#is he actually running/participating in local theatre on the side i NEED to know | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

invisibleicewands · 4 years

Text

Michael Sheen (old) interview

He’s played the prime minister and the messiah – now Michael Sheen is plumbing the psyche of the original man in black. Caroline McGinn asks him about the dark side.

It’s been a big year for Michael Sheen. A lifechanger, in fact. The 42-year-old actor is widely admired for his uncanny ability to play real-life characters: a Bambi-ish Tony Blair in a trilogy of films that included ‘The Queen’; David Frost for Peter Morgan’s play-turned-movie ‘Frost/Nixon’; and most recently, a demon-ridden Brian Clough in ‘The Damned United’. But no previous role has come close to the Christ-like leader Sheen played in ‘The Passion’ in his South Wales home town this Easter: an epic 72-hour piece of community theatre which ended in Sheen being crucified on a local roundabout.

‘The Passion’, a local take on the Gospel commissioned by the storming new National Theatre of Wales, was more than just a play. It was a collective story that Sheen probably couldn’t have told anywhere but in Port Talbot, a town divided by the roaring M4 and dominated by a giant steelworks that was once the largest employer in Wales; a place where churchgoing and storytelling are still alive. It’s also his parents’ home. Sheen was so moved that talking about it makes him choke up. ‘I did this seven-mile procession with the cross,’ he recalls, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘It was boiling hot. There were 12,000-15,000 people. And I was seeing these bare-chested tattooed blokes standing outside pubs with pints, with kids, with tears in their eyes going, “Go on, Michael, you can do it!�� It’s quite rare to be in the middle of an experience knowing it is probably the most meaningful one I will ever have in my life. Something in me relaxed after that, I think. I could say, “If I died tomorrow, I did that.”’

Over a glass of red wine in the bar at the Young Vic, where he is about to play Hamlet, Sheen does seem completely relaxed: eager, open and very Welsh, with his squiggle of dark brown hair and his neat, expressive hands. He has a shapeshifter’s face: mobile, not memorable, too blurry and mercurial for a romantic lead. And it is a pleasure to hear his real voice: un-damned by Clough’s nasal, northern scorn or Blair’s prim inflections, it is a gloriously unstoppable lilting flow which seems, to my English ears, to come straight from the Valleys.

Sheen currently lives in LA to be close to his 12-year-old daughter with ex-partner Kate Beckinsale. He is an unlikely denizen of La La Land, with his bike helmet, his puppyish friendliness and his lack of pretensions. His spectacular return to his roots at Easter has, he says, redefined who he thinks he is, and what he wants to do with his work: something which he expresses in probably the longest sentence I’ve ever heard anyone deliver. ‘“The Passion” did for me what I hoped it could do for everyone in the town, potentially, which is to experience your life and your home in a different way, because I think there is a tendency – and I have it, and I notice other people have it too, probably everyone has it but certainly people who come from quite challenged areas – there’s a sense that your life is of no interest, that your story is mundane and there is no, for want of a better word, numinosity, no transcendence, and so to be able to tell a story about the biggest things there can probably be, a version of the “greatest story ever told” in the town that is seen to be the least likely town for that to happen in, then the people in that town, every time they go around that roundabout, which is many times, can go, “Not only is that where I get fish and chips, it’s also where the crucifixion happened,” and the everyday becomes transcendent – to something that is miraculous.’

Thanks to Sheen’s great-grandfather, street preaching runs in the family. But the starry-eyed idealism behind doing a passion play in Port Talbot, to reach thousands of people who would never set foot in a theatre, might easily have backfired. It was an unglamorous risk for a local bloke-turned-Hollywood big shot to take. You can’t imagine the area’s other famous filmmaking sons, ultra-cool customer Antony Hopkins or hard-living Richard Burton, pulling it off – though Burton did enjoy making a splash on the local beach with Liz Taylor and his private helicopter. ‘The Passion’ was supposed to shine a light on the miracle workers who do what Sheen calls the ‘unseemly’ work of care: for the old, the sick, the battered wives and the young offenders. For it to work, its makers had to gain the trust of the town.

‘After the Last Supper, when the Manics played, I was put on trial on the back of a truck and the crowd took over,’ he says. ‘It was at that moment I realised they understood it was their story. It was frightening and exhilarating. We didn’t know what was going to happen. Along the procession route people put photos of things they’d lost. Then, on the cross, I did a litany. Of things I remembered, or that I’d gathered from people, of people and places that don’t exist any more.’ It was Sheen’s epic personal connection to South Wales, where his dad once worked as a Jack Nicholson impersonator, and where his great-grandfather got rich when God told him to buy a tin mine. Sheen’s codirector Bill Mitchell and writer Owen Sheers spent a year getting stories from locals, and fed them into the piece. ‘I was just a participant: we all were,’ he says. ‘My mum and dad said a woman came to their house and told them I’d called her mother’s name when I was on the cross, and it had changed something for her. The need that drama first came from was community, witness, celebration and catharsis. We were trying to find a way for that to happen on a large scale.’

The Port Talbot ‘Passion’ has already gone down in theatre history. So where do you go after scaling the twin messianic peaks of Blair and Christ? Down into the doubt-ridden depths of Hamlet, naturally, the biggest role that a young (or young-ish in this case) actor can play. Judging by Sheen’s wordflow, those famous soliloquies won’t be a problem. After all, the actor made his name on stage: he won his first professional role at the Globe opposite Vanessa Redgrave in 1991 before he had graduated from Rada.

His CV is full of monster roles: Caligula, Peer Gynt, Amadeus (playing Mozart was his break into Broadway in 1999). Clough, and even Blair and Frost, creep into that list – though he’s obviously bored of talking about the factional film roles that made him famous: ‘I’ve done relatively few characters based on real people,’ he protests, just a little bit too much. ‘I’ve been working on stage now for more years than I care to mention.’

‘Project Hamlet’ has been on the cards for a while, but Sheen was waiting ‘for the right director and the right theatre’. Unlike recent celebrity Hamlets David Tennant and Jude Law, he didn’t want to do conventional West End Shakespeare, hence the Young Vic, with its younger, mixed audience and its imaginative approach, which includes – mysteriously – reconfiguring the playing space so that ‘Hamlet’ audiences must arrive 30 minutes early to take a ‘different route’ in. Sheen’s director of choice is Ian Rickson, the ex-Royal Court boss who has helped actors achieve career-defining roles (Kristin Scott-Thomas in ‘The Seagull’; Mark Rylance in ‘Jerusalem’). Hamlet tends to demand something very personal from actors: one reason why so many of them crack up over it, though Sheen seems remarkably unfurrowed by the prospect. ‘It is,’ he says, ‘good not to have to worry about people saying, “He doesn’t sound like Hamlet.” It’s me: I’m not doing a voice or playing a character, so to speak. It’ll sound like me and look like me, a bit of Welsh mixed with a bit of posh.’

Sheen sees ‘Hamlet’ as ‘like a portal. Or a living organism in some way. Other Shakespeare plays don’t have that quality of seeming to change. “Hamlet” works on you and sucks up everything you have. It’s a bit like looking into the abyss. What “Hamlet” makes everyone confront are all the things that are most frightening: irrationality, betrayal, madness and abandonment. It is very, very dark, and it dances along through that darkness.’

Sheen’s prince promises to be darker than most. Not just a mad Hamlet, but maybe even a bad Hamlet. ‘Me and Ian have taken a completely different approach,’ he explains. ‘The most interesting way to approach it is not to trust anything that Hamlet says, to assume that he’s an unreliable narrator. And once you do that, you realise how many assumptions there are about the play.’ Sheen cites Philip K Dick, David Lynch and Edgar Allan Poe as influences. The production will be set in a world ‘that feels as if we’re in some sort of institution’. Madness will be the keynote: ‘I discovered when working on it,’ says Sheen, ‘that it’s the first time anyone used the phrase “the mind’s eye”.’ Horatio says, “A mote it is, to trouble the mind’s eye.” Meaning a piece of grit. It sums up what I think the play is. It’s a bit of grit in the mind’s eye of the Western world. We’ve tried to expel it, by smoothing out its inconsistencies and by stopping it from being irritating. That’s a way to neutralise it and make it safer. But actually it’s the most dangerous of plays.’

Rickson and Sheen have found unorthodox inspiration in anti-psychiatrist RD Laing and G Wilson Knight, the twentieth century scholar who wrote an off-beam but brilliant essay on Hamlet, the ‘ambassador of death’ in the land of the living. ‘Laing said that if you take mad people on their own terms then maybe they’re just talking in a sort of heightened language about their lived experience,’ says Sheen. ‘And our take on “Hamlet” definitely questions the boundaries of what you would consider madness to be.’

So where do you go as an actor, after the heights of being crucified, and the depths of Hamlet’s psyche? ‘The answer to that is that I just don’t know,’ says Sheen. There are a couple of projects: Sheen says he was ‘roped in’ on a set visit to a new untitled film by cinema’s man of mystery, Terrence Malick, starring Sheen’s girlfriend and ‘Midnight in Paris’ co-star Rachel McAdams. And there’s also Wales-set thriller ‘Resistance’, out this month. But he has his heart set on directing a film about Edgar Allan Poe. ‘He was an extraordinary character. Very dark.’ The legacy of this life-changing year is a sharper, stronger passion for a live Welsh tradition: storytelling. ‘I just don’t know where you go after “The Passion” and “Hamlet”,’ says Sheen ‘But I do know that I want to tell stories that are powerful, that can reach people and equate to Greek theatre now. People still do need that. They respond to it. But you have to take risks to find them.’

(x)

#Michael Sheen #Interview #Hamlet #The Passion #old interview

17 notes · View notes

jisungsmochi · 4 years

Text

shining star - chenle

literally came up with this idea at 2am and just kept writing so i’m posting it bc it’s my first chenle imagine and i am pretty proud of it hehe, hope you all enjoy, idk how long this is but its very fluffy and has some angst in you squint.

prompt(?):

“you have detention?” you question the boy.

“and you’re in a musical?” he strikes back, followed by a small grin.

highschool!au , friends to lovers?, musical themed hehe

————-

“all students who are taking part in the next musical production, please meet in the theatre after school for your first meeting” the announcement over the speakers echoed through the halls and in classrooms.

“imagine being in the school musical” you heard boys behind you tease, followed by obnoxious laughter. you turned around to see who they were, not to your surprise it was chenle, and his group. chenle’s eyes met yours, he saw the expression on your face and instantly stopped smiling.

what a jerk, you thought to yourself.

you turned back around and resumed listening to the lesson, taking down notes before placing a reminder on your phone that you had a meeting for the musical. you weren’t the lead, this time. but you were hoping that in the next production, you will be. you were happy with playing the supporting role, just as long as you had some lines. the musicals at school were a safe haven for you. you were supported by people who had the same passion and the activities your drama teacher allowed you guys to participate in, made you enjoy lessons even more. although most of the school focused on the sporting teams, you were pleased with the theatre group. aside from occasional teasing, such as from chenle and his friends, you adored being in musicals.

“you haven’t handed in your assignment from two weeks ago, despite the extension. i have to put you in detention” your english teacher shook his head in disappointment as chenle groaned. you weren’t sure if he was annoyed or upset that he was in detention. you could never really tell.

your eyes met his again, he immediately broke the contact and made his way back to his seat.

the bell rang, signalling the end of school. your phone dinged with the reminder for the meeting. you rushed to the theatre, placing your bag in the designated spot and focusing on your teacher’s instructions.

“okay, today will be quite an easy day since it is our first meeting. i will be going over the opening scene with the leads so all other crew members, please begin to brainstorm costume ideas and set designs!” your teacher ordered, and immediately everyone dispersed into their designated roles. you decided you were going to read over your lines and highlight them in some pretty pastel colours. you situated yourself near the steps on the stage, legs crossed and focusing on reading.

after a few scenes, you decided to take a break, something caught your sight on your left. you furrowed your eyebrows and followed your senses. before you knew it, you were met with chenle towering over you, with a blank expression on his face.

“what are you doing here?” you spoke.

“what do you think?” he crossed his arms and looked at his feet.

“you have detention?” you questioned the boy.

“and you’re in a musical” he strikes back, followed by a small grin. you couldn’t help but crack a small smile.

“so what? you’re here to help with the sets?” you questioned him further, honestly trying to pass time.

“i’m more of just a stage hand i guess.” he shrugged, finally looking you in the eyes.

it wasn’t like you hated him. you didn’t really hate people. but sometimes, the things he said just got on your nerves.

“are you the lead, in the musical?” he loosened up, standing more comfortably in front of you as you continued this casual conversation.

“um no i’m not. i’m the supporting lead, it’s still something!” you smiled shyly, afraid he might tease you.

“what? you’re not the lead?? and soojin is? but you’re a great singer” his face was contorted in a confused expression.

“how would you know that?” you perked up, while smiling.

“i’ve heard you at the talent show, and you do know that you post singing videos on instagram?” he chuckled softly, making you pout.

“oh right, well i don’t know, maybe she’s just better at acting!” you tried to excuse, but he wasn’t convinced.

“possibly, well um, while we’re talking, do you mind if we just chill during these meetings? until my detention is lifted and all, i literally have no one” chenle proposed, which made you quite flattered that he enjoyed your company.

“oh yeah sure! i’ll teach you about stage directions and stuff, just so you’re not confused and all” you offered, which caused him to smile widely and nod.

“thankyou so much” he held his hands in a prayer pose.

“my pleasure” you laughed before telling him where to move certain objects.

——————

two weeks passed by and you’d say that chenle had picked up the theatre terms pretty quickly.

“you sure you don’t wanna be in the musical?” you joked as he was playing around with the microphone settings.

“oh yeah for sure, can’t believe i missed auditions” he joked in return, shaking his head before handing you the microphone.

“should be good to go” he smiled before giving you a thumbs up. you mouthed a quick ‘thank you’ before facing your teacher. you began singing your duet with the supporting male lead. it was going smoothly until you completely blanked and forgot the next lines. the music automatically stopped,

“y/n! what’s going on? you’ve had 2 weeks to prepare so far” your teacher sounded disappointed and slightly annoyed. you sighed quietly before apologising and running off stage. chenle was about to stop you before you shoved past him, tears leaking from your eyes. he heard your sniffles and ran after you. you stopped running as you left the theatre, backing yourself against the wall. chenle caught up and faced you.

“i can’t do it” you sobbed. your chest was heavy and your breathing was irregular. he noticed and placed a hand on your arm.

“look at me, just calm down first okay? breathe with me. in.... and out” chenle tried his best to help you.

you followed his orders before speaking again.

“i can’t freeze up like that in the real show. i just can’t. i need to keep singing. even if i fuck it up” you sighed to yourself, sliding down the wall to sit on the ground. he copied you and sat next to you, your shoulders touching.

“hey, at least this was rehearsal. you’ve kicked ass, all the way up to now. don’t let this scare you!” he spoke to you in such a lovely manner, it eased your worries.

“i know i know. i just can’t help but feel this way” you look at him. your face stained with tears, but you still gave him a small smile. he wiped some of the tears with his thumbs, before saying,

“let’s cut this rehearsal short. you deserve some ice cream” he pulled you up from the ground and pulled you in for an embrace. you would admit that you had come to a liking of chenle. he was so helpful as a stage hand, and always showed up on time. he always gave you a small thumbs up before you were about to sing, and always waited for you when rehearsal was finished to catch the bus home. you nodded at his offer, grabbing your bag you had placed in your locker and walked out of school with chenle by your side.

—————-

chenle had served his detention, but still remained as a stage hand, in which your teacher didn’t mind as he was genuinely helpful with the props and tech equipment. it was two weeks before opening night. after almost every rehearsal, chenle would be right by your side when going home. the entire time you both had been working together, he hadn’t said one negative thing about musicals. he had become accustomed to the quick paced yet laid back nature of the theatre. but what he wouldn’t admit, is that he enjoyed watching you on stage. you smiled so brightly, you sang like an angel. he couldn’t get enough. his friends often teased him for wanting to remain a stage hand, but he ignored them, knowing it was worth it.

after this particular rehearsal, you ran up to chenle and hugged him tightly. he was taken aback, slowly placing his arms around you and patting your back softly.

“i didn’t make any mistakes today!!” you cheered, pulling away from him, still leaving your hands around his forearm.

“i know! you were great, as usual” he complimented, which made you blush. you shook your head before speaking,

“thankyou for always having my back. i’ll treat you to an early dinner. what do you want?” you offered kindly.

