#not to be depressing when the sun is still out but i’ve been Realizing (trademark) lately that i don’t get excited/giddy like other people | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astoldbygingersnaps · 3 years

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#wip wednesday

it’s me, ya boy, back with Yet Another New Project!

this time, i bring you the beginnings of a oneshot dreamt up by alexa continuing to fan the flames of my shiita brainrot. enjoy!

There are very few moments in Itachi’s life that he can point to and say that he felt truly content. Many of them are from his childhood, small snatches of memory that involve his mother’s cooking or his brother’s laugh. One or two even contain his father, tiny blips of interaction where the man’s unbearable expectations and slavish dedication to duty had slipped away to reveal the human heart beating deep within him. But Itachi would be lying if he tried to claim that the majority of those moments did not include the friend that is currently sitting beside him.

This, however, is not one of those moments.

Currently they’re on the outskirts of Konoha’s vast forests, the coverage against the afternoon sun thinning as the leaves wither in the crisp, autumn air. A gentle breeze rolls through, not harsh enough to chill but the current rakes its way through Shisui’s hair, making it even more unkempt than usual. Itachi’s keenly aware of this fact, and of Shisui’s general presence, as the man has himself wedged close to Itachi, his head resting on Itachi’s knees as he prattles on about Itachi’s least favorite subject: his love life.

It’s a fascinating contrast, the image of Shisui thoughtlessly draped over Itachi as he drives the knife that is his sexual history deeper and deeper between Itachi’s ribs. But it’s not a wound that Itachi holds Shisui accountable for, not really. Painful though it may be, it’s not as if Shisui is thoughtless or intentionally cruel; it’s merely a side-effect of Itachi’s most closely guarded--and frankly most terrifying--secret.

Often, Itachi has considered telling Shisui the truth, fantasized about what the various outcomes of such an action would be. Still, each time he’s come close to confessing, the words sitting precariously on the very tip of his tongue, Itachi swallows them down like a bitter taste. After all, there’s just no neat and tidy way to say, “I’ve loved you since we were children.” So, Itachi says nothing at all, day after day, month after month, year after year.

“Are you even listening to me?” Shisui asks, in the whiny tone of voice he always gets when Itachi isn’t giving him his full attention. On any other person, it would be an annoying affectation, but Shisui has a way of making even his worst traits charming.

Yet another truth Itachi refuses to tell him. “I’m riveted,” he replies dryly, never taking his eyes off the book in his hand, fighting a smile as Shisui groans in frustration.

“You’re a terrible friend,” Shisui says, his faux-offended expression lingering on the edge of Itachi’s vision, and in response Itachi lifts his book to block out the sight of Shisui completely.

“The worst,” Itachi hums in agreement, finally giving into a laugh when Shisui grabs the novel he’s been only mildly interested in and chucks it out of Itachi’s reach. Raising an eyebrow, Itachi looks at the discarded tome, its pagings rustling in the breeze, before glancing back at Shisui. “A bit excessive, don’t you think?”

“How come we never have these conversations about your romantic woes?” Shisui retorts, and the question is so unexpected and uncomfortable Itachi feels the neutral mask of his features start to crack.

“What?”

Watching him critically, Shisui sits up, resting his cheek in his palm as he leans more of his weight across Itachi’s body. “I’m serious. All the times you’ve had to listen to me bitch and moan about this stuff, and not once have you ever chimed in with problems of your own. What gives?”

“Perhaps I don’t believe in kissing and telling,” Itachi replies, tone more clipped than he means it to be. Though he doesn’t resent Shisui for his curiosity, a part of him can’t help but be annoyed that somehow such a finely trained officer doesn’t realize he’s stepped on top of a massive landmine.

Rather than take a moment to read the metaphorical room, however, Shisui presses on with his typical single-minded focus. “Oh, come on,” he argues. “It’s just us, Itachi. You know you can tell me anything.”

Despite his best efforts, Itachi can feel his stomach clenching at the proclamation. For a moment, he weighs the pros and cons of what admitting the truth would be, and is displeased to discover what the best option is. “There’s nothing to tell,” he says, shrugging as if the words don’t mean a thing, and carefully keeps his eyes off Shisui’s face.

