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growing-cosmos · 1 month

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Kim SeonHo for ELLE MEN Singapore Issue 05 2023 - Full Interview

Kim Seon Ho Keeps Going On

Farisia Thang

The beloved South Korean actor is back and taking things one day at a time — starting with his debut as a villain.

Every movie needs a good villain — but that's a role that not just anyone can pull it off. Especially when the cards are not stacked in your favour. Kim Seon Ho knows this well.

Having always played heroic roles (Hong Du Sik, literally the neighbourhood hero in Hometown Cha Cha Cha or charming second leads who win over the audience's affection, Han Ji Pyeong in Start-Up and Jung Jae Yoon in 100 Days My Prince), there was a certain image that became expected of the South Korean actor. Before taking on the Nobleman in The Childe, it would have been irreconcilable to picture him as a villain, much less an antagonist. Not because there was any doubt in his acting skills, but because it never would have occurred to the masses to cast a man who has been given the endearing nickname "good boy" to play a Machiavellian assassin. Even the director of The Childe Park Hoon Jung didn't see the fit when he first looked at the actor's profile as he thought, "This face is not for noir."

But Kim has always been one to rise to the challenge. Let us not forget that before he was a TV actor, he was a familiar face in the theatre industry. And though it was only at 31-years-old that he debuted in his first TV drama, his so-called big break came three years later with shows like Start-Up and Hometown Cha Cha Cha. This is the way things go: Just when you think he has reached the height of his career, he keeps proving otherwise.

And that is exactly what he's done in The Childe.

Even if it wasn't a comeback role from his two-year hiatus, it still stands as an impressive film debut on its own. This marks Kim's first big screen role and for that reason alone, the Nobleman remains one of his favourite characters. "All of the characters I've played are special to me and I cherish them all, but a memorable character would be my most recent role in The Childe as Nobleman since it was my film debut," says Kim. "I still vividly remember the excitement and nerves I felt seeing my character on the big screen for the first time."

As it is with most of his roles, he runs through a routine. "I usually take a fairly long time to understand one character. I would choose about three or four lines that I like from a script, and then repeat them over and over again in my head. This could be when I'm walking, when I'm in the shower, or when I'm eating." Kim adds, "Sometimes I also make use of music. would put on some good music, put myself in front of a stunning view, and then read out the lines. And as I do that, there would be moments where I realise, 'This is it. This is how this character would say it. From that point onwards, everything else falls into place itself. For this method to work and in order to get closer to a character, studying the script in detail has to come first. It's important to have a good grasp of a character's language and habits.

With the Nobleman, details maketh man. He says, "I developed my character by studying the lead character from A Clockwork Orange, and I spent plenty of time trying to understand my character as Nobleman." Just like he had done many times before, Kim learned new skills to better embody his character. "I got to learn about using handguns for acting for the first time. I did some practice at a shooting range in Myeongdong and I was given a dummy too, so I was able to practice and have a feel of it. That helped me a lot during the actual filming."

To simply call the Nobleman a villain would reduce the character to a flat trope, but Kim's performance and interpretation of him are actually for more nuanced. This is a character who gets imitated by his shoes being dirtied with blood after killing a room full of people, curses with a sadistic smile in an American accent and British accent, chases after the hero while hollering — and yet manages to confuse the audience with whose side he is actually on. Ultimately, Kim's portrayal of the Nobleman brings to life a brutal yet whimsical anti-hero.

And yet, the actor still struggles to pinpoint a moment during The Childe's filming process that he felt proud of himself for. In past interviews, he scrutinised his performance for the movie. Even now, he laughs as he says, "To be honest, it's hard for me to point out areas that I did well in. In my eyes, I mostly see only my shortcomings. Thankfully enough, people who went to see the movie had lots of positive feedback. I was glad and thankful to be praised as a fluid actor."

Fluid is the perfect word here, and yet it still feels like an understatement to the actor's performance. If his previous roles solidified his expected trajectory as an actor, then this character turned it all around - reminding us all that Kim has been honing his craft for over a decade now. He has been finessing this duality for almost 14 years, and while others may rest on their laurels and rely on their experience in the industry to get by, Kim is always looking for ways to better himself.

His recent projects have been movies and because of that "I'm not as pressured having to film a large amount of scenes in a short time as compared to other mediums. The directors told me to take my time between lines, which showed me the art of slowing down." He goes on to say, "When I was younger, I was also taught to enjoy the pauses between each line. I did think that I was already doing so with my acting for dramas, but the mechanics of movies and dramas are still very much different. So I've recently been working on how I can savour those pauses even more." Looking back at the Kim Seon Ho who started acting 14 years ago, the 37-year-old feels envious of his past self. "I'm envious of the experience and how raw my acting was back then. I recently rewatched some of my previous work. In the past, if I were to rewatch something a year later, all I could think about was how inadequate my acting was before. But seeing it again after 10 years makes me realise that that kind of raw acting was something I could do only back then."

Now, what he is able to appreciate about his approach to acting is. that "I'm a lot more composed and poised. My acting was often carried away by emotions in the past, but I think that my acting now has become more rational. I feel that this kind of rationality is also what makes me grow. After all, Kim knows a thing or two about alchemising patience into gold. While he started acting in plays at the age of 23, it was only eight years later that he made his debut on the small screens. But he has never been one to measure his trajectory against his counterparts in the industry. Waiting has always been a welcomed ritual for the actor, and Kim knows it's to that good things take time.

