theoretical physicist might be more help. Or a ghostbuster. I laughed. I felt like a lunatic. I suppose I was close to becoming one.

"Calm down" I said out loud. "We're going to approach this one option at a time. Just think of the next thing to do. After that's done, you can think of what to do after that."

Zoey. I'll ask her. She's handled the painting too. Maybe the same thing's been happening to her, but she just wrote it off like I did. At the very least, she might have an idea of what to do next.

I stepped out of the shower, dried off, and went back to my room.

The painting was hanging above my bed's headboard.

I looked at it, then touched it.

It fell to the ground. The wall behind it had no hooks or nails to keep it in place.

I grabbed the painting and rushed off to Zoey's place.

*******************************************************************************************

"Alright, one more time. Slower please."

I was at Zoey's house, in her living room. Her dad answered the door as he was leaving to go to work. She was still sleeping, so she was talking to me in her pajamas.

"I've told you three times already. Why don't you believe me?" I asked.

"I believe you. Or at least, I believe you think you're telling the truth. You are way too freaked out to be making this up right now."

"So what, I'm crazy?"

She looked at me. "That's definitely one possibility."

I waved the painting in the air. "Then how do you explain this?"

"Well, I'd rather not think you broke into my house and stole it…"

"Are you fucking serious! This is…"

Zoey grabbed the sides of my head and locked eyes with me. "Liam! Calm down! I said it was a possibility! I didn't say that this whole painting kidnapping thing wasn't also a possibility! Now, look at me."

I stopped flailing about and kept eye contact.

"You are NOT going to get stuck in that painting" she said loudly.

"But Greg said…"

She stared at me.

"Right, I'm not going to get stuck in this painting."

"Good." She let go of me and walked over to her dining room table, where her laptop and a bunch of cameras sat.

I jumped up and followed her. "So what are we going to do?"

"You're going to help me test this camera's ability to stream."

"What? Zoey, we need to do something about this!"

"This is something!" Zoey yelled back. Then she sighed and spoke in a much softer voice. "Look, I don't know what to do. This is the best I can think of. This way, I can keep tabs on you all day. If the day goes by and you're still on planet earth, we'll deal with you being crazy. If you vanish and the stream goes out, I figure out how to get you back."

"So that's your plan? Wait until I get vanished then figure out how to pull me back?"

"Until we can think of a better one."

I sighed. "Alright. I'll wait here for you to get dressed, I guess."

*******************************************************************************************

I was incredibly tense the whole rest of the day.

It was bad. I jumped at every little noise. Especially water. Anything moved, I immediately shouted at it. I alternated between filming and heading back to Zoey's computer to watch her compare the qualities of each footage capture. It didn't help that I was shaking the whole time, making the videos look pretty much incomprehensible.

The worst was when Zoey told me to go out into the neighborhood far away to test the range. Every time, she had to assure me that if the stream went out and I didn't come back for five minutes, she would assume the worst had happened. When I was done filming, she would text me to come back, and I would bolt. Even though it was only five minutes, I swear they took forever. Something about being alone made me feel vulnerable.

Zoey, for her part, was holding it together remarkably well. She alternated between shouting directions at me and calming me down, then do some stuff on her laptop like nothing was wrong. Still not 100 percent sure how she did it; my behavior alone should have been enough to unnerve her.

It was about five at this point and the sun was just barely beginning to set.

"Alright Liam, I need you to go behind that shed."

I looked over to the small building in her backyard. "That one?"

"Yeah" she looked over at me. "Don't worry, I'll be watching the footage the whole time."

I inhaled. "Okay." With the camera on my shoulder, I slowly crept up behind the shed and stepped around.

Darkness.

Suddenly, silver light bathed the landscape. It was that damn painting again. I twirled around, pointing the camera in every direction. "ZOEY! ZOE! ARE YOU SEEING…"

A fist suddenly landed square on my jaw. There wasn't a lot of power behind it, but it surprised me so much that it caused me to lose my balance, falling over on the sand. I looked down to see the gaunt Greg fishing through my pockets, with the rest of the group behind him.

"Damn it! Nothing! Not one single thing! WHY DIDN'T YOU LISTEN TO ME?" He slapped my face hard, hard enough to sting.

"I..what…who?"

"Come on, Greg, your little experiment didn't work." The business woman took out a sharpened shiv. "Time to do what we should have done originally."

He glared at me. "Not even a single pack of Oreos? Come on, are you trying to get yourself killed?"

The teen girl scoffed and she drew out a similar shiv. "Like we wouldn't have killed him if he did."