“actually, i have to get back home, but how about, this weekend? we can go out for lunch or something” chenle crossed his fingers in his mind that you would agree. you nodded immediately,

“yeah sure!! message me when you’re free!” you smiled before completely letting go of him and leaving the theatre.

he couldn’t control himself, as he fisted the air and cheered quietly.

————-

saturday afternoon, you had agreed to meet with chenle at your local bowling alley, as the onion rings were to die for there.

you were onto the eighth bowl, chenle leading by 40 points.

“this isn’t fair! you’re too good!” you complain, poking his sides.

“am not! just know where to focus that’s all!” he defends before taking a bite of an onion ring. you giggled before taking your turn.

“here i’ll show you” he came up behind you, helping you position yourself properly.

you felt his fingers touch yours and you couldn’t help but blush.

“okay so you see that middle pin? just try your best to aim there and keep your arm steady!” he looked at you for assurance as you nodded in response. he left your side to watch, as you did exactly what he had said. you both watched as the ball rolled right towards the middle pin, although you did not get a strike you still managed to known down nine pins. you ran over to chenle, arms wide as he embraced you warmly and spun you around shortly.

“did you see that?!” you were ecstatic, he admired your excitement.

“i know!! you’re a pro already” he smiled.

“ah you’re too kind!” you complimented.

on the way back to your house, chenle had been walking close to you, where your shoulder touched and at any moment your fingers would link.

“thank you so much for today!! only a week or so until opening night!! this really helped calm my nerves. i appreciate your support over these past few weeks. i hope we still stay friends after this” you didn’t know why that last sentence felt so uncomfortable to say. you didn’t want to be just friends.

“oh yeah no problem!! you really kept me sane. i’m sorry for talking bad about musicals before, i just never really paid attention to them! you’ll smash it on opening night! i’ll be cheering! and yeah, we will be friends” a part of him felt hurt to finish off that sentence as well.

you gave him one last hug, which lingered for longer than your normal hugs.

“see you next week” you waved before entering your house, watching as he returned the action. what did you get yourself into?

—————-

it was the afternoon of opening night, everyone was running around everywhere. you had just finished the final rehearsal and were currently resting. you sat with chenle outside of the theatre again.

“you nervous?” he questioned, looking over at you.

“a little, i just don’t want to make any mistakes!” you sighed.

“and you won’t! here’s something to make you feel better” he pulled out a small box from his jacket pocket. you raised your eyebrows before opening the box, it was a key ring that had a star hanging from it.

“you didn’t have to get me something oh my god, flowers would have been perfectly fine!” you pulled him closer to you, listening as his laugh filled your ears.

“it’s okay! you deserve it. you’ll still be a star, even if you mess up. you’re such a good performer i can’t stress that enough” he avoided your eyes. you tried to gain his attention again, in which he complied.

“can i tell you something?” your stomach was going so many flips, you couldn’t contain yourself. he nodded slowly, allowing you to continue.

“without you, i would have probably given up by now. thank you for staying by my side. i can’t thank you enough for how nice you’ve been to me. and i think it would be a good time to say that, i really like you. like a lot. like i think about you after every small positive thing that happens to me because you are just such a positive person! and this gift is just so meaningful. you are such an amazing guy, and i hope you like me too” you blurted out , watching as his face became stunned. words refused to leave his mouth. you pouted softly, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“i was going to tell you that i liked you after the musical but you beat me to it. if it weren’t for you, i would have quit being a stage hand after my detention. but i really wanted you to see how amazing you are. i’ve known how amazing you were since the talent show. i was surprised to see that you were a supporting role. you deserve so much more. i admire all of your confidence, and i can’t get enough of you” he spoke with such admiration you began tearing up. you hugged him tightly, refusing to let go, mumbling ‘i like you so much’ in his chest. he softly giggled, “i like you too cutie”.

———

opening night was a success. as the final bows were being taken, you looked over at chenle and ushered him to join you on stage. he quickly shuffled to you and took a bow with the rest of the crew.

“congrats on everything” he whispered to you.

“you’re adorable” you mumbled before placing a quick peck on his cheek. he looked over to you in shock. you were unpredictable, quick witted and he was completely whipped for you.

musicals weren’t so bad after all.

#nct imagines #nct dream imagines #chenle #nct chenle imagine #chenle fluff #chenle fic #chenle imagine #nct dream fic #nct dream fluff #jisungsmochi masterlist #jisungsmochiimagines

109 notes · View notes

silenthillmutual · 4 years

Photo

Well, sure, I also thank you for saving my life, kind sir. Hats off to you... “I’ll have a chance to put my life to good use in the near future.” That’s what they all say, right?

Jesus Christ there’s a lot to unpack with this. I want to go from the bottom up, because I actually screenshot most of this conversation with him.

It wasn’t I that have saved your life, Mark Immortell. I want everybody to hear that! I would have killed you if I could.

There’s so much animosity and contempt in this line, directed to a guy I’ve spoken to I think a total of three times - by which I mean an actual conversation was held, as opposed to opening a dialogue that goes nowhere.

Is this just because of the pantomimes he directs? I can’t imagine this is a special dialogue option because I opted to take Artemy’s ending. Are we supposed to get the impression Daniil actually tried to kill Mark and found that he couldn’t?

Farewell, puppeteer. Best of luck in your creative endeavours ...Is that how my line is supposed to sound, right?

I know this option was probably just meant to be in response to seeing himself portrayed in the pantomimes at night, but this certainly makes me feel A Way about how Mark as a character is used in Pathologic 2. Like Daniil has gained self-awareness.

I still don’t get it. You are an entirely different creature - how come you’re in the same boat with the Utopians?

What is there not to get, oh esteemed and wisest of bachelors?

So I guess the contempt is mutual.

You were a puppeteer. Your Masks foretold our future - or maybe they imposed it upon us, in all honesty, I don’t see the difference. All this time I was absolutely positive you were connected to the plague.

I wish they’d actually explored this answer in-game in Daniil’s route instead of just sort of dropping this in out of nowhere at the end. I guess they assume the idea will cross your mind at some point in time, and it does make sense for Daniil to think this given that the mechanics of the game are explained to you by the executors and tragedians, who then show up later in the game when the Theatre is being repurposed, outside of peoples’ doors when they’re sick, and then, of course, as pantomime actors.

(I also think it’s kind of interesting that Daniil doesn’t see a difference between having your future told to you, and having it imposed on you. I think he sort of has a point: if you tell someone what they’re going to do, you’ve put the idea in their head. If they follow through, retroactively it’ll look like you managed to predict something, when it’s just as likely you’ve put your will in their mind. You didn’t necessarily know anything, you just brought it to life through manipulation.)

I thought that the whole point of the Utopians’ ideology was neglecting the laws of fate and the limits it imposes upon us.

So in other words, Mark doesn’t fit as a Utopian because he was the one directing fate and imposing its limits.

Which means that the Utopian ideology is fake. Daniil’s attachment to it is based on the fact that he wants people to be able to pick their own fates, down to being able to decide for themselves when it’s their time to die. Isn’t that supposed to be what the Polyhedron represents to him? The fact that stands and exists when it shouldn’t be able to is meant to be proof that limits can be overcome, but like with Aglaya’s reassurance that no one here can really tell the future - a segment that further proves Daniil’s point that Mark simply imposed his will on the world - this suggests that there must be a much more mundane explanation for the Polyhedron’s existence.

The Utopians are all charlatans. Peter can’t explain to you how the Polyhedron works, Andrey doesn’t really do anything to protect his brother or Eva despite his bold claims that he can and will do anything - something you can call him out on, Maria can’t really predict the future (wasn’t she the one giving you your list of Bound? isn’t it just a little too much that she happened to put herself, her family, and the people she needed to use to reach her end goals on the list? and that there’s absolutely nothing you can do to save Eva, because Maria makes sure to get her out of the way?), Georgiy is lying to you, Victor doesn’t even want to be there, and Eva is now dead.

I think this circles back to Artemy & Daniil’s bickering in the opening dialogue. Artemy says “Any choice is right, as long as it’s willed,” which didn’t really leave any impression on me when he first said it because I thought, ‘Aren’t all of their actions willed?’ And, to a degree, they are; but Daniil’s actions aren’t his own will. He’s acting on someone else’s plans, and has been for the entirety of the game. His whole route is about being manipulated, and once you can unravel it from this conversation, you can take that string a lot farther. Aglaya does mention that it seems a little too convenient for you to arrive when you did, and she doesn’t buy The Powers That Be’s claims that you & her & Block being sent there was for completely unrelated reasons to them hating all three of you.

But you weren’t sent here by The Powers That Be. Their timing was serendipitous. No, you came here because your colleague sent you a letter that seemed too good to be true and was certainly too relevant to your work for you to ignore, right when you needed it most. And when you get there, both your proof and your colleague have died, and conveniently your continued existence relies entirely on a family that desperately needs you to run all their personal errands.

Does anyone else question the legitimacy of the letter you receive from Isidor? Georgiy claims both that they were unaware Isidor had sent a letter to you, and also that Simon was preparing to meet you. Then later on, he also says that they’ve been following your work in the Capital. Isn’t that a little, hm, suspicious? Your timing isn’t just great for The Powers That Be who want to get rid of you, it’s also fantastic for a family that wants to make a power grab and needs someone completely ignorant of local customs and politics on their side. Clara says, “Those who favour hard logic and direct action are bound to be misguided” - and she’s right, because your “unbiased” approach to the Town and the issues at hand make you easy for the Utopians to manipulate to their cause. Artemy says, “You will act justly, but your justice will blind you” - and he’s also right about that. Daniil isn’t lying or wrong when he says he’s going to follow the truth and restore justice: the problem is that, as an outsider, he isn’t going to get the full truth from anybody. He has shreds of the truth that he can follow, and the fact that he can’t access an entire story also makes him easy for everyone - all of the ruling families, the other healers, the Bound, Aglaya - to manipulate, and they all do.

The reason saving the Polyhedron isn’t the “right” choice isn’t just about morality, it’s also about the fact that it isn’t your will to do that. You haven’t been acting on your will for any part of the Bachelor’s route. You haven’t been an active participant in the story, you’ve been an object. You’re just an instrument someone else is using.

But I also want to make this clear: as many jokes as I see about this, I don’t think it’s fair to use this as evidence of Daniil being evil or stupid, etc etc. But I’ll get into that elsewhere.

You are correct, oh the keenest of the astute! So what? I have cognized this side of Existence from backstage, so to speak; from where the strings go and the machinery is hidden - and yet I willingly swore allegiance to the Utopia. Does that tell you nothing?

That you think you’re god? Are you aware you’re a toy, and trying to overcome that?

I don’t believe you’ve changed. And you being with them is fearsome to me. You are an alarming tone in the jubilant orchestra of creators.

Is this Daniil realizing for the first time that he’s been manipulated?

It doesn’t tell me enough. You are, as always, a double-dealer...

Interesting. I wonder if he’ll talk more to the other characters in their routes that will make this have more sense to me.

Pff... You know, I’m glad you’re leaving. You are a dangerous person, dealing with you would be and arduous task...

Seems like he’s admitting that, for as easy to manipulate as Daniil was, he’s not entirely stupid. Like Daniil would be a threat if he stuck around longer, had the full story. But this is also a hint that the Utopian ending isn’t actually Daniil’s ending. After all, he’s leaving. He’s not a part of the end at all.

You’re back to being annoyed already? And I was just planning to ask as to what you’re going to do with your life.

Me? Hahaha... That’s ridiculous! And it’s very tactless of you to ask me a question like that! Oh no, no offence taken... by me; you haven’t offended me, after all - you’ve offended the Scarlet Mistress herself. My life belongs to Maria now... And I am merely her humble servant... always at her service.

This loops back into implying that the entire route has been orchestrated by Maria, proving Aglaya’s point - and Daniil’s - that she can’t tell the future, and that foretelling the future is indistinguishable from imposing it on people. Maria did what she could to make sure things went her way. By “telling” the future, she made it happen.

#icarus.txt #meta #long post #plato plays pathologic #i'd be interested to know what people think ig!#pathologic meta

22 notes · View notes

miss-pearlescent · 5 years

Text

The King’s Assassin

Jongin is a king and you are an assassin. Instead of killing him, you end up marrying him (─‿‿─) How unfortunate.

The scaffolding was grand, hiding whatever was behind it. You waited outside patiently with your carrying case. Jongin would be finished soon, but you still asked to see him as soon as possible because you wanted to get ready for your classes in the evening.

You stared up at the monstrous building, wondering what could be inside that held Jongin’s attention for the past three months.

“Hello, my dear wife,” a low voice tickled your ear.

You tried ducking away but somehow Jongin’s arms still managed to pick you up off the ground.

You tried not to laugh too loudly as he spun you around. “We’ve been married for almost a year. When are you going to stop calling me that?”

“All right.” He put your feet back on the gravel and leaned in for a kiss. “Hey, you.”

You gave him a look. “’Hey, you’ right back at’cha.”

His smile was broad as he ran a hand through his hair. “What was so important that my wife asked the groundskeeper to pull me out here five minutes before the work day ended?” he teased.

You felt only a little bit guilty about that. “You don’t have to be working in there,” you said with a pout towards the door that led behind the scaffolding.

He slung an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in. “It’s always nice to work with the people who rely on us. Besides, they could always use an extra hand.”

Jongin was right. Even though he was the king, the people loved him because he always got involved with what his people were doing. He connected with them and listened to their stories.

It was the reason you ended up marrying him without a fight.

“Well,” you said as you pulled out a sachet from your carrying case. “I have these for you.”

His brows furrowed as he untied the string that held the bag closed. “What is it?”

“I was preparing the students’ meals with Nana today.” Nana was the grandmother of one of the town’s best chefs. “We made these dried fruit strips that you told me about.”

Jongin’s face lit up as he pulled out a dark red candied strip.

“You said you couldn’t find anybody who sold them anymore, right?”

He nodded and stuffed the whole snack in his mouth. “It’s just as I remembered it,” he said with a muffled groan.

You were surprised that he wasn’t cringing from all the sugar. “I wrote down the recipe so we can always have some at home.” You patted your carrying case.

He pulled you in and buried his nose in your neck, causing you to squirm a little from the ticklish sensation. “Thank you, my dear wife.”

You held back the eye roll.

“Come,” he said, pulling you towards the door as men shuffled out. “I want to show you our progress.”

You hesitated. “Are you sure?” He had been keeping this project a secret for so long that you hadn’t expected to be shown anything until news came out to the general public.

He tucked your hand in the crook of his elbow. “It’s for you.”

This time, you were the one that was confused. “For me?” Suddenly, your interest piqued and you followed eagerly after him.

“Remember our trip to the south?”

You nodded, looking around as he led you through the threshold and into a grand hall. “How could I forget?”

It was a trip that was planned right after your wedding, when you were still wary about your new husband. But he was a newly-crowned king and he had to toot his wife to the land.

The crowds called the tour “The Killer Wife” which was a little morbid and odd, but you didn’t mind.

You were busy thinking about how your whole life had changed unexpectedly.

“Do you remember what you asked to do whenever we had free time?”

You thought for a bit and then pieced out your answer slowly. “To watch...plays?”

“Mhmm.” Jongin nodded as he pulled open an ornate oak door. “We must have hit every theatre along the grand river.”

You nudged his side. “You enjoyed it, too.”

He didn’t say anything, but you saw his little smile. “Instead of travelling to all those theatres, I thought we could bring them here.”

No.

No way.

Your breath caught as he pulled back a heavy blood-red curtain. You rushed to the edge of the balcony and looked down in awe. Below your footsteps was a giant ampitheatre with enough seats to fit hundreds and a stage big enough to invite a circus troupe.

“I want to showcase local talent here and bring in acts from around the land, even across the river.” Jongin came to stand beside you, gnawing casually on the fruit snacks as if this wasn’t a huge deal. “And you’ll have the best seat in the house.”

You turned and saw two grand thrones behind you.

Your lip quivered. Even with years of training to keep your emotions in check, you had a hard time holding your tears back around Jongin.

He tugged on your wrist and sat down, pulling you into his lap. “Right here,” he teased.

“Jongin,” you began, but your words got caught in your throat.

His hands tucked you into his chest and he kissed the top of your head. “Do you like it?” he murmured as if he was unsure.

You nodded with great enthusiasm. Of course you liked it! You just couldn’t get the words out.

He tilted your chin up and gently pressed a kiss to your lips. You melted at his sweet gesture and wrapped an arm around his neck to deepen the kiss.

Jongin backed away an inch. “Don’t get carried away,” he said, his hands skimming your hips. “You have a classes to teach this evening.”

