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marikaaajoy · 4 years

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my relationship with digital art and how BNHA salvaged it

I just wanted to let out my thoughts but I can only do it here :>

This might be a downer for some people but I’d like to share it with people here. BNHA means the world to me and this is why.

I first started drawing when I was 7 years old in 2006

I think it’s ugly now, but 7 year old me remembered being so proud of this because this is a drawing of my stepfather. This is the only drawing I have that was from my childhood. I think the aim here is to draw in anime style BUT I didn’t even watch anime back then. I had a classmate who loves anime and she taught me to draw in school. Drawing became a favorite hobby immediately after that.

Then it was 2013 and I was 14 years old. Drawing is still my favorite thing to do besides being on the computer. I love anime at this point too. My parents bought an iPad for the whole family, but I was almost always the one using it. I discovered an app called ArtStudio and thought “Wow, I can draw without making a mess and with only my fingers” because I was always too lazy to take out my drawing materials and clean up afterwards.

These were my first digital drawings. The pirate one was the very first. I got obsessed real fast. I can color so easily, undo any mistake, layers are a blessing too. There was just so much more freedom. I always sucked at coloring in traditional art and I didn’t like the mess (idk my hands get so messy traditionally)

The next year, it was 2014, I was 15. My birthday is in a couple of months and I knew my parents were planning to buy me something pricey (I think it was a laptop) so I approached them and asked if they could just buy the Wacom Bamboo as a present which was cheaper anyway and I even explained how it works to them and how it would allow me to draw on the computer instead of the iPad. I tried really hard to be convincing. I would have prepared a powerpoint presentation if I had to.

They did give me the wacom as a present. They even gave it to me months before my birthday so I could use it already. I thought I was the luckiest teen in the world with my parents.

These are a collection of my favorite works from 2014 to 2016. The middle one was my second drawing using wacom and Paint Tool SAI. I was a part of a lot of fandoms in those years lol

It gets downhill from there :/

April 2016, my mom and I moved to Japan, while my stepfather and siblings stay in my country. It was tough. For someone who is obsessed with anime, you’d think I’d be thrilled to live in Japan.

I was. Though only at the first few months. It’s not the same as it’s portrayed in anime (I should’ve known but I used to be blinded by anime). It was just lonely. The language barrier sucked and then lots of financial and family issues until my parents split. I got my first boyfriend too and I thought I was blessed by the nicest boy, but the relationship became extremely toxic but I didn’t have it in me to walk away.

All the shit that happened affected me mentally and emotionally. My biggest outlet which was digital drawing, was also out of the question because I did not have a computer/laptop when we moved to Japan. We left it in our home for my stepfather and siblings, even the iPad. I have my wacom with me, but no computer/laptop to use it with. I couldn’t draw.

I tried though. I used my phone to draw, but it wasn’t the same. Then the life problems got piled up, things got worse, and I just lost motivation in anything. Literally anything. From 2016 to 2019, I stopped watching anime, I dropped out of all the fandoms I’m in, I stopped watching my favorite TV series or movies, and I stopped drawing. I even got a bit disconnected with my friends who lived in my country (we talk regularly online). My family was broken so I gave all my attention to my toxic relationship as well which made everything worse too lol

I didn’t draw besides from a few scribbles and the drawings above. I did try digital art on my phone a couple of times again and even posted them on my IG, but they weren’t any good. Eventually, I got mentally and emotionally drained and dropped out of senior high school. I just stayed home for almost a year, leeching off of my mom. I felt even more worthless and my life had no direction at this point. Nothing mattered anymore.

April 2019 or so I think, my (ex)bf bought me a laptop. He says it’s a gift, but I think the real reason was to make up for something horrible that he did (which is stupid because money /gifts won’t resolve anything). I have a laptop. I can draw again, but I didn’t. I didn’t care, I wasn’t interested in drawing anymore anyway.

Welp. June 2019, I went back to my country. My (ex) bf stayed in Japan. The distance helped me end the relationship and my friends were there (they always were) to help put me back together along with two trips to therapy. I went back to finish my senior high school in my own country this time. That said, I have to stay in my country for school (but I was happy because I didn’t wanna go back to Japan yet when the breakup was still fresh and with going back to school, my life has a direction again.)

It was weird. I remember just being sorta lost and confused because I used to put my time, effort and everything into my previous toxic relationship, which was now gone. I was free and I had so much free time that I didn’t know what to do with it. I got so used to doing nothing and being nothing.

This is where BNHA enters.

Dunno when it started, but I started seeing Bakugou frequently online. It’s usually just Bakugou. I knew who he was because my friend suggested BNHA to me back in late 2018 I think but I didn’t watch it since I’ve lost interest in everything at that point in my life.

But ye I thought he hot af but I still didn’t watch BNHA.

But then for some reason he REALLY kept appearing in my social medias and it was really frequent. The last straw was when I saw a pic of him in UA’s gym uniform and thought “damn boi aight imma watch bnha for u” (y’all gotta admit he looks good in those colors with his combat boots XD )

I watched BNHA. Fell in love with Iida along the way. Then I switched to Tokoyami (but Shoji was hot too so aaaaa), but then angry emotionally-constipated sea urchin head caught my heart again. But oof. BakuDeku moments really made me feel some type of way I haven’t felt since I moved to Japan. It felt new but nostalgic. I fell hard in that ship.

I started obsessing. From memes to posts to fanfictions to buying merch to filling my room with BNHA posters. I realized I was reverting to my old self from the time I was still happy and it was thanks to BNHA (and the good people who helped me through the worst too)

Shit I wanted to draw BNHA, I thought.

I mean, I have a laptop, I still have my wacom and drawing softwares. I could totally draw digitally again if I wanted to.

But guess what

I can’t :c

My hand physically cannot draw. My drawings don’t look the way I want them too. 3 years of not drawing really destroyed any skill I had. I was back to square one.

September (yeah they’re ugly, I laughed at it). If you’re wondering why I drew on paper, it’s because, for some reason, I really CANNOT draw digitally. I mean it. I can barely sketch digitally at this point. The lines and shapes just doesn’t come to life. They’re just scribbles. But somehow, I can kinda draw on paper with a ballpoint pen. But yeah, that was the best I could do at this point in my life

After that, I still tried to draw, to regain my old art style, but it didn’t happen... It just doesn’t look or feel the same. Drawing used to be fun. But during this phase, it felt like my ugly drawings were just mocking me (probably was just too emo that time lol)

Weirdly, around a week or two I think, after my half-assed attempts at drawing, I managed to draw digitally somehow o.o

I did a Midoriya and Todoroki drawing like this too. It was my first post here on Tumblr I think. The annoying part here is that I cannot draw digitally unless I draw on paper first, take a pic, and then trace the lineart. I couldn’t draw directly on the computer. Granted, drawing on paper and drawing on digital is very different for me in the first place anyway. But it was still a pain. And it still looked like shit. I can only draw stiff poses :/ it seems like my brain decided to delete all data about anatomy and posture and backgrounds. My lineart here is even messy af. It still really not the same as my old style.

By 2020, I think I got my old art style back. On March, I made this. This took me 27 total of hrs to make.

Right now, I think it’s not bad, but back in March, I was disappointed with the result. This is when I finally broke down crying because it didn’t look good enough and I hated that it took me 27 hrs to draw “bullshit.” I was angry at myself for losing interest in drawing for 3 years when I could’ve used that time to improve. I had to start all over again and it still didn’t look good. (Current me thinks that the drawing above is alright. I was just a lot harsher to myself back then. Used to have a lot of issues but I’m doing great now)

I cried myself to sleep that night. Woke up wanting to cry again. I wallowed in sadness for a couple of days. Eventually told my friends what’s up. Got some pep talk. Even talked to my sister (she’s great, she always hypes me up with my stuff and sometimes I think she’s my biggest fan with how she appreciates my drawings and I’m really grateful for that).

My world turned a 180 and I was weirdly positive after all that crying because brain chemicals and shit. I had a revelation. If I hate how my art style looked so much, then I should have been putting effort in changing my art style, not trying to regain my old art style (that I don’t like anymore)

I researched a lot. I analyzed different art styles and anatomy again. I did everything I could think of to find a style that works for me. I might have even neglected school for a bit to focus on digital art lmao

After all that work, I posted a fanart of middle school BakuDeku in their classroom. I love that fanart so much even if I probably have better ones by now because that was the first fanart I made that I felt like I could be proud of and it was the first one I made in my new art style. It was a milestone for me.

March 2020, I moved back to Japan and without the toxic relationship, I’m a lot positive now. Happy. I’m myself again after the previous bad years. I’m still continuously learning though, trying to improve, but at least, now, I found my own art style :) I really suck at interacting with people online, but I’m always grateful for the support everyone has been giving my fanarts. I’m happy when my content makes people happy.

This is why BNHA is important to me. The series is great alone, but it’s not just that to me. BNHA is so much more. It’s what made me find the passion to create again, only this time, it’s focused on drawing (I used to write, but now I just draw, but maybe I’ll write again for BNHA).

My family is supportive with my love for BNHA, but I think they don’t know the deeper reason why I love it. Sure, I was fine living on with nothing much going on in my life. I’ll finish school, get a job, work until I die or something. It was okay. It was the way of life. But BNHA gave my life color again. I wasn’t just blindly going through life anymore. I have something to look forward to everyday now. BNHA even became a bridge to other things. Ever since then, I’m a lot more open to people, to try new things, to explore and not just live through life and waste away. I got better at leaving my comfort zone. I’ve never been happier in my life :D

Thank you for supporting my fanarts. Thank you so much for giving me a chance to express myself through BNHA. I hope to make more content in the future and improve even more :)

#plus ultra #<3 #personal

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diveronarpg · 6 years

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Congratulations, LOUISE! You’ve been accepted for the role of BEATRICE. Admin Em: Louise, your application was such a joy to read, and I knew by the time I finished with your interview and sample that this IS Brielle. You captured the balance between dreamer and cynic perfectly, brought life into our spark and made it impossible to tear our eyes away! You showed us why she’s not to be underestimated, why she’s a force in her own right - “That’s what caused her to win; not God, not luck and not whatever else people decided to give credit to.” Just Brielle. Brielle and her horse. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Louise

Age | 23

Preferred Pronouns | She/her

Activity Level | I’m moving to England in October and that might be a week where I won’t be as active because I need to settle in but I will still try to come on and, at the very least, do a few replies and plot! Overall, I’m pretty active and try to do replies on the daily and I’d say I’m a 6 out of 10, my activity depending on how much writing muse I have that day!

Timezone | Gmt

In Character

Character | Beatrice a.k.a Brielle King

What drew you to this character? | The first line of her biography hooked me in right away. It really intrigued me about her character and it got me curious about what was the story behind the words you guys used. I was pleasantly surprised. And as I kept reading, I just got this incessant feeling of wanting to explore her character more — I almost couldn’t even sit still (then again I never can’t) until the end of the biography because I was excited to do things for her, to write as her and to develop her.

When I got to the end of her biography, I found myself wanting to read it again and again; I adore the fact that Brielle, quite literally, built herself from nothing — she’s a dreamer and a cynic at the same time, with street smarts that would put most to shame. I like her independence. I like her strength and that includes her weaknesses, as well. And, most of all, I love how she’s everything people don’t expect her to be.

Brielle is strong in her own way and while she might not look intimidating, she is, in my opinion, the embodiment of the words “Throw me to the wolves and I will return leading the pack”. People look at her and see an outsider that will be eaten alive by the city of Verona but her past will prove them wrong; she might not end up ruling over the city of Verona but I believe she’s strong enough to sway some power in her favor, in her own way.

She’s clever, she’s intelligent, she doesn’t give up and doesn’t back down. And I love how she handled the cards that she was dealt, in a table where it’s so clear some people are being favored over others. She didn’t just sit back and waited for life to give her what she wanted; she didn’t wait for karma to finally give her the life she wanted and deserved. Instead, she took matters into her own hands and did what she had to do to get to where she is today.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

i. GREATNESS FROM SMALL BEGINNINGS. At the risk of sounding a bit too greedy, I would love to see Brielle become “more important” within the Montagues; of course, I don’t want her to become a Captain overnight but I do believe she has the potential to be quite the asset to the mob and climb that ladder, step after step and prove herself to be more than they expect her to be. She’s hardworking, an overachieving, always striving to do better and do it to the best of her abilities, proving that the doubts about her, whatever they may be, are plain wrong. This is a plot for the long-run and I think would be very interesting!

ii. BE STILL, DON’T MISS IT. Catherine Daly holds a very interesting place in Brielle’s mind. For someone that has always depended on her own mind, her own edcisions and her own beliefs, it would be refreshing to have someone that makes Brielle’s mind take another stance when it comes to proving to everyone who she is; perhaps, she could take a break, for a few hours, and just enjoy someone’s company and that someone would be Catherine. Like it’s said in her biography, Catherine reminds Brielle of her sister. Although she couldn’t compare to the unspoken bond between Brielle and her blood, Catherine fills a void that appeared in Brielle’s heart when she finally went out into the world and took what she wanted.

iii. THESE VIOLENT DELIGHTS. I’m quite interested in her mentor and mentoree relationship with Faron Vasiliev and how it’s implied that they are kindred spirits. I adore those types of connections and for someone that’s always depended on herself her entire life, it would be good to see Brielle keep her independence and her street smarts but still be able to lean on someone for some guidance; of course, she would say it’s only just so she can become better herself but I believe that, either way, it would be a good relationship to explore and let it influence Brielle.

iv. HAVE VIOLENT ENDS. When I read about her relationship with Brigette, I was so enticed by it. For someone that’s so fearless but keeps her own weaknessess in check, it’s really interesting to see Brielle lose control of her emotions, the reins a bit looser, when it comes to dealing with Brigette. I love that the word “fear” was mentioned and that Brielle believes she has never felt it, but come this porcelain looking girl and, in a moment, she feels as if the world is about to fall on her. I think the interactions between these two can show a different side of Brielle; instead of roleplaying the fearless, overachieving Montague soldier, I’ll be able to also write a more… vulnerable side of her, in terms of being close to afraid of someone.

v. WHAT’S A GOD TO A NON-BELIEVER. I know this is a really vague plot, but I’d like to have the possibility, as well, to explore a waver in her loyalty. The way I see it, Brielle is loyal to the potential that comes from being o Montague’s side and she’s loyal to her mentor; however, I’d like to see how far she could be pushed until she began realising that perhaps her loyalty wasn’t as certain as most would assume. I feel like throughout her biography I didn’t get the sense she was fully committed to the Montagues, so that’d be something I’d like to explore if it fit her and the plot!

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Right now, I’m going to have to say no. However, that might change in the future!

In Depth

In-Character Interview:

Come to the west, come to Verona and you’ll experience a life you’ve never experienced before. Brielle remembered her benefactor’s words like he had just said it to her, days ago. Although she had just arrived in Verona mere months before that very moment, it took the newspaper all but a few weeks after she arrived to schedule that small interview; lucky for her — or was it? — it was right in the middle of the Phoenix and the Turtle coffee shop and although she had just made an appearance, her alignment might just prove dangerous in that particular moment.