The funny thing about Shisui is that, for all his gifts with the Sharingan’s manipulations and illusions, he’s a shockingly open book outside of his profession. Surprise paints itself across his face, all wide eyes and an open mouth, and against his will Itachi feels a flush burning at the base of his throat. “Wait, seriously?” he asks, voice low as if they’re trading secrets of national security rather than engaging in petty gossip.

In response Itachi tugs his legs out from under Shisui, taking an unkind satisfaction in his friend’s grunt as he hits the ground. Still, the movement is, in Itachi’s mind, a tactical retreat; there’s no need to feel physically trapped when Shisui already has his metaphorically pinned down. “I’m gonna kick you.”

“Don’t,” Shisui mutters, whiny again, as he grabs Itachi’s leg with his trademark speed. The touch burns against the bare skin of his ankle, and Itachi shakes him off with a scowl. “I’m not being an asshole--”

“All evidence to the contrary,” Itachi cuts in, annoyed.

Graciously Shisui ignores that and continues, “It’s just surprising, you know? Because you’re… Well, you.”

Itachi feels his stomach twist. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Shisui looks at him, and absurdly Itachi feels like an opponent on the wrong side of Shisui’s kunai. “Nothing, I guess,” he eventually offers, quietly, and the statement is so outside of Shisui’s typical cheerful, confident persona that Itachi can’t help but feel profoundly unsettled.

The truth is he’s kept himself guarded in this fashion for a variety of reasons, some he can admit to Shisui and others he’d rather be disemboweled than confess to another living soul. Part of his reluctance stems from the plain fact that he’s simply too busy with other matters to commit to dating of all things. Between his obligation to his village, his devotion to his brother, and his own ambitions at eventually securing the Hokage’s chair, he doesn’t have time to waste on a frivolous matter like courtship.

He also knows that, somewhere down the line, his father will no doubt want to marry him off, eager to pass on the talent and promise of the esteemed Uchiha prodigy. Frankly, the man would have probably done it sooner if he hadn’t felt some gratitude towards his son for working with Shisui to end the feud between their clan and the village, thus granting the Uchiha a much higher standing in Konoha. But at twenty-three, Itachi knows he can’t count on his father’s good graces much longer, meaning the inevitable grows that much closer with each passing day.

The other issue is… a bit more delicate. Itachi’s far too pragmatic to invest in the concept of virginity as something sacred, something special to be shared with exactly the right person at exactly the right time. But it does strike him as unfair to go to bed with a person and offer them a lie instead of himself, knowing that for every moment spent together his thoughts will be firmly locked onto someone he can never have.

Rather than reveal any of that, however, Itachi simply says, “Sex has never been a very high priority of mine.”

“That’s kind of depressing,” Shisui replies. “You should get out there. Play the field, have fun.”

Itachi’s just irritated enough at his continued cross-examination of his personal life that he asks the unthinkable: “Why, are you offering?”

In hindsight, Itachi supposes that after carrying the burden of his feelings for so long such a slip-up was inevitable. But it feels less like an understandable mistake and more like a battlefield miscalculation, one dangerous enough to leave him wide-open to a counterstrike.

That in mind, perhaps it should come as no surprise when Shisui counters, ”Do you want me to?”

to be continued.

#my fic #this is uh. very different than what i usually write #so i'll be v interested in what the feedback will be when it's posted in full #until then!

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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742

Are we alike? So True or False, Yes or No. Explain if you'd like. You are 16 years old. 16+6. You are a junior in high school. Graduating college senior. Math and Science aren't your best subjects. I was definitely more of an arts student. I only did great in math and science when I liked the topics we were learning, but otherwise I never felt like exerting as much effort for them as I did for classes like history. Your dog is really little. He’s medium-sized. He’s a really weird size actually hahaha and I guess it’s because he’s mixed. He’s too big to be classified as a small dog and too small to be grouped with the larger dogs. You love being tan. I mean I obviously don’t go advertising how much I love it, but it’s definitely nothing to complain about.

