#//YOU VERY WELCOME ME TACKLED LE DARE!!!

[luffyasksandanswers]

// “hi, I’m not from the US” ask set ALL OF THEM YOU COWARD. ALL OF THEM. YOU REBLOGGED THAT MEME NOW COMMIT. GIVE ME MY STALKER KNOWLEDGE. GIMME. OR MEET ME IN THE PIT.

“hi, i’m not from the us” meme - @fearllacy //Bruh, you curious George xD! But dare is a dare and me not want to the coconut pit D: so here we go!

1. favourite place in your country?

Summer cottage, a place to escape the hectic city life *thumbs up*

2. do you prefer spending your holidays in your country or travel abroad?

Toss me with a shoe because of my unecological thinking but I do like to see new places and cultures  so whenever there is a chance, I try to travel abroad. 

3. does your country have access to sea?

We are the land of thousand lakes buuut we also have sea around us, a lot in the south! so we can escape to Estonia xD 

4. favourite dish specific for your country?

Praised Karelian Pasty and Kalakukko here! otherwise our food is pretty much either stolen from Sweden or colorless/tasteless xD 

5. favourite song in your native language?

Me revealed some of them hier :>

6. most hated song in your native language?

Spent the yesterday browsing around Youtube xD and results are täällä

7. three words from your native language that you like the most?

Wow, this is a thing I’ve never thought about it so this should be something to be asked from my mates because they know better which words I repeat nonstop *laughs*  Hey, how about teaching you fellow buddies a few Finnish words?

- Juoksentelisinkohan?  (=I wonder if I should run around aimlessly?)Never heard anyone say this but I think it’s very amusing word in general xD 

- Lohikäärme = dragon Simply put so but if you write “lohi” and “käärme” separated, you get salmon and snake. In other words the translation could also be salmonsnake,kinda makes sense, kinda doesn’t *laughs*

- Pöpelikkö

= ThicketRarely used word for a forest/growth that is hard to walk through, maybe in spoken language means more like “in middle of nowhere” or at least that’s how I use that word ::D  

Bonus: lentokonesuihkuturbiinimoottoriapumekaanikkoaliupseerioppilasThe longest officially approved finnish word monster. In english it would beAeroplaneshowerturbinemotorhelpmechanicnoncommissionedofficerstudent. 

8. do you get confused with other nationalities? if so, which ones and by whom?

I probably told this before but I’m not a bloodline finn, my biological roots are in China (but I’ve spent practically my whole life here so my soul is very suomi perkele saunaan ja torille xD). As imaginable, this causes awkward situations because people get misunderstood or assume things right away but well whoopsies happpen as long as no one makes a number about it, it’s all ok ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

9. which of your neighbouring countries would you like to visit most/know best?

Revealed #lifegoals här!

10. most enjoyable swear word in your native language?

Maybe the most heard sweard word is the finnish version of F-word  [x]Frankly spoken I don’t like or use it because it’s like the C-word and dunno, sounds weird when people love to repeat loudly a word that literally means woman’s genitals :D Nah my favorite swearword is “Perkele” because when you are angry you can feel the power in the R-letter.  But I actually use “Helvetti” (=hell) the most, no idea how it happened but anyway, if it’s not “PERRRKELE” then it’s “EI HELVETTI” *laughs* last time I swear like mad was when I had to assemble a furniture at work xD

11. favourite native writer/poet?

Tove Jansson adoration here :>

12. what do you think about English translations 

I have to admit I’m not familiar with translated literacy D: wait no I lied! I’ve read 2 Moomin books in english but don’t remember paying attention to the translation, only thing that was confusing first was the names in english because there wasn’t any expalanations to the names of the (random) side characters xD

13. does your country (or family) have any specific superstitions or traditions that might seem strange to outsiders?

We finns love icy waters but we have another tradition that is a dank meme. I mean TORILLE!! which basically means finns rush to the local market places if we win hockey championships or are good in any other sports. I think it’s a global jokebut yeah finns are trash for getting national recognision. Just mention us anywhere outside the borders and transmit that info to Finland and you can hear and see people hyping it like mad and I am not sure if other countries do this too in such extreme ways xD  

14. do you enjoy your country’s cinema and/or TV?

One thing that makes watching the finnish tv boring is that they literallt recycle the celebrities which means same faces in almost every fame teledrama or shows and practically everywhere you go or channel surf, you’ll see them and then even tabloids need to write nonstop about their slighest moves.  It is good to be ecological but if there is an actor that needs to shove their face everywhere no matter what and they try to keep their fame in every way, it just doesn’t work plus this might be stereotyping but in those “finnish versions” of big shows, finns are somewhat stiff and don’t go like “yeehaw WOHOO \o/” the same way like in the original shows  so it sometimes looks like they try too hard to be like the original or they are just “forced” to be superhyper. 

Another reason I don’t watch much finnish series is that the articulating is bad or then there is something wrong with the audio or it’s just my bad hearing but the actors tend to speak very very quietly so you have to put volume on if you want to hear anything on the telly and then your ears get rekt and wasted because when the commercials (which are louder than the normal speech) comes, the sound is even louder [x] just like when you open your computer and forgot the volume is at maximum and whe Windows start music suddenly appears. 

I bet there are good finnish movies too that are high quality and I personally enjoy the game shows (quiz like thingies) but in general, nah :p 15. a saying, joke, or hermetic meme that only people from your country will get?

Another thing outsiders maybe don’t understand but finns love to queue and freebies and an ultimate example is that usually if a new shop opens up, people can start to queue a long before the grand opening. Funniest thing is that free buckets are the most queued thing and why not because they are useful xD

16. which stereotype about your country you hate the most and which one you somewhat agree with?

Maybe my favorite finnish stereotype is that finns love personal space [x] It is a national joke that if there is a bus stop, finns don’t stand next to each other (well in the capital and big cities maybe) but they have at least 2 meters distance xD 

17. are you interested in your country’s history?

Frankly spoken nah, I mean I liked to hear my grandparents’ stories about the life when they were younger and how my both grandfathers had to see the wars but in general nah, because well we’ve been owned by Swedes and Russians and had a civil war.  

18. do you speak with a dialect of your native language?

I’m originally from the Eastern Finland that has its dialect  and people distinguish it easily. Especially now that I’ve lived outside my hometown during studies and work, people tell that they hear strong dialect although I only use it in the person pronouns *eyes emoji*

19. do you like your country’s flag and/or emblem? what about the national anthem?

Blue is a nice color so thumbs up for that! Well can’t say I’m a fanatic finn but of course it sounds nice to hear the anthem on telly [x]

20. which sport is The Sport in your country?