It's like his Hometown Cha Cha Cha character Hong Du Sik said, "Life isn't so fair for all of us. Some spend their whole lives on unpaved roads, while some run at full speed only to reach the edge of a cliff." It's a line that hits close to home for Kim too. "Coincidentally enough, I happened to re-watch that scene just three days before this interview, I searched for the scene randomly one day because I suddenly got curious about the kind of expression and tone I shot that scene with. Through that scene, rather than discovering elements about myself, I focused more on how I could get closer to Chief Hong. But there were moments where I did feel that I was becoming a better version of myself, like when I was preparing for the drama, after wrapping up the filming, and when I met other great characters." He adds, "People say that each word you say and each action you do creates one's character and personality. I think I got to learn a lot through the lines of my past characters like Han Ji Pyeong and Chief Hong, and thanks to them, I am the person I am now."

During his two-year break from acting on-screen, he remained loyal to his earlier comforts — stage acting. While he stayed off social media and film projects, he went back to his roots and performed in the theatre with Touching the Void. In that period of time, "I found comfort in the fact that one has the ability to create a change if they could just think a little differently in times of trouble." He continues, "I felt grateful to be able to share a stage with other talented actors, and I had fun. Touching The Void was a project where I discovered that the results of something can be very different depending on my perspective on a particular situation and on the support I receive. Most of all, I was moved and comforted by the audience members who came to watch the play even though things were difficult due to the pandemic. I was honoured to be able to perform such a remarkable piece of work for the audience, and it inspired me to become an even better actor."

In life and in work, Kim believes himself to be a dreamer. "I am someone who thinks that we must dream big, and I'm happiest when I come close to the goals I've set. Rather than setting a realistic goal but still feeling unsatisfied even after accomplishing it, I find more joy when I set big goals and accomplish it to a certain extent. When he considers his dreams for the distant future, "My goal is for people to remember me as a skilled actor and to be an actor that people want to work with a second time." But for now, his ambitions are straightforward — "I want to try a role that feels real and warm, one that others can relate to."

When he looks back at his career, there is only one thing he can really say he's proud of over the years. "Instead of feeling proud of my own accomplishments, I feel a stronger sense of pride towards the people that have been there for me since the days before I became an actor. Seniors, juniors and directors who gave me advice so I could pass the audition for my first project, agency colleagues who worked tirelessly until I got my first lead role, and my fans who supported my career as an actor. These are people that I'm thankful for and proud of every moment." He continues, "I often have thoughts like, 'How was I able to meet such incredible people?', 'How did I get so lucky to receive such advice from my seniors at this timing?', 'How is it that all these great people. are rooting for me?' Thanks to these people, there have been so many moments in my career that have made me proud that I cannot single out a specific achievement."

His gratitude grounds him because if there's one thing Kim has leamed, it's to take nothing for granted. With the love he's received from fans and friends in the industry, he hopes to return it tenfold. "I hope to repay the love with my acting and to successfully wrap up current projects. By doing so, I think I would be able to welcome 2024 with a happy heart." What that looks like these days is a running list of plays, dramas, and films. And while he's busy with his ongoing projects, for now, "I will be focusing on the upcoming mystery drama Mangnaein. Although I don't know what the future has in store for me, I will work hard to live my best each day."

When he thinks about the actor he wants to be remembered for, he considers the weight of his answer. "Not too long ago, I felt that I was on a plateau so I reflected a lot on it and I'm getting back on my feet again now." He goes on to say, "I hope to be remembered as an actor who constantly improves. (Of course, for that to happen, a lot of effort is needed on my part.) And I hope people think of me as an actor who is always growing, and as an actor who has the potential for even more growth. I hope to refine my craft a little more."

Because at the end of the day, Kim Seon Ho knows when to walk away from comparison. He's never bothered to measure himself to others, and he has no plans to start now. Instead, he holds himself to his own standards. And the version of him today is content to take things as they come, to better himself with every passing day. After all, if there's one thing we know for certain, it's that whatever accomplishments he's made so far are only a step to greater things to come.

—

special thanks to seonhojoy & preferredalways

#kim seon ho #김선호 #kim seonho #elle singapore #magazine cover #editorial #full interview #photoshoot #archieve #korean actor #theater actor #start up #hometown cha cha cha #the childe

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partnersatfazbear · 3 years

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Sketchbook page 36 + some good news regarding my cat

So, being an anxious wreck for the better part of a week, I had a little time to draw when I wasn’t binging ER or sneaking in some Secret of Mana.

I have some drawings of Springtrap and William at the top.

The middle are characters and objects from my own works that I wanted to visualize--the latter which might appear in Resurrection Sunday.

The bottom part is hard to explain? It was a dream. I often have very vivid memories of dreams I have and this one happened to be FNAF related in a way, so I really wanted to draw it. My dream started at a family’s house which was under a small renovation. I specifically remember the kitchen because I dreamt for a glass of water (I woke up severly dehydrated, actually). As I said, I’ve been binging ER, so I dreamt that Weaver and Malucci were taking care of a bunch of kids from a birthday party where these smaller sized animatronics attacked everyone (and a pic of the one I remembered the most vividly.. kinda like some wierd gremlin Foxy endo, IDK). Now to explain the rest, Tobin Bell had a very small spot on an earlier season of ER and so in the dream I was a medical resident under him and he somehow hired me out to Purple Guy (specifically I think it was DSAF Dave, since it was the literal sprite in the contacts). I kept making references to Doctor Tobin regarding Jigsaw (from Saw--obviously his most well known role, I think) but he didn’t understand / shrugged it off and that made me sad! =:v