“We can be quick,” you replied and kissed him again, running your fingers along the collar of his shirt. The fabric was sticking to him from the sweat he had built up after working all day. You couldn’t wait to get it off.

He chuckled. “If your students knew the kind of filthy things their king did to their beloved teacher, I’d have all their swords in my neck.”

“They love you too much to do that, Jongin,” you reassured him as you helped him pull off his shirt.

As do I, you thought.

You took a swig of water from your canteen as you tucked your swords away in the leather case.

“Bye, ma’am!” one of your students called from across the courtyard.

You waved with a pile of envelopes in your hand. “Goodbye! Thank you for the card!”

It was the end of the season and there would be no more classes until after the fall harvest. The students had been kind enough to make cards and bring sweets from home to share.

You had wanted to save the cards until you got home, but you couldn’t help opening one right now. Some of the kids could barely write, but you loved to see their creativity and artwork. There were definitely a few kids in this class that had outstanding potential, and they were all eager to participate in class.

You were going to miss this group.

You sat down on the bench and pulled out an envelope that had no name on it.

Your blood ran cold as you read the few words on the otherwise empty card.

Leave him tonight, or he will die.

- B

You turned the card over in your suddenly clammy hands.

This wasn’t happening.

It had been a year since you had married Jongin; there was no way your brothers out to get him now.

Looking around, you wondered if anybody was here with you, but all was empty.

You bit your lip, thinking.

A year ago, you had been sent into town by your brothers on an elaborate mission to assassinate the king. He was in need of a wife and had called in eligible women for a week of parties.

You attended with the intention to slit his throat, not marry the man.

However, the more time you had spent with him, the thought of pulling a sword on him was impossible. He was sweet and thoughtful, carefree yet had so much purpose in life.

You had almost left the castle emptyhanded on the last night when he found you with a sword in each hand.

It was an uncomfortable confrontation, one that you didn’t like to relive because you had tackled him and pointed a knife at his neck while he laid on the ground.

He didn’t even fight you.

You thought you could get it over with—cut his throat open, end the mission, and move on with your life. But you couldn’t.

Your brothers would have called you weak. It would have been the cherry on the cake for your father, who had never fully trusted your skills simply because you were a girl who begged to carry on the centuries-long family tradition and learn how to fight. You were too girly that you could be taught to fight but could not kill.

You remembered your hands being as shaky as they were now and dropping the swords and crawling off Jongin’s back.

You couldn’t look him in the eye as he sat up. All you wanted to do was hide because you had known you had to die. An attempt at assassinating the king was a death sentence for anybody.

Maybe that was why your father had insisted on sending you.

“I’m marrying you,” Jongin had declared while the two of you sat on the cold ground outside his stables.

You weren’t able to process his words for a long time. You had asked him if he was actually a mad man. A masochist. Or perhaps he was torturing you.

You remembered asking him to kill you because you couldn’t even stand yourself for your actions.

He had taken you to your rooms instead, watching over the servants as they helped you get ready for bed. And then he sat on a chair and watched you lay in bed all night.

It did feel like torture because you couldn’t sleep a wink. Too many thoughts were racing through your head, including the fear that Jongin could take revenge and kill you in your sleep.

In the depth of the night, after you had tossed and turned for the millionth time, he told you he had married you for strategic reasons. Keeping the assassin close meant if you ever killed him, everybody would know. And if anybody else killed him, they would likely be associated with you.

And so he had brought you around his entire kingdom, making sure everyone knew that you were from a family of assassins and that you were a genius with swords. The people feared you at first, but then their opinions shifted.

They saw you as a protector of their king.

You hadn’t known what to make of it at first, but you were welcomed and appreciated for your skills for the first time in your life. And somehow, day by day, you had come to love the man who said he married you as a strategy.

And now you needed to give it all up.

You didn’t want to, but you knew your brothers. They were warning you. They wanted their sister back after you gained fame. You needed to work for the family or else.

You couldn’t put Jongin’s life at risk.

You began packing your swords away, hating yourself and everything you stood for.

You had spent the last hour slowly inching away from Jongin’s arms. You had started the night complaining that it was too hot and that you couldn’t stand cuddling too close despite how much you wanted to. He didn’t question you even after having had two hours of rough heated sex prior to heading for bed.

You lifted the fingers that still lingered on your waist and slowly crawled off the bed, making sure not to shift the weight at all. Gently, you set his hand down and gave his thumb the tiniest rub.

You watched for a second as your husband slept peacefully, the moonlight illuminating his handsome face and the breeze from the window ruffling his hair just slightly.

A chill ran up your spine as you thought about your escape. You really needed to come up with better excuses too because the night wasn’t warm at all.

Quietly, you grabbed your cloak and carrying case from behind the chaise and sneaked out the door.

You pressed a palm to your eyes as tears threatened to push out. You didn’t have time to cry. You had to leave.

You pulled the cloak around your shift and tugged the hood over your eyes as you climbed down the servant’s staircase and out the back door.

The night was clear and you thanked your maker as you silently tread down the cobblestone into town. It was a bit of a walk, but you hadn’t lost your stealth and stamina in the past year as you taught many sword fighting lessons per week.

There were only a few lit lanterns here or there when you reached town, mostly for the pubs and taverns. You stayed in the shadows to avoid being seen even though you saw some familiar faces.

You ducked down alleyways, staying away from big streets as you mapped out your way to the gates. You were glad you had accompanied Jongin on so many trips to town because you knew this place like the back of your hand.

Once you left the gates though, you would never be back.

You pushed the thoughts away and moved forward, the gates coming into view with every step.

The steps felt like lead.

You made sure your hood was pulled down low before you came into view of the iron gate. Looking around, you could see five guards. Nobody should give you any trouble, but it was still odd to have a lone woman leaving town at this time of night.

It might have to come down to knocking these boys out.

You approached with your shoulders pulled back, trying to appear as if you had a real purpose in leaving so late.

Slowly, the guards crept away from their post.

“Miss, are you looking to go somewhere?”

You gave a mental groan. You knew that voice. It was one of your best students who had recently gotten a job with the military.

Why did he have to be stationed here tonight?

You didn’t want to have to knock him unconscious.

You stayed silent, walking forward only until you were steps away from the gate and the soldiers were flanking all sides. They were almost close enough now that you could take them down in one swoop. Just one step closer...

This had to be done quick, or else—

“Stand down, boys.”

You stiffened at the voice that came from behind you.

“Your Majesty!” one of the soldiers dropped to one knee as the others did one by one.

You didn’t dare turn around as an arm snaked around your waist. “I promised my wife we would go do some forest training tonight. She was so eager that she beat me to it.” His hand held you tight enough that you couldn’t run away.

“Of course, Your Majesty! We will open the gates right away.”

The guards ran back to their posts, shouting orders. Then the gates suddenly opened wide.

“After you,” Jongin whispered, “my dear wife.”

The two of you were deep into the forest before either of you said a word.

You spun around, out of his grip, and took a few steps back. Jongin held his ground.

“You need to get away from me,” you warned.

He crossed his arms, unfazed. “Why?”

You couldn’t say the truth because he would simply pull you back and his life would still be in danger. He needed to get rid of you. “Because...” You clenched your fists under the heavy sleeves of your cloak. “Because I don’t want this anymore. I don’t love you.”

Jongin stood there, still as the night. You could see his jaw tighten, but that was the only indication that he had heard your words.

“I don’t love you, Jongin,” you pushed the sentence through your teeth. “I was forced into the marriage by circumstance and I’ve had enough of it.”

A tense moment passed by and you could feel your knees getting wobbly as he stared down at you. “That’s not how you acted a few hours ago when I had you in bed.”

Your fingernails dug into your palm as you tried not to think about that. He was right, you had practically clung to him that night. But things were different now. “It’s not that hard to sell my body for safety,” you spat out.

He bristled as if you had stabbed him through the heart. “So you don’t want me,” he said as if confirming a fact.

You forced yourself to give a steady nod even as your heart threatened to crack into a million pieces.

“And you never did want me.”

You swallowed. “Never.”

He needed to leave. He needed to leave now and stop watching you because you were about to break down and weep.

You flinched when you heard an explosion in the distance. You followed Jongin’s wide gaze behind you. A tower was lit up in flames.

It was the castle.

And the tower was where you slept with Jongin every night.

There was no way around it. Your brothers had planned on killing Jongin whether you were near him or not.

Your hands shook as you grabbed Jongin’s arm, pulling him behind you.

“You need to hide.” Your voice threatened to break. Too much was happening tonight and you didn’t know if you could save him or not. Not if your brothers were armed with so much as a bomb.

You were used to close combat and maybe a few long distance weapons.

But a bomb? That was new.

You found a wide tree trunk with a huge burrow at its roots. “Get inside.” You pushed your husband into the hole, following behind him. “We need to stay here for tonight.”

“In a tree?”

You arranged your limbs so you could sit next to him. “Yes. Once they find out that you haven’t been killed, they will be looking for you.”

“Who is ‘they’?”

You licked your cracked lips, realizing how scared you really were as the quiet of the night settled in. “My brothers.” You couldn’t see the castle from here, but you could guess that everyone was awake and scrambling for their lives.

All because Jongin had married you.

You needed a plan, fast. You couldn’t risk the lives of all these people.

You didn’t realize you were pressing your cheek on Jongin’s shoulder until you felt his fingers rubbing small circles along your back. “You shouldn’t be the one comforting me,” you said even as you pressed closer.

“Because you don’t love me?” he asked even as he continued with his caresses.

Now you really hated yourself. “Because you’re the one they are after, not me.”

A long moment passed as you worried your lip and shifted your weight to get more comfortable. It was going to be a long night.

“I’ve been a target ever since I was born,” Jongin said nonchalantly. “It is a part of my life.”

“It shouldn’t be,” you refuted.

“It shouldn’t, but it is.” He pulled you onto his lap and you didn’t have the energy to fight him. The hole was small and your butt hurt from sitting on rocks. “That’s why I married you. Now sleep, my dear wife. It is going to be a long night.”

You didn’t fight him as he curled his fingers around yours. Your only job was to stay awake and watch for any movement in the night.

You ignored the voice inside of you that insisted you tell Jongin that you do love him. His words were kind, but he sounded sad and tired.

But you still had plans to leave because you couldn’t jeopardize the lives of all these people you had come to love in the last year.

You wanted to rip your hair out in frustration.

One night at a time, first.

Your eyelids were heavy as you heard the faint whistle.

“Did you hear that?” you asked in a light whisper as you reached for the sword in your boot.

“Hear what?”

Maybe you had imagined it. Maybe the fear and fatigue was getting to you. It had been years since you had trained with your brothers, coordinating attacks using little whistles. Maybe your ears were playing tricks with you.

But then you heard the click.

You flew into action, throwing your carrying case across your back as you turned in Jongin’s lap.

You tucked his head to your chest and hoped for the best. Hoped that the wooden case would give you enough coverage that whatever weapon they used would only pierce your body and not his.

You felt the pain in your shoulder and stifled a cry.

Shakily, you looked down and saw the arrow embedded in the tree trunk, pinning you there by the shoulder.

Faintly, you heard Jongin screaming your name.

You stopped yourself from screaming by concentrating on Jongin’s face. The black was creeping into your vision quickly. You were going to pass out very soon and you knew you only had a few breaths left.

Behind you, you heard shouts and swords clanging. You hoped Jongin’s guards and soldiers had come because you weren’t going to be able to protect Jongin anymore.

You struggled to focus on Jongin’s eyes as he cupped your face. He was saying something with tears running down his face. You wanted to tell him not to cry but you needed to get the most important words out first.

“I love you,” you choked out. “You know that, right?”

He had to know. He had to, or else you wouldn’t be able to die peacefully. You shoulder hurt like a beast and you wanted to be free from the pain.

“No. No, no! No, you can’t.” You heard his voice even though you weren’t sure if you were looking at him anymore.

But I do. I really love you. “I do.” You hoped he heard your last words before you lost consciousness.

You watched as Jongin walked away again.

You didn’t understand.

All you wanted to do was bring him snacks and tell him about the stories that Nana had told you. You wanted to protect him and do practise some basic sword training with him.

But Jongin kept turning away.

You tried to grab at his hand that always seemed so close. Maybe if you held on tight enough, he would stay.

But he never did.

You went back to sleep, wondering how you could get to him again.

You woke up and you weren’t in Jongin’s arms.

That was strange.

Was it because you hadn’t wanted his arms around you the last time you were in bed with him?

“I knew you were up to something when you didn’t snuggle with me that night,” a voice said.

Ah, that was why.

Well, then you just needed to find Jongin and cuddle with him to make sure he never let you go.

Where was he?

A huge pain ran down your arm and you found yourself pinned to a tree. You screamed and thrashed because you knew Jongin was next on the kill list.

You needed to be next to him but this goddamn arrow was stopping you.

You cried yourself to sleep because you couldn’t find him.

You woke up, this time in your bedroom. It was warm and there was a nice breeze coming through the window.

You needed to find Jongin.

You looked around the room and he was there, sitting on the chair beside your bed. His eyes were closed and you wanted to call his name but you couldn’t find your voice.

You had to get to him before he disappeared again.

Even though your shoulder was killing you, you sat up, groaning as you slid off the bed.

Jongin’s eyes snapped open and you could see the red veins in them.

Had he slept at all last night?

He caught you by the arms as you crawled into his lap.

“You’re here,” you croaked with your hoarse morning voice.

And he was shaking.

You curled on his lap, so happy that you had finally reached him.

“Of course I’m here,” he said, sounding just as tired as you. “Did you hear me?”

You looked up, confused at why he was crying. “No, what did you say? Wait, no, have you eaten yet? You are starting to look thin.” You touched his cheek that seemed to have sunken in, made worse by the dark circles under his eyes.

He barked out a laugh. “I haven’t eaten in a week.”

“Why not?” You shot up but he held you in his lap. “You weren’t working on the theatre this whole time, were you?”

He laughed again, burying his face in your neck. “My dear, dear wife.”

“Jongin.” You ran a hand through his ruffled hair. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “How is your shoulder feeling?”

You grimaced. “Like a mother.”

He laughed again, tightening his arms around you. “I told you to heal quickly because you had to come to the theatre with me.”

“Oh, you did? Of course I’m coming!”

“And we have to make those fruit strips with the recipe that Nana gave you.”

You nodded as a few memories came back. They seemed to be recent yet so long ago at the same time.

Jongin gave you a little kiss on your nose. “And I have to love you.”

“I...”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to say it.”

All of a sudden, everything came back to you. Your shoulder throbbed as you looked down and saw that you were heavily bandaged. But the pain wasn’t as bad as remembering all the hurtful words you had said.

“Jongin, I...” you stumbled on your words as he kissed you again. “I love you. I’m so sorry.”

He tilted your chin up to look at him. “I’m just glad I didn’t lose you.”

How could you have thought to run away from this man? You realized in your fevered dreams that you never wanted to leave his side.

“I’m here now,” you reassured him. “I’m not leaving.”

“Never again,” he said, pulling you in. “You nearly killed me, my dear assassin wife.”

---

ಥ‿ಥ How long has it been since I’ve written something with no explicit sex scenes? I’ve really been in the mood for some angst and suffering so I hope I delivered! Thank you for reading and have a great weekend :D

#exo #kai #exo scenarios #kai scenarios #jongin #fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #kpop scenarios

92 notes · View notes

writing-radionoises · 6 years

Text

"Space Boy."

Craig Tucker.

People know him as a "bad boy," someone who skips classes and smokes cigarettes. Someone scary, intimidating, and sometimes oddly attractive. However, you know him differently.

When you think of Craig Tucker, you think of space, animals, and all good things there are.

He's constantly spaced out, out of his body, so much that you've picked up on calling him "Space Boy." He's stoic, but fragile. He'll pack a punch, sure, but he'll regret it in about fifteen minutes.

If you were asked to describe Craig in one word, it'd be distant. Distracted. Tired. Anything of the sort.

You are Kenny McCormick, and you've known Craig since elementary school. Practically you're entire life. He wasn't always so distant and spaced out, he used to be quite the opposite. Third grade Craig Tucker was social, he loved talking and making friends. The very next year, though, he just snapped. Though "snapped" isn't quite the right word, you'd say he grew up too fast or such.

You know better now, but your fourth grader brain wouldn't of been about to comprehend such a thing until high school.

High school is where everything changed for all of you.

High School was where you realized that you needed to change for the sake of your own mental health.

High school is where you realized you had a crush on your best friend.