Sitting across from the interviewer, Brielle allowed her dark eyes to study the man for a few moments; middle-aged, carefully groomed hair and a suit that put most to shame, not to mention he had ignored technology and held a notepad and a ballpoint pen in his hand. The young woman didn’t want to do this interview but she knew better than to bite the hand that fed her.

Foregoing the famous coffee for which the Phoenix and the Turtle was known for, all the brunette wanted was to get out of that interview. The faster, the better.

What is your favorite place in Verona?

“Verona.” Brielle simply said, a lopsided smile appearing on her lips as if she had thought of such an answer just to appear clever; the young soldier didn’t have to appear to be anything. As far as people were concerned, she didn’t appear much but Brielle knew she was on her way to becoming everything. “I’m still getting to know the city of love, you know? So, I can’t name a place.” She figured if she talked enough, then he wouldn’t pester more than the necessary.

Why Verona? It’s the embodiment of the ultimate challenge; Brielle knows she can survive such a merciless town, plagued by both beauty and a crimson, scary river of blood from both sides of the city, inhabited by people with knives for tongues and smiles as deadly as a gun.There’s beauty in danger, she muses inside her own mind, but Brielle is too smart to be swayed by beauty. The city that saw her as nothing but an outsider, the city that threatened to swallow her whole without knowing that she was made of poison.

She’s both proudful and humble and she hasn’t gotten this far, climbed through vines made of poison and thorns, to be made a fool of by Verona.

“But if you want to know a specific place, then whenever I’m racing or at the stables.” Whether it was Rio’s mere presence or the fact that whenever she was on a horse, she wasn’t just the outsider that had come to race in the West and try and make it there. Whenever she entered a race, she knew that inside that place, Brielle was another equestrian and a good one at that. Her roots didn’t matter because, at the end of the race, the only thing people remembered was whether or not she finished last or first.

“Life of an equestrian, right?”

What does your typical day look like?

There was something about sharing that had Brielle feel conflicted; she had no problem sharing a room or a piece of clothing or even her own bed. Coming from nothing, Brielle knows how it feels to be deprived of what you need and not what you want.

However, when it came to sharing her life, she was always with a foot in the room and another out the door.

“I’m an equestrian.” It was the perfect cover, wasn’t it? Brielle had grown up being invisible; being the daughter of a man that brought dinner to the table instead of sitting down and eating it, much like her family, Brielle was used to being in the background, never having the spotlight shine on her. And most didn’t care about horse races, at all.

Before, the fire that grew inside of her for being treated like nothing because she came from nothing had been just that — fire that never seemed to guide her anywhere (until it finally did). Now? It’s her ammo.

“If I’m not at the stables, taking care of my horse, Rio” river, stream — that’s what her horse’s name meant; it was a symbol for who she wants to become. If someone builds a new path for the river, it doesn’t do anything but shape itself to it and carry on until its final goal: the ocean. That’s who Brielle was, was it not? “ — I’m either training or just exploring the city. I’ve only been here for a couple of months, I know there’s still a lot to explore.”

And everything left unexplored had a darkness to it that called to the curious minds like a siren song.

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

None. That was the first response that came to her mind because everything she did was because she wanted to do it. “Not coming to Verona sooner.” If she allowed herself to be truthful about something in her life, it was that.

Of course, it was the answer that she knew they wanted to hear, at least partly. If Brielle hadn’t come sooner, she wouldn’t have realized that she was so much more than everyone told her she was; she wouldn’t have raced against every doubt throw in her face and let it eat the dust she left behind; she wouldn’t have shown someone that took his position for granted that, if given the choice, she’d take it for herself and be better than they could ever be.

“The horse race tracks are much better here.”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

Oh, Brielle remembers it clearly. It was as if she would be able to look into the river that bathed Verona and see the scenario play in front of her, like some independent motion picture. It wasn’t a one time kind of tasks, that much she remembered. It was something spoken to her every day of her life, for hours on end. Mind your station. Watch who you’re talking to. Focus on your work and nothing else. Don’t expect too much of yourself. Those were the tasks that were hardest for her, but the absolute hardest was easy to remember.Don’t dream too much. “So far?” She wasn’t about to be truthful, not in this sort of… interview. “Riding a horse that wasn’t mine. It’s just… strange, I guess.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

It was the epitome of greed and malicious thoughts and actions, the home to people that believe themselves to be better than the rest just because they are native to fair Verona. Still, Brielle knew where she ought to be and where she wanted to be. “Just like in every war, there’s going to be a winner and a loser.” The brunette began, shrugging her shoulders. And I’m on the winning side. Brielle planned to make the most of the situation, just like she had done thus far — and, where success was concerned, she had managed to grip the reins of it even when life wanted to see her fall and stay down. “It’s not my place to comment any further.”

In-Character Para Sample:

The reds and the oranges of the sunset cascaded down the sky, lighting up the stables in a color that was fitting for what was happening at that moment; it was neither night nor day, dark nor light — it was an ambiguous hour and if one didn’t try hard enough they could mistake the colors of the sunset for those of a sunrise. It wasn’t defined and hard to pinpoint, just like Brielle was, many complained. For someone that didn’t have much growing up, her confidence and pride sure rivaled the ones of people that had been brought up with everything on their silver platter, from the latest piece of clothing to their precious silver spoon — or marble one, should they decide to eat caviar.

Up and down, up and down. Her hand followed the brush as she tamed Rio’s mane, a lovingly stare becoming an empty gaze as her mind got hypnotized by the repetitive motion and her thoughts began flowing away, thinking back to memories she hadn’t thought of since she got to Verona.

————

The sounds around her began to fade and it was as if she was watching a show with a slow transition into another scene. Flashes of her childhood, of the word she had done before she even knew what working was. Brielle remembers walking by the oblivious people that surfed through the waves of an easy life while the young girl had to fight and swim among the same crashing waves; she remembers how she felt whenever they passed her by, ignored her and became the embodiment of the words ignorance is bliss.

Oh, they were as blissful as they could be, with rose-colored glasses matching their perfect outfits. Brielle’s glasses didn’t even have lenses, she saw the world exactly as it was and she still wanted to conquer it.

The faces of her parents and her sister looked right at her and though they moved their lips, there was no sound coming out of their mouths; Brielle’s memory was good but not that good. Her father, with a surname worthy of someone at the top of the food chain, was someone that lived to pick up the breadcrumbs from those around him. Her mother, either praying to a God that didn’t seem to know of their existence of knitting Brielle and her sister new sweaters for the winter was near and they didn’t have enough money for warm enough jackets. Brielle remembers looking around her house — if one could even call it that — and knowing that that life wasn’t meant for her, it wasn’t meant for anyone.

Then, every time she looked at the blissful people surrounding her, it was as if someone poured gasoline in the fire that kept her going. It was as if she had to thank those ignorant, rich kids for where she was right now.

————

Brielle King? Brielle King?

The words echoed inside the stables and although she didn’t recognize the voice, she knew it was time for her and Rio to join the others and race. There was going to be no God with her in that track; only her hard work, dedication, and practice; the countless hours spent in the stables and the tracks, every day spent there and every drop of sweat that escaped her. There was a lot of preparation before every race, at least the way Brielle did it. That’s what caused her to win; not God, not luck and not whatever else people decided to give credit to.

It was Brielle and her horse, the hours they spend together training, getting maneuvers down to precise movements and a form that would put most to shame. Although Rio was a beautiful, white and light brown purebred, given to her by her benefactor, every time they stepped on the tracks, alongside more known jockeys, they were underestimated. They were the dark horse. With her helmet tugged under her arm, three fingers holding the reins of her horse, she walked out of the stable and looked at the person that called out to her. With a last name so memorable, it was a surprise that most would never remember her face in a crowd; though it was something she was used to.

Upon seeing her, the young woman questioned, “It’s time for the race”

Without hesitation, Brielle looked at Rio and ran her hand through his soft mane. “And we’re ready to win, aren’t we, Rio?”

Extras: Everything’s in the mock blog I submitted from!

#accepted: beatrice #accepted

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ladamab · 6 years

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Molting Memories

“Hanzo, no! Please, what are you doing?!”

He crouched over the downed body of a man, of an angel with its broken wings outstretched on either side holding a long knife in one hand and a fist full of feathers in the other. The injuries were grave but if he stopped to help the creature, he might just be able to save him… but Hanzo wouldn’t. He would turn around and he would leave as he always did each time before, never turning back to pick up the fallen creature despite how much he wanted to.

Blood pooled on the cement, coating the refuse and grime. Regal features watched up in disbelief; he looked down in complete apathy. Standing there in a alleyway that Hanzo could describe in agonizing detail by this point, he regarded his knife with a feigned interest.

Hanzo could tell you how many air-conditioning units sat in the secluded back street, he could describe in detail which ones had been wrenched free of their windows by the frantic flapping of long tawny wings. He could go into exquisite and excruciating detail about the way the skin between his guardian angel’s strong brows crinkled in confusion or the way the light escaped his almond eyes as more and more blood flowed freely.

He could tell you how many tears of disbelief and pain fell from warm brown orbs. Hanzo hazarded that he could even take the time to count exactly how many primaries had been ripped free and laid flung over the filled trash bags piled on the wayside. After all, this was the same every time it happened. What was a bit of distraction now and again?

His eyes traced over the edges of the ordinary hunting knife as if it were the most ornate of hand-crafted swords, blood glistening dark in the stormy night and spreading everywhere when the rain mixed with life essence to stain his hands. Sometimes when he looked down he could still see it; no amount of soap would ever clean it off.

“Hanzo please--” The angel begged again, reaching with an outstretched hand though the motion drug his worthless wings against the ground and caused the gaping wound to gush. He could have saved the angel; he should have saved him. He watched as his own hands threw the feathers back at the creature so desperately begging him for an intervention in mockery. Hanzo watched as his own feet began to back away.

‘No,’ His conscious mind would always scream, a cri de coeur that begged and pleaded for those feet to stop in their retreat. ‘No, go back, don’t leave him what are you doing!? That’s your angel, why would you leave him? Go back! Go back!!’

...but they didn’t and they wouldn’t and nothing he could ever do would ever stop them. The rain raged stronger and the blood began to run, long rivulets of life from a protector felled by its own guarded human. He knew that he would retreat and back away from that garbage filled alley, leaving the angel to slowly die of internal bleeding. If he was going to murder the creature it would be only fair, only merciful, to kill it in one go and not to leave it there to suffer. In his dreams, Hanzo was not merciful.

No matter how many times he watched this scene play out from the back seat, trapped in a portion of his mind where the real Hanzo screamed in agony and cried tears of regret for what could have been, the feet would not stop walking. His body would not quit running away. No matter how many times the angel begged him or how slow the time ran while he was leaving the creature where it had fallen after his betrayal, Hanzo would not turn around.

“Why did you do this to me?” The angel cried as he always did when Hanzo reached the end of the alleyway. His mutinous feet paused as they always would and turned to regard the angel for a moment or two. Being a passenger didn’t mean that he couldn’t feel his face as it twisted into what could have been a grimace or could have been a grin. Hanzo couldn’t know because this wasn’t him. Whoever it was in his body with this knife on this night with his angel was in control of the show; this was a memory and nothing he did could ever change it.

Hanzo didn’t even know Angels could bleed; yet this one had bled and even died.

“Genji,” His own voice called, soft and almost sad in a mockery of care that couldn’t be true after this murder. There came a pregnant pause and by now he could count the very milliseconds as they passed, between the first fateful name to the breath of betrayal that would inevitably follow. Genji, his angel’s name was Genji, and Hanzo swore that he’d never forget that name.

“Genji, you did this to yourself.”

Then he left; he always did. Hanzo turned on his heel and walked from the alley like it was nothing and it was nothing to the man in the body that Hanzo now found himself trapped in. The backseat driver hoped against hope that this time it would be different. That this time he could jump the partition and hop into the front seat; wishing and hoping and praying that this time he could wrench the power from the psychopath at the wheel and take control.

The ending was always the same. He ran from the alley and he never looked back. Few people ever found themselves in a place where they had an angel, the creatures only arrived when their humans were in grave danger but not yet destined to die. It was so exceedingly rare that human sciences dismissed the idea as the sightings became less and less common. Hanzo had been in the presence of an angel. By all indications, he’d also killed him.

The figure lurched up from his position in the bed, gasping in air and clutching his chest as he fumbled around in the dark to turn on the light on the side table. The blinking red lights beside the bed read ‘0424’, flashing as if to mock the frantically shaking man. As the table came on, he squinted into the light and pulled open the top drawer to search around for the journal that he always kept there.

“State your name for the record?”

Pale hands, one arm covered in a tattoo sleeve he couldn’t remember sitting for and the other mottled with small scars that he didn’t remember getting, opened the journal and clicked the ballpoint pen that could be found inside. December 8th, 2020, No changes in nightmare noted.

“John Doe, ID #47846236.”

This was one of the many therapy channels that his army of shrinks had foisted upon him. They’d tried everything from the ways that were known to work ,such as occupational memory recovery, to the newer therapies including smart devices. He ate what they told him would help, even. He did everything he could think of to try and recover some sliver of what he used to be but at the end of the day nothing would work.

Doe had been like this for 10 years, a same dream every night evidenced by the piles of records that he kept. Every page in this journal was filled with that line, line after line of the same nothingness. Just a man in alone in the world without a past, without a name, without a family or a home.

“Your CT testing has come back to show no points on your brain where damage explaining your loss in memory can be explained. While the psychiatrists say cognitive testing shows no sign of deceit, the police chief and I are significantly less convinced. John, how are we supposed to believe someone who has no proof?”

He threw his legs over the side of the bed and slowly slipped on the house shoes that sat beside the side table as they always did. The alarm was set to go off in a half an hour anyway so Doe figured he may as well get up and get moving. His morning coffee waited for no man.

“I don’t know sir. Please call me Hanzo.”

He stood and pulled his robe from the nearby dressing chair, pulling it over his shoulders to protect from the chill that the apartment always had in winter. When living in Philadelphia, or anywhere on the East coast, housing was in a high demand and with no background past ten years ago and a legal name of ‘John Doe’ with a string of numbers for his ID, there were few people who would rent to someone like him. He’d managed to find a kindly old doctor and his son to rent him out this apartment for dirt cheap and the nearby Buddhist monk who ran a semi-public library was more than happy to offer Hanzo a job.

This was his life now. A constant wondering of what was and what could have been. Whenever a new shrink called him out of the blue to offer an exciting new way to fuck around with his head, Hanzo inwardly cringed but accepted. Regaining his memories, discovering why he had killed his angel, was the most important thing to him but he would be lying if he didn’t say that he hated every single second of going to an office. It wasn’t bad enough that they wanted him to try yoga or cooking traditional Japanese meals to reclaim memories, some of them wanted to get in his head too.