Lastly, to update about my cat’s recent health issues: it looks great! She finally made stool this morning, which was our last really big concern. She has been acting, attitude wise, much more like herself. My biggest concern is that she’s still underweight, but hopefully she gains some of that back. I don’t know if we’re 100% out of the woods yet since we’re still waiting on radiology, but everything points to a full recovery (and 5 more days of antibiotics). I cried every time this cat made a move in the right direction; I’m so proud of her. I’m sorry that dealing with her has really set me back on this blog. I’ve lost two cats previously to hidden medical issues and I was really scared it was going to happen again. So that only added to my anxiety. We had to keep her in a large kennel (and currently still do) and she hates it, but she does get to go walk around the bedroom and lay in the windowsill. Giving her the meds is something I had to do with my first cat, who had a hidden thyroid/kidney issue, so actually administering wasn’t hard, except that she throws huge drama queen fits and it breaks my heart. I’ve been smoking like a stack and getting only two meals a day AND very little sleep. My entire body aches from sore / tense muscles and I need a shower. I’m going to take a few days off for some self care if everything turns out good, but I’m really hoping to post something more substantial for you guys in the next few weeks (save the weekend of April 1st, since if things go as planned, Jeanne will get spayed and that’s another ordeal). Thank you all for your wishes and I even got some financial help from friends and I’ve never felt so blessed. I just hope we’re in the clear now.

#my art #fnaf art #fnaf fanart #sketchbook #sketches #update #dreams are weird #springtrap #william afton

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bondsmagii · 4 years

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🌻🌻🌻

new ask game send me a 🌻 and ill just tell you whatever the fuck i want

lowkey stealing this idea partially from @wintermutal as least as far as songs go but here’s three songs and some really random memories I have associated with them.

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so this song was everywhere when I was younger but I remember it most vividly from a car ride when I was about 13. I was Quite The Delinquent™ at that time and I had been in constant trouble at school for the whole year, and I was also a total Asshole With Attitude™ and my long-suffering guardians decided that Drastic Measures™ needed to be taken.

something that is very important for you to understand at this point is that I was totally obsessed with Green Day at the time. I mean, they were my life. I was consumed. I was possessed with all the passion of a 13-year-old emo for this band. my room was covered in posters. my notebooks were covered with lyrics. I never went anywhere without my Walkman and American Idiot was the constantly playing album. (I played that album so much I wrecked one and had to buy another -- this was back in the day where CDs would get scratched up because they’d get jostled as you walked.) quite literally I was addicted to this band. I thought of nothing else and listened to no-one else.

well, as punishment... my dear guardians confiscated every Green Day thing I owned. they took my posters. they took all my CDs. they even found the tiny little badges I’d pinned on the inside of my school jacket. everything was gone. I’ll spare you the gory details of the mental breakdown because it wasn’t pretty -- the only bit you need to know is the dramatic moment where I was threatening to run away and the person who was acting in the role of Mother™ that month said, equally dramatically, “if you can’t behave for us, behave for them!”. really wish I could re-watch that moment now because holy god, how over the top. but anyway, the deal was if I got my act together I could get my Green Day shit back in a week.

moving on to this song. a couple of hours after this incident we had to go grocery shopping. I obviously had to come along, and I was distraught because usually I’d be in the back listening to Green Day and now I was going to have to listen to the BORING ADULT MUSIC with the BORING ADULTS. I’m sitting in the back looking like a prisoner being led to my execution and this song comes on as we back out of the drive. about a minute into the song it began to rain, which added to the drama. I leaned my head against the window and watched the raindrops running down the window, and I thought to myself you know, thematically, this song is pretty good for the current situation. it’s regretful, a bit morose. it got me thinking about the tough week ahead of me, and with all the hopelessness that you have at that age facing something as long as a week, I gave in to the sheer despair running through me and reached out to dramatically trace my finger down a raindrop on the window as I blinked back tears.

don’t get me wrong, I still like Green Day now. but christ, I came outta the womb a dramatic bitch.

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so this song is an absolute banger and I listened to it all the time when I was about 16. for those of you just tuning in, I’m Irish and went to school in the north -- if any of you have tuned into Derry Girls it was basically that except my school was boys and girls. I was Michelle. sure none of you are surprised. anyway.

to cut an extremely long story short (if you want the full story please hit me up because it’s golden) my school and another school had to go on a like, team-building thing because of the civil war and we’re Catholic and they’re Protestant and apparently if you get The Youths together we’ll won’t kill one another once we reach adulthood. seems good in theory but unfortunately they brought us to this outdoor activity camp where we have to abseil and rope climb and fucking cave, in the fucking rain, and we didn’t just want to kill one another but rather every fucking person involved. things got worse until an absolutely disastrous caving experience (which did admittedly result in some cross-community bonding) but really the whole day was fucking nightmarish. we were wet, we were cold, we were being constantly exposed to heights, our safety device was to be tied to a rope and let the kids from the other school hold it and just hope they didn’t let us fall to our deaths... can I remind you that our communities were at war and had been at war for 30 years at that point and our grandpas had probably killed each other or some shit? it was stressful.

anyway, something that’s very important to culture there is singing. the Catholics especially. we have a whole load of rebel songs about killing the British and all that fun stuff, and the Protestants have a few (much more mediocre) (sorry guys but nothing you have slaps as hard as Come Out Ye Black and Tans) songs of their own, and after we got back from the caving disaster and found all our teachers sitting in the fucking warm drinking tea, we’d had enough. this song was on the radio constantly, we all knew it, and me and a guy from the other school (both of us possessing a talent for re-working song lyrics) ended up re-writing this entire song into a rant about the trip. unfortunately I cannot remember most of the lyrics now, but I do know it included a verse about how “in five years’ time” our frozen corpses would be discovered in that fucking cave.

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this song is the soundtrack to one of the most subtly unbelievable moments of my life, and that’s strange coming from me considering on the surface it was very normal but for me, someone who has near constant paranormal experiences and has been widely believed from childhood to be a witch, it qualifies as unbelievable.