"No, but, fuck, I miss Oreos." Greg scowled and revealed a large hunting knife.

I panicked. Out of pure, primal reflex, I squirmed out from under Greg and kicked him in the face. He was surprisingly light and flew backwards, a sickening crunch coming from his face. I scurried to my feet and grabbed the camera, not sure why, and sprinted away on the beach.

"SHOOT HIM TOM!" I heard Greg yell from behind me.

"Only got four bullets left."

Spanish.

"No, but just sayin'…"

There was a bang of sound and I felt a stinging sensation at my arm. I saw blood running down it and had to readjust my grip to keep the camera. There was another, and I felt a similar sensation on my leg.

"AGAIN!"

"Stop it Greg! We've only got two bullets left! Let him bleed out."

I kept running, but the beach seemed to go on forever. My muscles felt sore, My lungs were on fire. I felt close to collapse. I tripped over my own feet and fell face-first in the sand, salt and grit going up my nostrils and into my mouth. I started to get up, but I couldn't. Despite the cold, I felt like I was burning up.

"See?"

"I'll get the fire going. Good eating for once."

The heat kept rising. My flesh felt like it was on fire. I began to scream as my vision turned red.

"What the hell?…"

Darkness overtook me.

I woke up in Zoey's back yard.

"Liam, Liam, holy shit are you alright?"

I coughed out bloody sand. "Never better. I'm just gonna…" My vision faded into black again.

"Hey, HEY!" Zoey slapped me. "Stay awake. C'mon, we're going to the hospital."

"Wonderful" I muttered as she dialed some numbers on her phone.

*******************************************************************************************

As we waited for the ambulance to get there, Zoey made me recite a cover story about how I had accidentally shot myself with her hunting rifle while she was showing it off to me. I later learned that this had two reasons: one, to keep me conscious until the paramedics could do their thing, and two, to give a good cover story to the police. As she told me later, "The last thing I wanted to have happen that day was to get my stuff ransacked from the Men in Black or something."

Because I kept trying to fall asleep on her, she made me recite it over and over again. Good thing, too; I ended up telling it so well that when the cops had finished taking my statement, one of them told me "Sorry to trouble you, but it's procedure. We just want to make sure this wasn't something else."

I smiled and told them I understood.

I spent a week or two in the ICU. The nurse told me that the shots were, luckily, grazes. Neither managed to strike any vessels, muscles, or bones, so all I needed was some blood and stitches, then some observation to make sure there were no complications.

My parents visited once or twice, and even Zoey's dad. Zoey, however, stayed the most by my side, usually in a corner fiddling with her cameras or laptop. When I told her she could go home, she just scoffed and went back to whatever she was doing.

On the second day, I started feeling better and actually started to stay up instead of briefly waking up and then passing out. When Zoey came back to my room to hang out, I smiled and waved at her.

"Hey, you were right."

"About what?" she asked.

"I didn't get stuck in the painting."

She shook her head and laughed. "Liam, I honestly thought you were crazy. I was gonna show you the stream footage after the day was over and then try to convince you to check into an asylum." She sat down across from me and filled me in on what happened from her end.

Apparently, when I went behind the shed, the streaming didn't stop. In fact, the camera showed Zoey everything that was happening: the beach, Greg, all of it. Later in the week, she played me the video that was taken, proof that I wasn't insane. It shows everything, including the air going orange, dark, and then suddenly reappearing in the backyard.

As soon as Zoey saw this landscape with me in it, she freaked. She ran upstairs, tore up the painting and broke the wood canvas, and ran back to the yard, where her laptop was. When that failed to do anything, she ran back inside and got the painting scraps, threw them in the backyard, and set them on fire. After a second or two, the fire erupted and doubled in size, and a few seconds after that, the video turned orange. The fire died down and I was lying there, unharmed with the exception of the gunshots. Somehow, I managed to hold onto the camera the whole time.

"Good thing too, or I would've thrown you back there" she joked.

Both the SD card in the camera and the stream footage recorded the same thing. We spent a long time talking about what had happened, and we ended up deciding not to show it to anyone else. At best, they probably thought we were trying to pull some elaborate prank. At worst… who knows?

It must have really stuck in Zoey's head, though, because after a few days, she asked if she could post it online, under the guise of a short horror film project and write out what had happened before that as a creepypasta-like story. She promised to change all the names. I didn't see a reason not to, so I said sure.

After a few days, when I was no longer recovering but just under observation, the visitors stopped coming, and even Zoey showed up less frequently. Bored, I spent some time online, looking up "Worlds of Wonder."

Nothing showed up.