High School was where your best friend admitted to you that he has disassociation and was beginning to develop derealization due to child abuse.

Where you promised Craig you would never leave him, knowing it was a promise you couldn't keep.

The week you graduated from high school you picked up Karen and ran. Your mother told you to take Karen and run, get out of South Park and most importantly, never look back.

"I want you to pack up yours and Karen's stuff and take a bus out of here. I don't care if you go to Denver or Louisville, hell, go on and head to New Mexico or Kansas, wherever the money will take you. I don't want you or my little girl to grow up to be like anyone here . . . Get out and do something with your life, get out while you can," your mother said, sniffling as tears pricked at her eyes, "Most importantly, Kenny, never look back."

She handed you a bag of coins, most likely her tips from this week and you nodded, hugging your mother for the last time.

You were only eighteen, recently turned, when you grabbed your sister and left for Denver. You only got to say goodbye to Craig.

Not Kyle. Not Stan. Not Butters. Not Wendy. Not Bebe. Not even Cartman.

You picked Karen up from school and saw Craig there. He was staring into a distance, deep blue eyes seemingly grayed out as he was lost in the depths of his own mind.

You tapped him on the shoulder, shaking him awake.

He looked over to you in surprise, eyes wide at first, "Oh, hey Kenny."

"Good afternoon, Space Boy," you answered with a grin, "How's it feel being an adult?"

The noirette shrugged, hands in his pockets, "It feels . . . Kinda weird, not much different, though. Maybe it's just me going into an episode again, I don't know. Nothing really feels different for me . . . I'm just happy I'm moving away from my dad soon."

You nodded in agreement, you never liked Craig's dad, especially after he practically ruined Craig's state of mind. More so because he doesn't like you, he thinks you are the reason Craig has bad grades and such, even though a doctor told him to his face that Craig has disassociation and bad grades can't really be helped.

"Yeah, I understand," you replied, seeing Karen exit the middle school. You turn to Craig and hold out your arms, gesturing for a hug. He complies, practically falling into your arms and holding your small frame tightly. You always forget how tall Craig is until you hug.

"I hope life treats you well, Craig," you said, pronouncing his actual name instead of calling him "Fucker" or "Space Boy" felt weird.

"You too, Kenny. Take care of Karen and yourself, okay?" He responded, refusing to let go until you nodded.

Karen and Tricia walk hand in hand towards you two, and you tell Karen to say goodbye to Tricia. They hug and say they'll see each other tomorrow, on the first day of summer. Your heart breaks knowing that won't be true. You took Karen's hand and walked her to the bus stop. She didn't question why they were here, so you didn't explain. You bought tickets to head to Denver and boarded the bus, sitting in the back seat.

Karen whispered questions to you, and you answered. Your explained that you were Karen's mom now, you two were moving to Denver to start new. She was going to start at a new school, you were going to get a job and rent out an apartment.

"It'll be hard at first, but were going to make it," you said, your grip on her hand tightening.

Despite your calm exterior, you were rather upset and panicky. You were fifteen minutes into your new life and all you could think about were the people you miss. You've hated South Park throughout all the times you've died and been reborn, you have never wanted anything more than to leave, but the people you'd leave behind is what caught you.

You wanted Craig. You wanted to hold his hand and joke about how much you'd miss Cartman's shenanigans.

You wanted Kyle to comfort you and tell you that what you were doing was right.

You wanted Clyde to hug you and tell you how much better you'll feel when you're away and fully transitioned.

You wanted Butters to cuddle you and tell you how good life would be too you in repayment for your childhood.

But all you had was Karen. You loved Karen with all your heart, but she was thirteen. She could not fulfill all your emotional needs. She couldn't carry all your emotional baggage on top of her own.

So you'll stay quiet and hope for the best.

You're too scared to look back, anyway.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The next few weeks included spam texts from Craig, asking if you were okay, where you were, and all of that. You answered when you could, but you were busy. Life is hard when you're working two different waitress jobs, on top of trying to settle in, on top of trying to raise money for your transition, and on top of caring for Karen. You and Karen settled in at a hotel for now, until you could rent an apartment. Karen offered to work, too, she wanted to babysit and help pitch in, but you said that she didn't have to. She was often times home alone, so you would give her your phone and tell her to go out to the park and make friends. When you finally gave Craig your address and told him everything was fine, you received a couple boxes from the purple of South Park. There was one from Butters, containing many hand made feminine clothes for both you and Karen, along with a hoodie for each of you. Token sent money and frequently donated to your Kickstarter for your transition. Tricia had sent Karen a bunch of their pictures together, along with a friendship bracelet and get phone number. Craig has said that he wanted to send something, but he was busy trying to find a job and an apartment.

Eventually, though, he sent you a couple makeup kits.

It took about a year for you and Karen to move into an apartment and for you to legally change your name. Mackenzie McCormick took place of Kenneth. Karen started eighth grade not long ago, as well as participating in the local children's theatre. You keep in contact with most of your friends, mainly Butters and Craig. Craig apparently attending college to become a veterinarian, though works a side job currently. Butters, on the other hand, is a social worker. He's moving out of South Park and up to Washington next year, to be closer to his long distance girlfriend.

Stan and Kyle got engaged, their wedding is in four months and you're invited. You're planning on going, especially since Karen is the flower girl. It doesn't seem like time has passed when the date comes around. You and Karen take a bus back to South Park for the first time in a year. You stay with Craig, who is quick to pick you up from the bus stop and take you two to his apartment. When Karen crashed, exhausted from the long day, it becomes apparent to you that life has not treated Craig well.

His apartment was small and crumbling. The mirror on the wall was cracked, splitting your features in two. You hadn't realized how long your hair has grown, no one had commented about it. Craig looked even worse, the blond roots peeking out from under his hat and dark circles under his eyes almost black. His dark blue eyes had paled into a more papery color, a gray-blue. You slipped off your hoodie, a long sleeve white dress on your body as you sat down beside Craig.

"Hey Space Boy, what's up?" You says nervously, trying to act as if nothing happened between you two, "Let me just . . . Get this straight, okay? I haven't seen you in so long but I don't want there to be any secrets between us anymore . . . Me leaving you without saying anything was bad, and I'm sor-"

"What else have you been hiding from me," he deadpanned, cutting you off.

You sigh, reaching out to grab his hand when he yanks it away.

"It's not much, I promise . . . My biggest secret is that I can't die, which I'm certain you already know of because you've remembered some of my deaths. My second one would be having a crush on you since third grade, haha . . ." You tried to laugh it off, looking into a distance to hide the redness of your cheeks, "What about you? This won't be onesided, right?"

Craig hesitates, lifting up his head and gazing at you, his eyes piercing right through yours, "I'm a stripper, got disowned by my family last week, got straight up told by my doctor that he had given up on me, got diagnosed with derealization a month ago . . . Oh, and got beaten the shit out of for being gay."

He sighs, and you notice he's beginning to shake.

"They cut you off of your mood stabilizers, didn't they?" You questioned, grabbing his hand, he didn't pull away this time.

He nodded slowly, "I've been in a major disassociation episode for almost a week, my vision is seriously failing me and I'm scared to drive long distance. I'm realizing I'm slowly beginning to forget everything before fourth grade. I just . . ." Craig lets out a sigh once again, "I feel awful, Mackenzie, fucking awful. On top of that all, I have a wedding to attend tomorrow."

You tilt your head to the side, "What's so bad about the wedding?"

The noirette snickers a bit, you can see you've lifted his mood, "This is going to sound stupid and childish, but I was always excited to get married. I told myself up until my graduation that I wouldn't have sex until I married, and that I would marry out of love. One of those two things didn't happen . . . Not to mention, now I'm thinking I'll never find the perfect guy, haha . . ."

Your heart breaks a little bit, knowing that Craig would never return your crush if he saw you as a woman. You aren't sure if you're happier knowing he sees you as a woman yet has no romantic interest in you, or if you'd be happier if he saw you as a man and gave you a chance.

"Craig, we're going to that wedding together, you won't be alone the time. Maybe, after this, you could come up to Denver with Karen and I, if you want . . . "

"I'd like that."

The room goes silent for a moment before you both stand up and he leads you to his room, where Karen is already sleeping, and says he'll take the couch.

You wave goodnight, as he whispered softly, "Hey Kenny, I knew you had a crush on me."

With that, the door closed and the apartment falls silent.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The next morning, you wore a yellow sunflower dress. Part of your back shows though the dress, giving everyone a glimpse of your angel wings tattooed on your back. Butters insisted on doing your hair, putting up in a bun and leaving out your bangs. He gave you the dress, too, said he wore it as Marjorine.

You don't remember much of the wedding

You remember sitting next to Craig. He was spacing out, lost in the depths of his mind just like he was a year ago. His eyes wide, dark circles hidden with concealer. His deep blue eyes remained grayed out and faded as he stares directly at Kyle, though probably not thinking about the ginger.

"Earth to Space Boy, time to wake up," you mumble, but he doesn't move.

#south park #south park crenny #sp crenny #south park craig #south park kenny #south park karen #sp craig #sp fanfiction #sp kenny #sp karen #college au

30 notes · View notes

calliecuster · 6 years

Text

BASICS

Full Name: calamus joseph custer

Meaning of Name: his name means “cane,” “grass,” or “reed.”

Nickname: callie

Birth Date: june 10th

Astrological Sign and Details: he’s a gemini! he believes very much in astrology and checks his horoscope every day.

Birth Place: he was born in tchulla, mississipi, in the local hospital.

Age: 21

Nationality: american

Race: mixed white

Hair Color: brunette

Hair Style: wears it long, frequently putting it in complicated styles. he’s been growing it out for years and it reaches about mid-back by now. it’s his pride and joy, and loves to play with it and pamper it. buns and braids are favorite styles.

Distinct Features of Face: he has a somewhat rectangular face, and is naturally pretty, with a greek nose, defined brow, and deep-set brown eyes. high cheekbones and clear skin. he has a very small scar on the right side of his lip.

Glasses or Contacts: he doesn’t have either, and never has, but he DEFINITELY needs them.

Eye Color: deep brown.

Skin Tone: pale peach.

Scars or Distinguishing Marks: he has track-mark scars on his wrists, and heavy scarring on his upper thighs and butt. his right ear-lobe is scarred.

Disabilities: he has undiagnosed depression, anxiety, and PTSD, as well as having substance abuse issues, but he muddles through regardless.

Build or Body Type: tall and slender, with a nice build, slim waist, and decent muscles. he has long legs and a nice silhouette; overall, he’s a very attractive person, and he’s quietly proud of this, despite the fact that he doesn’t have very much confidence in himself.

Height: 6’0”

Weight: 189

Speech Patterns: though he’s trying to wean himself off of it, callie still has a very strong and noticable southern accent.

Tag Words: ‘you know?’ ‘puh-leaseeeee’ ‘gosh’ or ‘gee’ or ‘goodness.’ never takes the lord’s name in vain.

Gestures: he always plays with his hair, especially when he’s nervous, while he’s talking.

Weakness: is very easily guilted. loves ice cream. you can tempt him with drugs and sex just like that.

FAMILY AND CHILDHOOD

Mother: his mother is a woman named gracie custer. she dropped out of high school and married her boyfriend when she got pregnant at the age of sixteen; an uncommon occurrence where she lived. though she is a sweet woman, and hard-working, she has a hard time finding her own path and has a habit of allowing others to decide things for her, such as her husband. she was raised with the rigid rules of the Bible Belt, and lives by them rigorously in many ways that are unhealthy. despite this, she is kind and giving, but easily flustered and annoyed as well. she loves babies, but struggles to handle all her children in the small space which they live. she works at a local corner store. she loved her son, Calamus, but largely sat idly by whenever he was beaten, and often told him that he was ‘asking for it’ and wouldn’t have to take whippings if he just ‘followed the rules.’

Father: calamus’s father is a man named hank custer, who works in construction. he is not very in touch with his emotions, and is an incredibly hard-working and proud man. he values appearance, obedience under god, and doing things correctly, and he and his oldest son never got along. what was initially just conflict and discipline eventually grew to serious abuse as calamus got older and more bold, and he would frequently beat callie growing up, until calamus ran away from home at the age of sixteen .

Family Finances: living under the poverty line; lived in a trailor home, paycheck-to-paycheck, with food stamps.

Birth Order: callie was the oldest of seven. he has a younger brother named jethro, three youngest sisters named elseth, november, and serafina, a little brother named clyde, and an infant sister named patience.

Other Close Family: n/a

Best Friend: callie spent most of his childhood as the ‘ringleader’ or a small group of neighborhood boys, who would often spend all their time together getting into mischief and entertaining themselves in the trailer park. this group included calamus custer, who was undeniably the leader of the group. he was often the one who called the shots, and the rest of the boys often spent their time jumping to callie’s defense and helping him out. he spend most of his time with them, in order to avoid going home. it also included elijah jeans, who calamus often felt he related to the most in the group. like callie, he liked a lot of things that boys weren’t supposed to, like nice clothes and theatre. callie and elijah would spend long hours watching videos or movies on the internet in secret, and gushing about it and the outfits and the music later. if elijah was gay, however, he didn’t figure it out until calamus left. maximilian o’connor could climb higher, run faster, and jump farther than anyone else in their group. it was a common activity to try to out-do max, but no one could ever quite managed it. he was seemingly good at every sport he touched, and everyone always fought over got to have him on his team whenever they played anything. callie usually settled this by hoarding him to himself. finn tosh was probably the quietest of their little group, and wasn’t quite as rowdy as everyone else, but callie kind of liked that. it made him easy to talk to, and it made it more special when he was coaxed into participating. he had a beautiful singing voice, and callie always tried to convince him to let him film it. he only agreed once, right before callie left home. thaddeus mcmarren was the youngest out of everyone, and he often followed callie around like he was star-struck. he lived with his aunt and uncle after his mother died of overdose, and with a huge gaggle of cousins, and didn’t really get very much attention at home. since callie related to this, he and the rest of the boys always made sure plenty of eyes were on thaddeus, especially when he needed it. the two would walk and talk together to avoid going home often. if anyone was callie’s ‘second-in-command,’ it was asher tingsley. he had a lot of the same charm and enthusiasm that calamus did, and the same fire. he got angry easy and was always ready to put it all on the line and fight for his friend’s sakes, and was the one who spent the most hours in detention with callie, even though they all had their fair share. every couple of nights, callie would sleep over at the house of miles mobius. he had the nicest house and the nicest parents, and there was a beat-up futon in his room where calamus could sleep. callie remembers staying up late with milo and just talking a lot about things. about school. about what they were gonna do when they got older. about the things they loved and the things that scared them. seth ways and callie together always equaled trouble, because they always came up with the most reckless and awful and horrible ideas together. in chemistry, they would start fires. when they were wandering around the local dump, they would also start fires. one time, in seth’s house, they started a fire. there were a lot of fires, actually. and lucas hughs… he was the first boy callie really liked. i mean, he knew he was gay for a long time, but lucas, he really LIKED. and he was his first kiss, too. but lucas didn’t feel the same way, so callie moved on. regardless, they were incredibly close friends, and they usually spent hours talking together, sitting together, and trying to avoid going home. they liked a lot of the same things, and had a lot of the same thoughts. they always both said that one day, they would move to new york together and share an apartment. it didn’t turn out that way. callie sometimes thinks he might miss lucas the most. but he misses everyone a lot. he hasn’t seen or heard from any of them since he left mississipi at sixteen. his life has been a bit too much of a mess since then for him to play down any roots or make any real friends, and he’s only just beginning to spread out his wings in lockwood.

Other Friends: besides his little group, for the most part, callie didn’t get along with his peers growing up. he was more commonly bullied and ostracized, and he had a lot of trouble socializing once he made it to new york, too, due to his circumstances.

Enemies: n/a?