I’m sure everyone has had a moment in their life where they’re like “wow, this is literally like a movie”. this song is the soundtrack to that moment for me. again for those of you just joining me I have had a fairly fucked up life in some respects, and this lead to a few months of homelessness one summer. I crashed with some friends for a couple of weeks while waiting for my then-friend now-husband @vestriis to come up and meet me in Scotland, where he was going to join me as I turned said homelessness into a roadtrip around the country, urbexing and checking out haunted places as we went (that’s yet another story) and for those entire two weeks my life was one of those summer teen movies where they all live in a small town and get up to wacky adventures and they’re all slightly edgy but ultimately good fun, etc. this is something I had never experienced before because I moved around so much as a kid and never got to make like, actual friends, so having a group to roam around and be feral with was insane.

one of my friends from this time period was very musically-inclined, as was I, as was some other mutual friends. we would jam together with an assortment of instruments, and he and his friend were working on a cover of this song (which was fairly new at the time). it’s a kickass song and it’s challenging in a fun way to sing, so I’d help him practise when the other friend wasn’t around, and then one evening we all found ourselves at this other friend’s house and we ended up playing a bunch of songs together and then finally we belted out this one. by this point it was late, and people were coming home from the pubs; we were at their third-floor window, both of which were thrown open to let the summer air in, and I was sitting in the window seat writing and occasionally joining in the singing. our friend was on guitar and we were having the best jam session yet, summer air and the city streets below us, and then we realised a bunch of drunk people were cheering and clapping us from the street. like, when does this happen outside of a movie? when are you sharing drinks basically on a rooftop with your friends in a summer that seems endless, playing music and actually being fairly decent about it and having people clap? it sounds like something that would be in a YA romance novel when the protagonists finally fall in love but actually we just got fish and chips and my friend taught me to play the ukulele enough that I could torment our other roommates once he’d moved out.

and this was just how the summer began. I spent the rest of that summer with my future husband, living in my car and urban exploring, and then living in London for the final month. every time I hear this song I just remember that summer and how it kind of was endless because I still think about it now, and I can still feel how it felt.

#oof long post #sorry mobile users #whatever the fuck i want meme #aesterea #asks

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blandwriting · 3 years

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It's been a long pause, where have I been? Mostly procrastinating at knowing how to be a functioning adult. Despite my flaws, characteristically I'm still very much the same. Major Depressive Disorder, a term to prescribe me antidepressants at a low yet effective amount to keep my anxiety at bay. Effexor XR, Side effects include loss of appetite, drowsiness, blurred vision, fatigue, dry mouth, nausea, sweaty palms, leg tremors, insomnia; I guess the cure and the ailment are one in the same. I'm functioning now at a rate where I feel almost numb enough to feel sufficed by my less than mediocre existence. Thirty years old, greying hair and pubes, a long list of non established idea's that never got off the ground. Financial freedom.... We just reinstated a credit card due to the pandemic taking away our wage and making us less than satisfactory to pay for our fancy Meriton apartment in Mascot. Paces ahead but still trailing behind. I always find myself romanticising life.... Looking for the hidden posies in the mess. No wonder my outlook had degraded to catatonic self destructive seeking missile. I was hit by a car and rolled up onto the dash.... fell to the ground miraculously leaving unscathed only bruised and badly shaken... although the longing for greater injuries if not death was the only thing I could fixate on. Why was I so depressed... why was I so unnerved at my miraculous and somewhat outstanding ability to survive a car driving directly into my right leg without so much as even breaking a bone? I flew over the top of the bonnet and rolled down onto the wet and unforgiving bitumen with nothing more than a manic episode. It opened up a huge sinkhole.... the medication was the only thing stopping me from taking my own life. I cared for nothing. I've had a lot of sobering moments in my short by well worn life. But sitting across from my doctor with tear stained cheeks, quivering bottom lip and shaking hands, I'd spent the last three days just scream crying every moment I had left with my swelling thoughts of self harm and suicide. I simply no longer wished to live.... My doctor worried expression painted across her face sat there and listened to me, as my emotions heightened and I cried out that I was fine... everyone said I was fine... so if I'm fine then why do I no longer want to live... Something has to change... I'm exhausted.... I simply no longer wish to exist, I am meaningless and broken I'm discarded and used, People whom only benefit from myself keep me around I am not loved, I never had been unconditionally loved. She sat there mouth agape... "Krystal..." I looked up to her, With what I can only imagine would have been one of the most pained looks I've ever given another person... " You're not going to kill yourself are you?..." she said furrowing her brows at me with a downturned expression, I looked to the right with my lips pressed into a straight line, rubbing the edge of my thumb nails to the underside of my thumbs, swapping them back and forth, as I looked to my left avoiding eye contact but ruminating on how I felt... softly I let out " I don't know anymore". She reached her hand across the table and asked for my left arm as my right was rendered useless by the bruising. I handed her my hand, hers warm the warmest hand I've felt in a long time, " If you kill yourself Krystal I'll be very angry with you, It will hurt everyone you love, You make me laugh everytime you come in, there are so many other choices".

In that moment I looked at her, I knew I couldn't do it, I'd been held accountable. My heart swollen she wrote me a prescription and I'd left that office with a follow up appointment booked, before I walked out of her room I asked her for a hug, In that moment I felt loved, truly loved with an unbiased heart, She literally didn't have to at all, but I just so needed a hug without answers without question, I just needed that in that moment. To feel loved.