The only thing I found was on Greg Thornstine. Apparently, he was once a multimillionaire heir and art enthusiast. He disappeared one night after acting irrationally and was never found. I read his whole story on an article entitled "10 of the Most Mysterious Missing Persons Cases in History." No mention of the painting.

I couldn't find anything on anyone else. Just a factoid that at any given time, around 90,000 people are missing in the United States.

I stopped searching after that.

*******************************************************************************************

One week later, I was out of the hospital. The doctor told me to avoid alcohol for the time being, so naturally, Zoey wanted to celebrate with beers at her place. I told her I'd come but not drink. She laughed and then told me she had something to show me.

We were once again sitting on her porch. With a flourish, she pulled out her laptop and showed it to me. It was the footage from the beach, uploaded to Youtube. It had 100,000 views.

"I just uploaded this, like, three days ago!" she exclaimed. "It's already blown up! This thing is everywhere! And everyone's talking about the story too! How it's so weird and creepy! It gave me an idea: why don't I do this stuff while I'm filming the 'Faces of America' thing? I'll already be going place to place. I could do this, like, video pod format where each episode is a different city or state and I'll talk about the urban legends and maybe even find something! Wouldn't that be cool?"

"Zoey…"

"Before you say anything, I'm not trying to rope you into it. I mean, I already know you can't come, but…"

"Zoey!"

She stopped.

"I'm in."

Zoey looked at me. "Liam, don't mess with me."

"I'm serious. Zoey, I just saw something that shouldn't exist. And nobody would know about that painting if you hadn't have posted it. It makes…" I could feel myself blushing a bit, but I continued. "It makes me wonder what else is out there."

Zoey didn't respond. She just looked at me. Then she hugged me. Hard.

That's how Creepy America started.

#creepy #creepy_america #short_story #fiction #series #weird fiction #horror

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secondscratch17 · 5 years

Text

weird asks that say a lot

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans? All of them. I drink tea in coffee mugs and teacups. I love drinking wine. I like that I can recycle soda cans

2. chocolate bars or lollipops? chocolate

3. bubblegum or cotton candy? bubblegum if the flavor lasts long

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you? the stereotypical quiet, obedient, smart, goody-two-shoes kid

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups? somehow I like the aesthetic from soda bottles

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear? hONESTLY I can dO ALL OF THE ABOVE in the span of days. Went to work one day wearing beach-y clothes for spirit day. Returned to pick up a friend to go see a metal concert in VERY metal concert attire. I own short, sweet summery floral dresses and gothic dresses, too

7. earbuds or headphones? Earbuds, they allow me to be more mobile

8. movies or tv shows? movies

9. favorite smell in the summer? Fresh cut grass. The smell of the ocean. Churros at the fair

10. game you were best at in p.e.? Soccer, obvs. Somehow would always last until the end of the game in dodgeball tho because I was small and no one could hit me

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day? Cereal

12. name of your favorite playlist? Don’t have one.

13. lanyard or key ring? Key ring

14. favorite non-chocolate candy? Smarties!

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment? I remember re-reading Holes over and over just to make my book reports easier since I knew the boo so well. The Kite Runner was phenomenal and unforgettable

16. most comfortable position to sit in? idk?? I really can’t sit still in one position for too long

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes? Currently my hiking/outdoorsy shoes. Also my black Nikes that I play pickup in and wear to the gym

18. ideal weather? Sunny and 65. Maybe one or two clouds. The tiniest of faint breezes to cool me down.

19. sleeping position? Any I can get into and fall asleep in quickly

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)? Laptop. I can edit easier.

21. obsession from childhood? Probably any cheesy show on Animal Planet. The Most Extreme, Meerkat Manor, Big Cat Diary, etc

22. role model? I have a lot of different ones. Role models for athletics, role models for career and ambition choices, artistic role models...can’t pick just one

23. strange habits? Spelling words with the tips of my fingers

24. favorite crystal? Aquamarine

25. first song you remember hearing? how in the FUCK am I supposed to remember that. I do remember my parents playing The Beatles for me when I was a toddler

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather? Soccer! (futbol)

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather? Sledding, making hot chocolate, or playing indoor soccer haha

28. five songs to describe you? Who I am Hates Who I’ve Been by Relient K, Proud by the Icarus Account, Land of the Dead by Voltaire, Always Leaving by Mayday Parade, Wavin’ Flag by K’naan

29. best way to bond with you? Listening to my favorite music with me or watching the US Women’s national soccer team with me

30. places that you find sacred? Belfast, Maine. Gold Camp Road. Newport Beach

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names? Tight jeans with holes in them, fishnets, and a crop top

32. top five favorite vines? Vines still exist?