Pets: never

Home Life During Childhood: callie was born into a family living beneath the poverty line in the deep south, being raised on a lot of values that are common in the bible belt. obedience to god, valuing one’s family, working hard, respecting your elders, etc. etc. growing up, calamus didn’t have the same interests as a lot of other boys his age. he loved the idea of having long, beautiful hair, wearing his mother’s make-up and clothes, dancing, and singing. he liked things like trucks and exploring the woods and making things blow up and racing, too. but no one ever worried about that. the more prominent these interests became, and the more his bold personality began to show, the more his family tried to squash it down. his father in particular, a man who highly valued hard work, obedience, and image, often clashed with his eldest son. he frequently punished him for being too feminine, for shaming their family, for not working hard enough, and anything else that happened to piss him off, and calamus was no stranger to neither his belt nor the back of his hand growing up. calamus was naturally very charismatic and charming, and surprisingly, didn’t have a difficult time making friends in his neighbourhood. while he faced a fair deal of bullying and discrimination at school over the years, he built up a small “following” of boys who lived in the same trailer park as him, and were more open-minded than their parents. he spent most of his time wandering the streets with them and sleep over at their houses. they were close-knit. they would protect each other even at self-sacrifice, laugh and play together, and go along with calamus’ whims. doing complicated hair tutorials from Youtube with the blonde locks that calamus had been passionately growing out since he was small, recreating music videos, exploring the local dump and racing through the town. this was what protected him and kept him going for a very long time, and what made him stay, despite everything else that happened. his family, the church, the troubles at school. this only ended in him getting in more trouble at home, where there always seemed to be a new excuse to beat him.

What Did His, Her or Their Bedroom Look Like: for a while growing up, calamus shared a room with his younger brother, jethro. the two of them lived in a small bedroom of the trailer that they lived, with just enough room for two twin beds. it was a bit small and it was a pain to share with jethro, because the two of them never got along, but at least it was a room with space to put his things and a door and a bed. once his youngest brother, clyde, was born, and got old enough that his parents didn’t want him in their room anymore, clyde got calamus’s bed, and he was basically banished to the living room. he slept on the couch and kept his things in rubbermaid tubs in the living room.

Any Sports or Clubs: not really! he spent most of his time with his little group of friends, but didn’t participate in much else.

Favorite Toy or Game: calamus’s favorite things growing up were his hot wheel cars, and his mother’s makeup, when he could get into it. when he did the latter, however, he was always in a TON of trouble afterwards.

Schooling: calamus went to the local public school, like most kids in the area did. callie had a lot of troubles; most kids at school didn’t care for him, and a lot of his teachers didn’t hide their distaste, either. he got in trouble a lot at school. he missed class frequently, either because he was staying home to help watch his younger siblings, or because he didn’t want to put up with the teasing and just skipped. as a result, he was usually failing most of his classes. he decided very early on that he was probably just stupid, and it wasn’t worth trying in class.

Favorite Subject: science

Popular or Loner: a little bit of both! he was definitely popular with certain kids, but not with a lot of others.

Important Experiences or Events: when Calamus was freshly sixteen, he and his father had a severe altercation after they found out that callie had secretly pierced their right ear some time ago, typically hidden by his long hair. by the end of the night, calamus had a split lip, a limp, and a buzzcut. leaving their friends behind was the hardest thing calamus ever had to do, but it was at this point that they decided that they couldn’t stand living in the same tiny town with nothing on the horizon and no adults caring about what went on at home. he hitch-hiked his way out of town, new york bound, and didn’t look back. once he was in new york, he bounced around from shelters to couches to the streets for several years, before he was finally able to get a job and save up enough to get a tiny apartment. he has only recently saved up enough to enroll at lockwood.

Health Problems: insomnia, substance abuse, frequently gets migraines due to his lack of vision correction.

PERSONAL

Bad Habits: when he gets nervous he’ll chew on the ends of his hair, flinch, make himself small, back himself up against the wall or try to find the nearest escape route. he hoards things like there’s no tomorrow, in case he needs them. over-drinks and still dabbles with drug use, though he’s trying to break the habit.

Good Habits: tries to eat good food, is a penny-pincher, never late to anything, is always cleaning his apartment and himself, almost obsessively.

Best Characteristic: his optimism.

Worst Characteristic: his drama and lack of confidence.

Worst Memory: the time he was beaten for piercing his ear before he ran away from home. everything after that was awful, too, but the realization that his father didn’t care for his mental or emotional wellbeing at all, and him and the rest of his family and all their neighbors would always value appearances more than him, stung worst of all.

Best Memory: callie’s fondest memory is a tie; between hanging out with his roving gang of friends back in mississpi, after a very long fall afternoon. they were all piled atop a junk car like seals on a rock in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by this endless field and watching the sunset while they talked about nothing in particular. the other contender is the first time he got his baby sister, patience, to fall asleep in his arms. typically, she would only cry or fuss or stay up if anyone but her mother held her. but when he laid down and put her on his chest and she drifted off, that was one of the warmest feelings Calamus ever had.

Proud of: his physical appearance and ability to keep going when things are hard.

Embarrassed by: his scars, his substance use, details of his past.

Driving Style: he never learned how to drive!

Temperament: typically fairly even, more likely to shy from conflict than push it.

Attitude: positive and tenacious.

Fears: pain and going backwards in progress.

Phobias: he has a very real fear of physical pain and being trapped, of making others angry with him or disappointing those around him, and of embarrassing himself or his friends.

Secrets: heroin addiction and his previous homelessness. he doesn’t like to discuss it; it embarrasses him.

Regrets: he has a LOT of regrets. sometimes, he regrets running away. sometimes, he regrets waiting so long. sometimes, he regrets his lack of education. he regrets leaving his friends. he regrets his choices. he regrets getting involved in drug and sex, he regrets trusting the people he did, he regrets the things he did to get arrested…

Feels Vulnerable When: he shares details about himself, when he’s in a tradition classroom, or when he’s nude.

Pet Peeves: people who are too loud when it’s not necessary, people who take charge even when they don’t know what they’re doing, baby boomer customers.

Motivation: he never wants to be a homeless drug addict again. he just wants to live a comfortable life.

Short Term Goals and Hopes: to pass all his classes, settle down at school, and manage to keep up on payments.

Long Term Goals and Hopes: to settle down with someone and have a nice house and a small family, and just have… nice, basic things that people dream about.

Sexuality: very gay

Exercise Routine: he likes to go running around the neighborhood a lot.

Day or Night Person: he’s more of a day person, but often ends up staying up for a lot of the night.

Introvert or Extrovert: extrovert.

Optimist or Pessimist: optimist.

LIKES AND PREFERENCES

Music: a weird combination of flashy, catchy pop and heavy death metal.

Books: the harry potter books.

Foods: he likes almost all food, and will basically never turn anything down, but southern comfort food is a favorite.

Drinks: anything fruity and sweet and boozey.

Animals: he loves dogs and horses.

Color: blue

Clothing: he likes old band-tee-shirts, and anything swishy and flowly.

Jewelry: he doesn’t really wear any, but he has a few pretty, simple stud earrings that he’s collected over the years that are important to him.

Games: he loves any sort of card game.

Websites: twitter

TV Shows: he likes riverdale a lot.

Movies: harry potter!

Greatest Want: money

Greatest Need: sobriety

LIFESTYLE

Favorite Possession: his apartment itself. having previous been homeless for several years, just having a place to call his own is incredibly precious to him.

Most Cherished Possession: a small cats-eye marble that lucas gave him before he left home.

Town or City Name: new york

Married Before: no

Significant Other Before: no

Children: no

Relationship with Family: estranged; ran away when he was sixteen, and hasn’t had any contact with them since.

Salary: 24k/year

Other Income: has three different jobs; barista, waiter, and dog walker.

Dream Career: hair stylist or makeup artist

Dream Life: comfy, cozy, shared.

Love Life: mostly just hook ups.

Sexual Turn Ons: loving sex, biting, getting his hair pulled, being praised.

Sexual Turn Offs: being hit in any way, shape, or form, or being bossed around too much.

Hobbies: singing, dancing, doing complicated hair styles, exploring, sciencey things, watching comedy shows, sewing, embroidery, and running.

Guilty Pleasure: he really likes to dress up and try on skirts and dresses, but he tends to keep this on the down-low. also ice cream.

Talents or Skills: he’s really good with hair and make-up, and he’s a really good dancer, too. very good with babies.

Intelligence Level: he’s decently smart, but doesn’t believe that he is, and has had very little education in his lifetime.

#tasks #lock:task003 #headcanons #tw: drug abuse #tw: drugs #tw: abuse #tw: child abuse #tw: homophobia #tw: mental illness #(mental illness ment)#tw: overdose #(overdose ment)

1 note · View note

amieyhko · 3 years

Text

The Last (for now) Days of Being a Student

29 Oct 2018

Honestly though, my last semester in uni wasn't very studious. I had one course called Sixteenth Century English Literature in which the professor basically mocked all forms of religion and pointed out all the sexy details in Shakespeare's sonnets. For the final exam, which was three essays long, I wrote one very indignant essay about why I needed more women in literature and how all of the supposedly feminist writers in the sixteenth century were full of *$#% (but in a literary chic way). I got an A.

To top off the not-student like behavior, I TA-ed for my advisor's Freshmen English class. I survived a semester before and couldn't be prouder of myself for the job I was doing. It was mostly writing emails to students, making photocopies now and then, and sending reminders to the professor. The most excruciating part probably was correcting their essays' grammar and spelling. My friend said "Why bother? They probably won't read them," to which I retorted "CUZ I LIKE BEING RIGHT!" On the anonymous end-of-the-term survey, I've received many confessions of love to which I awww-ed and laughed. But most of them genuinely thanked me for the effort I put into emailing them, asking them questions, and drumroll correcting their grammar.

But why bother reading about my boring school life when you can read about what I have been doing not in school! Here is what went down in my life from April - June 2018.

The Diary of Anne Frank

The best way to cure jet lag is to go straight into tech week the following week. I have experienced many ailments from traveling and found jet lag from Europe to Asia is quite the worst. Fortunately, I signed myself up to run the lights for the Butterfly Effect Theatre's production of The Diary of Anne Frank. This was our second run but this play just doesn't get old. Fun fact about this play: this show's original Broadway cast had young Natalie Portman playing Anne. The Diary has been adapted into many plays but this version doesn't deify Anne into a hero figure but truthfully illustrates the inner drama of a teenage girl and the struggles of seven people living in a cramped up space. Honest to God, I cry almost every curtain call.

During the production, I read many young people don't believe that the Holocaust happened—this information killed me a little. It's absurd that someone wouldn't believe in a historical event with monuments and memorial sites all over the world with many primary sources and survivors who are still alive to tell their stories. Don't even get me started on how good some great works of fiction are based on WWII, like The Reader, Everything is Illuminated, and The Fiddler on the Roof… Also, there was a group of high school students in Taiwan that dressed up as Nazi soldiers and marched around the school for an event. Ignorance is not bliss, naïve is not cute—history is there for us to reflect and learn. I somehow took these news very personally, maybe because I grew up listening to the same Bible stories as the Jews, maybe because I cannot stand uneducated people, probably a combination of both.

A representative from Israeli cultural office was invited to open the show (we had free falafels, hummus, and pita during the last run of the show but not this time, insert whimpering). The weekend swooshed by. I was just thankful I could be a part of a show that spoke a story that some started to neglect.

That was the last time I worked with this theatre company because 1. they did have one last show August but I was helping another show the exact same time 2. rent issues with the theatre space 3. the artistic director got a new job in Vienna. He moved early September and he basically sold everything from costumes to lighting equipments. It was a hectic process to watch a theatre company that I truly felt at home turn into a goodbye yard sale. I learned a lot about running low budget shows, programming with too-old consoles, but most of all I made connections with people I know I will meet again in this tiny theatre world.

Fashion Revolution Taipei

April was a month where I went crazy juggling all about. I collaborated with Totes & Tees, a small social enterprise that focuses on ethical and zero-waste fashion. I have been following this small company for a while through a mutual friend and was really interested in what they did. The owner was also going to be one of the hosts for Fashion Revolution 2018 in Taipei. The idea was to have a runway showcasing up-cycled items handmade by many different designers. I was to crochet a beanie from a no-longer-used piece of fabric. Sadly, I couldn't participate on the actual day because I went on a family trip to…

Rome & Paris

To say this was a family trip would be a misleading statement. My parents were there to lead the seminars they have been running for 10+ years. As I mentioned in Update 3.0, their heart is for the Chinese speaking people all over the world. The Asians basically took over a whole hotel on the outskirts of Rome to host Fathers' School and Mothers' School simultaneously. This meant, there needed to be a baby sitting club. Slowly raise your hands if you're a pastor kid you basically did everything that was assumed of you! (Did I volunteer? Did I chose to be their child? We'll never know) No, I'm not being bitter, I just simply love poking fun at my stereotype. Besides, I was asked nicely to participate in taking care of the children—a member from the Taiwan side of the team had activities prepared for them, I just had to support. I said "WHY NOT? I JUST DID THIS A MONTH AGO!"

But, this crowd was tough. It wasn't like calming down super rowdy Hungarian-Romani children nor was it like being dragged around by crazy bubbly Filipino kids. These were well-educated, cellphone-hogging Chinese-looking kids who preferred classily sitting on chairs, not the floor, chattering away in Italian. Of course, they were all embedded in their Chinese-ness from their parents, so they still understood most of what we were trying to do. However, whenever the head teacher asked them to do something extremely "Asian", my TCK heart ached, feeling all the "well, they are NOT going to relate to that at all…."

Because the seminar lasted three out of the five days we were at Rome, we only had enough time to look around the Vatican and trot around to sneak peek here and there. One of the free days was taken over by a tour set up by the local church. They took us around historical sites that were related to the early underground churches and Apostle Paul. We visited way too many cathedrals that all of them started to look the same. The most memorable place was the underground tunnels where the early Christians escaped to and hid from the Romans. Going to a Christian school, we would always play Underground Church when we had class sleepovers—even though it was just a game, the danger felt extremely real. But as I stood in the tunnel, I could actually really imagine how real their fear must have been. I was in awe of the way these early Christians kept their faith even in the dark, cold underground.

After eating one too many cones of gelato and faking one too many Italian conversations in Spanish, we arrived in Paris. They were only going to host Fathers' School so umma and I had plenty of free time. However, being the only linguistically competent person in the group (but honestly, my French is basically nonexistent), I had to take everyone around the city. I was annoyed at having no time to myself and just my parents but thankfully, appa had three days free and the crowd let us be for two of those days.

Paris' reputation really proceeds itself, it's a bit dirty, there are more rude strangers than nice people, and they really hate you if you ask "parlez-vous anglais?". Despite all the negative stereotypes, I took my little tour group all around the places I've researched in advance. I was also allowed to go off on my own when I wore them all out by 5 p.m. I'm proud to say I've actually hit all the touristy places I wanted to visit with and without the group. We even visited Versailles kudos to the fact umma is so internet-savvy that she actually researched. She was very intent on visiting a few places like Château de Versailles, the top of the Eiffel, and the Louvre—her excuse always being "I'm never coming here ever again!"

After two-ish weeks of venturing around Western Europe, we emptied out the 99 cents cheese blocks at the local Carrefour market, squished it into our luggage, and sat on a long plane ride. Umma commented that I seem to be the "vacation type", she couldn't understand how I could still be so chipper being gone from home so long. Although her observations were accurate, I wouldn't have wanted to stay longer unless I started taking French classes or something—the language barrier was devastating.

Sharon McGill Memorial Service

My dorm mother passed away from cancer last fall. Her favorite drink at Starbucks, toffee nut latte, just came round again. I received the news via McGill dormie Facebook group while I scrolled through my phone during class, bad idea. My commute back home that day seemed five times longer than usual. Halfway through my walk home from the bus stop, I ran into umma. She asked if I wanted to go to Costco with them, then asked why I don't look so well. I honestly had no clue how to break the news. Appa's car rolled around to pick us up for Costco, I said Sharon died, we cried a little and had a moment of silence. I always thought about how umma and Sharon, appa and Terry are the same age. My mums and dads. They are some of the most important people of my life and one of them was gone.

I'd like to think I had enough time to process through this situation. Then I'd realize that not all valleys in life are empty holes. You don't just get over it. You live with their memories. Some days will pain you more than others but they're there to remind you that you are that much alive. You can still feel. As cheesy as I'm starting to sound, this is something I have been needing to remind myself lately.

After what seemed like too long, the day of Sharon's memorial service came. I hopped on the familiar bus from Taipei to Taichung. Visiting high school wasn't a big deal but I've never thought I'd visit because my dorm mum passed away. The auditorium was filled. Dorm kids had priority seats. Terry gave a bear hug to everyone who made it. The whole thing began with Terry mumbling to the mic "Alright, let's get this over with," to which I definitely chuckled. I didn't even bother holding back my laughter or tears or both as they came and went throughout the service. At the end, I could just feel this was a closure that everyone who knew Sharon deserved. I cannot describe what kid of feeling that was. The feeling of home? Feeling of clear certainty. Maybe everyone's love for Sharon somehow became a tangible atmosphere. I must say it almost felt like a wedding.