You think you are pretty for the most part. I have my days. You love making other people smile. Getting people’s approval is always a nice achievement. You love bracelets or just wearing jewelry in general. I think jewelry’s pretty but I’m particular about them – I prefer them to be silver and for them to have subtle designs, never explosive as I think that’s a tad bit tacky. Also I prefer necklaces to bracelets. TLC is one of your favorite channels on TV. It certainly would be if I still regularly watched television. I know for a fact Gab and I will tune in to TLC when I crash at her place. You have been in three different countries. Six, so far. You have ridden in a plane. Yeah well I live in an archipelago, so we’re separated from all the countries near us and have had to ride planes to get to them. You’re learning how to drive a car. I already did. I’ve had my license for four years. You have had 3 serious boyfriends. You believe you can only have 1 true love. As a demi this is typically how I think, but I like keeping my mind open. I know this is certainly not how it works for a lot of people, and that’s valid. You have a job. You have been to Aruba. No but if anything this reminded me of Friends because this was where Rachel was supposed to have her honeymoon before she ran out of her wedding hah. That contributed absolutely nothing to the conversation but yep. You love little babies or children :) Yes, and it increases as I get older. I have to practice for when it’s my turn, lol. You can't wait to get married one day. You always try to have a smile on your face. Not always. I allow myself to be sad or cranky if I want to. Your emotions change very easily. Sometimes. It’s not a dominant trait of mine though; I can typically keep my emotions consistent and it’s only volatile if I’m under a lot of pressure or stress. You cry very easily. Yep, I’m very sensitive. Earlier today I cried over a girl’s Tiktok about her dog with diabetes and the adjustments that had to be made for him, like how he stopped going down the stairs or sleeps a lot more these days. You cry a lot. Yes, because I cry easily. You have a boyfriend you have been with for a while. Girlfriend. You hate when people say 'I love you' too quickly. Idk, I haven’t had to deal with this. The hair on your legs grow very quickly. Not very quickly but yeah it does grow back after a certain amount of time. I shave every one or two weeks. You always feel like your back needs cracked. It’s definitely not in the best shape, coupled with the fact that I already have scoliosis to begin with. You’re still trying to determine what you want to do after high school. I have career fields in mind but as for exact jobs, no. You love fashion. I like keeping up with what’s trending within my age group but I’m not obsessed with fashion at all, like I don’t know the fashion week schedules or who the biggest models are these days, and I still think some fashion trends don’t make sense. You love shopping for school dance dresses. You think decorating is very cool. It’s okay. I wouldn’t do it myself but I have friends who are great at decorating, like Laurice, and I think it’s a good and a pretty cool skill to have. You always seem to be cold. Not always, but I do feel cold more easily than the people I know. I’m always the first one to grab a jacket, a blanket, or to move further away from the AC. Still, I prefer being cold than hot. You love hot weather. Oh my god fuck no. 22 years of living in a tropical country and I’ve had just about enough of the sun which is all we get all year round. I can’t wait to live somewhere with a lot of rain and with snow. You have tanned in a tanning bed. I don’t have to; plus aren’t those really unhealthy to stay in? You aren't a very good cook. I can’t even call myself a cook. You aren't an independent person. Hah, no sir. I find comfort in doing almost everything with at least one person with me, even if it’s just grabbing a snack or having something photocopied in school. I went to UPTC alone ONCE just to try having dinner all by myself cause everyone seemed to have great experiences of it, but I hated every second of being alone. You like any type of food, you aren't picky. The only foods I’ll refuse are fruit and anything with raisins on them, but generally I’m not hard to feed.