Hockey is probably where Finland is the most successful but we also like football (duh, everyone likes) but we suck at that so bye FIFA dreams xD you know about that Phil because I ranted about it last summer XD

21. if you could send two things from your country into space, what would they be?

SALMIAKKI and that free bucket *laughs* 

22. what makes you proud about your country? what makes you ashamed?

There are many things very well in Finland, like everyone gets a free basic education and natural disasters such as earthquakes are very rare so it’s quite safe. 

What am I ashamed of? Well frankly spoken we are way too soft on criminals in my opinion so our country should fix the law system so that the criminals would get rougher and longer punishments for rough crimes. 

23. which alcoholic beverage is the favoured one in your country?

I think beers, wines and long drinks are in now? 

24. what other nation is joked about most often in your country?

Sweden! It’s a common joke that we are so jealous of Swedes being better people and succeeding in everything and of course in our jokes swedes are the dummies. I think Scandinavian countries do that about each other like Finland vs Sweden, Iceland vs Denmark and Sweden vs Norway *laughs*

25. would you like to come from another place, be born in another country?

But I am born in another country xD Nah no, I wouldn’t change a thingblue eyes would be cool but finns tend to burn in the sun and I enjoy the summer I’m happy like this :p 26. does your nationality get portrayed in Hollywood/American media? what do you think about the portrayal?

The latest news about Finland in American media must’ve been that when Trump misunderstood the forest defense thing and said something like Finns are so diligent they rake their forest floors [x] but the truth is that we don’t because our climate is different. Of course we have forest fires too but they are much much smaller than in California. 

27. favourite national celebrity?

I fangirled Antti holma here, he handsome, he funny, he has a podcast  :> 

28. does your country have a lot of lakes, mountains, rivers? do you have favourites?I think a couple of mountains exsist [x] but more rivers and thousands of lakes! I like the lakes, since I’ve spent most of my summers at our summer cottage near the lake. Actually never been in the north but I’d love to go on a roadtrip someday to see them!

29. does your region/city have a beef with another place in your country?

We beat Sweden and Russia so no one shall mess with our smol country! :p

Fun fact: There is a guy named Simo Häyhä, a sniper who is said to be killed more than 505 men during the 1939–40 Winter War [x]

30. do you have people of different nationalities in your family?

We have a multicultural family tree, relatives from France, Germany, Sweden, Japan and so on :)! 

#reply #thanks #fearllacy #shishishi ! (meme/ask reply) #captain went elsewhere ! (OOC) #mun things (personal) #//YOU VERY WELCOME ME TACKLED LE DARE!!! #long post #lel got carried away whoopsie xD #It's already midnight so brain and writing might be potato so I'll fix this up tomorrow if needed xD

[breg21]

Ladrien Week: Clumsy

@ladrienjune

Ao3 Fanfiction

What? I got this done before midnight? *Le gasp* how is that possible?

Well, honey, miracles do happen. Let's get on with the show.

I should preface this by saying this is a little ladynoir along with Adrienette in this for...plot reasons? Maybe? I don't know.

Please enjoy.

It was hard not to notice sometimes. When she mistook a step, when she hesitated to make that one long leap, or when she took extra time to gauge her throw with the yo-yo.

Regardless, he didn't think of her any less, definitely not.

And as time went on— especially after Stoneheart— she grew into her role as Ladybug. Becoming more confident with each mission and villain that had been thrown at them.

To the point where, nearly a year after becoming Ladybug and Chat Noir— she knew that Ladybug and the girl beneath the mask were one in the same. That her superhero self came from her. And he got to see that, both in battle as Chat, and alone in his room with her as Adrien.

But…. there were some days where her insecurities leaked through, as all humans have happen to them. She was no exception to that, and that was okay. Because he would be there for her.

Now, what started this thought in Chat's mind was, after the fact that they had just taken down another villain that night, Ladybug had been her usual self, happy, easy going with a smile that always made his heart sing. They gave their signature pound it, and all was good. Nothing out of the ordinary with her.

He was about to run off as he was about to transform back, when she asked if patrol was still in the cards for the evening, which he agreed.

However, when he reached the tower after Plagg had been fed, he noticed something had been...off about her, but he could tell she was trying to push whatever had invaded her mind away.

He knew as he took a seat beside her, and was enveloped in the silence that laid in front of them, he wasn't the one that could push. It wasn't good to push, and he knew better than to do that. So, instead, he shoved his shoulder against her, trying to shake the sadness that had woven itself into her beautiful eyes.

It seemed to work, somewhat. Her head snapped up from its' slumped over position, eyes questing what he was doing."Yeah?"

He shrugged. "Wanna race?"

He wanted to help in any way possible. Be it Chat, or Adrien, he'd do everything that he could. Anything to see her smile. He wouldn't be able to see her tonight as Adrien, she had piles of homework that she had to focus on, but she promised this weekend would be only theirs, as her parents would be out of the city for the entire duration.

His suggestion seemed to help. The foul mood drained from her face, but still held tightly in her eyes. "Sure."

He jumped to his feet, pulling her along with him. He counted down to three and darted off like a blazing bullet. He was halfway to the end finish line, when he looked back to see his bugaboo trailing closely behind, almost matching his pace.

A devious smile graced his face.

Keyword: Almost.

But as she came running to the edge of a roof, he could see the second's hesitation she took before she leaped to the next rooftop. The worry in her eyes about how great the fall would be if she miscalculated her jump. It was hardly noticeable, only someone with his catlike eyes could catch. But it was there, and it worried him to an extent.

He stopped dead in his tracks, catching her before she bounded past him.

She was clearly shocked by the abrupt stop. "Chat, what's going on? I thought we were in a race?"

He nodded. "We were. But you weren't giving your best. I'm not racing with someone that wouldn't give me her best. I want competition, not an easy win. I know you won't talk about it, but whatever happened, whoever said what they did, they're wrong. Plain and simple, they don't know anything about you." She raised a finger, ready to correct him, "Don' t even try to argue," She deflated. "They don't. They really, really don't. So, I won't race until I have my partner back."

He crossed his arms over his chest, daring her. He knew it wouldn't make everything one hundred percent right away, but as long as it worked for now, that was what he cared about.

It worked almost instantly. She smirked. "Okay, Chaton. Let's race."

She turned to race, but was stopped short by her partner once more. "And hey, bugaboo?"

Her eyebrow rose, ready for the puns that would always come. "I'll always catch you if you fall." And winked.

She groaned, but went ahead to start the race.

In the end, she won, just as he knew she would.