Hanzo refused to consent to a biopsy. There was no way to know if he’d come back from that the same. There was no way to know if he'd come back from that at all.

“Is that the same name that your angel called you in the dream?”

Simple DNA testing had revealed that he was Japanese, to the surprise of exactly no one. He'd woken up speaking the language and the only names he could remember were so fundamentally Japanese, it would make less sense if he wasn’t. There were no records on file; no dental or medical, not so much as a fingerprint to tell him who he was before or what he’d done with his life all that time. When Hanzo had been found, he had no wallet or keys. No identifying factors of any kind save for the tattoo and no artist in the country had claimed it. He would be willing to bet that it was the most widely recognizable traditional Japanese sleeve in the world with as many times as it had aired on late night television.

He slipped into the bathroom to relieve himself, hanging up the gown on a nearby hook and turning on the shower. The old pipes in this place knocked and banged whenever he used the facilities and the hot water took an age to heat up, but it was the only home he’d ever known in however long he’d been alive.

Doctors estimated that Hanzo was somewhere to the tune of 30, give or take a few years. It was impossible to know. He didn’t have a birthday either. A quick google search and Hanzo had chosen May 9th out of the sheer irony. The Day of the Lost Sock; it seemed fitting for him to have it as a birthday as he’d lost everything including his socks.

“Hai. It’s the only tie I have to who I was and it feels better than ‘John.’ Hanzo means one half and… I’m only half of myself without my memories.”

“Sure, whatever kid.”

He slipped into the shower, relishing how the near scorching liquid chased away the chill and ache in his bones. The apartment building had been built in the mid 1800’s as a hospital and then converted to apartments. There were some days that Hanzo wasn’t so sure it hadn’t been condemned, at least the lower floors. He was on the top level and while it was only a few small rooms, he was happy to have a place to call home.

“I don’t know how else to prove that I can’t remember anything. I’ve submitted to every test that you’ve asked for and you haven’t even charged me with a crime. Other than the dream of me killing an angel, something that the government doesn’t even believe exists, I haven’t done anything to deserve your suspicion.”

Ten years of being on his own without the faintest recollection of his past; ten years of being a medical oddity and resident guinea pig for the doctors of the region. Surrounded by this many prestigious medical schools meant that he had a new doctoral candidate knocking on his door every other week. He’d learned to ask for money in exchange for being a part of their studies and that had padded his librarian’s income quite nicely.

No matter how nice the nest egg though, this was still the East Coast and the price of living out here didn’t allow for egregious spending. The moment that the chill had been knocked out of his bones, Hanzo turned the shower off and stepped out, toweling down as quickly as possible before snuggling back into his fluffy robe.

A sharp crack of thunder outside caused the lights to flicker and he just prayed that his tiny apartment didn’t lose power in the middle of a cold snap. Again. The East Coast was notorious for its icy winters and while Hanzo had become accustomed to wearing multiple layers of clothing, he didn’t want to be required to in his own home. Was that really so much to ask? The lights flickered again and then went out. Hanzo’s fist came to strike the wall in frustration, careful not to knock another tile loose before shutting the water off and fumbling around.

The last time this had happened, he’d caught his foot on the lip of the tub and busted his ass on the tile floor. That was an experience that he had no desire to repeat again, instead carefully holding onto both the shower rod and the towel rack before blindly feeling around in the darkness with his feet. It was only after he got out and began to dry his hair with the towel that the lights in the apartment flickered back to life, once again lighting the way back to the bedroom. Hanzo would have been more annoyed if this wasn’t such a common occurrence around here; now he was simply resigned.

Grabbing his toothbrush and squirting a bit of toothpaste on, Hanzo continued to move around with his morning routines. Underwear, socks, pants. Undershirt, t-shirt, sweater. Belt, boots, watch. Hair pulled back, beard clipped, piercings cleaned. The morning shuffle that came like breathing, adulthood and responsibility being essentially all he’d ever known.

Hanzo walked over to the largest window, pulling back the thick blanket he had draped over the glass behind his curtains. The instant chill of cold air that seeped around the ancient single pane windows caused a shiver to run down his arms, even after the hot shower. Sun was still down, at 0503 it would be, the lights on Liberty One and Two shining down on his humble abode and he could swear he saw and heard no less than three sirens. Such was the life in West Philadelphia. It was really too bad that he couldn’t also have an uncle who lived in Bel-Air… or really anywhere further south than here. He’d settle for Florida, even taking into consideration the general fascination with geriatrics and sweaters at 75 degrees. Maybe next time he felt like a real asshole, Hanzo could just feed himself to an alligator instead of considering tossing himself into the Delaware. Honestly, it was a real waste of meat to freeze to death when he could be feeding the wildlife.

Welcome to Florida; do whatever the signs tell you not to.

The sad reality of it was that he always had a tab or two open on his computer, checking the price of one-way tickets to Miami. All jokes aside, it was probably a good thing that he’s never been able to afford one. Hanzo sighed, putting the blanket back in its place and pulled the fitted insulating blanket over his aquarium to keep out the cold. The fish had their own heater built into the tank so that if anything ever happened while he was out, the back up battery would keep the tropical fish from dying. Those suckers were fucking expensive and he didn’t want to replace them. Besides, Hanzo was pretty fond of the gray-green dragonfish. That one was his favorite; he’d named it Soba, even though it hardly looked as appetizing as its namesake.

Poor Soba was an ugly motherfucker.

The rain and sleet outside the window had really started to pick up, taking his half-baked plans to jog and tossing them directly into the toilet. There was no way that he could get out and exercise in this, so he resolved to just run stairs later after work. Not for the first time, Hanzo considered getting a subscription to a gym but his financial situation wouldn’t allow for it, not if he wanted to get Soba’s fish food sent in from Guam.

More importantly, Hanzo needed coffee. His favorite place was warm, had free wifi and really, he couldn’t say he’d ever truly been cold until the first time he’d excited to get to a jam-packed coffee shop that may or may not smell like weed. It was the only place in the area that’s open at 0530 anyway. He grabbed his satchel and slid the beat up old laptop inside along with his memory journal, pulling on gloves and a hat before locking the door on his way out.

Hanzo jogged down the stairs, huffing air into his gloves to try and warm up his fingers. Four flights of stairs didn’t seem all that bad on the way down but getting back up here every night was a herculean trial in and of itself. The coffee shop that he favored was actually in the same building as his apartment, so at least he didn’t have to be outside in the sleet for more than a few minutes at most. Hanzo had to throw his shoulder against the iced over door on the side of the building to get it open, threatening to break something other than the frost keeping it shut as it did every morning. This morning the door was particularly well glued due to the wind whipping the sleet through the narrow alleyway. Nevertheless, he got out. Past the pile of refuse and the odd homeless guy that he was only 60 percent sure was still alive, Hanzo trudged around the building and into the shop. Thunderbird Brew: not the best nor the worst but definitely the highest THC content in town. Hanzo slipped in behind the modest line, glad that because he’d gotten there so early, he wouldn’t have to wait for as long to get to the front. So he flicked his phone on, reading the news after connecting to the WiFi. Honestly, the legalization of cannabis in the United States had been a huge boon to the economy, allowing for little places like this to go on the books and make a killing. Getting it legal had nearly taken an act of God but no one could argue with the results.

He slid over the news, outrage over the election results still going after nearly a month, scrolling it down further until he found the weather section. Hanzo had checked the weather the night before, using the weak signal from the shop in the stairwell before going back up to his apartment, and he had hoped that the warnings of ‘Massive Winter Superstorm’ had been just some kind of hallucination. Unfortunately, it hadn’t. He frowned at the mass of ice and snow that had torn its way across the country, watching the wisps of it moving closer and closer to Philly--it was due to really hit in force by 3 pm but with the sleet already falling, Hanzo would estimate that was wrong.

‘Well, better go to the store before all the milk and bread was gone.’ Hanzo snorted through his nose, shaking his head and sliding the phone into his back pocket. At this point, everything he thought or said was steeped in sarcasm. Milk was a no-go as he was lactose intolerant, a trait shared by every asian ever. Bread was sort of a moot point as well, it didn’t make sense to buy something that would just go bad in a week if you were looking at the possibility of a long term power outage.

No, he’d need at least four packs of batteries for Soba’s warmer and a tank of propane for the emergency heater he’d installed. He began to mentally tally whether he could afford two tanks, maybe he could put off the phone bill a while…? The utilities would be prorated for the outage--

“Hanzo,” A voice called, an amused tenor followed by a soft whistle and bracelet stacked hand waving to bring him back into the here and now. “Hey man, good morning. You want the usual?” The name badge read Halháta, but the regulars knew him around here as Ena. He owned the joint--Hanzo inwardly laughed at his own joke--and even while the coffee shop could run on its own, Ena was always more than willing around to help. After all, his father owned the building; He was the landlord.

“Huh?” Hanzo looked up to make eye contact with the other before averting his eyes and nodding, feeling the usual uncomfortable twist in his lips at social interactions. “Yes. Please.”

“Quiet as ever.” If only he could hear all the shit Hanzo said in his head. Ena grabbed a paper and then plastic cup and began to write on them, rings stacked on his fingers sparkling in the bright lights that illuminated behind the counter while the rest was kept a cozy medium brightness. “You grabbing Mei’s?” He asked, though the man was already halfway through writing her name on the plastic cup before Hanzo had a chance to say ‘yes’.

“How are you so chipper every morning?” Hanzo grumbled, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes and skirting away from the barbell running through the bridge of his nose. The piercing had been there when he ‘woke up’ and he had no recollection of getting it but it seemed to be well maintained and it got him enough compliments that the shy Japanese man hadn’t bothered to take it out.

“Well,” Halháta smirked, handing the cups off to Fareeha to his right before leaning on the counter and blowing a lock of sequoia hair out of his eyes, “I figure I can either laugh or cry and crying would fuck up my guyliner.”

Hanzo couldn’t stop himself from flicking his eyes up to the laughing amber pair and then back down. “You don’t even wear eyeliner.” He mumbled again, tucking a bill into the tip jar and stepped out of the left once the coffee had been paid for and his wallet had been tucked back into his back pocket.

“Ah, but I made you look! Isn’t that worth something?” Ena snickered, entering the next order with his seemingly magical ability to listen to two conversations at once and still be charming in both of them. The woman purchasing the triple shot macchiato as the owner cooed at her seemed to find him charming, at the very least. Hanzo had lived here the last 6 years and the jury was still out.

“I guess.” It was a point. Hanzo had the hardest time making eye contact with people and he didn’t know if that was something he’d always had or if it was a new problem that came with the amnesia… it was as if when he looked someone in the eye too long, Hanzo felt like they might realize that he had no idea what he was doing and this was all an elaborate ruse to appear normal.

That was terrifying.

“Don’t listen to him, Hanzo.” Fareeha smiled, the young Egyptian woman having found employment here after moving to the states because so few people would hire an immigrant with a facial tattoo even with her amazing background in security. Ena treated her kindly and she seemed to like it well enough; she still worked here after all this time. “You keep doing you, ok habibi?”

He smiled, the expression tight on his face and not for the first time, Hanzo wondered if maybe everyone knew how fucked his life was. “Aah-- Thank you.” Words he knew but didn’t came unbidden to his mind, just another example of how much was stripped away. He had woken up speaking both languages… now he could count on one hand how many times he’d spoken his (native?) tongue in the last week.

“Anyone with a mental condition such as yours and delusions that include a graphic murder is someone to be suspicious of. If you haven’t done anything yet, there is no promising that you won’t in the future.” Hanzo took his book bag and found the little booth in the corner, half-way around the edge of the counter so most of the patrons thought it was for employees and thus it was always empty, and settled down. He took his laptop out and plugged it in at the electrical outlet behind him, not needing to go hunting for the power source any more.

Headphones in, computer open and homework out in front of him; the crunch to finals week had hit everyone really hard. Hanzo was no different. Getting an organization to let him get credits had been difficult but there had been a really great scholarship given out by Johns Hopkins that allowed him to study there. In return for keeping a high GPA--which Hanzo was obsessive about his grade point average--and letting them use him as a living textbook on extreme retrograde amnesia, he was allowed to study there. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t always looking for other scholarships to cover the gaps and busting his ass to pay for the rest, but it helped that being a freak got him his diploma. Ten years of being in the dark and John Doe #47846236 was about to finish his credit requirement. One more round of finals and he would be able to start on his thesis. It wasn’t as if Hanzo had any idea what he’d do once he got to put ‘Ph.D.’ behind all those numbers, but it was the thing he was most proud of. Ten years of being lost, alone, confused and helpless, soon enough he’d be Dr. Doe.

Hanzo only wished that it brought him more satisfaction.

Feeling of the table shifting alerted him to Halháta sliding into the chair directly across from where Hanzo’s back sat to the corner. He pulled his earbuds out, offering a small smile to his landlord while the man put both coffees down on the table. “You know, Hanzo,” Ena started, stretching out and leaning the chair back onto two legs as if he knew how much that would stress his table-mate out to watch. Words interrupted the mental image of his landlord, someone he might even dare to hesitantly call a friend, falling and splitting his head open on the tiled floor--“I probably should have made you Mei’s a little later. It’s gonna melt on you.”

Mei-Ling Zhou was one of the other librarians where he worked and he swore the woman was never cold. She drank iced coffees all through the most frigid months of the year and somehow managed to maintain warm fingers. What did they say about ‘cold hands, warm heart’? Mei must be some kind of demon.

“...You’re right.” Hanzo hesitantly admitted, pursing his lips while he clicked the earbuds held between the thumb and forefinger of each hand together idly. It was going to melt in the warm coffee shop and then he’d have to buy another.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll just make you another one on the house. It’s fine.” Ena smiled, reaching out with a single finger to press it into the crinkles between Hanzo’s angry brows. The shorter male jerked back, batting at the offending hand and made a harsh clicking noise under his breath. Hanzo reminded the barista of a declawed cat; hissing and batting but no real threat to anyone. It was too cute to find too intimidating. “Speaking of house, you buying propane today?”

“Yes, they think the heat will be out for an extended period.” Hanzo replied, still rubbing his forehead as if there was a green fingerprint there that needed to be scrubbed off. “I will need to purchase at least two.”

“Here, how much are those things?” Halháta asked, pulling out his wallet. “I should have replaced your windows last summer but I never could get a good bid. The least I could do is cover your heating since it’s gonna be cold as fuck up there.”

Hanzo chewed on his lip, considering it. He had two twenty pound tanks up there and they usually held just under 5 gallons… with the inflated prices for the storm…

“So what, I’m a victim of violence which caused me to lose my memories, my home, my family, everything, and you’re more concerned that I might turn out to be a serial murderer?”

“I think between both of them it’ll probably be something to the tune of fifty bucks.” Hanzo said honestly. His knee jerk reaction was to deny any kind of monetary gift; something about it felt so wrong and just a brief glance through ‘his’ culture, the culture he couldn’t fucking remember, told him that it was considered odd to offer or accept money unless it was a formal occasion.