This is the thing, loved. A feeling every human being on the face of the planet longs for a feeling of complete and total acceptance. That is all I've ever been looking for, to feel accepted. I grew up in an unconventional yet familiar family story, My mother freshly 18 two weeks out of the legal boom gates, and my Father turned 22 an hour and fourteen minutes after I was born, It was the typical Australian 1991 period, Still heavily influenced by Christianity, My mum was placed in a separate wing from the other mothers who were Married or accounted for, She and dad were on-again off-again young lovers with a fiery relationship built on jealousy drama and pure attraction, I came into the world on a Monday, it was Mercury retrograde, need I say more. Mum didn't have a lot of money or a stable household at that time, she was living in-between homes, Momentarily we lived in the garage out the back of her mothers house, a red back spider infested ex photography studio and teenager hangout spot, They had a tumultuous relationship themselves, That's the difficulty with family scars, My father from memory lived in a share house with friends, he and his parent's also from a not so forgiving background, both of my parents were dragged up I wouldn't really say either had the golden childhood either of them really deserved, two seperate sides of two different coins, but both resulting in the universal fate of their meeting and my existence. It wasn't long and without shock before my parent's broke up. My dad wasn't ready for fatherhood, he was still drinking and fighting and doing whatever he wanted to do, and mum a young mother had taken on the role of responsibility with a bit more of a stiff upper lip, Rightfully so. He and she were again on and off again for the most of my formidable years, I remember my mum writing notes on a phone pad, back when corded phones were a thing and you were stuck in one place, She'd write his name with hearts and little doodles, I also remember her agonising cries when they'd broken up. It wasn't unusual for Mum to drop me at dad's and for he to leave me with his latest fling and I'd give them hell while he went out stalking down Mum wherever she was. I remember the arguments and my dad's alcohol induced rages towards mum. He showing up to our cottage at random hours banging on the doors and window's to be let in, I remember being dragged out of bed at 2-3-4 am to be placed in a cold Torana to drive around because he was in a violent frenzy smashing every valuable mum had collected on her very small wage she was earning working at a pub to support us, to give me all she could. He'd come in and ruin everything, our tables our chairs the television he'd smash her beds up throw the kitchen around smash the dining tables and chairs, a violent and unstoppable force, and then just like a hurricane he would dissipate and we would rebuild; I don't know how my mother did it, that man didn't even pay the child support he was owing, how do I know this as an adult I went into my centrelink history and saw all of the unpaid arrears.... funny that.

Due to my home life being so far from average or normal I really focused on my imagination, I was plagued with nightmares and an extreme amount of anxiety.... But we didn't really know or talk about mental health in children back then... So I just played with our cats and dogs, singing on the swing alone or annoying our Landlord who owned a sign writing shop out the front, I'd collect snails or grab my dog and escape to the hair salon out on the main road our cottage was behind. The creativity really appealed to me, it gave me an escape from an otherwise crippling existence even for a small child, I was so loved and my mum did everything she could to prove that so, but I just felt so conditional.... I think even as a small child below the age of five I knew that my mothers life would be different if I didn't exist... At school there were rumours around about my family so obviously the children were biased based upon their parents opinions even as early as preschool mum and I faced adversity... I was an outcast from a poor family going to a Lutheran preschool in an affluent area, my mum showing up in a Commodore to drop me off, young and beautiful, I found it difficult to make friends, although I had one best friend but she ended out going to the adjoining Primary school and I were to be moved to the state school three doors down from our cottage.

When I started at my primary school there was 27 students from year 1 to year 7, there were Three educators, Miss S was year 1 - 3, Mrs B was mathematics and science and the Principal Mr F educated year 4-7. I'd made some friends but I was a little off-beat and bossy and a real stickler for the rules so I was always telling on everyone, I wasn't overly athletic or smart, I was more interested in writing or talking or reading than really doing any actual school work. I remember vividly being in trouble for talking while we were doing maths which I still very much struggle with today.... But I ended out being put in time out and I sat there and thought I'd counted to a thousand... because I was entirely bored.... Miss S walked past and I told her " Miss S I counted to a thousand". She looked down at me and said " No you didn't, You silly girl you don't know how to... now be quiet". I'm still cut about that... Mole.

There were many times in those years I was subjected to questionable people and activities many in which I know for sure, No child of mine is ever having sleepovers at their friends houses.... and I mean it. I was socially under developed and preferred the company of adults to children... I didn't fit in with kids my age and the ones I was socialised with were little sicko's with weird parents...

Surprisingly my parent's got back together when I was around age 7 or 8... My dad was working overseas and for some reason mum and he decided to get married by this point my mum had my first younger brother and She and Dad got married...... even that day was a flop for my poor Mum... he ended out going on a four day drinking binge with his friends and mum was left to clean up the mess of the wedding after party and retire home alone. Romantic right?.... I love and adore each one of my four younger brothers and I am so thankful for their existence they’re all individually wonderful and loving and kind i just find it difficult to sometimes sit there and think about how different my mum’s life could have been... had none of us existed.... although I am grateful sometimes for existence I just wish that my dad had dealt with his demons and maybe had gotten some help, flash forward a few years and dad ended up in rehab for six weeks during that time he’d seen mental health professionals but nothing came from it... he just decided to not take his Zoloft because “he hates feeling happy” He for some reason needs aggression which for me is something I just cannot simply understand, now as an adult I recognise my parents have their own issues their own histories and past just as we all do, but it’s one of those things where when I was younger and learning about the world my perception wasn’t of that but only of a lack of unconditional love, now as an adult I’ll do upmost anything to prevent being like my father, so when offered the help I took it... there weren’t other options in that moment for me to be functioning... I just hope I made the right choice.

As a teenager I experienced the usual laziness, my household was filled with children and crying and new borns the precession of another brother came closely after the first was born and mum was dealing with a “hyperactive” toddler and a newborn and myself now a pre-teen.... I’d moved school’s by this point but realistically speaking and I’ll cut it fairly short, I never really fit in with anyone or anything.... Without being academically gifted or Athletically gifted... my value wasn’t highly ranked... I spent most of my lunch breaks playing Chinese checkers in the library or reading books, I loved books and Encyclopedia’s, hyper-fixating on certain topics and being drawn to the mystics and paranormal.. I would spend hours pouring over pages within books my Aunties had gifted me for Birthday’s or Christmas’s. I feel like my time filled within that school was also darkened by my own inability to behave like a “normal person” I don’t know if at the age of ten I was acutely aware at all about my inability to fit in... all i know is getting choked out at lunch time and ran away from wasn’t the best...