Adrien would often times, find himself trying very, very hard not to look for her. Particularly in school, because he knew that she was there, but he also knew he had to respect her and what she wanted, so as much as he wanted, he kept his eyes to himself.

He never admitted it to Ladybug, because he didn't want to hurt in the case that she wasn't— and honestly, he didn't want to get his hopes up in the very rare case that she could be, because no matter what, he loved this girl— but a part of him kinda wished she had been Martinette.

He could deny a crush on his classmate all he wanted— and to a point, it was true. He only had eyes for Ladybug.

But… he couldn't deny the feeling of his heart fluttering and then disappointment right after he came to the conclusion that it wasn't Marinette that had sent that card, that she was in love with someone else.

But then finding out it was indeed from Ladybug brought his mood up ninety nine percent.

He won't admit to that one percent that still wasn't.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Adrien made a bee line to the table where his friends were seated— his father allowed him to eat at the school for once and he really wanted to spend time with the three.

Marinette had yet to arrive, probably off doing something.

He took the spot next to Nino, who was sitting across from Alya. "Hey, dude. 'Sup?"

Pulling out his food, Adrien shrugged. "Not much. What's up with you guys?"

Alya, in all her excited glory, pulled out her phone and began to update him on the latest akuma attack and how Ladybug and Chat Noir had beaten their own record. Adrien couldn't help but smile at the compliment.

Alya was still in the middle of her ragging story when a loud crash came to the left of them, and sure enough, there was Marinette, face planted on the floor, with food all around her and Chloe standing over her, laughing like a maniac.

Adrien didn't even think, just left his seat, and went over to help the young designer.

All the while, Chloe looked absolutely disgusted. "Adrikens, why are you helping her?"

That was when the reminder of what he and Ladybug had talked about started to sink in and he knew what he had to do, for her sake, and everyone else's. With a firm mind, he did just what he promised to do. "Chloe, you need to stop this. You can't keep harassing people."

She threw her head back and cackled like the witch that she always acted. "Adrkins, don't be ridiculous. Haven't you learned anything from what I told you? People like her are beneath us."

He huffed, putting his body in between Chloe and Marinette, creating a barrier. "No, Chloe. I hate to say this but until you can learn to respect others and do so because you want to, then I'm cutting you off."

She winced at the model, yet he stood his ground. "Cut me off? What does that mean?"

He planted his foot firmly on the ground. "It means, until you learn the consequences of your actions onto others, I won't so much as like a single selfie, respond to any text, and if it comes to it, unfollow and block your profile from my Instagram feed."

She nearly fell to her knees. "But you can't. You just can't!"

He gave her no response as he held out his hand to help Marinette off the ground. Once back on her feet, he took her along with him to the table, not sparing another glance back to his childhood friend.

When they both took their seats, Alya and Nino were dead silent, everyone was.

Marinette looked to him, eyes still a bit sad, but not as bad as they were. "Thanks, Adrien, that...that meant a lot."

He offered a smile, but was still hurt seeing the pain written on her face. It didn't deserve to take residents there. "Hey, Marinette. What do you call a mountain of cats?"

Her eyes automatically narrowed in suspicion, lips pulled for the punchline, as if she was ready for whatever he was gonna throw at her, as if she was used to it. "I don't know, what?"

"A meowtain!"

She groaned, burying her head in her hands, but he could see the hints of a smile in the edges of her lips. "No."

"What's the opposite of negative?"

Her hands fell from her face, but she refused to meet his eyes, "Adrien, no."

"Pawstive."

"Ki-"

She stopped. Whatever she was about to say, she paused as her eyes glossed over for only a second, thinking over what she was about to say, before she currently put it away and looked back to him. "Adrien, cat puns are the worse."

No, they were definitely not, especially when that smile was so bright.

Two days of not seeing his girlfriend as Adrien, and he was finally able to feel excited once more when the usual tap came to his window.

Not a second passed as the window was flung open when she pounced on him, knocking both of them to the floor and nuzzling his neck.

He chuckled before maneuvering to his knees, gripping her tightly and lifting her up along with himself, and carried her to the couch. "What brought all that on?"

She hummed against his neck, sending jolts of electricity throughout him. "Missed you. Kinda a rough week, but it got better, and now its perfect. Sorry for tackling you."

He laughed. "You're welcomed to tackle me anytime, lovebug."

She reached up and pressed a sweet kiss to his jaw. "Thanks."

"Out of curiosity, what's gotten you down?"

She sighed. "I… I don't know. I guess it started with this one reporter that was really being rude."

He hadn't expected that, out of everything that she would've said, that was the last of them. "What happened?"

For a moment, he thought she might not answer, when she said, "Chat had to go recharged his kwami, and this reporter comes up to me, out of the blue, and asks when we think we'll defeat Hawkmoth and asking what was taking so long, and how could they really place their trust in two young teens?"

He kissed her head. "That reporter doesn't know anything. She thinks it’s an easy job because she's not the one going out there and literally risking her life for people. Its easier to judge from the sidelines."

"I know. Just kinda brought me back to before, back when I wasn't Ladybug. Before I became who I am."

"If you need to talk, I'm here. Just vent. Do with what you can, don't tell me too much detail, but do whatever you need to."

She took a long breath before starting from the beginning. How, up until recently, she wasn't close to many people, sure she had friends, but nothing like how her life is now. She kept to herself, quiet. It had been easier that way, because she always thought that she was clumsy and with less people around, there were less to see her fall, trip on herself, on thin air sometimes.

It had just been better.

Then the new school year started, she met different people— him included— and it just became better. She started coming out of her shell, and she started making her own way in school, friends, and life overall— especially in her superhero life.

"But, you wanna know something?"

"What's that, lovebug?"

She pulled back to look at him, running a gloved finger against his bottom lip. "That it's okay, that I'm okay with being clumsy, it's a part of who I am. And I'm proud of that."

Her lips connected to his and everything else just melted away, it was just him and his clumsy little ladybug. Yeah, this was beyond perfect. Beyond what anyone could really comprehend in a lifetime.

Oh, how he loved his clumsy little bug.

We all have our insecurities. And thats okay, just gotta find the right people to be around to help get you through. Lots of love, and see you next time!

#Miraculous Ladybug #ladrienjune #Ladrien #mlb #ml #love square

[aupairadventures]

The Nelsons Take Nantes (And Paris, too!)