Country is your favorite kind of music. You quit watching American Idol. I quit when I realized all the wrong people kept winning. If I remember right, the last straw for me was Scotty McCreery over Lauren Alaina. You like the show 'Big Brother'. I never did get into it, but everyone did. I used to think something was wrong with me for not enjoying any season of the show, but eventually I stopped caring. You used to like Jersey Shore. I was only interested in it because it felt edgy to watch as a 12 year old lmao, but I was never obsessed. You think tye dye is super cool. It’s definitely cool and fun to make, but it’s not the first, fifth, or thirtieth thing I’d wear. You love glitter. Your nails are almost always painted. Total opposite. You have had sex before. You have a best friend of the opposite sex. I have close friends, but no best friends. Andrew is the best closest guy friend I have, probs. You have been stabbed in the back a few times. You don't trust many people. Again, quite the opposite. I like to believe everyone deserves trust in the beginning, but I have a rule to cut anyone who breaks that trust out of my life. You don't have many close friends. I have a lot of friends but I like keeping my closest circle small. You’re normally nice to everyone. Duh? You like to meet new people. Egh, it depends on who it is. I can find other people exhausting to talk to from the get-go; or sometimes I’ll find them too different and I just know no friendship is gonna come out of it. Sometimes you can be pretty shy. I’ve learned to be a bit more extroverted through the years but I’ve never lost my trademark shyness hahaha. You don't have any secrets. This blog is a big glaring secret from everyone I know. Your boyfriend has supported you through your hardest times. Girlfriend. You have a scar from cutting your leg while shaving. Not right now, but it’s happened a few times. You think flowers are very pretty. They’re okay. I’m not crazy about them but I do like giving/receiving bouquets. You hate nature. I have no reason to; it’s peaceful and beautiful. You don't like animals very much. Love them. You like to eat meat, any kind. I wouldn’t try all kinds of meat. Like I wouldn’t eat cats, dogs, or anything that’s critically endangered. But I do tend to be adventurous with meat, much like with any other dish I try. You have eaten donkey before. You’re pretty close with your parents. Like I said in an old survey, we have a buddy-type of relationship. We don’t hate each other but we also wouldn’t have heart-to-heart talks with one another and we’re so not emotionally close. You are also very close with your sibling(s). My sister and I also tend to treat each other like friends, ^ just like that. We’re not emotionally close either; when my sister’s cat died last week I could only send her comforting messages on Messenger because we’re not the type to visit each other’s rooms and cry to each other. You don't mind being around your family. If there is anything I learned in the last two months, it’s that this exact fact holds true. You love summer. Only when there is a trip planned. Otherwise, I don’t enjoy the weather at all. You don't know how to swim. There were always a couple of months allotted for swimming PEs in all years in my old school, so I know basic swimming and treading. You like being a teenager. It was okay. It certainly got better when I finally fit in somewhere and got invited to teenager stuff. You thought you were depressed at some point in your life. I was, throughout my teenage years. These days I’ll occasionally have very low points, but I don’t think it’s severe depression anymore. You feel like someone is growing apart from you. No, not at this point in my life. You like to take walks. With this climate, I always bitch about walking haha. When school was still ongoing I would typically drive everywhere, no matter how near my destination was. You aren't very good at buying gifts for people. I wouldn’t say this. I pride myself on being a good listener and by extension, being a good gift-giver. I’ve often made Gab cry with my gifts. You love seeing couples in love. Sure but tbh I’m partial to same-sex couples because I see them a lot less. When I see one in public I always make sure to give them a kind smile. You love weddings :) I haven’t been to one since I was 9, but sure. You are addicted to sweets. You get scared very easily. Only at night. You don't like to be alone. If I’m doing stuff outside, then yes this is the case. Otherwise I don’t mind having alone time at home. Many people have asked if you were black, but really you're white. I’m neither of these. You could do without the TV. Have been for a few years now. You text a lotttt. Back when everything was normal and I had load on my phone every week, yep. I don’t really need to text anyone these days, though. You tend to make extra letters on your words. Only occasionally. You hate when people use bad grammar. It only bugs me when I expect them to know better, like if an American is being cocky or racist but still fucks up basic grammar; or if a Filipino wants to act like a know-it-all and obviously has poor command of English, but still forces themselves to speak it when they could very well speak Filipino in this hugely bilingual country lmao. You have a little bit of chub on you but you aren't fat. Not really. I only get bloated after I eat but my metabolism is very quick and it disappears relatively quickly. You are pretty good at rollerblading. I was never good at it even though I practiced a lot. I generally have bad balance. You wish you were a good gymnast. Sure, I feel that this is a very cool skill to have. I remember being fascinated by the gymnasts from Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo and how prettily they spun their ribbons. You are a competitive cheerleader. I am not, but it was one of my dreams. You are very uncoordinated. I wouldn’t say very. I’m not very physical these days and I can be clumsy, but my hand-eye coordination has stayed sharp all these years from playing table tennis; and I was good at futsal and had good reflexes when we had to play it for PE. You aren't good at making decisions, but you try your best. You love God very much :) This is such a hard pass it deserves a strikethrough.