Common sense and need had broken his pride years ago; Hanzo no longer turned down gifts when given as selflessly as this one. He was in need and even as much as he would rather not take the charity, he had learned the hard way to just smile and nod. Perhaps one day he would be able to say ‘No, thank you’, but today was not that day. The landlord gave a nod, pulling a trio of Jacksons out of his back pocket, waving one hand when Hanzo spluttered at the ten dollars above and beyond what he’d asked for.

“I know, I know. Don’t worry about it, Han. You’ll just spend it in my coffee shop later anyway.” Halháta smiled, giving a slight wink. Hanzo cursed himself for being so pale skinned as his blooming blush was too obvious to hide.

“Domo arigatou, Ena-kun.” It slipped out before Hanzo had a chance to stop himself, bowing his head as he accepted the gift in both hands and stared down at it as if he expected the stoic faces of the 7th president to reach out and bite his fingers.

“Iie, iie.” Ena chuckled, waving a single hand and standing up. It always struck Hanzo as odd when the American replied to him in Japanese but he accepted it as one of the strange things that made him so charming. Half of the charisma came from his knowledge of ‘Please’, ‘Thank you’, and the accepted equivalent of ‘you’re welcome’ in a variety of languages. It didn’t take a lot of work and it made a world of difference.

Hanzo thought the man ought to own a hotel or at least a concierge service with how well he could anticipate the needs of his customers, but that might just be a pipe dream of an overzealous friend. “Thank you…” He called again, flicking his eyes back up to the barista’s before sipping his coffee with a soft hum.

As Halháta slid back behind the counter, Hanzo began to open his word documents on his computer and settle into the usual routine. The only thing that Hanzo could manage to do for a hobby between graduate studies, his full time job and the handful of things he did only because they elicited ghosts of familiarity as if they used to be something he did before was… writing. He was a writer in his free time between working on a Ph.D. of Mathematics. Hanzo liked to think he was actually quite good, though the anxiety surrounding whether or not that was due to his fan base being kind to him was debatable.

Social dread lead him to think they were just being kind so he’d write them more smut.

“That or a serial arsonist, I haven’t decided yet.”

Hanzo shook his head, flinging the ghost of Sgt. Reyes’s berating from his mind as he tried to get into the right mindset to work. Another sip of the warm caramel drink, tasting just a hint of the cannabis oil that he hadn’t ordered but knew better than to turn down with how well it eased his anxiety, and then began to write.

His fingers danced at the keyboard, the rhythm of the words and the writing started to wash over him in the way that only a beloved hobby could. The characters moving in his mind’s eye, each their own person with thoughts and feelings, every last detail thought out from the temperature of the tea to exactly where the pink case might have gotten off to. Each and every last detail, from the inner workings of the gun that sat enclosed in Mycroft’s umbrella to the way he made eye contact with his younger sibling and raised an eyebrow at a certain pair of red shorts laying on the stairs on the way up to the flat.

“Poly-blend, crimson...” Hanzo murmured under his breath, eyes closing while his fingers danced over well worn keys and clicked out the mutual chemistry that he knew so well.

“Blimey, Hanzo.” A cheerful cockney accent chimed from over his left shoulder, causing Hanzo to startle so badly he nearly fell out of his fucking chair. “Why’re you so fascinated with John Watson’s shorts?”

“Chikushou, Lena!” Hanzo gasped, slamming the lid to his laptop shut with one hand while the other one grabbed his chest as if to try and get a grip on his wildly beating heart. Lena Oxton was the local UPS girl and she was just ridiculously speedy and surprisingly good at getting up behind people without them noticing. “Why do you do that? Can’t you knock? Don’t sneak up on me like that-- don’t read over people’s shoulders! Do you not have any shame?”

“Not particularly,” She smiled, spinning cutely before plopping down in the chair across from him with a frothy iced beverage in her hand that she was sipping through one of the bright teal straws that were iconic to the coffee shop. Teal was to Thunderbird as green was to Starbucks; everyone could spot the low key stoners by the kind of coffee cup they had. “You’re the one writing filthy fanfiction in the middle of a coffee shop, luv. It’s good material, that’s why I keep sneakin’ up behind you. If it was shite, I wouldn’t be as nosey.”

Hanzo wasn’t quite sure how to take the way she wrinkled her freckled button nose or winked at him so he just opened his laptop again and tapped the keyboard to wake it back up. “...yeah, ok. Uh, Thank you.” He mumbled, flicking his Opera browser over to Pixiv to troll back through the art looking for the newest thing to transfer over to his Tumblr, with permission of course. It was just about the only thing he used his knowledge of Japanese for these days.

“Awh, loosen up, Hanzo!” Lena laughed, checking her watch subtly as she took another long sip. Honestly, this woman had so much energy that he could barely fathom why she’d bother to buy coffee. Seriously, why? “You know, I never ‘ear ya talk as much as you do when you’re tilted like that.”

“That’s because I’m embarrassed.” Hanzo snipped out, his typing fingers jamming the keys a bit harder than he intended but unintentionally made his point. He couldn’t stand invasions of privacy. It made him all kind of twitchy. It wasn’t even as if he didn’t put his name on his work or advertize that he was an author online; there was something about the fact that she’d managed to sneak up behind him without him being aware that really set him off. It wasn’t embarrassment, it was the cold rage of a man who wouldn’t hesitate. It terrified him.

Something he had no explanation for didn’t like that she was able to come into his space without him knowing she was there. The same instinct that whispered into his ear to keep his back to the wall, keep eyes on the room, conceal, don’t feel--that was the instinct that suggested that she might just know too much. Hanzo pressed his middle finger into his temple, sticking his tongue out at the delivery girl. Better to hide it as something normal, sweep it back under the rug, rather than deal with it and perhaps even admit that something more than just an irrational reaction to a mild irritation was at work here.

“Oh, that’s real mature, Hanzo.” Lena laughed, finishing her coffee and beginning to wipe anti-frost over the goggles she wore while running packages around in and out of warm buildings. The man rolled his eyes, glancing up as the lights flickered in the shop and the sound of sleet becoming something heavier could be heard as the establishment quieted for a moment or two. “Should’a packed me red ‘n yella.” Oxton mumbled, chewing on her thumb nail before starting to zip up her bomber jacket and pull the gloves and scarves on. The hardest part about handling Lena was her complete inability to speak English. It sounded like English but Hanzo could swear that it wasn’t. “...Your what?”

“Umbrella, Hanzo. It means I shoulda brought me umbrella. Is your watch slow?” She teased, accent getting thicker and the cockney slang somehow becoming even less intelligible than before. “I don’t wear a watch.” Hanzo sniffed, grabbing his earbuds to start plugging them in. “How is Emily?”

“Oh, She’s right Robin Hood, I s’ppose. ‘Aven’t seen ‘er in an age--” The woman snickered, standing up and dropping her empty cup into the nearest trash bin, dodging the stirring stick Hanzo tossed with surprising accuracy across the table. “It’s been good rabbitin’ wit cha, Hanzo! Slaters--” “I hate you.” He grumbled, crumbling up a napkin and tossing it and miraculously managing to bounce it off the head of spiky brown hair even as she attempted to dodge, laughing the whole way out the door. That girl ran so fast that it was a wonder she even got wet.

He shook his head, putting his headphones in as he pulled open his document once again. Letting the music start to work through his tension, He got back into the right headspace to write the neurotic and ultra-observant Sherlock Holmes; the same guy who can tell you where a victim was 3 hours previous but failed to notice that his boyfriend had been out all day and was replaced with a balloon.

He smirked some, bobbing his head with the hip-hop that he only barely understood. He listened to it for the beat and feeling of the bass in his ears, if he related to the lyrics too? That was just a bonus. ‘Anderson, don’t talk out loud. You lower the IQ of the entire street.’ Hanzo found that he really related to Sherlock. Time didn’t flow here as he let his mind become engrossed in the spiderweb he wove.

“When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. I can’t be your killer. You have no evidence, no motive, no means, no opportunity, no victim. You have no case.”

The sound of a new iced coffee being placed in front of him shocked Hanzo from the faraway stare he’d been locked in for who knows how long, looking up to the concerned expression on Fareeha’s face. “You ok, habibi?” She asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. For the second time that morning, the Japanese man startled and felt his heart race, shaking her hand from his arm as he packed up his computer and all of the requisite parts.

“Holmes. Doe, you’ve been making snarky quips and references all day... How do you expect me to believe that you don’t remember anything? Something isn’t right with you, I just don’t know what yet.”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Please don’t touch me.” He muttered, shoving his headphones into the bag and rubbed his forehead again, picking up the iced drink and put it in a drink carrier so he didn’t have to touch it with his bare hands as he prepared for the long trek to the subway.

“Yeah… ok, Hanzo. Sure thing.” Fareeha said slowly, not sure what had come over the usually mild-mannered, demure man. Hanzo wasn’t the kind to just snap at people like this; then again he also wasn’t usually plagued by headaches. She’d watched him rub his head no less than four times in the last hour that he’d been sitting there in the corner nursing his caramel double-shot.

As Hanzo forced his way out the front door, threatening to nearly run one of their patrons over, she looked at the owner who simply shrugged. Neither of them pretended to understand what went through his head anymore.

“That isn’t a good enough reason to hold someone! Suspicion of something I might have done, maybe, isn’t a charge! I don’t remember why I know stuff but I know this shit isn’t legal!”

The last few weeks, the throbbing headaches and constant harassment of his first ‘new’ memories plagued his every waking moment. Ten years of being relatively able to cope with his problems and now it was as if the first few months of issues had begun to rear their ugly heads again. Why? Why him? Why now?

Hanzo leaned against the subway pole, swaying lightly as the subway car sped along the track. He didn’t have too far to go and in the summer, he’d usually walk to work to avoid having to pay the subway fare but it was just too cold to do that now and it was well on its way to icing the entire city’s power out.

It would make sense to just call in today but the Library was warm, full of the few people he would call his friends and always had food courtesy of Mondatta and Zenyatta, the two monks who ran the place. If there was anywhere in Philadelphia he’d want to get stuck at during the biggest storm predicted to hit the East Coast in a century, it was there. The library was tucked away in an unassuming historic building that had very nearly been lost to decay in the last few centuries. It wasn’t until two of the most unlikely of saviors showed up about ten years ago and turned the place into the beautiful period bank into a library-- complete with the original vault filled with literary classics-- and restored it to its former glory. He walked in, glancing around as he noticed that the other librarians were standing near the door with their bags in their hands, watching into the library as if they expected someone to come out of it. Hanzo walked over, still sipping his now long-chilled coffee and offered the frozen concoction to Mei as he also began to watch inside. Sure enough, the very unofficial IT guy walked past cursing up a storm about something being broken. Again.

“What’s going on?” Hanzo asked, relieved when Mei took the beverage tray and all so he’d be free of it to watch the commotion.

“The computer Mondatta uses needs another motherboard.” Mei lamented, chewing on her lower lip in worry. “Max is trying to fix it but it’s expensive and we don’t know what is causing it.”

That was weird and an unfortunately common occurrence. Aberrant technical malfunctions were a daily reality when it came to the pair of Buddhist monks; no one had any idea what was going on save for the fact that they were exceedingly unlucky. It drove Max up a wall.

The teenager charged with keeping the IT around here working stomped past again, flashes of red winking at them from the soles of his shoes and Hanzo had to take a second glance to make sure that he’d actually seen that correctly. The makeup had never struck Han as odd; he was Asian. If you’ve ever watched a music video out of Asia, particularly of the Korean variety, the men were wearing makeup all the time. The platinum white hair hadn’t seemed at all strange either, it looked surprisingly good on Max despite the deep skin tone…

… but that was new.

“Is he wearing heels?” Hanzo asked in a sort of bewildered disbelief. It wasn’t as if he cared what Max wore, he was an adult… at least the justice system thought he was. He’d been stationed here to perform more hours of community service than Hanzo was sure actually existed in a human lifespan. Max’d been working here to slave away at his community service sentencing for no less than a year and by all accounts, he wasn’t even halfway done.

“Oui,” Amelie replied, hands clasped around the handles of her purse as she looked on. “Louboutin. He has good taste.”

Hanzo opened his lips to dispute that but found that he couldn’t. He had no idea what good taste in shoes, clothes or otherwise was and if Amelie thought that the kid looked good… he probably did. “What’re they going to do about the computer?”

“I do not know.” The tall woman spoke, kicking off her own pair of tall heels and stealing his cold coffee right out of Hanzo’s hand and taking a sip. “I know that Max must work quickly… his parole officer is due to be here any moment.”

Well that explained the string of vehement cursing. Max had been sentenced for hacking his way into corporate secrets and while they could never prove that he hadn’t sold them for a pretty penny, the now-adult did have quite the stash of funds socked away somewhere if he could afford to buy sky-high heels and strut around in them in the middle of a blizzard. “Merde..” Hanzo muttered under his breath, subtly checking the stoic woman for her reaction.

She didn’t disappoint. Amelie choked out a laugh at the abrupt cursing in her native language, shaking her head as the chuckles became less stifled and more enjoyed. “Mon chou, are you ever going to learn the rest of my language? Curses only get you so far.”

Hanzo gave her a sly smirk, stealing his coffee cup back to knock back the rest of it like a shot. “Curses will get me everywhere I need to be. Max taught me how to tell that old bag down the block how to go fuck herself in Italian and honestly, what else is there?” He gave a shrug, starting to back toward his desk. “Oi, Amelie, speaking of cabbages... Did you ever call back Lena? She’s the UPS girl--”

An elegant brow arched up, the woman tossing her long ponytail over her shoulder as she swept down and scooped her heels off the ground. “Is this the same UPS carrier with a girlfriend?”

“They’re not together anymore, at least as far as I can tell.”

“But they were when she first hit on me.” Amelie sniffed, watching him sit down and begin to pull out the late books he’d need to mail out collections requests for. “That isn’t at all attractive.”

“I think Emily left her first because of how she’s always working overtime--” Hanzo started, raising an eyebrow at her as she sat down to her own desk at acquisitions.

“And what makes you think that I want to deal with that any more than… Emily?” Amelie wrinkled her nose in a distaste at how similar their names were to pronounce. That wasn’t exactly settling. “Besides, the answer is still no. I don’t need a reason to not want to date someone, Hanzo.”

He rolled his eyes and dropped his empty cup into the trash bin that sat beside his desk and started to boot up his computer when the lights flickered and something very wrong happened to the screen. Instead of the usual boot up menu, there was a string of binary and then an error message.

‘Error: 404, The Cake is a Lie-- Linux Custom Pro, GHOST cannot be found.’

“Uh… Max?” Hanzo called, watching the petite Italian look up from where he was sitting with the tower in front of him on the counter in pieces and a screwdriver in each hand. “I think I broke it.” “Youse guys are aboutta break me.” The Newark native grumbled, cussing under his breath and rolling the chair back to go digging through his desk and look for his burned startup CD to reload the UI onto Hanzo’s computer for the third time this week. Just as Max began to walk across the floral Rococo Revival era carpet, the lights flickered again and this time when they went out they stayed out. If this was at all indicative of the way this day was going to go, Hanzo agreed with him.