Last month, my Mom, Aunt, and sister came to visit me here in France. Without a doubt, this experience was one of the top highlights of my year abroad. For months, I had been looking forward to this moment. In fact, from the second I landed in France last August, I couldn’t wait for my family to come to visit. I knew that they would fall in love with this beautiful country just as much as I have. The way that I feel about France is no secret, and couldn’t wait for my family to understand exactly why I feel this way. My mom and I talk frequently over the phone, and there’s always so much to share with each other and catch up on. During our chats (which are so very dear to me,)  I’ve described many different things to her; I’ve told her about the peaceful river in Vertou, about the majestic castle in Nantes, or the colors in last night’s sunset. I’ve told her about my host family, about my friends, about funny stories and embarrassing moments. During our phone calls, we’ve both shared laughter and shed tears, and been there for each other through all our days, both good and bad. After months of describing what my life here looks like, I couldn’t wait for my family to experience it firsthand and turn their obscure imaginations into reality.

I felt so excited that we would all be embarking on a new adventure together and so proud of my family, especially my sister, for doing something that they’d never done before; This was the first time that my Aunt visited Paris and northern France, the first time that my Mom visited Europe, and the first time that Trinity left the United States. I love being able to say that the first time that my Mom and sister ever crossed the Atlantic ocean was to come to visit me.  

To say that their visit was magical would be an understatement. When my family was here, I had one of the most perfect and happiest weeks ever. Every moment that we shared together was so special, and their presence brought a golden, rose-colored light to my world.

On Thursday morning, the day after I returned to Paris from Budapest, I went to Orly Airport to greet them. I was so excited and impatient that I could barely contain myself, and my excitement led me to practically jumping off the shuttle bus like a crazy woman, leading to me getting reprimanded by a French security guard. (Long story!)

I’ll never forget the moment when I went into the airport and found my mom’s face through the whirling airport crowd. I ran towards her at a breakneck pace and tackled her in a hug, feeling happier than ever to finally see her again. I’ll never forget how I laughed at Trinity’s reaction delayed reaction, either. We looked over to see her sipping a cappuccino at the airport Monop’ cafe, saying, “Oh! I didn’t even see you there!” before laughing and wrapping us up in a group hug. 

Our first day in Paris together was nothing short of spectacular.  The three of us explored the city, saw the Eiffel Tower, stood on the Trocadero, ate macarons, and saw Monet’s Water Lilies in l’Orangerie, (fulfilling a lifelong dream of my Aunt’s).  I felt so happy when I looked over at my family and saw the stars in their eyes as they gazed around them with a sense of childlike wonder. I loved experiencing the city through their eyes, with a totally fresh perspective. It reminded me of how I felt when I came to Paris for the first time, and reminded why this magical place is so dear to my heart. Seeing my family being so joyous in a city that I love so much made me happier than anything, and was the best gift ever. 

Thursday night, after going to the Eiffel Tower to watch the sunset and see the tower sparkle after nightfall, we went out to dinner together to celebrate our first night in France. Tucked away on a small, hidden street a few blocks away from the Eiffel Tower, we found the most amazing little Italian restaurant. While the outside might not have looked like much, the people there were so friendly and the food was absolutely to die for. The honey and goat cheese pizza, spinach lasagna, cheesy ravioli, Caprese salads, and tiramisu were so incredible that we came back a second time the following night! 

On Friday morning, we took a long walk around the area, enjoying each other's company and the beautiful blue skies and golden sunshine. Trinity’s dream was to find a Brandy Melville and go shopping there, so we did just that. On our way there, we wandered through a lovely fashion district filled with gorgeous little boutiques and extremely expensive designer stores. To be honest, I have absolutely no idea where we were or what the name of this neighborhood was; all I know is that this area was absolutely beautiful. 

After another delicious lunch, we took the metro to the Louvre, which is one of my favorite places on Earth. As I knew that they would, my family absolutely loved the Louvre and were totally in awe of its beauty and opulence. We spent the whole afternoon there, exploring all of the different collections, gawking at the impressive architecture and artwork, as well being up to no good and laughing a lot, as can be seen in the pictures below: 

That night, we decided to go to the Eiffel Tower to see if it would be possible to go up to the top. We got extremely lucky with the line and only had to wait about 30 or 40 minutes total. I’m so glad that I waited to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower for the first time with my family and that I saved this special moment for them. This memory was one of the highlights of our week together. I was especially proud of my mom, who’s scared to death of heights, but was so brave and conquered her fear. While I’m not particularly scared of heights, I am very afraid of elevators, so my mom and I clung on to each other tightly while my daredevil Aunt and sister felt no fear at all, even daring to try to lean over the edge of the fence, declaring, “Look! There’s a soccer game down there!”

We decided to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower at the perfect time of day, as we got to see Paris in all her beautiful forms. We watched as the bright blue sky was lit up with golden sunlight before fading into shades of pink and purple as the sun began to set, and watched the glowing lights of the city below us come alive as the sky darkened and fell asleep. Seeing Paris from above was one of the most beautiful views I’ve ever seen, and made me love this city even more (If that can be humanly possible).  

We started out our last day in Paris by visiting a boulangerie-patisserie and snacking on some chocolate eclairs as we walked to Le Musee d’Orsay. This was my first time visiting this museum, and I absolutely loved it. This museum is actually housed in a former train station built in the last 1800s, making for gorgeously interesting architecture. My favorite part of the museum was the top floor because of the beautiful impressionist paintings and an incredibly photogenic clock tower. 

After spending the morning at the museum, we walked to the Shakespeare and Company Bookstore and Café, (one of my favorite places in Paris,) and gawked at the beauty of the Notre Dame Cathedral, savoring our last moments in Paris before taking the train to Nantes to begin the second part of our French adventure.

Trinity and I managed to turn the usually mundane 2-hour train ride into a fun occasion as we ate pizza together, watched our favorite John Mulaney comedy special on Netflix, and tried as hard as we could to not laugh too loudly.

After a long train ride, walk from the train station to the bus stop, long bus ride, and a short drive back home, we were all so exhausted and so overjoyed to finally arrive at my host family’s house. After all the traveling I had done, I hadn’t been home in almost 2 weeks, so finally coming home felt so lovely. There’s nothing like sleeping in your own bed after being away!

On Sunday, we had an absolutely lovely morning. After sleeping in late, we went to the Vertou farmer’s market together, where we bought lots of fresh veggies, salad greens, raspberries, and some impressive looking lavender goat cheese. After a delicious lunch together at home, we got in the car and headed to Nantes to spend the afternoon showing my family the city that has become my home. I took them to all of my favorite places: Le Jardin des Plantes, la Cathedrale, le Château, my favorite boulangerie, all the little shops in the Bouffay quarter, my favorite thrift store, Place Royale, and le Passage Pommeraye. My mom said that le Jardin des Plantes was her absolute favorite place in the city because all the nature, flora, and greenery reminds her of the Berkshires, where I grew up. (I think that she enjoyed feeding the goats there as well!) It felt so special to finally show my family around the city that has become so dear to my heart, and that I have told them about countless times. Seeing my Mom, Aunt, and sister in all of my favorite places in this city made me feel like my two worlds were colliding and made me realize that now,  in my memories, there would forever be a little piece of Lenox, Massachusetts halfway across the world in Nantes, France.