You love lotion and perfume. I love the variety that’s available out there, but I don’t splurge. You wish you could own everything in Victoria's Secret. You wish you could be a model. You hate when girls are sluts. Even the word ‘slut’ isn’t gonna fly by in 2020, much less this entire statement. You hate when people act dumb on purpose. Don’t we all? You don't care what other people think of you. Depends on who it is. Some opinions will matter, and some won’t. You love to cuddle. You wish you could bake. I wish I can be good at the kitchen in general but tbh I always let my fear of fire and knives take over and I’m always left too scared to learn. You would like to own a pool. When I’m richer, sure. You kind of regret a few things... You want a little tattoo that no one can see. I kind of want my tattoos to be personal to me, yes.

#survey #surveys

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discursivities · 7 years

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From Baudrillard we’ve inherited a number of terms, the one relevant to this post being ‘hyper-real’ (sometimes ‘hyper-reality’). By ‘hyper-real’ what we mean to denote is a resemblance to The Real—unmediated reality—that is, for some very basic reasons, ‘better’ or ‘preferable’, but ultimately gives the impression of being ‘more real than The Real’. A hyper-real experience of some x is an experience of x that is preferable—given its increased vivacity, sharpness etc.—to an experience of that same x in actual ‘The Real’ reality.

An example will make the distinction clear. Our ‘post-modern’ father, who finds himself absurdly competing everyday for the affections of his son against the most impossible alternatives—video games, television, the internet, etc.—decides to disconnect the boy for a few hours and take him to a baseball game. The boy, who actually knows quite a bit about baseball and even claims to be a fan of the game, quickly grows bored and even slightly annoyed with his father for bringing him outside. His annoyance is the product of a very telling insight—that is: the boy realizes that, had he been left to his own devices (note the lack of idiom), he could have stimulated himself much more effectively and with greater enjoyment. This knowledge, almost over-whelming in its force, prompts the boy to finally proclaim to his father (not half-way through the third inning, we might imagine): ‘This has been fun and all, but you should play MLB2K13 if you really like baseball.’ The absurdity of this statement is all the more difficult to bear because we understand exactly what he means. If he was in a more ironic mood, then he might say: ‘This has been fun and all, but it doesn’t come close to the real thing.’ This wording brings out sharpest the consequences of hyper-reality. The actual game of baseball being played out on the field, under the sun, with bats, balls, and sponsors—this constitutes, for our purposes, The Real. The video-game, which began as a mere simulation of reality, has transcended its status of being a simple ‘resemblance’. The hyper-focused, beautiful, lush visuals; the ease and comfort with which the game is played; the total engagement and over-stimulation—these factors conspire in bringing the game to the position of ‘hyper-reality’. It is the trademark of hyper-reality that it seems ‘more real than real’—and this is a matter of perfection. Where an actual game of baseball may be sloppy, start-and-stop, and uncomfortable to watch (heat, lack of shade, inability to hit pause and go grab a snack, etc.), the hyper-real experience on the other hand has none of these deficiencies.

Hyper-reality is present in those movies ‘based on a true story’, especially if the events depicted happened in your lifetime and—at the time they were happening—you couldn’t be bothered to watch the news. The eagerness with which we line up outside the theater on opening night is an irony lost on just about everyone.

A very standard ‘post-modern’ critique of the hyper-real concerns the spectator’s propensity to reproduce inauthentic experience. If the hyper-real is so compelling, then our construction of experience (day-to-day) will inevitably converge upon trying to re-create the hyper-real. The two obvious problems to arise from this treatment of experience are: first, it is very seldom that the hyper-real can be recreated spontaneously; the almost inevitable failure to do so leads to disappointment and depression. Second, all experience will be mediated by a host of ‘ideal’ versions of that experience which, if allowed to mediate, will provide for the same outputs every time. What you eventually get is repetition and an inability to see yourself out of that repetition. So we become trapped in a cycle of creating inauthentic experiences that will never be enough to satisfy. You can guess what many will find to be the solution: rejection of experience in total—authentic or inauthentic (which is the only type they have any inkling of how to create)—and a return to the solitude of hyper-reality.