I’ll continue the story later.

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calamity-bean · 7 years

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turn 4.04

— So, starting RIGHT OFF on a high note, I REALLY dug the weird horror-movie intro to this episode. It was surreal, vividly capturing the feel of a dream, and true to character in that it played upon Abe’s deep-seated and insecurities concerning his relationship with Richard. NICELY done.

— Remember that time Anna said she didn’t know whether she could ever forgive Abe for what he drove her to do to Hewlett? Remember how the show had her forgive him in, like, the very next ep, and now once again has Anna just being comforting and tender? It leaves me conflicted, because Anna’s big heart, morality, and capacity for compassion are some of my favorite traits about her, but it kills me to always see her relegated to the role of caretaking female, even to people with whom she has legitimate grievances about which she was supposedly so deeply and irreparably hurt. So, yes, conflicted.

— “I too must make do without preferred talent” oh DANG!!!

— Sorry, I just love any mention of Andre, and think how much it must kill Arnold that literally everyone hates him for what happened to John.

— oh my god oh yg od Anna and Abe’s conversation about love, about Abigail and Akinbode, about one kiss being enough? I’ll have to freak out about this separately but like, I am getting MAJOR Anna & Hewlett feels from that conversation and they’re making me want to die, in a good way.

— Gratuitous printing press p*rn!!!! My little publishing-industry heart is SOARING ... and also feeling so incredibly grateful for InDesign and spellcheck and modern printing plants, because letterpress type work is fun for, like, greeting cards and artwork and small-run chapbooks, but the thought of discovering a typo after 500 copies have already come off press made me die the sort of anxious, mortified death I usually only try to die during the work days, not on my weekends.

— I’m really enjoying the high degree of tension within / between the Ring and the Continental Army this episode. We have gotten similar tension every once in a while in the series, but I feel like, in the past, the dissenting elements within the army have been portrayed more or less as scattered malcontents whose personal faults rendered them unsympathetic even before they were revealed as traitors -- Lee, Bradford, Arnold, etc. This sort of wide-scale and understandable rebellion is refreshing and powerful, especially at this late point in the war, aptly communicating the possibility that the rebel cause could unravel on the very threshold of victory.

— ...And it ends in a very distressing execution that I’m sure will endear both sides to each other very much.

— I am so STOKED about Abe’s plotline in New York for so many reasons:

Him begging Arnold to let him join the army like the scrappy protagonist of a high school sports drama who just wants Coach to give him a chance

The idea of him rolling up to freshman soldier-boy orientation and realizing freaking Simcoe’s teaching the class

The fact that it’s probably gonna lead in to the return of HEW!!!

#turn amc #amc turn #turn spoilers #turn meta #op

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adambarnardphotos · 7 years

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The Undertaker and The Undeniable Truth

The crowd booed loudly as The Undertaker walked down the entrance ramp of the Spectrum in Philadelphia in 1992. Led in the ring by the equally pale and slightly more unnerving Paul Bearer, Undertaker set his sights for the ring, ominously sizing up his opponent. I felt the warmth of the stadium dissipate, giving way to a cold that ran up my spine, or so I had thought I’d felt. I sat with my eyes wide open under the bent brim of my Seattle Mariners hat, mesmerized by this gigantic and, apparently undead, man walk slowly and methodically towards the ring. I had no idea what “kayfabe” meant as a squirmy seven year old. I just knew this thing was the scariest thing I’d ever seen, and that my attention was completely focused on him. I was so entranced in his entrance, I couldn’t hear the roar of the crowd as his opponent, Jake “the Snake” Roberts, entered the ring to begin their match. I was captivated by the energy, the pageantry, the excitement of a WWE (then WWF) live event, and The Undertaker captured all of that by himself.

That day at the Spectrum was a wonderful touchstone in a lifelong fanaticism with professional wrestling. My brothers and I spent hours acting out all of our favorite promos from the Ultimate Warrior, belting out the theme songs of our favorite Superstars, and became deeply distressed at any sign of Hulk Hogan losing the upper hand. Saturday mornings were sacred, the squared circle our church, and the Superstars our Biblical figures, with their storylines as hallowed as the stories of Moses and Abraham. I can’t think of my childhood without the thought of the WWE in my mind. My brothers and I agonized over which Superstar would win the Royal Rumble and who, if anyone, would beat the Undertaker at Wrestlemania. WWE had grown with us, with Hulk Hogan and Randy Savage giving way to Bret Hart and Shawn Michaels, then giving way to The Rock and Stone Cold Steve Austin. Each year that passed brought a new storyline to become deeply involved with, new drama to be captivated by, a new Wrestlemania to desperately wait for.

We couldn’t have known as children the impact The Undertaker would have on professional wrestling and a generation of children, including the wide eyed, brown haired little boy in the nosebleed section of the Spectrum that day in 1992. His storied career has spanned more than three decades, the majority of that time as “The Deadman”. We watched him slay giants, be buried alive, become one of the darkest villains in the history of sports entertainment, transform into the American Bad Ass, and then take his rightful throne as the real “Mr. Wrestlemania” (sorry, Shawn Michaels, but you know it’s true). Last night, after his loss to Roman Reigns at Wrestlemania 33, the Deadman placed the pieces that made him iconic in the middle of the ring and symbolically brought an end to his historic career.