    At the end of the day, when we arrived back to the house, my host family had just returned home from their weekend trip. As I watched my family and my host family greet each other, introduce themselves, and exchange hugs, I felt a wave of happiness wash over me. Watching my two families, two groups of people that I care so deeply about, come together for the first time was such a beautiful and special moment to witness.

   That night, we all had the first of many amazing aperitifs and dinners together. My host dads (the absolute perfect hosts in every way,) went above and beyond to welcome my family and make them feel at home, for which I am so grateful. They showed my family such kindness and generosity, just as they have done for me since the moment that I met them. That week, every night during dinner, surrounded by lots of smiles and laughter, I could feel my heart glowing as I looked around the table.

   That week, my host kid Mathilde, my family and I, embarked on many other adventures. We returned to Nantes to visit L’Ile des Machines, see the gigantic robotic elephant and ride Nantes’ huge, three-story carousel. On a sunny, blue-skied day, we took a lovely road trip to a little seaside town called Pornic, which is about 45 minutes away from Vertou. We had a little picnic by the ocean, walked around the charming town and visited the little shops along the way. 

During our last day together, we went on another little road trip to Clisson, one of my absolute favorite little villages. I wrote about Clisson last October when I visited it for the first time with my friend Ellie, but I’ll write about what it’s like again, just because I love it there so much! Between the cobblestone streets lined with lovely shops, the creperies and ice cream stands, the picturesque river and stone bridge, the beautiful hiking trails, all the little vine-covered houses with terracotta roofs and brightly colored shutters, and the ruins of a medieval castle, Clisson is one of the most adorable places I’ve ever seen. On that sunny Wednesday, we saw the sculpture covered ground of Garenne Lemot, strolled through the forest, and walked through fields of yellow and purple wildflowers. We ate crêpes for lunch and basked in the sunshine as we ate gelato and explored the ruins of the castle. The five of us spent a magical day there, and it was a great way to bring my family’s first adventure in France to a close. 

   Early on Thursday, it came time for my family to take a train from Nantes back to Paris, and then catch their flight back home. We left the house before the sun had even come up and drove to the train station, my heart feeling heavy the whole time. I’ve always hated saying goodbye, and never been good at handling the emotions that come along with it. As we stood on the train platform before they boarded, I hugged them all fiercely as tears ran down my cheeks. I felt so heartbroken to have to say goodbye to them and was missing them before they had even left. However, I felt comforted by the knowledge that we had all had the most incredible time and had created so many beautiful new memories together. I am infinitely grateful for this experience and will cherish them forever. I’m looking forward to seeing my family again soon in just a few months, as I know that any more adventures lie ahead, and we have many more memories to make.

[becasueimtheworstkindofperson]

Episode 1: Many Mouths Which Speak and Very Few Heads Which Think Transcript

Good morning girls, goths, and gays, and welcome to the very first episode of Because I’m the Worst Kind of Person! My name is Kate and I’m here to guide you through the minefield that is classic literature! For the very first season, I’m going to be tackling one of the longest books I own. Clocking in at two thousand four hundred and fifty three pages in it’s online pdf form, you know it as the brick, that’s right, it’s Les Miserable by Victor Hugo!

You might be thinking to yourself, “Is Les Mis really the best book to be starting on?” and honestly, It’s probably not. I’ve never taken a single french lesson in my life so I’m going to butcher this baby! But the fact of the matter is, it’s been on my reading list since I read Hunchback, and my sister’s getting really annoyed that I refuse to watch the musical before I read the book. It’s not a great standard to have, I wouldn’t recommend it. This is going to be my third time attempting to get through it.

Now. Which version will I be using? I can’t read french either, so I would obviously need a translation. At first I thought I would be fine to use the copy I had, a nice thrifted signet classic copy I picked up for a dollar. Then I ran into an issue. Copyright Law. The copy I owned was translated by Lee Fahnestock and Norman MacAfee, and while it was based on the original C. E. Wilbour translation, it wasn’t something I could just read out loud to you guys. So I had the brilliant idea to pick up a copy of the Wilbour translation! How hard could it be! Very hard apparently. By the time my copy arrived in the mail, I realized that it was the abridged version. Now I have nothing but respect for people who want the abridged version of a Hugo novel. Victor is equally, if not more concerned with us knowing every building the protagonist passes, every festival that might be taking place, the backstory of every minor character, as he is with the main plot. It can get exhausting. That said, Momma didn’t raise no bitch, and I’m very used to biting off more than I can chew. By this point I realized that since I’m going to be putting up transcripts, and I didn’t want to type up Les Mis word-for-word, it would probably be in my best interest to just use an online pdf, which lead me to the version I will be using, translated by  Isabel F. Hapgood who died in 1928, which puts me safely in the public domain. I’ll put a link in the shownotes to the pdf I’m using so y’all can read along with me.

Before we get started each week, I’d like to share a fact about the author with you. They’ll start out pretty mundane, but since this book is long as hell I’m sure I’ll get into the weirder aspects of Hugo’s life before long, and there were some pretty weird aspects. To start us out, Victor Hugo was born in 1802 at the age of zero and died in 1885 at the age of eighty three.

Without further ado, let’s get started on the book!

[From this point on, text from the novel will be formatted normally and commentary will be bolded]

 PREFACE 

So long as there shall exist, by virtue of law and custom, decrees of damnation pronounced by society, artificially creating hells amid the civilization of earth, and adding the element of human fate to divine destiny; so long as the three great problems of the century— the degradation of man through pauperism, the corruption of woman through hunger, the crippling of children through lack of light— are unsolved; so long as social asphyxia is possible in any part of the world;—in other words, and with a still wider significance, so long as ignorance and poverty exist on earth, books of the nature of Les Miserables cannot fail to be of use. HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 1862. 

VOLUME I. 

FANTINE

BOOK FIRST—A JUST MAN

CHAPTER I 

M. MYRIEL 

In 1815, M. Charles-Francois-Bienvenu Myriel was Bishop of D——. I’m not abbreviating that for dick or anything, it literally just says ‘D’ with two dashes after it. And I’m just going to apologize for all the names I’m going to completely decimate here. He was an old man of about seventy-five years of age; he had occupied the see of D—— since 1806. 