During the reception, there was a photo time where Terry was huddled around 30-something out of 120-something of his dorm children. Later on he said that was the highlight of his day. He also said no one was allowed to leave the dorms before midnight, to which most of us complied to. Most of the dorm kids that showed up all graduated around '02 or '03 so I was just a little bit very intimidated, mostly because I forgot the fact that we were all bound by the similar experiences of studying in Morrison while living in a dorm with the same dorm parents. It was a good evening to be a McGill Dormie.

Bye Hair Day

I have been notorious for the way I treat my hair. If you know the song "Grace Kelly" by Mika, well, in the chorus, he is singing about my hair circa 2013-2015. Then I stopped. I hated the way my hair felt dry and crinkly, I wanted my normal long hair back. I also remembered I've always wanted to donate my hair to a cancer foundation. It was just something I wanted to cross off my bucket list. So I've been growing my hair out ever since—it took way longer than I thought. Throughout my hair growth, two significant people in my life died from cancer. It felt like I had way more reason to donate now.

June 16th was the date. My friend also wanted to join in. We found Little Princess Trust, an organization that gives out free wigs to young girls who have lost their hair due to illnesses. Their guidelines said they love receiving longer hair because they're more popular. After some measuring I decided to get a buzz cut so that I could maximize the length of hair I could donate. Besides, I've been wanting to have crazy buzzed hair after a couple of years of freakishly long hair. Fickle me, I know.

My hair stylist washed my hair way thoroughly, dried it for what seemed like an hour, tied it up into sections, and snip, it was in a plastic bag. My buzz cut buddy and I couldn't stop rubbing our heads the following few days.

But my oh my, I did not know that a head of hair was keeping me warm all this time. I was constantly dealing with extremely cold overhead AC on buses and I eventually caught a really bad cough for three plus weeks. I now never leave my house without a hat of some sort.

My hair has become so short that I have been tracking my days with hair length. My best friend, Fanny keeps saying it's like watching a little infant grow every week. I told her to stop being so overly dramatic.

oh dear, this is getting real long

Instead of asking how someone's day was, Sharon would ask us three things: 1. what was the low point of your day? 2. high point? 3. what have you learned today? or what do you think Jesus is teaching you today?

So to boil down my April to June into a few pointers, it sucked that I got really sick for almost a month, but I loved getting to travel and do a lot lot lot of things. I'm learning that well-done goodbyes are possible. Currently, I'm learning to do just that—slowly closing up gaps responsibly, honestly, and kindly. God is also teaching me that I'm allowed to chose and do what I love (but more on that next update).

Thank you for catching up on my life, I promise the next post will be just as long.

#updates #graduatingishhh #taipei

0 notes

hannahgoesabroad · 7 years

Photo

Thursday night brought with it an air of uncontainable excitement amongst the study abroad students: it was finally the night of the boat party. The rain refused to halt as my sizable motley crew of friends boarded the double-decker boat. The first floor had a bar and tables for people to sit and chat while the second floor had another bar as well as a dance floor. Towards the back of the boat, you could walk through a pair of doors that opened out onto a deck. People were out on the deck all night snapping pictures and taking in the gorgeous sights around them. A sense of calm was felt out on the deck, while inside the boat you would have thought that Penn State football had just won the National Championship! (It will happen next year, I already know it.) Our trip down the River Thames lasted around 3 hours, plopping us back onto solid ground right as the London nightlife was starting to pick up.

Roundabout Pub was our next stop on the list for the night. The atmosphere of the crew was giddy as test tube shots slid down our throats and the music started pumping. Before we knew it we were already on our way back home to grab some of the famous food at Nando’s. After our delicious meal we all hit the sack, endlessly excited about all of the things we would be experiencing while studying abroad.

Friday morning soon came ‘round and there was only one thought in my mind: I needed a day of relaxation. With school starting on Monday and Saturday and Sunday being packed with pre-arranged activities, Friday was the day to do some local shopping and exploring. Twenty minutes away from my school is a big shopping area, with plenty of foreign brands, a few American brands sprinkled around. Primark is a company that just recently expanded to the U.S.. I would describe their clothing as great and unique fashions for affordable prices. You definitely wouldn’t be breaking the bank if you wanted to splurge a bit (or in my case, a lot) in this shop. (Sorry Dad, you probably shouldn’t look at your credit card statements anytime soon…) So off towards Primark I went with cash in hand and my friend Brenda in tow. Since Primark isn’t far away, you think it would be easy to get to, right? Think again. Two trains and a bus later we finally found ourselves in front of the Holy Grail. What a trip that was! We ended the night with cupcakes and Harry Potter (there’s really nothing better).

Saturday was the day my inner English nerd was finally allowed to appropriately show her true colors; it was tour day for Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre. The tour provided a lot of information about the history of the theatre itself and how theatre in general has evolved since Shakespeare’s time. Did you know that the Globe theatre that’s currently standing in London is actually the THIRD Globe Theatre that has been built? If you want to be completely geographically accurate, it isn’t even in the same spot as the original Globe. The original theatre is in the middle of the river under a bridge located right next to where the current theatre stands. Shakespeare had little involvement in the production of the second theatre, and had absolutely nothing to do with the third Globe due to the fact he wasn’t even alive when it was built (aka 1997). So while it was a little disheartening to find out that Shakespeare hadn’t actually been in the theatre that currently stands, the fact that his ideas could still be deeply felt and heard throughout the levels of the Globe made it equally exciting if he had been there.

Sunday Funday was packed with activities. By the end of the day, I accomplished getting a stadium tour of the famous Chelsea Football Club, seeing astonishing pieces of street art on an East End walking tour, and participating in the legendary Jack the Ripper tour.

The Chelsea F.C. stadium tour was fascinating; seeing inside the locker rooms and walking out of the tunnel onto the field was invigorating. I felt a sudden deep nostalgia for my childhood filled with sports, one of my favorites always being soccer. Putting myself in the shoes of some of the most famous players in the world was insane; I suddenly thought, “And why am I at school when I could definitely be participating in the World Cup?! Oh wait…” My feet carried me to the edge of the field, where grass turned to turf. The urge to run onto the field became unfathomable, but I knew if I attempted it a video of me would most certainly turn up on Youtube, no doubt being chased and eventually taken down by some big burly security guards. With a sadness, I turned myself around and slunk back to the rest of my group, struggling to accept the fact that my professional soccer career would never happen (hard to swallow, honestly).

The East End walking tour was something I had been mildly excited for, but had really only joined because I wanted to meet new people. Turns out, this was one of my most favorite things I’ve done so far in London. Walking around a different part of the city and getting to see the busy Sunday markets and feel the multiple different energies was something else. Our guide was extremely informative; you could see the passion on his face when talking about the different street artists and their works. One of my favorite parts of the tour: I finally got to see a Banksy work in person! For those who don’t know who he is, Banksy is one of the most famous street artists of all time. He’s stayed anonymous for decades, creating art designed to get humans to think about the bigger pictures in life. Check out his work online, you won’t regret it. While we took a look at big street artists like Banksy and Robbo, we did stop to appreciate some artists who are still up and coming in the art world. One of the designs in particular that we saw, our tour guide didn’t even know who the artist was. It had just recently been put up, and the attention it was garnering was massive. Crowds began to grow around the ‘grafitti’ making it almost impossible to reach our next destination (one that I was overly excited for). A famous donut shop and bagel shop stood side by side down the street from the new art work. Making a beeline for the bagel shop (spelled ‘beigal’ on the door sign), I quickly got in line and order a donut and chocolate croissant. Only 1.30 pounds less in change, I walked out into the cold with my two warm purchases. Scarfing down the donut, I packed away the croissant for my morning breakfast. The art tour ended, with the fantastic guide telling us multiple stories of Banksy pranks and how the artist still manages to elude discovery to this day.

My favorite part of the day began at 7p.m. that night. Jack the Ripper tour! As the night grew later, the East End of London turned from a bustling neighborhood full of people to a ghost town, effectively transporting us back to the year 1888. The atmosphere grew tense and fearful as our tour guide took us to different places around the East End, including some of the scenes of the murders committed by Jack the Ripper. The mystery surrounding the serial killer coupled with the gruesomeness of the crimes put every member of the group on edge. Even after the tour ended, I found myself online trying to find any information I could that would lead to a definitive killer. Alas, just like the FBI detectives assigned to the case, I found nothing conclusive. Laying in bed on Sunday night, the thoughts of murder and prostitution in 1888 drifted out of my mind, and in came thoughts of Monday morning: the first day of classes.

Barely getting two sips of coffee down, I rushed to my first and only class of the day, conveniently located on the first floor of my housing building. The usual first day of class jitters set in the moment I sat down. Luckily, my teacher swiftly ran through the syllabus and released us, leaving time for me to do whatever I wanted for the rest of the day. That brings me to the current moment: sitting in a café while typing all of my memories down.

More updates to come as the week progresses; I’m sure I’ll have tons to say about all of my English professors. Thanks for reading!

Signing off,

Hannah

#london #england #study abroad #jack the ripper #east end #chelsea football club #shakespeare #globe #nandos #banksy #robbo #david beckham

21 notes · View notes

esprit-de-corps-magazine · 5 years

Text

Road to High Readiness ends: 1 Canadian Mechanized Brigade Group ready to deploy

By Tim Bryant, Western Sentinel newspaper with files from Army Public Affairs

From July 1, 2019 until June 30, 2020, 1 CMBG is certified at High Readiness and has already begun overseas deployments. For more details about the Road to High Readiness, please refer to the Related Links item “Edmonton’s 1 Canadian Mechanized Brigade Group on ‘Road to High Readiness’”

Edmonton, Alberta — The latest edition of Canadian Army’s largest training exercise – Exercise MAPLE RESOLVE (Ex MR) – took place in May 2019, marking the end of the most recent three-year cycle of the CA’s Road to High Readiness.

Taking over the training area at 3rd Canadian Division Support Base Edmonton (Detachment Wainwright) from May 8 to 24, 2019, the exercise brought together more than 5,000 personnel from across 3rd Canadian Division to ensure the Division’s readiness to be deployed on operations in Canada and around the world.

Regular and Reserve Force members of the headquarters staff, infantry, armoured corps, engineers, artillery, combat logistics, mortars, and influence activities units enabling capabilities in any environment.

Ex MR serves many purposes for the Candian Armed Forces (CAF), but the primary objective is to prepare soldiers to operate in an ever-changing military world. To that end, Lieutenant-Colonel Joseph Pospolita, Deputy Commander Canadian Manoeuvre Training Centre (CMTC) – the entity that runs Ex MR and other training exercises across Canada – explained he and his team try to give soldiers “the most realistic and most challenging training possible.”

Training so tough soldiers doubt deployment could be as bad

The training can be so tough and so demanding that soldiers have often doubted an actual combat situation can be as difficult and challenging as what CMTC provided in training.

LCol Pospolita recounted soldiers having told him, “There’s no way that’s going to happen.”

When they return from their deployments, their minds have been changed.

“However, they go into theatre and come back and say, ‘Thank you for preparing me for that day; we didn’t realize it was going to happen,’” LCol Pospolita said.

The shift to a more complex and challenging training experience is a relatively recent one, brought about by the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks in New York City and elsewhere in the United States, explained Brigadier-General Trevor Cadieu, Commander 3rd Canadian Division.

“It fundamentally changed the way we had to look at how we trained our troops,” he said.

Prior to September 11, the CAF trained in a “risk averse” manner, without a professional opposing force to force soldiers to think and react to changing situations.

Afghanistan saw rapid shifts from combat to humanitarian assistance and back

That meant that when BGen Cadieu was sent to Afghanistan in 2002, he didn’t feel he was prepared for an actual combat environment where he would be faced with enemy forces trying to kill him, whom he was also trying to kill, nor for the shifts in focus on a daily basis.

“I certainly was not equipped to go from a combat situation in one moment, to dealing with the local Afghan populace in another – distributing humanitarian assistance – to going back to a combat scenario immediately following it,” he explained.

All those lessons led to the present-day Ex MR.

This year, the primary training audience, 1 Canadian Mechanized Brigade Group (1 CMBG) was faced with “a living, breathing, thinking, well-equipped enemy,” BGen Cadieu explained.

Soldiers were placed in as realistic an environment as possible. They were out in the Wainwright training area for two weeks, in austere conditions, to simulate being on deployment. They had to eat, sleep and remain alert in the field.

Because the leaders, or any other soldiers, were not able to stay awake and alert for the whole exercise, they needed to plan out their sleep and activity cycles in greater detail.

“They are going straight for the next two weeks,” BGen Cadieu said. “They can't fake their way through that.”

It’s a stark departure from the 1990s when BGen Cadieu joined the military.

Deliberately taken to the point of failure

“Today we are deliberately taking them to the point of failure,” he said.

Working in the Wainwright training area is not easy, explained LCol Pospolita. It features changing terrain with deceiving undulating hills, a river runs through it, and there is a major hill feature to contend with. Troops can easily get lost or stuck in the training area, especially when they’re on day five or six with minimal sleep.

Add in an opposing force and insurgents hidden among the locals in the exercise scenario, and it’s an environment that aims to test every bit of a soldier’s training.

Current social media aspect ‘cannot be ignored’

Ex MR aims to be as realistic as possible, and that includes incorporating a social media component accessible to both 1 CMBG and the enemy forces.

“Knowing the way things are, you cannot ignore social media,” explained LCol Pospolita. “We have a closed social media network, which we bring in for Ex MR. In each of the various towns [in the training area], there are capabilities to have internet cafes, and we have our own ‘Fakebook’ where people can go.”

The ‘Fakebook’ allows the enemy forces to keep tabs on what 1 CMBG is doing, while 1 CMBG can use it to find out what is happening around the area. But since it’s a social media network and anyone can use it, it’s also a tool to spread information and misinformation from and about both sides.

In other words, it can be used as part of an ‘information operations’ campaign, explained Lieutenant-Colonel Ross Bonnell, Chief of Staff at CMTC.

“We're challenging the brigade to see how they respond to this, how they're going to respond, how they're going to try and influence how they're going to try and portray their message to influence the locals,” he said.

Beyond the Canadian training element of Ex MR, there is also a large international presence during the exercise.

Success of Ex MR brings increasing numbers of international players

There were approximately 1,000 foreign Allies in attendance, including more than 500 members of the U.S. military, a platoon of French soldiers, Britons and Australians.

LCol Pospolita explained the influx of Allies is a result of how successful Ex MR has been over the years.

“As everyone starts seeing the success of it, other nations want to participate,” he said. “And much the same way, we send personnel to their exercises as well, because there's always something we can learn on how to do something better.”

LCol Bonnell added that having Allied members in attendance and participating in Ex MR in various capacities, from acting as enemy forces to observing and helping run the exercise, benefits the relationships Canada has with its partners and increases interoperability.

“It's a good problem for the Brigade to navigate, because we know that wherever the Army or 1 CMBG deploys, it's going to be in a multinational context,” he said.

A training exercise is the best time to come to a mutual understanding when it comes to language and terminology differences, LCol Bonnell added.

1 CMBG now ready to deploy

At the end of Ex MR, 1 CMBG became ready for deployment from July 1, 2019 to June 30, 2020. Possible deployments may include:

Operation REASSURANCE – Poland;

Operation UNIFIER – Ukraine;

Operation IMPACT – Iraq;

Forward Group for High Readiness missions to places such as Afghanistan, Latvia, and Mali; and

Operation LENTUS – domestic operations support at home.

LCol Bonnell said there’s one outcome and piece of feedback he was especially looking for.

“What we want to hear from soldiers is that it was a real challenge,” he said.

0 notes

mrmichaelchadler · 5 years

Text

Finding New Neighbors at the Movies: The Ebert Fellows on Ebertfest 2019

Editor’s note: Last week, the 2018-19 University of Illinois College of Media Roger Ebert Fellows, Curtis Cook, Pari Apostolakos and Eunice Alpasan, covered their first full Ebertfest experience at the Virginia Theatre in downtown Champaign, Ill. Here are their impressions, from “Amazing Grace” to “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?” and beyond.

CURTIS COOK

An hour before the first screening of Ebertfest 2019, “Amazing Grace” – a long-lost concert film charting the creation of Aretha Franklin’s eponymous 1972 gospel album – longtime festival director Nate Kohn addressed a crowd of festival guests and participants Wednesday in Urbana, Ill., at the home of University of Illinois president Tim Killeen.

Like Roger Ebert himself, Kohn was raised locally, and he noted that one of his favorite activities of the annual April film festival was observing the change of the city, year to year.