I think, by this point, the direction I’m taking is fairly obvious with regards to social media (and Tumblr in particular). Whereas with such media as movies, video games, books (to a diminished degree), etc. we are given a pretty well structured set of parameters to reproduce, the same cannot be said of social media. Let’s say that I’m a fan of sit-coms that revolve around some setting like, for example, a café. Now, when I visit cafes, I have these shows in mind—their general plots, dialogue and the types of characters typically involved—so that I begin to reproduce what I’ve seen. (It must be noted that this isn’t an explicitly conscious project, although it can be, however commonly operating as if by reflex). While it is impossible to perfectly mimic the hyper-real experience of watching the show, I may come close. This is because the dimensions of a ‘café-centered sit-com’ are finite and rather easily recognizable. So much so, in fact, that I could reasonably become annoyed if my friend—who I’ve arranged to meet at some café—‘drops the ball’, so to speak, and does something out of line with the re-creation. (A situation of this sort was humorously depicted in Sartre’s Nausea, when the protagonist’s lover complained that he was always ruining her cinematic moments, usually by saying something banal).

Social media (now: SM) either doesn’t have—or doesn’t have very clear—parameters of this sort. It would appear that SM is the hyper-real replica of reality’s social aspect itself. It is no wonder, then, that we cannot enumerate all of its dimensions, because doing so would be to list everything that is of and in society. I hope the horror of the situation is becoming clear. This is what we are faced with: if SM takes the place of ‘the hyper-real version of ‘social interaction’/’society’’, then all future social interactions (happening in good old capital-R Reality) will be mediated by the glowing ideal of the Internet. And I do believe SM is hyper-real. It provides for all of the benefits of social interaction—communication, solidarity, friendship, etc.—without any of the hairy details involved in actually going outside and maybe being stood-up or bored. If you’re not convinced SM is hyper-real, then consider the following examples that would be impossible in an unmediated interaction.

You’re talking to your best friend online. Knowing each other as well as you two do is great, the conversations are funny and everyone’s always on the same page, but naturally things become formulaic and after a bit of interaction you need a break. No problem. Open a new tab, watch a video, listen to music, read an article, play a game, etc. They’re still there in the chat-window for whenever you want to resume the conversation (in fact, they’re probably doing the same thing on their end). Further, Internet etiquette has evolved to the point where we don’t even have to say ‘bye’ or ‘I’ll be back in a second’ or anything. You can drop a conversation at any time, and pick it back up at any time, and no one cares.

Another example. If you really wanted (and if you had a bit of an inferiority complex) you could easily appear as a very smart, hip, well-informed person. You can see where I’m going with this. If there is ever, in the course of your conversation, a term you’re unfamiliar with you can look it up and appear an expert within seconds. Ditto re ‘have you seen/heard/read the new ____’

Imagine trying to import these examples into a real, unmediated, social experience. It can’t be done. So what happens? The two consequences of hyper-reality still take effect, but more destructively since our attempts are from the outset more futile. We are condemned to a reality where all of our attempts at unmediated social interaction fall utterly flat. What we put in place of authentic social interaction is the creation of semblances. I’m sure you’ve seen this, or perhaps you’ve done it, where you go to some social event (not online) and see people consumed with creating the semblance of a good time for their profiles. This horror reaches, for me, a nasty pitch at concerts where the crowd is more interested in producing a quality youtube video than enjoy the performance. The youtube video becomes more real than the real.

What was the pessimistic solution again? Reject ‘The Real’ altogether and retreat into the solitude of hyper-reality. In other words, log back onto Tumblr. I pick on Tumblr because, I think, it has the most diverse functions—especially when compared to Facebook or Twitter—and so also has the greatest potential to do damage. One fairly easy to spot consequence of this retreat back to the Internet is the complex of memes, in-jokes, codes-of-conduct, and what might be called the new ‘net dialect’ that has sprung up through SM. What has happened is an utter rejection of The Real by deciding to live and flourish in the hyper-real (what we might think of, not without some hesitation, as the ‘cyber-real’). The anxiety and disappointment common to all experiences with The Real, especially after prolonged exposure to the hyper-real, can only grow disproportionally more hideous as social media expands its influence. I’m worried and feel that more solutions are in order. It is my intuition that the most elegant solution won’t be one that does away with social media, but one that can fit it most succinctly into our delegations of various types of ‘reals’.