Although this detail has no connection whatever with the real substance of what we are about to relate, it will not be superfluous, if merely for the sake of exactness in all points, to mention here the various rumors and remarks which had been in circulation about him from the very moment when he arrived in the diocese. That is the most Victor Hugo sentence I have ever read. True or false, that which is said of men often occupies as important a place in their lives, and above all in their destinies, as that which they do. M. Myriel was the son of a councillor of the Parliament of Aix; hence he belonged to the nobility of the bar. It was said that his father, destining him to be the heir of his own post, had married him at a very early age, eighteen or twenty, in accordance with a custom which is rather widely prevalent in parliamentary families. In spite of this marriage, however, it was said that Charles Myriel created a great deal of talk. He was well formed, though rather short in stature, elegant, graceful, intelligent; the whole of the first portion of his life had been devoted to the world and to gallantry. 

The Revolution came; events succeeded each other with precipitation; the parliamentary- Christ. “Events succeeded each other with precipitation.” Okay… Sorry guys, that’s- that seems really redundant there. Let’s try that one more time. The Revolution came; events succeeded each other with precipitation; the parliamentary families, decimated, pursued, hunted down, were dispersed. M. Charles Myriel emigrated to Italy at the very beginning of the Revolution. There his wife died of a malady of the chest, from which she had long suffered. He had no children. What took place next in the fate of M. Myriel? The ruin of the French society of the olden days, the fall of his own family, the tragic spectacles of ‘93, which were, perhaps, even more alarming to the emigrants who viewed them from a distance, with the magnifying powers of terror,—did these cause the ideas of renunciation and solitude to germinate in him? Was he, in the midst of these distractions, these affections which absorbed his life, suddenly smitten with one of those mysterious and terrible blows which sometimes overwhelm, by striking to his heart, a man whom public catastrophes would not shake, by striking at his existence and his fortune? No one could have told: all that was known was, that when he returned from Italy he was a priest. 

In 1804, M. Myriel was the Cure of B——. And here we’ve got in brackets Brignolles, which I’m assuming is Italian. He was already advanced in years, and lived in a very retired manner. Oh same.

About the epoch of the coronation, some petty affair connected with his curacy—just what, is not precisely known—took him to Paris. Among other powerful persons to whom he went to solicit aid for his parishioners was M. le Cardinal Fesch. One day, when the Emperor had come to visit his uncle, the worthy Cure, who was waiting in the anteroom, found himself present when His Majesty passed. Napoleon, on finding himself observed with a certain curiosity by this old man, turned round and said abruptly:— 

‘Who is this good man who is staring at me?’ 

‘Sire,’ said M. Myriel, ‘you are looking at a good man, and I at a great man. Each of us can profit by it.’ 

And then everyone clapped.

That very evening, the Emperor asked the Cardinal the name of the Cure, and some time afterwards M. Myriel was utterly astonished to learn that he had been appointed Bishop of D——. 

What truth was there, after all, in the stories which were invented as to the early portion of M. Myriel’s life? No one knew. Very few families had been acquainted with the Myriel family before the Revolution. 

M. Myriel had to undergo the fate of every newcomer in a little town, where there are many mouths which talk, and very few heads which think. He was obliged to undergo it although he was a bishop, and because he was a bishop. But after all, the rumors with which his name was connected were rumors only,—noise, sayings, words; less than words— palabres, as the energetic language of the South expresses it. 

However that may be, after nine years of episcopal power and of residence in D——, all the stories and subjects of conversation which engross petty towns and petty people at the outset had fallen into profound oblivion. No one would have dared to mention them; no one would have dared to recall them. 

M. Myriel had arrived at D—— accompanied by an elderly spinster, Mademoiselle Baptistine, who was his sister, and ten years his junior. Why is she elderly then? I know, I know, it’s like 1800’s France, but still.

Their only domestic was a female servant of the same age as Mademoiselle Baptistine, and named Madame Magloire Magloire? Madame Magloire [this worked better in audio], who, after having been the servant of M. le Cure, now assumed the double title of maid to Mademoiselle and housekeeper to Monseigneur. I’m, again, so sorry about all this French.

Mademoiselle Baptistine was a long, pale, thin, gentle creature; she realized the ideal expressed by the word ‘respectable”; for it seems that a woman must needs be a mother in order to be venerable. She had never been pretty; her whole life, which had been nothing but a succession of holy deeds, had finally conferred upon her a sort of pallor and transparency; and as she advanced in years she had acquired what may be called the beauty of goodness. So like, she’s not hot, but she’s got a great personality. What had been leanness in her youth had become transparency in her maturity; and this diaphaneity allowed the angel to be seen. She was a soul rather than a virgin. Her person seemed made of a shadow; there was hardly sufficient body to provide for sex; a little matter enclosing a light; large eyes forever drooping;— a mere pretext for a soul’s remaining on the earth. 

Oh my god I hate how men write women so much. So this is not a modern problem, folks!

Madame Magloire was a little, fat, white old woman, corpulent and bustling; always out of breath,—in the first place, because of her activity, and in the next, because of her asthma. 

On his arrival, M. Myriel was installed in the episcopal palace with the honors required by the Imperial decrees, which class a bishop immediately after a major-general. The mayor and the president paid the first call on him, and he, in turn, paid the first call on the general and the prefect. 

The installation over, the town waited to see its bishop at work.

End of Chapter 1.

CHAPTER II 

M. MYRIEL BECOMES M. WELCOME 

The episcopal palace of D—— adjoins the hospital. 

The episcopal palace was a huge and beautiful house, built of stone at the beginning of the last century by M. Henri Puget, Puget? [Again, it works better in the audio] Doctor of Theology of the Faculty of Paris, Abbe of Simore, who had been Bishop of D—— in 1712. Oh my god. There are so many run on sentences which, like, I get and I am also guilty of them, but come on, Victor. This palace was a genuine seignorial residence. Everything about it had a grand air,—the apartments of the Bishop, the drawing-rooms, the chambers, the principal courtyard, which was very large, with walks encircling it under arcades in the old Florentine fashion, and gardens planted with magnificent trees. In the dining-room, a long and superb gallery which was situated on the ground-floor and opened on the gardens, M. Henri Puget had entertained in state, on July 29, 1714, My Lords Charles Brulart de Genlis, archbishop; Prince d’Embrun; Antoine de Mesgrigny, the capuchin, Bishop of Grasse; Philippe de Vendome, Grand Prior of France, Abbe of Saint Honore de Lerins; Francois de Berton de Crillon, bishop, Baron de Vence; Cesar de Sabran de Forcalquier, bishop, Seignor of Glandeve; and Jean Soanen, Priest of the Oratory, preacher in ordinary to the king, bishop, Seignor of Senez. I don’t think I have it in me to do another take of that, so again, like, that is completely butchered, and if I was just reading this to myself I would have completely just skipped over that list. The portraits of these seven reverend personages decorated this apartment; and this memorable date, the 29th of July, 1714, was there engraved in letters of gold on a table of white marble.