“You’re not a citizen, you’re a ward of the state. They’ll tell you that you’ve got rights but last time I checked, it’s your word against mine. Who’re they going to believe?”

One of these days, Hanzo was going to learn that when the monks say that the weather is getting too bad and they need to go home, he needed to listen and go home then. As it stood, he’d put off going home until the chill in the old bank had become too much. The parole officer had never showed, go figure, and almost all the employees were being booted out. The monks had turned the old back counting room into an apartment and so that much, at least, was warm and a text message on his phone told him that Ena had dropped the propane off at his apartment and tucked it just inside the door so it wouldn’t be stolen.

The problem was that right now he was looking at having to walk the next four city blocks home in a complete white-out without the right kind of protection for this. Max had been offered the spare bedroom with the monks, since he lived so far away and Mei had eagerly begun trekking about an hour previous but now Hanzo had to brave the storm and it was starting to get dark. He groaned, tucking his gloved hands into the shopping bags that Mondatta had provided--they matched the ones Zenyatta had suggested go in his shoes to make sure his feet didn’t get wet-- and pulled the borrowed towel up around his head so that snow wouldn’t go down his collar when the wind blowed.

Hindsight tended to be 20/20 and his new view looked like he should have called in this morning. The whole thing was quickly becoming an absolute disaster. He tucked his arms around his waist tightly, trying to keep warm in the winter coat even as the blowing snow started to soak through the woolen outside. When he’d picked it out, Hanzo had chosen the peacoat for how smart it looked when he wore it on the usually tame winter days. Now, a few years and more than his fair share of snowstorms later, Hanzo would be the first to tell you that the ugly puffy coats were by far the better idea. Fashion be damned.

“Ugh..” Han groaned and started to trudge his way through the snow and ice on his path back home, looking out over the street. There was not a single soul out right now, strange as that was here in Philly, the whole street had almost become some kind of barren wasteland that had been abandoned to the ice. Not a single person to be found except for him, as poetic as it was. Hanzo’d never known, or at least he didn’t remember, anywhere else but this town and this place… Alone in the world, unable to see the way forward and no way to turn back.

“You’re getting sappy in your old age.” Han murmured to himself, continuing through the thick drifts stubbornly. Even though this walk would usually take him no more than 20 minutes, Hanzo knew he had to of been out here at the very least 30 already and he wasn’t even quite certain if he’d made it halfway yet. The wind and the snow made things that wouldn’t have seemed odd at all without them into something of nightmares.

Such as the sudden rustling and yelling off to his left in the alleyway. Usually, he wouldn’t have even turned his head but he found himself moving down the alley to try and help whatever poor soul was presumably being mugged back here. The first thing that living in a large city on the East Coast had taught him was that it was usually ill-advised to step in between a mugger and their victim. Especially any mugger desperate to work in these kinds of conditions. As Hanzo came around that corner he was certain that he was going to live to regret this decision.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he’d find.

Wings as long as a bus, the colors muted by the snow but they appeared to be striped in black and white with a rusty red top that for a moment, Hanzo worried might have been blood. This was all too familiar, the creature injured and passed out cold in the snow..

An alley, an angel, a mistake that he refused make a second time.

So when he turned his eyes to look at what had downed this creature, this angel that had to be his otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to see it if the stories were to be believed, and saw figures clad in black and wielding swords… Hanzo just reacted.

It wasn’t as if he had any idea where the ability came from, it appeared to be some kind of leftover instinct from whatever and whoever he used to be. As they ran for the angel laying with his wing bent at an awkward angle and hat lying forgotten in the snow, Hanzo ran for them. His body moved naturally, ducking a slice to catch the first assailant by the wrist and wrench the weapon away. Before he could stop it, Hanzo had turned that same sword on the black-clad figure and sliced through the gut.

To his horror, what seeped out was anything but blood. Blood might have been easier to work with and certainly blood would have been considerably less disturbing than the thick, inky substance that spilled into the freshly fallen powder. “Nani ga fu-”

Time for gawking quickly came to an end when one of the others swiped their sword at him. Again, memories flashing of another place with sakura blossoms and a huge bell-- ryu and torii and Hanamura and-- Too much reminiscing about suddenly reclaimed memories and not enough protecting his ass. Hanzo barely ducked the next swing in time, feeling the wind against his face as it swung past and he turned on his heel to counterattack. More of the ink-like substance fell and this time the slice was deeper and the attacker quite honestly dissolved into more of the goo. What were these things?

Guardian Angels were one of the biggest mysteries of the modern age: Where did they come from? What were they? Were they really as benevolent as they seemed? Did they live a life of solitude until they were assigned a human? Were they actually assigned humans or was that some kind of strange biology thing?

Were they even real?

In the midst of all those questions, a litany of ‘where’, ‘what’, ‘who’, and ‘why’, the real question that ought to have been asked and hadn’t was ‘were there things out there that weren’t angels?’ More importantly, ‘are they friendly?’ If you’re wondering, things other than angels do exist and the answer is a solid ‘no, they are not friendly.’

They also weren’t terribly good at sword fighting, despite coming up against an angel with katana of all things. However it was that they’d managed to fell the fallen guardian--Hanzo didn’t know how you’d manage that with just a sword-- he was winning this fight by a landslide. Dodging came like breathing, the steps felt well rehearsed and the sword weight in the palm was like coming home again. For a moment, Hanzo worried that if he sliced himself it would also bleed ink. Certainly, that would make sense of the night terrors.

When it became clear that they couldn’t win against him--not even that they weren’t winning, they were losing in battle and numbers--the creatures began to retreat. They seemed humanoid, though Hanzo couldn’t see their faces. More disturbingly, they seemed to walk into a shadow and just vanish into thin air...but now wasn’t the time to think about that. The snowfall had only gotten worse and this angel was out here in nothing more than a pair of jeans, cowboy boots, and a button-down. He was going to freeze to death at this rate.

‘No. I’m not doing this again. I won’t do this again.’ Hanzo wasn’t about to lose another angel. Not today; never again. So he quickly peeled off his outer coat and pulled the angel’s arms through it from the front, trying to fold his wings in the best that they could be folded in before pulling the warm man into his arms and starting to haul him toward the apartment. If it hadn’t been so fucking cold he might have paid more attention to what the angel actually looked like but at the moment, his only thought was getting him back to the apartment building and then somehow pulling this heavy avian hybrid creature up all four flights to his apartment.

Doesn’t matter how hard it is, he had to do it. This was his angel and he’d be damned if he lost another one.

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whitechrysanthemumsandlilies · 7 years

Photo

Taking Bomb Ass Notes on a Budget

Yes I am a Capricorn

Not all of us can afford the top of the range stationary of our dreams and with Enrolment day for colleges in the UK fast approaching, I thought Id share a comprehensive guide on everything I’ve learnt on how to make and take successful notes and how to get the grades you want on a low income budget.

Be warned: This post is mammoth.

A plan of 3 phases.

Phase 1- Pre School year

1.1- Gather supplies

For this to work, you need only the bare necessities- coloured pens/pencils, a ballpoint/gel pen, a 5 pack of highlighters (in place of midliners), and 2 notebooks (In Class and At Home)

In Class notebooks- Your In Class notebook is for scruffy notes taken on the fly. All these notebooks need is a lot of pages and a flexible margin. I recommend the metallic, geometric, spiral bound notebooks from Poundland for this. They’re simple but surprisingly good quality for a £1 product, the pages dont even bleed!

At Home notebooks- This is where the actual fun lies. At Home notebooks are the notebooks you use for your studyblr posts when you slip up and procrastinate an hour into your studies (we’re all human). Anything that gets you excited to rewrite your notes is good for this (re-writing your notes not only means you’ll be allowed bragging rights because you’re technically revising every night, you can sneak in the formatting and extra info you need without compromising on your note taking time in class)

Coloured pens/pencils/highlighters and a pen- These are pretty obvious supplies, used for the AH notebook’s colour coding and general decoration. The type of pens you use depends on how much your notebook pages bleed. Some recommendations I have are- 0.3mm assorted colour fine liners from The Works (The colours are great and they don’t bleed as much as other budget brands), the 20 pack of ballpoint pens from ASDA, and the 5 pack of highlighters from EITHER The Works or WHSmith if there’s a Back to School sale on.

1.2- Learn how you learn

This is possibly the most important step of all, you need to figure out how you can best take notes for your brain, i.e- what type of learner are you? This will greatly dictate how you format your AH notebook since different learners access different content to help them memorise, for example- a visual learner should fill their pages with arrows, diagrams and colour but a auditory learner would be better off writing summaries of their notes in the form of a speech to speak aloud later on.

(See x for a free quiz to determine your learning type :) )

1.3- Format your notebooks

Hannah Witton has a philosophy that if you’re spending more time on the organisation than actually executing your plan, you’re being inefficient. This step is to ensue you don’t fall into that habit. Formatting your notebooks before you start school means you have a pre-prepared resource that you can work straight onto, cutting the time you need to spend on your school work. Also its super fun! There are a few basic pages you need in both notebooks before you seize total creative freedom.

In Class- Really the only thing you need here is a Key page (see bottom of the section for an example) and a footnote at the bottom of your note pages to put the textbook reference in (this’ll save you so much time when you revise for tests and wanna expand on your notes honestly just so it, its worth it in the end)

At Home- Since this is a more traditional BuJo, you need a few more pages- A Key, a Index/Contents page and more heavily formatted pages (Ideally: A header (for the chapter name), a title (page contents/subject) and a footnote (revision guide reference))

For my Key, I like to include the colour code system (e.g- red for key vocab) and symbols for stuff like ‘needs more info’ and ‘info found’, relevant context ext. In my Index I like to break by chapter and then mini units (like how this is set out) but that’s a personal decision, that may or may not be how you choose to do it! I also like to include a Grade Tracker as a motivational tool but, again, you may decide against that.

P.S- For my note pages, I like to include a 2cm margin in which I can jot down symbols and colours without interrupting the flow of the page. Do with that what you will

1.4- Create a study space

The problem a lot of us have is procrastination and a catalyst for that is distraction. You’re never going to be able to focus sat on your bed near your phone and laptop with WiFi as well as you will in an environment where those distractions are removed (That’s why coffee shops and libraries are so popular!) Creating an environment that you associate productivity with can help to focus you on your task.

Study spaces dont have to be extravagant. Even if its just a chair and a desk in the corner of your room with a plug, a nice cushion, and a pencil pot. As long as it separates work and play, it will be more than enough for your studies.

Personal preferences will change the layout and atmosphere of your study space (e.g- background music or no background music, relaxed or stimulating, personal or detached) but I do recommend looking at the psychology of colour and doing some introspection to decide what will and will not work for you.

Phase 2- Study schedule

Once you’re back studying, you need to implement a schedule that’ll guarantee you stick to all the planning you did in phase 1 as opposed to having it sit there looking idyllic while you procrastinate by binge watching Stranger Things for the 9th time this month.

Obviously from 08:30am to around 15:30pm you’re out of your house and away from your study space, even longer if you travel via public transport, and unless you’re the worlds biggest morning person I wouldn't recommend studying from 06:00am unless its desperate cramming before a big exam SO that leaves the evenings.

A big mistake a lot of people make is taking a break before starting to study. This is the worst thing you can do, you know how the brain resets when you enter a new environment? Think of it like that. Once you sit on that sofa and watch some TV or start to scroll through Instagram, you’re not gonna want to move.

As soon as you get in, grab a big drink of water and a small snack and head up to your study space (it sounds painful and will be at first but as soon as it becomes a habit you’re gonna be much better off) I recommend devoting from 16:00pm to 18:00pm to studying, allowing time for you to make a dent on the piles of homework you’re definitely going to get without creating an antisocial and impractical eating schedule. Two hours is more than enough time to rewrite up to 4 subjects worth of notes (consolidating your knowledge and adding in any extra info ��class you” wanted you to find) and to start on up to 4 subjects of homework, even if its 20 minutes for each task with a 5 minute break in between.

Those of you who work, like me, will have to negotiate this weekly to make sure you can slot the time in around your shifts, not forgetting weekends can be optimised as well. On weekends, operate on the basis of Hannah Witton’s schedule (my organisational mom)- The day is split into three segments, Morning, Afternoon, and Evening, work at a 2:1 ratio of Work:Play (unless you work weekends, also like me, in which case just aim to optimise the time you have left wisely while also not overworking yourself)

Additionally, make use of study periods!! If you know you have a study period that day, take one of your AH notebooks with you (I recommend the one you have the most notes for) and get ahead of time OR do your homework in the period so you only have to do your notes at home. Snatch up every bit of free home time you can! Its important to be allowing with yourself during this time, you’ll be doing heavy studying and while it is important to complete your tasks and not make excuses for not doing something, its equally important to relax and wind down and see friends because not doing so impacts greatly on your mental health and you come first!

It can be helpful to make study groups (as long as they’re used for actually studying) or meeting up with friends and studying together in order to get that interaction and escape from the stresses of student life. Having other students there means they can offer insight on any questions you have as well as being there as moral support, even if its just to compare notes with or to be talked to&at while revising. This is especially true near finals week and end of year tests, which leads me on to...

Phase 3- Revision

So you’ve got your selection of notes that you spent hours slaving over and you’ve got a perfect track record because of how efficient you were with your homework, what now?

Revising, much like this post, works in a rule of 3 trials- Reading, Creating, Applying (Id like to take a moment to thank my GCSE Geography teacher for this golden method of planning that I did not use but ShOUD HAvE)

Reading- 1 month (per subject). From start to finish, cover to cover, read your notes. Since they already include the relevant bits from the workbooks and revision guides, they are a vault of everything you need to know. Reading them in their entirety will refresh your memory of the stuff you forgot and allow you to see the subject as a whole, a perspective you might not have had previously since you were still learning it.

Creating- 2 months. Using what you’d forgotten, create resources (mind maps, flashcards, presentations, speeches) for you to revise from. This can be in the notebook or separate (I like to have them separate but that’s just me) just as long as they make sense for the learning style we talked about earlier. Use the resources and memorise them.

Applying- 4 months. Once you think you’ve done memorising, find past exam questions and papers and do them. Mark yourself (on the harsher side, just to be safe) and then check your grade. If you’re dissatisfied, go to the questions you didn't do well on, figure out what concept it was based on, re-revise it and find another question to try (repeat until happy) If satisfied, find harder and harder questions until you run out of material then get friends to make some for you OR think of the worst possible question you could get and then create it, answer it and mark it. Do this until exams happen or you feel like you’ve done enough.

Once you’ve finished the Applying phase, create a A4 page of max. 10 bullet points (for each exam) to peruse up until you enter the exam hall (bin it before you enter) then go in and kick ass!