Like the city, Ebertfest is an evolving beast. Under the tutelage of Chaz Ebert, Roger’s widow, for the past six years, the festival continues to tinker with its formula. With one foot firmly planted in the festival’s initial focus on overlooked films, the other foot – guided by Chaz’s emphasis on empathy, kindness and compassion – has branched out further, this year focusing heavily on the passage of time.

Throughout the 21 years of the festival’s operation, one of the few constants, alongside Nate and Chaz, has been Champaign’s Virginia Theatre. For anyone who has been to Ebertfest, they know the venue as a bit of an anomaly in its surrounding city. The Virginia features Corinthian-style columns adorned in cerulean hues and gold leaf, where the green and gold of the proscenium complement deep crimson curtains, and rows of red diamond-checked velvet seats and hundreds of feet of ornate trim occupy the auditorium.

This conveys an elegance glaringly absent from modern theaters. But there’s a more down-home flourish out front: a bronze statue of Ebert, seated in a movie theater seat, giving his signature ‘thumbs up’.

From the opening screening of “Amazing Grace,” which was followed by an onstage concert from the Martin Luther King Jr. Community Choir of Champaign-Urbana, to the show-stealing duo of Gina Gershon and Jennifer Tilly who spoke after Thursday night’s screening of “Bound,” to several screenings projected in 35mm film – a rarity in 2019 – the Virginia was packed with entertainment for film lovers of all kinds.

A Saturday highlight, director Morgan Neville’s enormously popular Fred Rogers documentary “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?,” came with the presentation of the Ebertfest Humanitarian Award. Neville was the third in the festival’s history to receive the honor.

The film itself is a perfectly nuanced character study of a TV celebrity famous for his compassion and empathy around the world. Neville’s documentary looks beyond the surface of Rogers’ small-screen persona and examines how his kindness manifested itself on a daily basis.

“The question is not ‘What would Mr. Rogers do today?’” remarked Neville in a post-screening talk. “The question is: ‘What are YOU going to do today?’”

The festival named after Ebert means a lot to me personally. Growing up in Urbana, attending Ebert’s high school and then the university where he first made his name, it’s natural to sense his shadow looming over other people’s lives, especially film lovers. Until this year, my only interaction with the festival was a one-movie taste of the 2017 festival: Park Chan-Wook’s “The Handmaiden.”

Visiting the festival this year in full was an eye-opener to say the least. In 2005, Ebert famously declared film to be “a machine that generates empathy.” This festival captures that sentiment perfectly.

To watch hundreds of patrons interacting with each other throughout the week, mingling along the streets of Champaign, walking around West Side Park on a blustery weekday afternoon, perusing records at Exile on Main Street just a few blocks away – all of it was rewarding.

Hearing people converse in the lobby of the theatre, under the marquee, even in the bathroom, after screenings gave the sense that people here were not just paying to see a movie, but deeply invested in what they saw. As one guest put it: “It’s nice to go to a festival where people actually care about movies.”

Even in the short time that the festival runs, the openness and kindness of everyone involved is so inviting that one can’t help but feel the warmth of the community at their feet when they step under the Virginia’s laurel green marquee. For 98 years, the Virginia Theater has stood tall, a local relic amid that ever-evolving cityscape. And with the recent addition of several new luxury high-rises in a downtown area under perpetual renovation, that cityscape continues to evolve.

Whatever the future brings, Ebertfest and its longtime home serve as a testament to longevity and to cultivating a sense of community beyond proximity. In coming years, in this great era of local change, the Virginia’s presence – along with its long-running festival tenant – will be even more appreciated.

PARI APOSTOLAKOS

Ebertfest 2019 was a true learning experience for me, but not in the way I expected.

For example, Alan Elliott, producer of the Aretha Franklin concert documentary “Amazing Grace,” revealed details in Wednesday’s pre-screening discussion not just about the film, but about his life, right down to the story of his family adopting a friend of Elliott’s named Benny. The real-life scenario, improbably enough, went on to inspire the ‘90s TV sitcom “Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.” Elliott received confirmation on that anecdote, from another Ebertfest guest, actress Gina Gershon, Elliott’s cousin. She was there in the Virginia Theatre Wednesday, and from her seat she shouted out: “It’s true!”

Gershon and her “Bound” costar, Jennifer Tilly, delivered one the most entertaining post-screening discussions of the festival after the Thursday night showing of “Bound.” Their chemistry on-screen 23 years ago translated to the 2019 stage with ease. I wanted to befriend both of them instantly. Between takes of their hot-and-heavy love scenes in “Bound,” they recalled, they’d eat donuts and discuss the shoe sale at Barney’s.

Even more intriguing were one-on-one discussions with festival attendees like Rita Coburn Whack, co-director of the Maya Angelou documentary “And Still I Rise” who strongly recommended I watch “The Crown” on Netflix (apparently Princess Margaret is a mess). On a brief stroll over to the “Bound” screening, Coburn Whack told me she thought Angelou would’ve been a fierce advocate of the #MeToo movement if she had lived to see it. It’s unfortunate the world will never see what that movement might’ve sparked in Angelou’s writing.

If Ebertfest were structured like most festivals, that brief encounter might never have happened. Since only one film is screened at a time, with all attendees watching the same thing at the same time, Ebertfest sparks conversation amongst the festivalgoers. May that aspect of it never change.

Following Saturday’s screening of “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?” Chaz Ebert took the stage in tears, overcome with emotion as she remembered her late husband, whom she described as her own Fred Rogers. “Neighbor” director Morgan Neville took time afterwards to tell the Ebert Fellows a bit more about the film. One of the best moments in the documentary, 1960s archival footage of Rogers convincing, patiently, Sen. John O. Pastore to continue funding national public television, has a larger story behind it.

Neville told us his that his research revealed Pastore did not have much of a childhood of his own. Growing up during the Great Depression, he was put to work in a factory at an extremely young age. Something happened when Rogers candidly shared with Pastore the compassionate message he was sending to children in his television program. Neville speculated that it must’ve touched the inner child of this senator who grew up too fast.

Mr. Rogers was a true embodiment of empathy. It’s that quality that has grown into a central theme of Ebertfest. “If somebody is disabled or of a different race or ethnicity or religion or what have you, kids are just kids,“ Neville said. “Most of the differences we have in our world are taught. And not always for the better.”

EUNICE ALPASAN

After the Saturday screening of Morgan Neville’s 2018 documentary of the life of Fred Rogers, “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?”, Ebertfest co-founder and host Chaz Ebert came on stage in tears, mirroring the emotional state of many audience members.

“I had my own Mr. Rogers,” she said of her late husband, Roger, “someone who was so kind, so compassionate. Nobody's perfect — we know that — but the depth of Roger’s compassion and goodness was astounding. It was amazing to be able to peer into somebody's else soul and see how much they cared about other people, and to see the things that they wanted to change to bring goodness into the world.”

Attending the 21st edition of Ebertfest reminded all of us of Roger Ebert’s legacy. Despite his passing, his spirit permeated the four-day film festival and could be found in the people in attendance who knew him, as well as the movies shown on the big screen of the Virginia Theater in downtown Champaign.

Filmmakers, critics, actors, musicians and movie distributors came from across the country to take part in Ebertfest, a festival that’s unlike any other. Empathy, forgiveness and compassion were major recurring themes found throughout this year’s work. Movies like “Rachel Getting Married” and “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?” stood out for the way they helped fulfill a heartfelt collective yearning. It was personally very much needed.

“Won’t You Be My Neighbor?” tells the story behind the children’s TV show “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood” and the story of the man whom filmmaker Neville reveals as being more than just a two-dimensional character.

“One of the big questions of this film was — it’s in fact, the fundamental question that I got when making the film – ‘Is he really that guy? Is he really who he seems?’ That’s the most common question I got,” Neville said. “And the answer is, he’s even better.”

Even if you’re too young to have watched “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood,” the film still finds a way to connect with audiences unfamiliar with the subject. The film doesn’t portray him as a saint, which Mr. Rogers’ widow was insistent on when speaking with Neville about the film.

The kindness of Fred Rogers was refreshing and therapeutic to see on the big screen. But we also saw the vulnerability and internal struggles he faced and shared with the world.

“When I saw this movie in the theater,” Chaz Ebert said Saturday, “it was the men in the audience who were crying. I was asking someone, ‘Why do you think that is?’ And they said, “It’s so much more difficult for men to be able to tell someone that he needs them, to tell them that they love him or that they’re accepted. Or that they’re just fine just the way they are.”

Director Jonathan Demme’s 2008 drama “Rachel Getting Married” starring Anne Hathaway screened two days earlier, on Thursday. The film follows the character of Kym, released from drug rehab so she can attend the wedding of her older sister, played by Rosemarie DeWitt.

Kym finds herself in a tug of war with her family, and screenwriter Jenny Lumet delves into the complicated nature of families. In one sequence, a dishwasher-organizing competition sprouts out of lighthearted fun between Kym’s father, played by Bill Irwin, and Rachel’s fiance, played by Tunde Adebimpe. The scene takes a sudden, stark, poignant turn that sucked all the air out of the room on screen – and out of the Virginia Theatre auditorium.

Another Thursday screening, Jean Epstein’s 1923 French silent film “The Faithful Heart,” made my list of Ebertfest favorites, as well as one of my favorite movie-watching experiences, period. The screening featured a live musical performance of the Alloy Orchestra. As someone who doesn’t often run into the opportunity to watch silent films, I found my jaw dropping thanks to the stunningly restored visuals combined with the seamless music performed live. The Alloy Orchestra included instruments like junk percussion, accordion, clarinet and synths.

The intense close-ups revealed the deathly glisten of the character’s eyes and the detailed texture of their skin. The cinematography was shockingly detailed, even psychedelic with the use of quick cuts, kaleidoscopic and distorted camera shots. The ambiguous ending to this melodramatic love story added a layer of depth that was unexpected and thought-provoking.

Ebertfest recognizes a variety of films differing in genre, time period and representation. I hope in years to come, the festival’s breadth becomes more clearly reflected in who attends the festival. More community members and students of different ages and backgrounds should take the chance to attend.

As a College of Media Roger Ebert Fellow, and first-year college student, it’s incredibly humbling to attend a film festival whose co-founder, Chaz Ebert, provided me this opportunity. To be surrounded by people who do so much to champion filmmaking makes for a celebration of the movies, and stories, we all share.

from All Content http://bit.ly/2GiLLlf

0 notes

flawsenround · 6 years

Text

It’s Literally Perf Outside RN

OMG, it’s the weekend again!

Thankfully I am working a lot this weekend. Love! Love! Love! No, seriously though.

I was going to do this local tourist thing every weekend and then update this blog but last weekend I let myself get too worked up over absolutely nothing and had to chill the fuck out.

Luckily, I’m back to my regularly-scheduled antics this weekend, even with work, so away I go with this post!

Friday June 23

Friday I spent a good chunk of my day scoping out Planet Funk Con at the Tax Slayer Center. It was seriously an amazing event. This local comic con started from very humble beginnings and the fact that it has grown to be able to put on a full-scale event like this at the largest indoor performance venue in our immediate area is honestly impressive. as. fuck.

The highlights of my adventure are as follows:

1. Talking to children’s book author and Quad City local Marcus Emerson.

2. Talking to the MC of the entire event who told me some really awesome stories about when he literally worked for Stan Lee himself. Excuse me, WHAT?!

*ear-piercing internal screaming*

3. Meeting Abby Howard (author of ‘Dinosaur Empire!’) at the Rock Island Public Library booth. She actually had a hand-drawn ‘zine called ‘DINOSAURS: Movies vs. Reality’ and it was amazing.

For a 6-page, hand-drawn, self-made ad for her own book she managed to not only give extremely astute and hilarious (because of how true it is if you are able to read and comprehend subtext) commentary on the way in which American society as a whole is currently functioning, she managed to give me just a bit of a glimpse into a brighter future I so desperately hope for. I also learned three scientific terms of which I was not previously familiar.

4. I met Charles Simpson (artist for ZERO GRAVITY), Albert G. Miller (author of the Shearcliff Series), and Patrick McLaughlin (author of ZOO).

5. I also stopped by the Quad City Rollers booth because they are just seriously bad ass and the QCPaws booth because they had an adorable Bull Terrier that was even cuter than Spuds MacKenzie!

That night I got my ass to Circa 21 Speakeasy′s Laugh Hard Comedy Show. I am really glad I did too because literally every single comic there was hilarious.

That is NOT NORMALLY HOW IT WORKS.

Also, this weekend Hedwig and the Angry Inch opened at this same venue. It’s showing next weekend as well and I am honestly going to maybe think about actually checking it out.

I literally HATE musicals so, so, SO much.

But this one is rock and roll and I can absolutely hang with that. Also, it’s actually a really intriguing story and I know for a fact there is some genuine talent in the cast.

You Might Want To Seriously Think About Attending It

Saturday June 24

I stopped by the Urban Street Games, a CrossFit competition that was held next to the Daiquiri Factory in downtown Rock Island this weekend. It is an annual event sponsored by a local gym for CrossFit athletes of all abilities.

First of all, The Daiquiri Factory is a seriously fun bar. For real. Also, EXCEPTIONALLY smart to have an intense exercise event attached because I am sorry but if you’re feeling a little low-blood-sugary from 400 burpees in a row a daiquiri will cure you instantly. It’s literally science.

Anyway, I actually used to do CrossFit. I actually got pretty into it. Like, maybe a little too into it, for me. It’s an amazing sport and to excel you need to be determined, and both mentally and emotionally fit. Yes, literally anyone and everyone can do CrossFit. But just like with everything else at a certain point you gotta make some real decisions if you are going to commit to it FOR REAL and make the time and investment to keep really improving seriously OR just go through the motions and just attend to attend... BORING. LOL, just kidding. There is actually a ton of merit in long-term CrossFit attendance and participation, especially if your gym has exceptionally varied or intelligent programming OR you can take the easy way out and like take up long distance running or something.

“I think you may have guessed in which direction I took when I reached this particular fork in my life’s road.” said the lazy, non-committal writer.

I do want to say one important thing though: Once a CrossFitter, ALWAYS a CrossFitter. Even if you aren’t at your “box” currently/anymore you can ALWAYS go back if you were to so choose and you never forget what you learned. I actually really and truly love my CrossFit family (As opposed to my actual family - Sorry not at all sorry!). Even if I’ve kind of moved on to focus on some other things, I know I owe (metaphorically) them quite a bit for helping me discover myself and how capable I am at some stuff (and how capable I am at working my ass off and figuring out the stuff I’m not yet as capable of). That is pretty fucking amazing. So as much as I laugh at CrossFit in general, I am always going to have a very special place in my heart for the sport and my old gym.

Also, just a side note, I actually wore a “retro” shirt from my gym’s earlier days showcasing its previous branding and I am not entirely sure a more hilarious shirt has ever been made (I am exaggerating, but it is a hilarious shirt). I am not going to waste time explaining it here, but if you have an extensive background in corporate advertising, then please contact me on the downlow and come fucking laugh at this shirt with me. It is actual genius whether it realizes it or not.

Then I grabbed a beer (Elysian Brewing Space Dust IPA) at Baked Beer and Bread Company and saw Frankie Joe & Kinfolk. Was I super-interested in the band because I spied a banjo and a washboard? You bet your sweet ass!

All in all very nice evening. Even the part where I talked briefly to two really hot and nice guys at the bar. One of them absolutely monopolized the conversation, and I am not speaking for the quieter dude, but that was perfectly fine with me because I wasn’t really listening after 2.5 seconds anyway.

Then I ran sprints on the goddamn government (Arsenal) bridge waiting for the drawspan to open but then when it finally opened I was too tired from the sprinting so I went home. By went home I mean I dance-walked home because my playlist is fire and no one was out to judge me/accost me for dancing alone, on the bike path, in the middle of the night.

I. LOVE. IT. HERE.

Sunday June 25

The day is just getting started but my plans include:

Checking out ‘Love, Loss, and What I Wore’ at the Village Theatre.

I already know I will most absolutely sob uncontrollably through this whole show.

Me to Myself: “Why are you going then, what is wrong with you??? Don’t you have to work literally RIGHT after the show at a job in which you are directly dealing with the public and to go face first into that already emotional or with possible ugly-crying-face, I mean doesn’t that seem a little, well...”

Myself to Me: “It sure does! Sunday Funday!!”

Look. Stupid, stupid people worldwide put themselves willingly through the experience of attending various religious services like clockwork every Sunday. The absolute LEAST I can do to commiserate is put myself through a little abuse of my own. Usually it’s some form of physical abuse via a much more intense workout but this week I chose emotional beratement via this amazing and adorable play that I already know will just really get to me!