The hospital was a low and narrow building of a single story, with a small garden. 

Three days after his arrival, the Bishop visited the hospital. The visit ended, he had the director requested to be so good as to come to his house. 

‘Monsieur the director of the hospital,’ said he to him, ‘how many sick people have you at the present moment?’ 

‘Twenty-six, Monseigneur.’ 

‘That was the number which I counted,’ said the Bishop. 

‘The beds,’ pursued the director, ‘are very much crowded against each other.’

‘That is what I observed.’ 

‘The halls are nothing but rooms, and it is with difficulty that the air can be changed in them.’ 

‘So it seems to me.’ 

‘And then, when there is a ray of sun, the garden is very small for the convalescents.’ 

‘That was what I said to myself.’ 

‘In case of epidemics,—we have had the typhus fever this year; we had the sweating sickness two years ago, and a hundred patients at times,—we know not what to do.’ 

‘That is the thought which occurred to me.’ 

‘What would you have, Monseigneur?’ said the director. 

‘One must resign one’s self.’ 

This conversation took place in the gallery dining-room on the ground-floor. 

Oh my god. He’s as bad as Hemmingway, there were like no dialogue tags. Anything that was like, ‘oh yeah, it looked like that to me’ that was the bishop just so you guys all know.

This conversation took place in the gallery dining-room on the ground-floor.

The Bishop remained silent for a moment; then he turned abruptly to the director of the hospital. 

‘Monsieur,’ said he, ‘how many beds do you think this hall alone would hold?’ 

‘Monseigneur’s dining-room?’ exclaimed the stupefied director. 

The Bishop cast a glance round the apartment, and seemed to be taking measures and calculations with his eyes. 

‘It would hold full twenty beds,’ said he, as though speaking to himself. Then, raising his voice:— 

‘Hold, Monsieur the director of the hospital, I will tell you something. There is evidently a mistake here. There are thirty-six of you, in five or six small rooms. There are three of us here, and we have room for sixty. There is some mistake, I tell you; you have my house, and I have yours. Give me back my house; you are at home here.’

On the following day the thirty-six patients were installed in the Bishop’s palace, and the Bishop was settled in the hospital. 

M. Myriel had no property, his family having been ruined by the Revolution. His sister was in receipt of a yearly income of five hundred francs, which sufficed for her personal wants at the vicarage. M. Myriel received from the State, in his quality of bishop, a salary of fifteen thousand francs. On the very day when he took up his abode in the hospital, There is just one sentence every now and then that I just cannot get. Let’s try this one more time.  On the very day when he took up his abode in the hospital,  M. Myriel settled on the disposition of this sum once for all, in the following manner. We transcribe here a note made by his own hand:—

And here’s the note.

 NOTE ON THE REGULATION OF MY HOUSEHOLD EXPENSES. 

For the little seminary … … … …. . 1,500 livres 

Society of the mission … … … …. . 100 ‘ 

For the Lazarists of Montdidier … … …. 100 ‘ 

Seminary for foreign missions in Paris … … 200 ‘ 

Congregation of the Holy Spirit … … …. 150 ‘ 

Religious establishments of the Holy Land …. . 100 ‘ 

Charitable maternity societies … … …. 300 ‘ 

Extra, for that of Arles … … … …. 50 ‘ 

Work for the amelioration of prisons … …. 400 ‘ 

Work for the relief and delivery of prisoners … 500 ‘ 

To liberate fathers of families incarcerated for debt 1,000 ‘ 

We can get behind that.

Addition to the salary of the poor teachers of the diocese … … … … … …. 2000 ‘ 

Public granary of the Hautes-Alpes … …. . 100 ‘ 

Congregation of the ladies of D——, of Manosque, and of Sisteron, for the gratuitous instruction of poor girls … … … … … …. . 1,500 ‘ 

For the poor … … … … … …. 6,000 ‘ 

My personal expenses … … … … … 1,000 ‘ 

——— 

Total … … … … … …. . 15,000 ‘

M. Myriel made no change in this arrangement during the entire period that he occupied the see of D—— As has been seen, he called it regulating his household expenses. 

This arrangement was accepted with absolute submission by Mademoiselle Baptistine. This holy woman regarded Monseigneur of D—— as at one and the same time her brother and her bishop, her friend according to the flesh and her superior according to the Church. She simply loved and venerated him. When he spoke, she bowed; when he acted, she yielded her adherence. Their only servant, Madame Magloire, grumbled a little. It will be observed that Monsieur the Bishop had reserved for himself only one thousand livres, which, added to the pension of Mademoiselle Baptistine, made fifteen hundred francs a year. On these fifteen hundred francs these two old women and the old man subsisted. 

And when a village curate came to D——, the Bishop still found means to entertain him, thanks to the severe economy of Madame Magloire, and to the intelligent administration of Mademoiselle Baptistine. 

Okay. I mean, at least they’re semi-equals. It’s not the best.

One day, after he had been in D—— about three months, the Bishop said:—

‘And still I am quite cramped with it all!’ 

‘I should think so!’ exclaimed Madame Magloire. ‘Monseigneur has not even claimed the allowance which the department owes him for the expense of his carriage in town, and for his journeys about the diocese. It was customary for bishops in former days.’ 

‘Hold!’ cried the Bishop, ‘you are quite right, Madame Magloire.’ 

And he made his demand. 

Some time afterwards the General Council took this demand under consideration, and voted him an annual sum of three thousand francs, under this heading: Allowance to M. the Bishop for expenses of carriage, expenses of posting, and expenses of pastoral visits. 