A really good tool for this is GetRevising, a free site which helps you make study timetables and gives you thousands of pre-prepared resources (made by teachers and students) specified to your exam boards and subjects. Not spon i just fcking love GetRevising

If you do all this, you should find the work and stress load of studying greatly reduced and it’ll give you more than a fighting chance against the generation of harder exams that they’ve sprung on us.

Go fourth and get good grades babes.

All graphics were made with Canva

#studyblr #note taking #information #infographic #learning #school #college #bullet journal #student bujo #revising #uk #god this took years #ive been writing since 5pm #own post #jordan does advice #capricorn

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doodlewash · 5 years

Text

My name is Dominik Neuffer, and I’m from Germany, but I currently live in Switzerland. Maybe you know me from the Urban Sketching Group here on Doodlewash. I started sketching as a kid. My mother was a textile designer and I could learn a few things from her, like our daughters are currently learning from me, by watching and trial and error, of course.

Later, when I was older and more experienced, I also could help my mother every now and then. However after trying to study landscape architecture and lots of drawing and breaking up with it after my mother died, leaving me with a whole bunch of responsibilities, there followed a long hiatus over the years, where I did not sketch very much.

When I started to study computer science and successfully finishing it, I did computer graphics. But, I barely picked up a pen during the best part of ten years. Finally when our oldest daughter told me in 2015 she’d liked to start sketching seriously, I thought, well, that might be a good opportunity to reboot my sketching habit.

Since 2017, also thanks to World Watercolor Month, I’m back at a daily sketching routine. I think I’m a mixed media type. In school, I scribbled with pencil and fountain pen. I also liked crayons. After dabbling a bit on the iPad, the first sketches, I made again, were ink and color pencils. But, I was very fascinated by wet media and soon I bought my first watercolor set from Winsor and Newton.

Currently I’m most of the time sketching directly in document ink and adding washes of color. For ink, I use Sailor Jentle Kiwa Guro ink or Platinum Pigment ink in a Kaweco AL-Sport or Lamy AL-Star, because they‘re sturdy, not too expensive and easy to clean. I also like adding highlights in white with gel pens. Sometimes I throw the good old crayons in the mix or even use brushpens or ballpoint pens.

For brushpens I have a Tombow Calligrapy pen and a few identical Pentel brushpens, I refill with Kiwa Guro as well. The Akashiya Sai color brushpens are also nice for a change. For water soluble black ink for a broad stroke I recently discovered the Pilot Sign Pen.

For ballpoints, just a cheap pack of Bic Cristal from the supermarket. I also use Pelikan Skribtol directly out of the bottle (caution not for the faint of heart) With gel pens I had good experiences with the Jelly Roll and Uni Ball Signo in broad, but a Pentel Correction Pen can be fun as well (also not suitable for control freaks).

As for watercolors, I started with Winsor & Newton Cotman, switched to Prima Marketing and Van Gogh, but am currently most of the time using Schmincke Horadam because of their quality and availability. Also, The Schmincke work well with the old Schminke Gouache I have left from my mother which are still workable after 20 plus years. Sometimes I also use Kuretake Ganzai for plain color wahes.

Paper and sketchbooks, I’ve used a phletora. I really can recommend Seawhite of Brighton Mixed Media, they‘re affordable and can take a few washes of watercolor, but I have used so far with no complaints: Moleskine watercolor (good but expensive), Sennelier, Canson, Talens, Field Artist, Khadi and Pentalic.

For more watercolor work and loose sheets, I currently work with Arches Hot Pressed (satin) which I also use for bookbinding, but I‘ve also had very good experiences with paint on à grain from Canson. I‘m currently still searching for the perfect paper to combine ink work and watercolor or mixed media with crayons.

It was really eye opening when I realized that I’m a sketchbook person. I’m not that good with single sheets of paper. That doesn’t mean I don’t use them at all, but generally not much. I like to keep my visual notes, as I call them, in a bound book. Seeing it filling up day by day is something I find extremely satisfying. Also, keeping the mistakes and looking back at them later is really helpful for getting better, accepting and working on your shortcomings at the same time. As sketching became a daily routine, the motive of the sketch became less important.

If I wanted to get better at sketching, I realized, I had to sketch and not to be picky about what to sketch. The subject of the sketch doesn’t really matter. So, some sketches are really done for the purpose of sketching alone and that can be satisfying on their own. Basically, it really doesn’t matter what you’re sketching when you get immersed and enter the meditative sketching zone.

Most of the time, I like to catch moments and memories, though. For that I set the bar not very high. I like trivial things that become interesting the longer you look at them. Abandoned places, people on the train, old cars, I like to collect as I spot them. Also, living in Bavaria, the typical Swiss architecture is interesting to me. Most locals just fade it out. Since I’m doing this on a daily basis for 18 months now, I’m getting bolder. I’m sketching in restaurants, bars, at reunions and meetings. Just starting with a little scribble can be very beneficial as it opens your eyes and sharpens your senses. All of a sudden you’re starting to see motives everywhere around you.

Most of my work is done on the go. On the train, during lunch break. I enjoy jotting down the things I encounter on a daily basis. For example, when I was taking a short walk after having a quick bite for lunch, heading into a direction, I haven’t been yet, I discovered an old tower from 1542, which served multiple purposes throughout the centuries (prison, storage, sleeping place for soldiers). A nice motive for the 20-30 minutes I had still left of my lunch break.

When sketching from life, I first define the shapes with quick strokes in ink. Sometimes I start with pencil. After that I lay down a few washes of watercolor to define the basic shapes of the composition further. As finishing touches, I often add a few highlights with a white gel pen. When sketching on the go, watercolor is a convenient medium to add color.

For the composition itself, I feel free to move around things or leaving them out. That’s one of the benefits when sketching from real life. It’s more easy to distinguish between the interesting and uninteresting stuff. When looking at a photograph, for me, making that distinction is not as easy. Generally, I try to work my way from the foreground to the background and trying to keep everything in between balanced and interesting, leaving details out where there isn’t my main focus.

I use too many sketchbooks. I’m trying to get the numbers down this year, but there isn’t the perfect sketchbook – at least not for me. Also last year, I learned how to bind my own books, that multiplies the possible combinations of papers and formats. It’s easier than it looks and it can be also a satisfying occupation on its own. You should absolutely try it.

For me, it all started with a sketchbook. I made myself on out of paper, my aunt gave me. Heaps of it. And since I’m not good with loose sheets, that was the perfect moment to plunge into bookbinding. The paper was decent, but nothing great, just right for quick visual note taking without worrying about wasting expensive paper.

When I have more time to sketch, I use better paper, preferably 200 gsm or higher. That’s when I bring at least three sketchbooks with me. Then I might draft the basic shapes with pencil or watercolor pencil as guides for filling in the colors. I also might use a pencil or graphite stick or even a black brushpen or diluted indian ink for adding value before coloring.

After the washes of watercolor, I add contours where necessary with fountain pen and black ink, highlights with a white gel pen and more contrast with crayons if necessary. Sometimes, however, I like to change things a bit and use ballpoint pens or red document ink for the outlines. Also sketching directly with water soluble ink before coloring can be a wonderful and freeing experience.

In 2018, I collected lots of memories that can be revisited by flipping through my sketchbook pages. Like the guys I sketched on the train and showed them the picture afterwards. An especially nice couple, even made a Polaroid of me as a gift in exchange. Another very particular and treasured moment is meeting three retired teachers in San Francisco and being invited by them on a day trip, because they enjoyed seeing me sketching.

Also in 2018, was the wedding of my cousin. During the festivities, I made 12 sketches of the event. That was my present for the newlyweds. For myself, I made five sketches on top of that to remember it. Being the “official” sketcher in addition to the hired photographer, I had a really great time, chats and drinks of course.

Besides that, the most treasured moments when it comes to sketching are the sketching ventures with our six year old. Kids of that age totally immerse themselves into the drawing. Usually, I can only get a quick sketch in while we’re out together, but I do enjoy having a memory of our shared moments.

Then, of course, there is the chatter you sometimes have with likeminded artists who spot you sketching or people who want to try sketching for themselves or start it again. I try to be very supportive when it comes to that, knowing how it made my life more colorful.

Then there is of course the “OMG, you’re so talented, I couldn’t do it” comment. I like to disagree on that with a soft but distinct statement. Because I don’t consider myself as very talented. Kids are naturally talented, but most of us stop sketching when entering adulthood. It’s all about practice and actually doing it.

I’m a fan of grinding. Back in the day when I was playing computer RPG games, grinding meant killing the same small monsters over and over to level up. While playing computer games didn’t teach me much about drawing, one thing I learned was that there can be quite a bit achieved by grinding. Or like the Japanese proverb says “Even Dust, When Piled up, Will Become a Mountain.”

Same goes for drawing. Constant practice makes you better and confident. Don’t venture out and attack the level boss first. Fight the smaller ones. If you’re overwhelmed by complexity, break it down into digestible bits or try something easier. I usually try to start as easy as possible.

Everything mustn’t be great, everything can’t be great, but by sketching regularly you eventually will get better and end up with a few good sketches, even great ones, you can be confident about and show with pride, because you deserve it. You don’t always have to share it. The sketchbook is yours, you can keep it all alone for you and keep it private. But, my advise would be to share at least some of your pages. It’s totally worthwhile.

Don’t try to judge yourself by the work of others. Only you can sketch like you can. Your line work is unique to you. Have fun and sketch often, then you’ll get better inevitably. While sketching from pictures can be good practice and I do it also as a second choice – preferably from pictures I made myself, going out and sketching from life is best in my opinion.

Also working with limited timeframes can be liberating. Knowing I cannot produce a masterpiece in 20 minutes can be a delightful experience. For me that means, getting a scene into my book without having the time to fret about mistakes. And that shows. Some of these quick drafts have a boldness that is hard to replicate when having all the time that would be needed.

Look forward and from time to time look back to see your improvements. Experiment to broaden your knowledge but also come back to the things you love and improve them. That way you’re building a solid foundation and confidence. Always carry a sketchbook with you, because the moment you’d like to catch probably won’t be waiting for you to be ready.

The new year is still young and now is a good time to start a sketching habit. As for my “resolutions”, I’m trying to get the number of my sketchbooks, that are in use, down as I’m trying to complete as much as possible before starting new ones. Also this year is all about reviewing and refining my style.

I’m also very interested in your goals. Let me know about your goals in the comments!

Dominik Neuffer Doodlewash Instagram YouTube

GUEST ARTIST: "Collecting Memories" by Dominik Neuffer - #doodlewash #usk #urbansketchers #urbansketching #watercolor My name is Dominik Neuffer, and I'm from Germany, but I currently live in Switzerland. Maybe you know me from the…

#doodlewash #drawing #featured #sketchbook #Sketchbooks #sketching #Urban Nature #Urban Sketchers #Urban Sketching #watercolor #watercolor sketching #watercolour

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euroman1945-blog · 6 years

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The Daily Tulip

The Daily Tulip – News From Around The World

Thursday 9th August 2018

Good Morning Gentle Reader…. From a warm clear Estepona on the Costa del Sol, I hope the weather is as good where you are reading this missive from.. It was so good walking with Bella this morning as she went about her ablutions.. and the early morning sky was filled with stars twinkling away in the heavens.. Coffee is poured, let’s take a look at the news, If you want a cup, Help Your Self..

JAPAN AIRPORT TO GIFT PEOPLE WHO HAND IN OLD SUITCASES…. A Japanese airport is going to start giving gifts to people who turn in their unwanted suitcases, to avoid them being dumped around the building, it's reported. According to the Asahi Shimbun newspaper, Kansai International Airport in Osaka Prefecture is going to start offering travellers ballpoint pens, notebooks and similar small gifts if they turn their unwanted suitcases over to staff on the departure floor. The paper says that the airport has been finding sometimes as many as 10 suitcases a day discarded outside bins, or around the airport building. Asahi Shimbun notes that the airport has been running out of space because of the overflow of abandoned suitcases, even with many subsequently being handed over to the police. It says that this is largely due to an increased number of foreign tourists in the region. The airport operator, Kansai Airports, says the surge of discarded luggage, which first attracted national media attention about a year ago, "has led to problems with space and security". Consequently, from 6 August, the airport is encouraging passengers to hand over their old suitcases at the baggage-check counters at departure, and claim small gifts. Airport staff will check the suitcases for hazardous items before the airport takes possession. It will then resell them through vendors. In order to publicise the scheme, Asahi Shimbun says that Kansai International Airport will be posting multilingual posters to raise awareness.

SIX IN COURT OVER £61,000 ATM ROBBERY IN FERMANAGH NORTHERN IRELAND….Six people have appeared in court charged in connection with a robbery during which £61,340 was stolen from a cash machine in County Fermanagh. The cash was taken from an ATM at a fuel station in Trory some time between 01:30 and 05:30 BST on Thursday. The accused are five men and a woman who all live at the same address in Rannoche Close, Crossgar, County Down. A Romanian interpreter was used as the six suspects appeared before a special sitting of Omagh Magistrate's Court. Four of the men and the woman were each charged with robbery of the ATM and were remanded in custody. They are 41-year-old Radu Iancu; 35-year-old Constantin Dumitra; 32-year-old Leonardo Patravici; 29-year-old Milan-Adrian Beidac and 30-year-old Anita Petrokci. The remaining suspect, 51-year-old Statche Aluas, was charged with possessing criminal property and he was granted bail. During the hearing, a policewoman told the court she believed the defendants were part of an organised crime gang responsible for up to 40 other similar robberies. She said that street lights were turned off in Trory village to facilitate the robbery and telephone lines were cut to prevent alarms being triggered. The judge ordered all six of the accused to appear in court again on 28 August.

MELANIA TRUMP BACKS NBA STAR LEBRON JAMES AFTER TRUMP INSULTS…. US First Lady Melania Trump has backed basketball player Lebron James, hours after her husband made insulting remarks about him on Twitter. President Donald Trump had criticised an interview in which James was "made to look smart". Mrs Trump's spokeswoman said James was "working to do good things" with a school in his Ohio hometown. She said Mrs Trump wanted "to have an open dialogue about issues facing children". Mr Trump's criticism of James came after the NBA player accused Mr Trump of being divisive in a CNN interview. The president responded on Twitter by saying: "Lebron James was just interviewed by the dumbest man on television, Don Lemon. "He made Lebron look smart, which isn't easy to do." Mr Trump also suggested that he prefers NBA legend Michael Jordan over the LA Lakers star. BBC North America reporter Anthony Zurcher suggests the first lady's statement contains veiled criticism of her husband's tweet. Oh boy. After President Trump insulted LeBron James, Melania Trump issues a statement saying she’s open to visiting the school he just opened in Ohio. In his interview with Don Lemon, James said that sport had offered him the opportunity to meet people of different backgrounds and race, adding: "Sports has never been something that divides people. It's always been something that brings someone together. "He [Mr Trump] is dividing us and what I noticed over the last few months that he's kinda used sport to divide us and that's something I can't relate to, because I know that sport was the first time I was ever around someone white." Mr Trump has taken a harsh stance on the ongoing debate over players in the National Football League (NFL) who refuse to stand for the national anthem in protest against racial injustice and police brutality. He has repeatedly said that anyone who kneels during the anthem should be fired. During the interview, James also discussed a new school he has opened for underprivileged children in his home town of Akron, Ohio, which offers free meals and bikes to students, as well as job placement assistance for parents and an on-site food bank. Interviewer Don Lemon criticised Mr Trump's tweet, and responded by referring to the separation of child migrants from their parents: "Who's the real dummy? A man who puts kids in classrooms or one who puts kids in cages?"