COME SEE IT TOO, AND STAY ON TOP OF VILLAGE THEATRE SHOWS BECAUSE IT IS AN AMAZING THEATRE AND THE FEW SHOWS I HAVE SEEN THERE (music, theatre, live reading(s), I took a class once and we put on a show so I am obviously a little biased about that particular one) HAVE NOT ONCE LET ME DOWN.

0 notes

vileart · 6 years

Text

Clown Dramaturgy: Sáras Feijóo @ Edinburgh Contemporary Clown Festival

Edinburgh Contemporary Clown Festival

3rd-5th May 2018 - Assembly Roxy.

Shows, Masterclasses from our Gardi Hutter and Ricardo Puccetti, a panel of discussion.

Our co-production Clown Cabaret Scratch Night will take place the weekend prior to the festival as a prelude to it.

CloWnStePPinG - A hub dedicated to the understanding, promotion and development of contemporary clown as an art.

Link to the campaign, bit.ly/EdClownFest-Kickstarter

Looking over the guests that you have coming across for the festival - what made you choose these particular artists? Switzerland's Gardi Hutter is a big icon in the world of clowning, also my idol almost since I started my journey within this art. I traveled, for a couple of years, as a nomad clown with actor, clown and teacher, Victor Stivelman (and taking part in theatre clown groups), and one of the things that we always carried with us was a DVD of her show, The Brave Joanne, which is actually the show she is bringing to the Festival.

When I facilitate workshops, I always show

her work too. I find her work very inspiring because she has both sides: the message and the silliness of play. For instance, this brave Joanne is a washerwoman who dreams of being Joan of Arc; through her Hutter takes us into this journey of playing and having fun when we do things that we don’t really like. Not only has Gardi Hutter performed all around the world, winning more than 13 awards on the way, but her humanity is outstanding. Through her work she shows us both the tragic and the comic sides of our lives, moving us emotionally inside at the same time as making us think about what it is that makes us human. I have chosen her because, although she defines herself as being in the ‘classical tradition’, she is the perfect example of what I call contemporary clowning. For me this is about the content and how we present ourselves in the world, instead of being about taking up a ‘form’ based on a mentally-constructed (idea) character which doesn’t truly reflect who we are as human beings. Ricardo Puccetti (Brazil) is not only a big influence in South America but also an international reference when it comes to the art of clowning. A major part of his practice is to explore “the comic use of the body,” to the point that he has developed his own methodology of work. Johnny Melville was born in Leith. He took part in a revolutionary artistic clown movement in Europe, ‘the Fools’ movement of the 70’s and 80’s, and he is 'one of the living legends of the modern clown’. He has performed in over 44 countries and taught hundreds the art. His last performance in Scotland was in 1975, so I believe that bringing Johnny back to perform here after 43 years is very special. I feel extremely honoured that they three are joining us at the FIRST edition of the Edinburgh Contemporary Clown Festival!. They are our international artists and, as someone based in Scotland, I will also perform my contemporary theatre clown solo which actually had its debut at the Assembly Roxy in 2014. As well as, of course, the quality of the work, I have focused on bringing performers and artists notable for their high integrity and love for what they do. Ricardo, Johnny and Gardi are bringing both high quality professional work and lots of warmth as human beings. I have chosen these 4 different productions because we all are going to bring something of different value to the festival and show our audiences different ways in which this art can be expressed, while always drawing on the same set of core values. What made you decide that Edinburgh needed a clown festival? For the last 4 years, I have been producing, under the name of CloWnStePPinG, contemporary theatre shows, Exploratory Clown Laboratories and Clown Communities Socials, as well as co-producing Clown Cabaret Scratch Nights and Clown Cabaret Special Editions. These events have been bringing more awareness in Scotland, of what contemporary clown really is, at the same time as nurturing and expanding our community of clown artists and audiences. I started to work on this idea of a festival over a year ago by following my heart’s desire of bringing the work of Gardi Hutter to the country. Then I contacted her, and started to look for a home for our festival. Assembly Roxy accepted to be our home!

Last year, when our Clown Cabaret Special Edition co-production (a collaboration with Plutôt la Vie and Melanie Jordan) took part at the SURGE festival and got a great audience reaction, I realised I was on the right track. Our audiences are ready for more. Furthermore, our community of clown artists are too. Not everyone can travel to see the work of the international artists we are bringing, so the Festival seems the perfect opportunity to continue to inspire and nurture our community of clown artists and, of course, clown-lovers. As we all know, Edinburgh is the city of Festivals; sure, some of them bring clowning/physical theatre as part of their programme, but none of them constitutes a space for contemporary clown to exist as such. I believe we are now providing that space. I know that clown can contain a variety of different disciplines and approaches: when you say 'clown', how would you define it? I define it as ‘contemporary clown’ and yes, it differs from other disciplines within clowning (as you mentioned), as well as the conceptions people have of it. Contemporary clown is about the connection we create with ourselves first (as performers) from which we are then able to connect with our audience from an innocent, playful place.

A place of constant communication and discovery, wonder. A space where we allow our vulnerability to show constantly, thus giving our audience an opportunity to get in touch with their own, as they see themselves reflected in the performer.

Because, ultimately, contemporary clown is about revealing the humanity that we have within ourselves, a humanity that society so often encourages us to hide behind masks. These masks can separate us from our true essence and that of others. And a contemporary clown shows us this humanity by, for instance, accepting failure and moving from there into finding a new ingenious solution which grants the clown and us, their audience, a sense of achievement that is created by being completely in the moment.

It also helps to develop a sense of listening and honesty about what is really happening. A contemporary clown performance is real and raw and at the same time has a structure and a message. The artist knows where they are heading but still allows this fresh and constant connection and communication with the audience, making them participants in an emotional journey.This kind of practice also has a message behind it, which is what I love the most and which makes the performance both an emotional and a thought-provoking experience. What we see it is not so much based on the abilities of the performers and the amazing tricks they might be able to do, but about our shared ability to be humans, truly and transparently.Moreover, this particular discipline goes beyond the stage or performance to become a lifestyle, a philosophy, a way we, as humans, interact with the people around us, in our daily tasks, our business and, ultimately, the way we relate with the world.Why do you think that clown is becoming so popular - and important - in Scotland at the moment?I think I already answered that one above. But I will also add the following:The gift that contemporary clown brings to us, as humans, is going through the ‘uncomfortability’ of looking at ourselves and who we are, in order to find our heart, our vulnerability, our fragility, at the same time that we find our playful side, joy, and our own individual way of doing things. It is important also to allow ourselves to laugh at the ‘tragedy’ of our existence; it is the only way to find ‘the light’.Why is this important in Scotland? As a person involved in the arts, clown gives us a different dimension to our work (and world). So it is a great addition to the Scottish cultural rainbow which already has many colours.As a person, I would go even beyond the limits of this land. Clowning take us through an emotional journey that makes us feel human, inspired, that our lives matter and also connects us with ourselves and with the others in that space… and, it allows us to laugh freely and without limits at those little things that makes us who we are.Do you have a particular vision that the festival expresses?Yes, I do! (She says with her hand on her heart committing herself to building a dream that was born in her heart.)To bring high-quality work that reflects the different takings a contemporary clown show could have but yet, as mentioned about, always draw on the same core values.

Ultimately, Contemporary clown is about allowing ourselves to be who we are and, to love that and to share it completely with our audience! Our vulnerability, fragility, our sense of ridiculousness, our “not fitting in” but trying to fit in, our soul’s honesty and need for connection, love and acceptance. That is my vision for the festival, to create a space where it is ok to be us. It is ok to be in touch with our soul and hold our heart’s desire so deeply that we wildly go and make them real. A space that honours the beauty and inspiration this art brings to our lives and how it reflects our Own Humanity and transforms it into a Creative Adventure. Right now, we are running a Kickstarter campaign and would love to get supported by all of you, readers! I encourage you to help us build this space by supporting us financially now. With all the funding cuts and other pressures on creative organisations, crowdfunding allows us all to build together something that will benefit directly our society and enrich it in unimaginable ways. We have created perks for general audiences, performers, supporters and, (local or online) businesses to become our partners in crime, bit.ly/EdClownFest-Kickstarter

Sáras Feijóo. Creativity Mentor, Curator and Multi-Media Performance Artist.

As a curator, I am the Artistic Director of the FIRST Edinburgh Contemporary Clown Festival.

International Artists

Gardi Hutter, Switzerland. Headliner.

Ricardo Puccetti from Lume Theatre. Brazil.

Johnny Melville, originally from Leith in Edinburgh but have been based in Spain for many years.

Scotland-based Artist

Saras Feijoo - Venezuela/Spain/Scotland

from the vileblog http://ift.tt/2Dm25hk

#Theatre #Blogger #visual art #Edinburgh Fringe #Experimental Critique

0 notes

eccentricandanachronistic · 7 years

Text

Tuva – Reeking of Mysticism…

I was well into my second week of my dream Trans Siberian Railway ride. So far, I had had a 50 hour train ride from Moscow to Novosibirsk, a couple of days of exploring the town of Barnaul with the help of my Couchsurfing host Sasha, scouting around for tent and camping equipment, and almost a week of trekking up in the Altai mountains. One part of Siberia that needed a bit of a detour, but fascinated me enough to be willing to jump through all hoops required, was the majestic Republic of Tuva...

I took the night train from Barnaul to Abakan, and I knew right away that I was in a part of the country that was absolutely off the tourist radar because, for the first time, I felt conscious of hard stares from fellow passengers. Many curious people came and struck up a conversation (and even took pictures for their Instagram!). I reveled in the attention for a bit, till digging deep into my limited vocabulary and answering with strain in incoherent Russian became a little too stressful, and I feigned ignorance of the language for the rest of the evening and went off to sleep on my berth.

Early the next morning, I arrived at Abakan. There were quite a few 'marshrutkas' (mini-buses) outside to depart for Kyzyl, capital of Tuva. I sat in and more curious stares and questions followed. I felt more conscious than ever, for I hadn't freshened up or even once checked myself in the mirror in the last 24 hours, so I knew I must look a sight (and a downright ugly representative of India, to boot). I refrained from talking much, but before long, was most pleasantly surprised to find one of my fellow passengers come up to me and speak in impeccable English. She introduced herself as Serji, a native of Toora-khem – a small Tuvan village, more than a half day's bus ride from Kyzyl – but having worked in St Petersburg in the past, and volunteered as part of an International Student Run Organisation at exciting places like Colombia! I sensed in her a fierce desire no different from mine to see the world and understand as much as possible of the cultures beyond hers, and was highly impressed. She donned the hat of guide and translator for the rest of the bus ride; I was relieved that all questions about me were now directed to her!

Once we reached Kyzyl, I started looking for a 'Student's Hostel', a reference to which I had found online somewhere on only one page in English. With Serji's help, I now did a search in Russian on Yandex, and she was of great help in mining the exact name of the building and street from among all the Cyrillic the search results bombarded back. Turns out it is the local University students' accommodation, which is let out for tourists during the summer holidays – only there aren't many visiting this part of the country. Serji decided to stay at the same hostel for the night, for she had missed the day's bus to her village. We also met Roman, an ardent photographer originally from the Urals, who had also just dropped in earlier that day.

Right on the opposite side of the road was Vostorg – a place for cheap eats, which is where we had lunch. Later that evening, we walked around the City Centre and took in the sights around – the museum, theatre, and other pretty edifices. The sight that stayed with me however was the mandatory statue of Lenin erected at the Centre and, in the distance inscribed on the hills overlooking the city, the letters 'Om Mani Padme Hum' in Tibetan script, visible in the same frame!

I next walked up to the 'Center of Asia' Monument at the Heritage Park that evening. Right next to it was the Kyzyl Tourist Information Center, the upper floor of which had a lovely Café with a balcony. From here, one could see the river Yenisei running alongside the Park.

Presently I was joined by Roman, who said he had managed to hire a car to visit southern Tuva the next day, and invited me to join him to split costs. I said yes, but was forced to change my mind not too long after when I learnt that the following evening, the National Tuvan Theatre would be playing host to the Annual International Concert for 'Khoomei' – the mystical art of throat singing, and emitting multiple octaves of sound, prevalent in this region as well as Mongolia. I jumped – this was the thing I was most hoping to see in Tuva! And to think the Annual Concert is at the very time I am here – if this isn't serendipity, what is?!

I went out early the next morning to the theatre, and just as it opened, secured a ticket to the concert that evening. The rest of the day was spent at the National Tuvan Museum , which has a fabulous collection of artefacts, and the star attraction of which is the 'Scythian Gold' (no photography allowed unfortunately). Serji took me to an authentic Tuvan café for lunch, where I had some local lamb soup, 'chorba', and 'snezhok', which is very similar to our own lassi! I then saw Serji off at the bus station and thanked her for everything…

The concert began as scheduled at 7.00pm in the evening, and no time was wasted in getting the performers to show off their incredible vocal magic – my hairs stood up from the word go! Over the next two hours, local music groups as well as other national and international participants put up a spectacular show. This certainly goes down as one of the most unique and surreal experiences I have been privy to EVER!

The next day, Roman was bound for Western Tuva, and was kind enough to ask again if I could join in. After the concert, I felt I had pretty much seen what I had come to Tuva for, and now anything more would be a bonus. We were to be seeing some nomadic families in action as well as their 'yurts' (tents), so I was excited about that. My plan was to return that night to Kyzyl and head out by bus or train.

We started with seeing the Buddhist temple of Ustuu-Khuree, which had plenty of prayer flags around it. We'd bought prayer flags ourselves, and tied them along with our 'zhelanie' (wishes). Now that I write this a year later, I can indeed happily confirm that my wish did come true!

Next was 'Aldyn-Bulak', an ethno-village recreation nestled amidst the hills. Pretty, albeit a bit too 'set up' for my liking.

Some breathtaking sights greeted us the rest of the way. I had lost count of the rainbows I had seen on this trip; while the sight of the vast steppes amidst the backdrop of rolling hills looked otherworldly indeed…

Soon after, however, the car broke down, and could not be fixed no matter how hard our driver and co-driver tried. It had turned pitch dark, and there was not a source of light close by save for our torches. Obviously there was no going back to Kyzyl to catch the bus out now. Roman had a reservation at a 'yurt' that night, and called them for help. Soon after, a car came our help; we were ferried to the closest village of 'Bizhiktig Khaya', where the nephew of the lady who managed the yurt stayed, and we were to spend the night there. The following morning, another car arrived to take us to the actual yurt, which was about an hour's drive away. Once there, we settled in, and I took in every bit of the well endowed tent; there was sheepskin all around, meant to help keep the place warm. We were then treated to a delightful spread of salad, 'lepeshka' (bread), and soup – all lip-smackingly delicious!

We hired yet another car – a 4x4 and quite the fuel guzzler – and went out to see some more places around; first to another yurt, this time not part of a camp, but owned by a real nomadic family. I enjoyed having the spotlight on me all over again, and for good reason – Indians did not drop by in these parts everyday (though turns out they know of the singer Bittu Malik!). It was time to head back – sunset views were a delight to take in, as was the sight of horses and cattle herd returning to their farms.

That night happened to be 'Rakhi Poornima' (August Full moon)… and also my birthday! I kept running over a thousand thoughts in my head, while snuggled in my sheepskin blanket, and couldn't sleep for excitement. I came out to admire the yurt lit up by the glorious moonlight, and froze the frame in my eyes and lens forever…

The next morning, after a wholesome breakfast, we climbed up the nearby hills to see 3000-year old peteroglyphs carved on the rocks.

We were presently joined by an Italian girl, Alessandro, who had just come back from a week-long trip among the reindeer herders, and was heading back that afternoon to Abakan; we decided to take the ride back with her. Just before sending us off, our host performed a shaman ritual on us, blessing us with closed eyes and deeply resonating chants – very mystic, very powerful…

We passed by the beautiful region of Khakassiya on the way, and reached Abakan by late evening. This is where I bid goodbye to both my new friends – Alessandro and Roman – for I would be staying the night at a hostel in town before heading out the next morning. I had the rest of the night to ruminate over the overwhelmingly different and transcendent experience the last few days had been, and marveled at my destiny – I had come seeking so little, and ended up getting so much more than I bargained for; not very different from what they say about God – you take one step towards him with pure faith in your heart, and he will take ten closer to you…

On to Krasnoyarsk next, where more exciting adventures await…!

#travel #tuva #tuvan throat singing #republic #russia #trans siberian railway #khoomei #tuvan

0 notes