This provoked a great outcry among the local burgesses; and a senator of the Empire, a former member of the Council of the Five Hundred which favored the 18 Brumaire, and who was provided with a magnificent senatorial office in the vicinity of the town of D——, wrote to M. Bigot de Preameneu, the minister of public worship, a very angry and confidential note on the subject, from which we extract these authentic lines:—

 ‘Expenses of carriage? What can be done with it in a town of less than four thousand inhabitants? Expenses of journeys? What is the use of these trips, in the first place? Next, how can the posting be accomplished in these mountainous parts? There are no roads. No one travels otherwise than on horseback. Even the bridge between Durance and Chateau-Arnoux can barely support ox-teams. These priests are all thus, greedy and avaricious. This man played the good priest when he first came. Now he does like the rest; he must have a carriage and a posting-chaise, he must have luxuries, like the bishops of the olden days. Oh, all this priesthood! Things will not go well, M. le Comte, until the Emperor has freed us from these black-capped rascals. Down with the Pope! [Matters were getting embroiled with Rome.] For my  part, I am for Caesar alone.’ Etc., etc. 

On the other hand, this affair afforded great delight to Madame Magloire. ‘Good,’ said she to Mademoiselle Baptistine; ‘Monseigneur began with other people, but he has had to wind up with himself, after all. He has regulated all his charities. Now here are three thousand francs for us! At last!’ 

That same evening the Bishop wrote out and handed to his sister a memorandum conceived in the following terms:— 

EXPENSES OF CARRIAGE AND CIRCUIT. 

For furnishing meat soup to the patients in the hospital. 1,500 livres 

For the maternity charitable society of Aix … …. 250 ‘ 

For the maternity charitable society of Draguignan … 250 ‘ 

For foundlings … … … … … … … 500 ‘ 

For orphans … … … … … … …. 500 ‘

 ——-

 Total … … … … … … …. . 3,000 ‘ 

Such was M. Myriel’s budget. 

As for the chance episcopal perquisites, that’s perquisites not prerequisites the fees for marriage bans, dispensations, private baptisms, sermons, benedictions, of churches or chapels, marriages, etc., the Bishop levied them on the wealthy with all the more asperity, since he bestowed them on the needy. 

After a time, offerings of money flowed in. Those who had and those who lacked knocked at M. Myriel’s door,— the latter in search of the alms which the former came to deposit. In less than a year the Bishop had become the treasurer of all benevolence and the cashier of all those in distress. So basically, he organized socialism in his diocese Considerable sums of money passed through his hands, but nothing could induce him to make any change whatever in his mode of life, or add anything superfluous to his bare necessities. 

Far from it. As there is always more wretchedness below than there is brotherhood above, all was given away, so to speak, before it was received. It was like water on dry soil; no matter how much money he received, he never had any. Then he stripped himself. Probably not in a sexy way though. He is a man of God after all

The usage being that bishops shall announce their baptismal names at the head of their charges and their pastoral letters, the poor people of the country-side had selected, with a sort of affectionate instinct, among the names and prenomens of their bishop, that which had a meaning for them; and they never called him anything except Monseigneur Bienvenu. Which means Welcome, and I have that in brackets there. We will follow their example, and will also call him thus when we have occasion to name him. Moreover, this appellation pleased him. 

‘I like that name,’ said he. ‘Bienvenu Bienvenu? Bienvenu? Tweet at me if I’m saying that wrong. ‘I like that name,’ said he. ‘Bienvenu makes up for the Monseigneur.’ 

We do not claim that the portrait herewith presented is probable; we confine ourselves to stating that it resembles the original.

And that is the end of Chapter 2!

[From this point on I’m done reading the text so everything will be formatted normally]

Okay, so first impressions, or I guess third impressions in this case. Both times I tried to read it I didn’t get through the bishop part which is weird cause I actually really liked it. It reminded me a lot of Death Comes For the Archbishop which I read a couple years ago, and that was really good.

I haven’t had a personal great experience with religion, but it’s nice to see that in theory it can work out. I mean, it’s fictional, but like, there are genuinely good people out there practicing religion and practicing the way it is meant to be practiced, quote unquote.

I guess we almost passed the Bechdel test here. We did have two women talking to each other, and they’re both named, but it was about a man. It wasn’t romantic, which was nice, it was more about “Jesus Christ I wish he’d give us some amount of money so we can be a little comfortable.” Which honestly, Madame Magloire… I appreciate her. I appreciate all of them.

I don’t know how much of this is going to make it in the final cut, I’m just rambling at this point. But like, sorry you had to sit through like, two income statements. That’s probably not an income statement, I’m gonna get a bunch business majors yelling at me. Except I’m not because why would a business major be listening to my literature podcast. Checkmate atheists!

So yeah, let’s see where this goes.

Okay! So, well, to finish us out, I’d like to mention some more contemporary media I’ve been consuming. You know, something a little more recent than the 1800s. Uh, just so you know that this isn’t the only thing I’m doing with my life. I do- I do read modern stuff and I do watch modern stuff too. I’m not a complete nerd, or asshole depending on how you interpret that.

So, I’ve actually  found the third season of Twin Peaks at my library so I’ve been working through that. Putting a plug in for your local library, please go visit it. They- They are just happy to see people there. So, yeah, I’ve been working through the third season of Twin Peaks. It’s definitely interesting to see how it’s changed from the first two seasons. Cause this one was made in like 2016, versus the first two which were in like 1990 and 1991. And it’s a lot more gory and a lot more violent, which I’m not like the biggest fan of, but it does have a lot more of the surrealist and supernatural stuff, which I’m living for. I think it has to do with changing standards of media, honestly, and of what can be seen on television, along with the fact that they’re no longer the trope-setter. You know, they’re building off of twenty years of increasingly weird and violent crime dramas so they have to kick it up a notch somehow. So my favorite episode so far has got to be number eight, which is Gotta Light?And it was just gorgeous and abstract and terrifying all at the same time, and it was amazing and incredible. I don’t even think there’s talking for more than five minutes in it. Like, a giant portion of it is silent, and that is something I love in films and TV, is when they can utilize silence because we’re so used to having, just, constant noise, and I’m guilty of this too. I listen to all my podcasts on like two times speed because I just can’t deal with the silence. But it’s so interesting to see it incorporated in like, art forms other than- or I guess art forms at all. You know, as someone who took music lessons for like twelve years and then promptly forgot everything, or most everything. You know, the pauses and the silence are what makes the music, or it’s what makes the sound.

Anyway, so I just want to thank everyonefor listening! The intro and outro are Sunrise Expedition by Joseph McDade, if you like it, go check him out on Patreon! If you want to reach out to the show or bully me for my terrible pronunciation, you can follow the show on twitter @bcimtheworst and on tumblr and instagram @becauseimtheworstkindofperson. Transcripts will also be posted on tumblr. My personal socials are @imsoglitter on tumblr, instagram, and twitter.

Stay tuned for episode two and hear me butcher the French language even more than I already have! Why? Because I’m the worst kind of person!

#transcript #episode 1 #episode 1 transcript