DENMARK VEIL BAN: FIRST WOMAN CHARGED FOR WEARING NIQAB…. A woman has become the first person in Denmark to be charged with wearing a full-face veil in public, after a ban came into effect on Wednesday. The 28-year-old came to the police's attention when a scuffle broke out between her and another woman at the top of an escalator at a shopping centre north of Copenhagen. She was fined when she refused to remove the veil. The new law has provoked protests and criticism from human rights groups. It does not mention burkas and niqabs by name, but says "anyone who wears a garment that hides the face in public will be punished with a fine". An initial report into the altercation on Friday suggested that one woman was trying to remove the other's veil, but police said this was not clear. "During the fight her niqab came off, but by the time we arrived she had put it back on again," police spokesperson David Borchersen told the Ritzau news agency. Police reviewed CCTV footage to determine whether the second woman had intentionally pulled off the veil, and believed it was incidental to the fight. They said both women were charged with violating the peace and said one had also been charged with violating the full-face veil law. She was given a 1,000 kroner fine ($155; £120) after refusing to take it off at their request. On Wednesday night protesters gathered in the capital to demonstrate against law, with women in traditional burqas and veils standing alongside people with makeshift coverings. Friday's incident is reported to have taken place at a shopping centre in Horsholm, 25km (15 miles) north of Copenhagen.

SYDNEY AXE ATTACK: WOMAN GUILTY OF TRYING TO KILL STRANGERS…. A woman who attacked two people with an axe in an Australian convenience store has been convicted of attempted murder. Evie Amati, 26, carried out the unprovoked attack in Sydney last year. After entering the 7-Eleven store, Amati used the axe to strike a man in the face and a woman in the back of the head. Both victims suffered serious injuries. Amati had pleaded not guilty, arguing that she was experiencing a psychosis at the time of the attack. The New South Wales District Court convicted her of three charges on Friday, after almost two days of deliberations by a jury. During the trial, the court heard that Amati's victims thought she had come from a costume party when she entered the store about 02:00 on 7 January last year. Security footage played to court showed Amati approaching her first victim, Ben Rimmer, as he waited to buy a meat pie. She spoke with him briefly before attacking him. Mr Rimmer was knocked to the ground, and suffered a 10cm (4in) facial wound and fractures. Amati attacked her second victim, Sharon Hacker, near the door, leaving her with a fractured skull. Amati then attempted to strike a third person, Shane Redwood, outside the store, but he managed to use his backpack as a shield. She was arrested shortly later. Her lawyer, Charles Waterstreet, told the court that she had been "out of her mind" at the time, and was affected by drugs, alcohol and prescription medication. Amati testified that her mental health had declined after she began taking hormones to transition from male to female. However, the jury rejected Mr Waterstreet's argument that she was suffering from "mental derangement". Ms Hacker told reporters after the verdict: "I really hope that [Amati] is able to have some sort of rehabilitation because ultimately that's what justice is about. Amati was convicted of two counts of wounding with intent to murder and one count of attempted wounding with intent to murder. She will be sentenced in September.

Well Gentle Reader I hope you enjoyed our look at the news from around the world this, morning… …

Our Tulips today are ready for the vase....

A Sincere Thank You for your company and Thank You for your likes and comments I love them and always try to reply, so please keep them coming, it's always good fun, As is my custom, I will go and get myself another mug of "Colombian" Coffee and wish you a safe Thursday 9th August 2018 from my home on the southern coast of Spain, where the blue waters of the Alboran Sea washes the coast of Africa and Europe and the smell of the night blooming Jasmine and Honeysuckle fills the air…and a crazy old guy and his dog Bella go out for a walk at 4:00 am…on the streets of Estepona…

All good stuff....But remember it’s a dangerous world we live in

Be safe out there…

Robert McAngus

#robertmcangus #robert mcangus #tulips #news #blog #travel

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coolhyemihan-blog · 6 years

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Mastery Journal- Doodlebug Short Film Analysis

Hyemi Han

May 11, 2018

Filmmaking Concepts and Practices

Mastery Journal- Doodlebug Short Film Analysis

Doodlebug was released in 1997 and directed by Christopher Nolan. Christopher Nolan is an acclaimed director well known for blockbuster films such as The Dark Knight, Inception, and Dunkirk. Unlike the three films above, Doodlebug was a low-budget film with a run time of only 3 minutes. Nolan filled the role of writer, director, cinematographer, and editor. His film crew staff was less than 10 people at any given time.

The film focuses on an anxious and paranoid man in a messy apartment. His goal in the film is to kill an insect of some kind that is moving around his room. But the bug keeps running away from the man. When the man is able to catch the bug, the viewers are shown that the bug is, in fact, a miniature human being. The miniature figure looks exactly like the man, dressed the same, and looks to be also catching a bug of his own. In the end, the man is able to kill the bug, and then in almost immediately killed by another bigger human being, who looks exactly like the man as well. Christopher Nolan externalizes his instability inner mind in various ways by using a dramatic narrative structure, costumes, props, camera movement, and music.

While the title Doodlebug means that the larva of an ant-lion and also any of several other insects, it can be connected to represent the man himself and his self-destructive perception. This movie has a duality about character trait in that one person includes a protagonist and an antagonist at the same time. In short, his short has a psychological theme such as personal identity relating to the term, self-destructive drive and its genre is a psychological thriller.

The suspense at first is whether or not the man will be successful in killing this bug. Then the audience is led to wonder about the identity of this bug, as it is revealed to be quite large. When the man finally uncovers the bug, the “bug” is actually a miniature version of the man himself. While the man is trying to kill this bug, the inner turmoil of this man is portrayed through the tone, the dramatic structure such as mis-en-abyme, and use of props.

First, Nolan chooses a black-and-white film. By choosing a black and white film magnifies the man’s internal gloom. If the film had been in color, the man’s pain could have felt lessened, or rather, the tone of the film would have been lighter. The tone that Nolan chose is heavy, dark, and gloomy which is well supported by the black-and-white.

Second, Nolan also employs mis-en-abyme to represent the continuity and the endlessness of the man’s turmoil. Mis-en-abyme is the French term that means a story within a story. The dramatic structure seems to be similar to the Mobius strip or Mobius band, in which there is no distinction between the inside world and the outside world, and no beginning and no end. With this structure, the main character's obsessive state was trapped by the constant yoke of self-destruction. So, the denouement of the film evokes fear in a way that is different from other film methods. Many of Nolan’s films are filled with feelings of ambiguity and unease, “which are partially transmitted through journeys of identity construction and through the films' ending�� (Parks, 2011). The fear increases exponentially at the end of the film when the audience realizes that there is, in fact, no beginning and no end to this synopsis. Nolan often uses these narrative time loops and infinitely repeating shapes. For example, Escher’s impossible staircase in Inception (mfa.org, 2018).

Third, Christopher Nolan externalizes his character’s unstable inner mind into his costumes. The man is wearing a very simple shirt and pants. Although it can be attributed to the lack of budget, Nolan also deliberately chooses to dress the man in a seemingly dirty shirt and shabby pants. This is a representation of his chaotic mind. This is because a man's messy style can mean he doesn't take care of his own condition normally after all. The man’s eyes in this style jump from the bug to the clock, to the bug, back to the clock, then to the ringing phone, then to the bug.

Then, the audiences can see props; table clock, the phone, a pitcher of water, shoes, and his underwear. The props are very mundane; they are common, everyday items one would expect to see in an apartment. In fact, it is less about the props, but the man’s reaction to the props that reveals the man’s distress and anxiety. For example, instead of replying to the ringing phone, the man has a bizarre reaction. He submerges the phone receiver into a pitcher of water. In addition, each tick of the clock seems to be causing the man further distress as evidenced by his enlarging eyes and continuous erratic behavior.

Meanwhile, the man’s anxiety, watching the table clock, it can be connected to the man's pressure on time. And it could have been born in the social structure after the Industrial Revolution. The Industrial Revolution brought many changes to the notion of time. Before that, even in the West, there was not much of the concept of time, which was mechanical, objective and measurable. In other words, how time is utilized by individuals, society and the nation has become the core of competitiveness (Voth, 2012). Judging from his humble space, he could be the social weak in a competitive society created by modern time. The table clock and telephone receiver made after the Industrial Revolution can be one of the items that are threatening to men. With his odd reaction against it, this man's anxious psychology is further enhanced by the dark, heavy background sound with the camera movement like dolly zoom in and out.

In conclusion, Christopher Nolan would have solved his real problems during the period of producing the film with his unique ways by using a literary device such as mis-en-abyme, costumes, props, camera movement, and music. If I were to make To Kill an Enemy, I would like to use simple props which are easily used in our daily lives like Christopher Nolan's Doodlebug. While considering all the elements of narrative structure, production design, photography, sound design, and editing techniques for film storytelling, I will also need to consider unique ways to incorporate these everyday prop items. To clarify, a common weapon in the thriller genre is a knife or a gun. A fork or even a ballpoint pen is a common object, but if used as a weapon, that would be peculiar and memorable to the audience. Therefore, using props like this can be not only notable in the film (if used in a different manner), it would help to alleviate the financial burden of having a low-budget.

References

Parks, E. H. (2011, June). Identity Construction and Ambiguity in Christopher Nolan’s Films. Wide Screen, 3(1). Retrieved from http://widescreenjournal.org

Cox, G. (2015, April 20). Christopher Nolan Says His Filmmaking Process a ‘Combination of Intuition and Geometry’. Variety. Retrieved from http://variety.com/2015/film/news/christopher-nolan-tribeca-film-festival-1201476250/

Voth, H. J. (2012). Time and Work in England During the Industrial Revolution. N.p.: Xlibris Corporation LLC.

Math, Mind, and Memory: The Films of Christopher Nolan. (2018, May). In Museum of Fine Arts Boston. Retrieved May 12, 2018, from https://www.mfa.org/programs/series/math-mind-and-memory-the-films-of-christopher-nolan

#Mastery Journal #Doodlebug #Short Film Analysis

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crazy-figures-coll · 6 years

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Short, light, and to the point We wanted to capture all the stories of our parents for our new daughter. We read all the reviews and still could not decide which grandparent memory book would be best. We ordered Go to Amazon

Outstanding "memory book" for your grandchildren - give them a personal gift from you that they'll always treasure! Absolutely one of the best "memory books" a grandmother can give to her grandchild or grandchildren! The book is hardcover, very well bound, and beautifully illustrated with plenty of guidance in sharing your ideas and memories. I use different colored inks (ballpoint pens) with different sections and find they write quite smoothly on every page. The questions they ask are relevant and appropriate to almost all families, and there are extra pages provided if you want to expand on a certain topic or topics. Each section is rather short (a couple of pages) so you don't get bogged down in one area over another, yet with available space if you need it. I like passing on some of my personal experiences and ideas which will probably be more important to them as they grow older, although they'll enjoy knowing "family facts" to share when writing about their backgrounds for school projects. I bought a different memory book also, but after going through this one I returned it! This one so pleases me, in fact, that I'll probably purchase the same one for the other grandchildren. It will take some time to do it justice, so get started recording in your memory book (regardless of your choice) as soon as you can! Go to Amazon

Well worth the time and effort to produce this legacy for my grandkids and kids I have purchased five. It takes time to write all this information (and print it!), but well worth it. Each family will have to share their copy but I included information on each grandchild's birth. This book challenged me to remember and record much of my life that I don't think I've ever shared with them. I'm delighted to leave these books behind as a legacy and a love letter to them. I have encouraged others to get the book and be disciplined about filling it out, copying recipes, including pictures. Go to Amazon

Grandmother's Treasures: Reflections and Remembrances perfect My best friend is a first-time grandmother and family is everything to her. I chose this book especially for her so that she may one day hand it down to her grandson. It's beautiful in its color, design and layout. There are special pages for personal memories, photos and the family tree. I researched this and other books similar to it and this one came out on top. It's a great value and a beautiful book. Go to Amazon

Good Gift It appears to have good lead-in questions and both my daughter's grandmothers love it. Apparently Hallmark doesn't carry these kinds of books anymore because no one was buying them. I consider them a very thoughtful and nice way to get to know your family. Very important to me, my daughter and usually even more delightful for the recipient, who gets to write all about themselves! A win! Go to Amazon

Best Grandmother memories book I have seen I got this for a gift and it has beautiful pictures and pages for memories and reflections of a grandmother. Go to Amazon

Grandmother's Treasures: Reflections and Remembrances Very nice remembrance book for Grandmother's who want their Grandchildren to know about their memories from when they were born along with the pictures that they have put in the book. Go to Amazon

FABULOUS I LOVED MY BOOK WHEN I RECIEVED IT. I CAN'T WAIT TO START MY STORY TELLING FOR MY GRANDKIDS. I BOUGHT ONE FOR EACH OF THEM AND THEY ARE 7 AND 5 YEARS OLD. I WANT TO START YOUNG WHEN I CAN STILL REMEMBER THE FUNNY STUFF THEY SAY AND DO. THE BOOK IS SO WELL DONE. LOVE THE POCKETS TO PUT THINGS IN.AND HOW IT STARTS WITH MY LIFE AS A CHILD. I WOULD LOVE TO KNOW MY GRANDMOTHERS YOUNG YEARS AND HER THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. A MUST HAVE FOR ANY GRANDPARENT THAT WANTS TO HAVE THERE FAMILY HERITAGE REMEMBERED. Go to Amazon

Four Stars Five Stars Five Stars Five Stars Perfect! Three Stars fun Five Stars Five Stars

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richardrobertsimsuccessblog · 7 years

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How to Write Faster: 10 Crafty Ways to Hit 1,000 Words Per Hour

Yesssss!

The schedule gods have given you a break, and you have a rare hour to actually sit down and write. You could produce an entire blog post! An article! Maybe even a short book chapter! Your research is all done, so all you need to do now is write.

You apply ass to seat, fire up your laptop, start typing …

… and it’s like watching a video in slo-mo.

Once the hour is up, you do a word count — and let’s just say the final tally is less than impressive.

It’s time to pull you out of that rut. Here are ten ways to produce great writing in volume. Using these tactics, I can write a full 1,000-word article in under an hour; I bet they’ll speed up your output as well.

#1. Write Under Pressure (from Your Bladder)

When I’m on fire (or on a deadline) and don’t want to stop writing, I skip bathroom breaks until I’m done. Nothing speeds up your writing like knowing you’re on the verge of having a potty accident.