33. most used phrase in your phone? “tbh”

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head? O O O O REILLYYYYYY’S autoparts

35. average time you fall asleep? around 9

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing? I don’t remember

37. suitcase or duffel bag? suitcase

38. lemonade or tea? Is it warm outside? Lemonade. Is it cold outside? tea

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie? PIE!

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school? Zombie hunting or my professor cutting lab a half an hour short to go look at some Cedar waxwings

41. last person you texted? I think it was Robert

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets? Pants pockets

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket? Jean jacket

44. favorite scent for soap? Anything fruity

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero? Fantasy. It depends on how good the sci-fi movie is

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in? as little as possible lmao

47. favorite type of cheese? Parmesan

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be? A raspberry

49. what saying or quote do you live by? A great amount of good is always evened out by a great amount of bad

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have? Honestly Daniel knew how to make me laugh better than anyone. There are a couple of memories with him that I don’t remember entirely but I know that I ended up cry-laughing so hard that my head hurt. There was a time during my orientation camping trip when a bunch of us were playing ultimate Frisbee, and Jesse went to catch the frisbee in the most perfectly lateral horizontal position and the expression of focus just frozen on his face had me laughing so hard that I couldn’t see

51. current stresses? Sam. Jobs that I can apply for starting in May of 2020. Sam. STUDENT LOANS. Bills. Car payments. Wondering how fucked up my car has gotten since I’ve lived here on this ranch. Sam.

52. favorite font? Anything that looks fancy and sarcastic

53. what is the current state of your hands? Need to be washed.

54. what did you learn from your first job? The world is cruel and bad things happen without warning

55. favorite fairy tale? Uh....the Pied Piper?

56. favorite tradition? when my family visits for Christmas, eating lots of traditional Chinese food with them

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome? Heartbreak. Staggering rejection from the field I majored in. Probably a lot of body image struggles in there as well

58. four talents you’re proud of having? Writing, futbol, adaptability, flexibility. I think the last two are just traits but I don’t have a lot of talents I can invest in

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be? Let’s make like a baby and head out

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be? No idea

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.? Though we are far apart, our spirits share the same earth and the same sky

62. seven characters you relate to? Bilbo Baggins from The Hobbit, Data from The Goonies, Luna Lovegood from Harry Potter, Eliza Thornberry from The Wild Thornberries, Raven from Teen Titans, Isaac from Teen Wolf

63. five songs that would play in your club? ANYTHING by Within Temptation. I wouldn’t be a good club owner. The catchy and pump-up songs from Hamilton.

64. favorite website from your childhood? Wasn’t allowed much computer time. I was allowed to visit educational sites and occasionally the Disney site

65. any permanent scars? some self-harm scars. Probably the one on my right leg that I got from CO parks and wildlife. I stepped on a barbed wire fence that had been plastered to the ground, but the metal sprang up when I stepped on it and ripped through my skin

66. favorite flower(s)? Plumerias

67. good luck charms? I’m not sure if I have any.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried? earthworm flavor from Bertie Bott’s every flavor beans

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned? uh...Something about not being able to spray silly string on Halloween in Hollywood

70. left or right handed? Right handed

71. least favorite pattern? wtf

72. worst subject? anything math related, I really struggled in GIS.

73. favorite weird flavor combo? I...have no idea

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen? 2. I’m a baby

75. when did you lose your first tooth? I was 6

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)? chips and fries

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill? a succulent

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store? sushi from a grocery store, the quality can surprise you

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo? Both are terrible

80. earth tones or jewel tones? Jewel tones

81. fireflies or lightning bugs? I hate bugs

82. pc or console? PC

83. writing or drawing? Writing, I’m terrible at drawing

84. podcasts or talk radio? Not into either

84. barbie or polly pocket? I had both

85. fairy tales or mythology? God!!!! Like hearing about both but mythology I guess

86. cookies or cupcakes? Cookies

87. your greatest fear? Being forgotten. I also have a terrible, horrible fear of drowning

88. your greatest wish? In the times I’ve struggled I often find myself wishing for peace. Not only for myself, but for others to easily feel peace with everyone else

89. who would you put before everyone else? Sierra

90. luckiest mistake? Mistake? There’s been lucky accidents but I don’t think any of my mistakes have been lucky

91. boxes or bags? It depends on what I’m packing and where I’m going

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights? Sunlight

93. nicknames? T, Tear, Tear-tear, T-Dog, Miss T..a few of my recent favorites from soccer: Ronaldinha and Thierry Chun