Life is funny sometimes. Some days bring reminders of good moments in your life. A cigarette smell brings you right back to the afternoon you spent swimming in your Uncle Lon’s swimming pool, while he enjoyed his Marlboro Lights and black coffee on the covered porch of his Levittown home. A crack of a baseball bat connecting with a 98 mile an hour pitch sends you to the hazy summer afternoon spent in the blue seats of Veterans Stadium with your brothers, dad, and favorite perpetual teenager, Uncle Rick. Waves crashing against the sandy beach transports you to the summer of your first vacation crush when you went to Cape May Courthouse with your mom and brothers, and the impending heartbreak that comes with saying goodbye when the trip is over. While her name has been eternally lost in translation between your short and long term memories, you can see her brown hair blowing in the wind as you threw sea shells into the ocean with her, and you can hear her laugh at the terrible joke you told her seconds before she kissed you. Wonderful, amazing moments that push the course of your life in new, exciting directions, and these life receipts, whether tangible or connected to senses, connect you directly to your past.

Other days are reminders of mortality and the unstoppable aging process that precedes our inevitable fate. Those reminders perpetually yield an absolute sadness, a melancholy that lingers over my daily routine like an obnoxious itch on your leg after a mosquito bite. It’s like a bitter aftertaste from a terrible drink your brother swore was delicious, and you knew better than to trust him on his decision making, but you drank it anyway, and no amount of water will dilute its foul remnants. No one and no actual thing prepares you for each loss you experience in life, nor do they buffer you from the successive losses of your childhood that accompany each passing year. There’s no guide to prepare for the first major loss in your life, as Uncle Lon slips away from cancer. The life lessons and tough skin Uncle Lon’s passing brought most certainly did not prepare you for the loss of Uncle Rick, also from cancer. Although you were older when Uncle Rick got sick, and you “convinced” yourself you could handle it because you knew it was coming, that the inevitability of his passing was sealed in his book of life, you’d literally give anything to sit and enjoy a Burger King cheeseburger and talk Phillies with him for another five minutes. You lose close friends by way of accident, and each loss never gets easier, as if I’m expecting the sudden, unexpected, and emotionally devastating passing of Scott Palek to somehow cushion me from the air constricting, guttural reaction I experience when learning Jeremy Fischer passed. Forty pounds and twice a day anxiety medicine told me that I wasn’t cushioned at all. They all become immediate reminders that the only constant in life is death, and, to quote John Mayer, “we’re never going to stop this train.”

Wrestlemania 33 brought one more reminder of this nonstop train. I remember speaking to my wife a few days before Wrestlemania 33, and saying, “I can’t believe Taker’s wrestling again. I don’t know how much more his body can take. He’s getting older, he’s probably past time to hang it up.” I said these things, not at all expecting him to do just that. I had the same thoughts about Goldberg, Sting, and other titans of professional wrestling coming back for one more round. Like Goldberg and Sting, The Undertaker owes us no more than he’s already given us. He’s entertained me, my brothers, and legions of fans across decades, putting his body and safety on the line in death defying, jaw dropping, heart pounding fashions, each and every time. I, like so many others, plead for more entertainment, more excitement, more action, but in reality, we’re pleading for a return to times long past. We project these fleeting wishes onto The Undertaker, a man who represents the last tangible piece of those times. The Undertaker hasn’t transitioned into that next plane of existence, like Robin Williams, The Ultimate Warrior, Chris Farley, Ryan Dunn, and countless other people, places, and things that no longer exist but in memory. The idea of him, however, his aura, and what he represents, now joins that plane in my mind. The Undertaker was the last tangible piece of my childhood that existed. I could watch his matches and remember that day vividly in the Spectrum, and become lost again as a child, discussing with my brothers whether or not was really dead and what was really in that urn. As I turn the calendar of another year of life, I find myself a year older, and another year as a father. I’ve shifted the life roles from child to father, and my father has become the wise grandfather, imparting wisdom and guidance on days where I can’t imagine my children acting any worse, and him gently reminding me that days like today don’t come back, and the better way to view life was to just breath and enjoy the ride. I snap back into the moment, looking towards two sets of little eyes above chocolate covered faces, and then repeating the Aladdin song to hear the sweet singing voice of my oldest serenade me one more time.

The seven year old boy is crying quietly, arms draped on the railing of the Spectrum, pulling his bent brimmed Seattle Mariners hat over his face to hide the tears, as another one of his heroes, and another, perhaps final, piece of his childhood makes the inevitable transition from present to past, short term to long term memory, taking its place with Uncle Lon, Uncle Rick, lost loves at the beach, and infinite life receipts, to peek out from time to time to remind us of who we are, the roads we’ve traveled, and where we’re headed next.

But I’m sitting here, typing through tears, saying “…maybe one more match for us? Please?”

Thank you for everything, Mark Calaway. You have made my life better and enjoyable in measurable ways I’m not sure I could accurately describe, and I thank you for every single moment of joy, excitement, and entertainment you’ve provided me.

#undertaker #wwe #retirement #wrestlemania #death

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totesmccoats · 7 years

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Batman #28

It’s not surprising that Tom King knows how to write a gripping war diary, but it is kind of incredible how well he can put one in Batman’s voice using Gotham as a backdrop.

After having meetings with the Joker and the Riddler, Gordon is told that both sides’ top priority is killing Batman; and each side sends their top assassin to get the job done. Deathstroke and Deadshot are both gunning for Batman, but find each-other first, causing a fight that lasts five days and ends hundreds of lives in the crossfire. And while the entire story is told in flashback, this is the first time in the story that it sounds like Batman has an actual episode of PTSD; his narration of events becoming aggravated, repeating “five days,” over and over, still having trouble getting over the carnage.