Being a 48-year-old woman, I have to pee every 30 minutes, so you can bet I’m writing scorchingly fast to make it to the next bathroom break; but if this isn’t the case for you, try quaffing a couple glasses of water before sitting down at your laptop.

Caveat: I am not a doctor and this probably isn’t the healthiest thing to do. In fact, I’ve heard of bladder infections being called “secretary’s disease” because they used to happen frequently to secretaries who held it in while they finished “just one more task.” Use this tactic at your own risk!

#2. Outwit Writer’s Block with This Old Journalist’s Trick

Instead of insisting that your facts and examples be all lined up before you put pen to paper, which leads to over-researching, try writing from your head. Get down what you know, and what you remember from your interviews — and drop in the term “TK” wherever you get stuck and need more information.

TK is journo-speak for “to come,” and it’s used as a placeholder for copy you’ll add later. The beauty of TK is that this combo of letters very rarely occurs in the English language — so once you’re done with your draft, you can do a search on the term in your word processing program and fill in the holes.

You’ll be surprised at how much you already had in your head, and at how much faster you can produce a piece of writing this way!

#3. Use Automation to Skip Two Million Keystrokes

Rewriting the same copy over and over, or playing the cut-and-paste game several times an hour, is a massive time suck. In the two minutes it takes you to type in your bio at the end of a guest post, you could have written the lede paragraph of a new post.

I use an app called TextExpander — which expands custom keyboard shortcuts into frequently used text — for common copy like my email sign-off, bio, mailing address, book titles, HTML codes, and words and phrases I use often in my writing. You can even use TextExpander abbreviations to insert images, the current date, and more. (Similar apps include TypeIt4Me for Mac and Breevy for Windows.)

As an example, when I type in “rren,” this pops up: The Renegade Writer: A Totally Unconventional Guide to Freelance Writing Success. That’s four keystrokes instead of 80!

TextExpander’s stats say I’ve saved myself from typing over two million characters, and have saved over 142 hours. Yes, that’s six solid days I’ve rescued from the abyss of needless typing.

One trick I learned years ago is to be sure the abbreviations you choose are letter combinations you won’t be using for anything else. For example, if you choose the word “address” to expand out into your street address, that will also happen when you write, “This blog post will address common time-wasters.”

Try repeating a letter at the front of the word instead. I use the combo “bbio” for my bio and “uurl” for my website URL.

Imagine how much speedier your writing will be if you can simply type fewer words!

#4. Turn Off the Squiggly Red Lines

You’re all in the zone, writing like your life depends on it — or like you have to pee really bad; see tip #1 — and suddenly you’re stopped in your tracks by a squiggly red line under a word. You pause to check it, and realize the program doesn’t recognize the name of that city in Germany you’re writing about.

So you right-click on “Nuremberg,” select “Add to Dictionary,” and …

… where were you again?

Your word processing program’s spelling and grammar checkers are just okay at checking spelling and grammar, but they are phenomenal at yanking you right out of your flow. I actually don’t mind the spell checker, but when I have the grammar checker on I find myself stopping every few minutes to yell, “Shut up, I meant to write it that way!”

Guess what? You have the power to switch off the checkers so you’re able to write without distraction. You can always run them after you’ve finished your writing if you need to.

#5. Invest in a Faster Pen

Like to write first drafts or take notes by hand? The Hack My Study site did a comparison on which pens are the fastest to write with.

Here’s a spoiler: Fountain pens are best for pure speed, but they’re also pricey and difficult to master. The next best option is a rollerball pen. These are less expensive, but they’re still fast because they create little friction on the writing surface.

The third best for speed is the gel pen, which is less expensive than the rollerball, and coming in dead last is the standard ballpoint pen — you know, the kind you pick up for free at your local bank or dentist’s office.

I can attest to the speed of the rollerball; a few years ago I decided to toss out every junky pen in the house and replace them with a few dozen of my favorite brand, the Pilot Precise V7 Rolling Ball Fine — blue for me, black for my husband, and red just because. That way, whenever I’m in the mood to write a draft or take notes by hand, I can reach into a kitchen drawer or my purse and be assured of pulling out a fast, smooth-writing pen every time.

Stocking up on quality pens is an investment (it costs around $20 for a 12-pack of the Pilot pen I use), but it’s worth it if it helps you write faster. Not to mention you’ll never again waste precious writing seconds furiously scribbling on a sheet of scrap paper to get the ink flowing in your cheap ballpoint.

#6. Do B-Minus Work

One of the chief habits that keeps you stuck in slow motion is editing yourself while writing. There’s nothing like agonizing over the perfect word in the middle of writing a blog post or article to keep you in perpetual “not quite finished” mode. (That habit, of course, is a consequence of perfectionism, another common bugaboo for writers.)

Value done over perfect and let the words fly. Give yourself permission to do B-minus work just to get the ideas down on paper, then go back and edit when you’re done. Chances are, you’ll discover your writing was pretty good to begin with!

The more you resist editing yourself as you write, the easier writing will become. The easier writing becomes, the more confident you’ll be. And the more confident you are in your writing, the quicker the process gets.

#7. Get Zen Before You Pick Up Your Pen

If your writing slows to a virtual crawl because you feel the need to check Facebook or answer an email after every sentence, you’ll love OmmWriter, a program that blocks out the files and applications behind the writing page to minimize distractions.

OmmWriter also offers a selection of calming background colors and music to keep you in Zen mode as you write, plus soothing sounds with each keystroke. I especially love the horizontal cursor (instead of the usual vertical blinking one) that seems to say “Write on” instead of “Stop writing!”

Ommwriter was free when I downloaded it several years ago, but is now a pay-what-you-want app; the average offering is $7.33.

#8. Stop Letting the Schedule Push You Around

Sometimes a little space is all you need to get perspective on a piece of writing that’s giving you fits, so you can get the words out faster.

An example: Last week I had scheduled myself to write an article for my website called “How Writers Waste Time by Saving Time,” about the dangers of cutting corners in your research and interviews. I eked out about 500 (crappy) words at a glacially slow pace before giving up; the article sounded more like a rant than a solid service piece, and I just couldn’t figure out how to fix it.

Then I looked over my ideas for future articles, and one called “Let Future You Handle Your Writing Problems” jumped out at me. I was inspired! I opened a new Word file, and that article — all 900 words — poured out of me in less than 60 minutes.

This week, I revisited the article I had been stuck on, and immediately saw exactly what the problem was and how to resolve it. An hour later, that article was done too.

If you have control over what you write and when you write it, this tip is for you: Stop being a slave to your editorial calendar. When you’re wrestling with a scheduled article or post, let it go. Scan over your editorial calendar and see if there are any post ideas that get you all fired up, and make the switch. You’ll find that the writing flows much faster that way.

#9. Play Games to Boost Your Words Per Minute

A big problem for many writers is that we think faster than we type. If your brain is churning out amazing ideas and perfect turns of phrase at a blazing pace, but you type slower than my husband trying to help me come up with a funny metaphor for something slow — you’ll finish out your allotted writing time with a only fraction of your page filled with, you know, writing.

Learning to type is a lot more fun than it used to be, with many sites offering free games, lessons, and tests to help you up your keyboarding speed. FreeTypingGame.Net has, among other goodies, a game called The Frogs Are Off Their Diet. A similar site, WordGames.com, offers hilariously titled typing challenges like Zombie Typocalypse and Type Type Revolution.

If you often find yourself writing on the go, seek out free apps that will help you learn to type faster on your smartphone or tablet. TapTyping is one example for the iPad, iPhone, and iPod Touch, and Typing Master is an app that works on Android devices.

#10. Gamble with Your Reputation

Feeling competitive? Challenge yourself to write your blog post, article, or book chapter in a (much) shorter amount of time than you normally would.

I did this once while working with a friend at a café and her jaw dropped open as she watched me complete an 800-word article in 30 minutes. (And yes, it was good!)

Even better, bet a friend something juicy that you can do it, or throw down the gauntlet on social media. The more people who see it and the harsher the consequences should you lose, the more likely you are to get those words down on the double.

On the low-pressure end, I also like to do mini challenges: I’ll see how much I can write in the five minutes while my tea steeps … in the two minutes before the microwave dings and my lunch is ready … while I’m on hold with AT&T before someone picks up. It’s incredible how quickly you can write when you have mere minutes to get it done.

Be More Prolific than You Ever Thought Possible

Fab news! It took me years to develop and learn these effective tactics for writing like a bat out of hell, but you can try them all on right now.

Feel free to combine tactics: Turn off the grammar checker, down a couple glasses of water, fire up Ommwriter, and use a text expander app to produce B-minus work.

Chances are you’ll boost your speed many times over, so you can do even more of what you love (hint: writing) every day.

Ready for the writing to simply pour from you? Set your timer and get started!

About the Author: Linda Formichelli has been a full-time freelance writer since 1997. If you’re marketing your butt off and getting nowhere, Linda’s theory is that it’s because you’re doing all the right things—and getting overwhelmed by it all. Instead, check out her upcoming Volume Marketing Challenge for Freelance Writers. During this fun, intense challenge, each week you’ll do the heck out of one type of marketing to reveal the one that will get you the most freelance writing assignments. Registration opens March 3!

How to Write Faster: 10 Crafty Ways to Hit 1,000 Words Per Hour

#Richard Roberts IM Success Mix #How to Write Faster: 10 Crafty Ways to Hit 1 #000 Words Per Hour

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annegalliher · 7 years

Text

How to Write Faster: 10 Crafty Ways to Hit 1,000 Words Per Hour

Yesssss!

You apply ass to seat, fire up your laptop, start typing …

… and it’s like watching a video in slo-mo.

Once the hour is up, you do a word count — and let’s just say the final tally is less than impressive.

#1. Write Under Pressure (from Your Bladder)

#2. Outwit Writer’s Block with This Old Journalist’s Trick

You’ll be surprised at how much you already had in your head, and at how much faster you can produce a piece of writing this way!

#3. Use Automation to Skip Two Million Keystrokes

As an example, when I type in “rren,” this pops up: The Renegade Writer: A Totally Unconventional Guide to Freelance Writing Success. That’s four keystrokes instead of 80!

TextExpander’s stats say I’ve saved myself from typing over two million characters, and have saved over 142 hours. Yes, that’s six solid days I’ve rescued from the abyss of needless typing.

Try repeating a letter at the front of the word instead. I use the combo “bbio” for my bio and “uurl” for my website URL.

Imagine how much speedier your writing will be if you can simply type fewer words!

#4. Turn Off the Squiggly Red Lines

So you right-click on “Nuremberg,” select “Add to Dictionary,” and …

… where were you again?

Guess what? You have the power to switch off the checkers so you’re able to write without distraction. You can always run them after you’ve finished your writing if you need to.

#5. Invest in a Faster Pen

Like to write first drafts or take notes by hand? The Hack My Study site did a comparison on which pens are the fastest to write with.

#6. Do B-Minus Work

#7. Get Zen Before You Pick Up Your Pen

Ommwriter was free when I downloaded it several years ago, but is now a pay-what-you-want app; the average offering is $7.33.

#8. Stop Letting the Schedule Push You Around

Sometimes a little space is all you need to get perspective on a piece of writing that’s giving you fits, so you can get the words out faster.

This week, I revisited the article I had been stuck on, and immediately saw exactly what the problem was and how to resolve it. An hour later, that article was done too.

#9. Play Games to Boost Your Words Per Minute

#10. Gamble with Your Reputation

Feeling competitive? Challenge yourself to write your blog post, article, or book chapter in a (much) shorter amount of time than you normally would.

I did this once while working with a friend at a café and her jaw dropped open as she watched me complete an 800-word article in 30 minutes. (And yes, it was good!)

Be More Prolific than You Ever Thought Possible

Fab news! It took me years to develop and learn these effective tactics for writing like a bat out of hell, but you can try them all on right now.

Feel free to combine tactics: Turn off the grammar checker, down a couple glasses of water, fire up Ommwriter, and use a text expander app to produce B-minus work.

Chances are you’ll boost your speed many times over, so you can do even more of what you love (hint: writing) every day.

Ready for the writing to simply pour from you? Set your timer and get started!

0 notes

alanajacksontx · 7 years

Text

How to Write Faster: 10 Crafty Ways to Hit 1,000 Words Per Hour

Yesssss!

You apply ass to seat, fire up your laptop, start typing …

… and it’s like watching a video in slo-mo.

Once the hour is up, you do a word count — and let’s just say the final tally is less than impressive.

#1. Write Under Pressure (from Your Bladder)

#2. Outwit Writer’s Block with This Old Journalist’s Trick

You’ll be surprised at how much you already had in your head, and at how much faster you can produce a piece of writing this way!

#3. Use Automation to Skip Two Million Keystrokes

As an example, when I type in “rren,” this pops up: The Renegade Writer: A Totally Unconventional Guide to Freelance Writing Success. That’s four keystrokes instead of 80!

TextExpander’s stats say I’ve saved myself from typing over two million characters, and have saved over 142 hours. Yes, that’s six solid days I’ve rescued from the abyss of needless typing.

Try repeating a letter at the front of the word instead. I use the combo “bbio” for my bio and “uurl” for my website URL.

Imagine how much speedier your writing will be if you can simply type fewer words!

#4. Turn Off the Squiggly Red Lines

So you right-click on “Nuremberg,” select “Add to Dictionary,” and …

… where were you again?

Guess what? You have the power to switch off the checkers so you’re able to write without distraction. You can always run them after you’ve finished your writing if you need to.

#5. Invest in a Faster Pen

Like to write first drafts or take notes by hand? The Hack My Study site did a comparison on which pens are the fastest to write with.

#6. Do B-Minus Work

#7. Get Zen Before You Pick Up Your Pen

Ommwriter was free when I downloaded it several years ago, but is now a pay-what-you-want app; the average offering is $7.33.

#8. Stop Letting the Schedule Push You Around

Sometimes a little space is all you need to get perspective on a piece of writing that’s giving you fits, so you can get the words out faster.

This week, I revisited the article I had been stuck on, and immediately saw exactly what the problem was and how to resolve it. An hour later, that article was done too.

#9. Play Games to Boost Your Words Per Minute

#10. Gamble with Your Reputation

Feeling competitive? Challenge yourself to write your blog post, article, or book chapter in a (much) shorter amount of time than you normally would.

I did this once while working with a friend at a café and her jaw dropped open as she watched me complete an 800-word article in 30 minutes. (And yes, it was good!)

Be More Prolific than You Ever Thought Possible

Fab news! It took me years to develop and learn these effective tactics for writing like a bat out of hell, but you can try them all on right now.

Feel free to combine tactics: Turn off the grammar checker, down a couple glasses of water, fire up Ommwriter, and use a text expander app to produce B-minus work.

Chances are you’ll boost your speed many times over, so you can do even more of what you love (hint: writing) every day.

Ready for the writing to simply pour from you? Set your timer and get started!

from Internet Marketing Tips https://smartblogger.com/how-to-write-faster/

0 notes