In this arc, King has gone out of his way to note how Batman remembers the fine details of this story, giving every victim in the second issue a name, devoting another entirely to Kite Man. In this one, we finally see the actual impact of all of this on Batman himself, the emotional scarring the War left on him – why he still remembers all of it so vividly.

Superman #28

Jeezus Christ. I thought last issue was a mess of intention and execution, but this one blows it out of the water.

After spending a third of a page telling Jon about the importance of free speech, and doing a half-assed job of it at that; it’s a return to the tour of war memorials. Clark and Lois take Jon to the World War II memorial, where they tell him about the two theaters of war, without mentioning the Holocaust or the Atom bomb, of course; and then to the Vietnam memorial where they neglect to mention the draft riots or Americans burning down villages. And then, after touring Gettysburg National Military Park, where slavery is once again never brought, but the Kents do meet the decedents of a union soldier who died and whose body was never recovered – Superman literally FINDS THE DUDE’S 154 YEAR OLD SKELETON, WRAPS IT IN AN AMERICAN FLAG, AND DROPS IT OFF AT THE FAMILY’S HOME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT. WHAT IS TOMASI ON THAT HE THINKS THIS IS OKAY!?

PLEASE, NEXT ISSUE, CAN THINGS GET BACK TO NORMAL!!

Ending on a good thing though, Jorge Jimenez’s variant cover for this issue is fantastic, and everything Superman should be about. Pick it up if you can find it.

Green Arrow #28

Green Arrow goes to Metropolis to warn Lex Luthor that the Ninth Circle will be coming for LexCorp, since Lex refused their offer to join. And, not incidentally, a spree of suicide attempts starts all over the city. Luckily, Metropolis has another hero that looks out for everybody.

This story keeps on getting better and better. Despite Lex Luthor being a major character in the issue, there are no villains – no fighting. Green Arrow tells what he has to tell Lex, and then, noticing the suicide attempts, helps Superman prevent any of them from becoming successful. It’s an issue of Superman and Green Arrow, and eventually Lex Luthor, all teaming up to save people from making the worst decision. And in doing so, the issue still illustrates its economic-political point, that capital is nothing without the inherent worth of people’s lives giving it meaning; that its people, not money, that have real value and power.

Ferreyra’s Superman is the most Christopher Reeves inspired version of the character in comics today – although that might just be because he draws the costume as a soft looking, muscultature smoothing material rather than a second latex skin; and basically recreates the “You’ve got me but whose got you?” scene for an entire issue. The issue also seems to happen entirely right before sunset, giving everything a hopeful golden glow.

Now I’m really hoping that this team gets to work on a Superman title, because they nailed it.

Black Bolt #4

Once again trapped by the Warden, this time in a room where the air is being drained out, Crusher and Black Bolt take what might be their final moments to reminisce on the decisions they’ve made to end up here, and bond over uncommon histories.

A lot of this comic is about Crusher Creel; how he was raised, how he started boxing, fell into crime, got his powers, etc. Crusher has played audience surrogate for the past three issues, reacting to the strangeness of Black Bolt’s life and mannerisms approximately how we would; and this issue finally fully humanizes him – giving him that past and his own emotional anchors.

And then, after making us, and Black Bolt, fully sympathize with Crusher, including a scene where he tells BB a joke so bad it makes him laugh in the face of death; Ahmed pulls an ending out of nowhere that punches us swiftly and surely in the gut. Like, Saga levels of final page gut-punch. It’s a cruel final page, and I kinda love Ahmed for it.

Hawkeye #9

Katie wakes up in a cage in the fight club from last issue, but on the bright side, she found Anna’s father! But, on the dark side, again, she’s being forced to have a cage match with a dude who can Human Torch himself.

I’m still enjoying Hawkeye, but it’s the sort of book that’s consistent enough issue to issue, not really any huge ups-and-downs in the drama, where it’s looking like a good candidate for trade-waiting. It’s the sort of book, like Unbeatable Squirrel Girl, where every month I basically have the same things to say about it; but unlike USG, doesn’t deliver the sort of jokes that work on their own outside the story to make each issue worth picking up individually as they come out.

Injection #14

Escaping from the phantom grasp of the Cold House, Brigid and Emma return to interrogate Kerwick about everything she’s been hiding from them about the moor.

Warren Ellis wrote recently in a newsletter that this arc was his take on Doctor Who, and except for the fight sequence where Brigid and Emma kill two guys using a box cutter and a screwdriver; I can totally see it. Brigid uses her wearable computer, Sheela much like a sonic screwdriver, and seemingly has a contingency plan for any situation, no matter how weird. Meanwhile, Emma fills the role of The Doctor’s companion – new to this strange world, but up for anything.

The Injection itself also makes a reappearance in this issue, having been pulling Kerwick’s strings the entire time, and every appearance it manages to get both, more affable and scarier – a bit like Ellis himself.

Sex Criminals #20

Well, this fun comic about sex and some weirdos who do it that usually makes me laugh for the entire issue just gone and broke my heart, it did.

A series of miscommunications lead to bad decisions that culminate in every meaningful relationship in the series falling apart. Like melting icecaps, the cracks formed gradually through these past issues, and in this one things finally break off. And what stings is how real it is. Like, I’ve made the same poor decision before, recently, and multiple times with the same person. Because as much as we like to think that we improve as a person with every relationship we make, a lot of us don’t; and just keep making the same mistakes because we tell ourselves that this time it’ll work out alright.

And I hope that it works out alright for the characters in this dumb story about weirdo sex too. And maybe, because it’s fiction, it will.

Comic Reviews for 8/2/17 Batman #28 It’s not surprising that Tom King knows how to write a gripping war diary, but it is kind of incredible how well he can put one in Batman’s voice using Gotham as a backdrop.

#batman #black bolt #crusher creel #dc comics #green arrow #hawkeye #injection #marvel #sex criminals #superman

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