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rina-rambles · 5 years

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Hold On To That Feeling

Daydreaming and feeling overwhelming surges of inspiration is normal for me when I’m separated from the means to write (in other words, my laptop) for any extended period of time. I admit that very few times in my life have been so hugely joyous that a certain urgency to capture it in words lasts past the event. Some people have the gift of being motivational rather than nagging and I fully believe that it is the seven-hour car ride next to Sam and my number one baby that I owe this determination to not procrastinate anymore to.

The happiest and saddest experiences are either the easiest or hardest to put into words. In my grief for Max in 2015, I tried desperately to put into words the sudden sense of mortality I felt, being able to remember him as a little pup as if it were yesterday. But unlike my externally forced graduation speech back in 2010, which told as neutrally as possible of my hellish high school years, I couldn’t find the words for my sweet boy. The ever-expanding graveyard is since that summer where I find my ultimate peace and maybe that’s all I can ever say about it.

Maybe because I’ve admired and looked up to One Tree Hill actress and my idol Shantel Vansanten for so many years now, but I finally understand why she says “I look for inspiration in everything around me.” There was a time when I used to wait for that surge of urgency to write, but now many writing courses and pep talks later I’ve realized that it takes as much determination and focus as it does genuine inspiration to be productive. Every time I have heart-to-heart talks with Sam, I come away feeling more talented and capable for it so I owe it to her and myself to capture all the moments that it brings me joy to think about.

After the family vacation through Bruges in Belgium, the French war memorials and last but far from least Watford’s Warner Bros Studios three years ago, I always regretted not pushing through the procrastination to write about how much lasting joy I gained from October 10 2014. Naturally, it was my psychologist who helped me make use of that day of bliss at every turn, by using the happiness of the memory to put me back in a good headspace during stressful and less joyous times. Because I’ve figured out the key to making memories long-lasting for me personally, it is and always has been music. The more Indian weddings I attend the more certain I am that any Indian function my possible future wedding may have will be a sangeet only. I have a carefully chosen anti-anxiety playlist of positive musical associations and have to give even my least favourite One Tree Hill character, Peyton Sawyer, credit for one truth:

But I digress, being a huge fan of John Green’s The Fault In Our Stars after the film adaptation released in summer 2014, come the sightseeing in Belgium that October it was the soundtrack’s peppy track Boom Clap I tuned into as we walked the quaint streets of Bruge. The film’s love story took place in Amsterdam before terminal cancer turned it tragic and hearing that song on a tourist boat ride in Belgium felt close enough to the movie magic to be a joy to recall.

Seeing the war memorials on the next part of the trip it was my Dad’s excitement and the sheer scale of historical melancholy that made it unforgettable, being there to witness the 100th anniversary of WW1 was obviously an immense and sobering experience. But all that took place before one of the happiest days of my life, the one I’m sure I would think back on if J.K Rowling’s Patronus Charm existed in real life. In a way, I understand how she made the joy-sucking Dementors a metaphor for her own depression because that single day has had the strength to carry me through hard times ever since.

Harry Potter was what turned me into what I define myself as today: a fangirl. The fascinating Marauder era still holds a very special place in a heart no longer seventeen but probably happier than nearly a decade ago. It makes me feel old to think that the first Potter film adaptation came out sixteen years ago, 2001 was incidentally the same year to give the world Karan Johar’s Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham, which initiated my ten-year obsession with SRK.

Coming back to the Watford experience, I can safely say it was life-changing: Between Tom Felton’s humorous tour guide recorded narration, the animatronic Buckbeak that actually bowed and blinked and my first taste of Butterbeer, I was floored long before the most exhilarating and then emotional parts of the day. The simulated broom ride which thanks to the souvenir videos and photograph reminds me more than anything else how happy that day was, is still something I just have to watch to feel intense surrealism to this day. But my favourite photograph that day is of me posing behind the Privet Drive sign. It’s hilarious to think that on the set the awful Dursley’s home exterior is right next to the ruin of Lily and James Potter’s house.

Already soaring on a wave of bliss that had begun with the HP film scores blasting all the way to the parking lot, standing in front of that scorched wall is where I got really emotional because somehow the couple who are dead before the series even begins have always meant the most to me. Yes walking through Diagon Alley’s set with the incredible detail on all sides I genuinely felt like Harry in wishing I had about a hundred eyes at once. But somehow it was still that ruined Potter cottage that I remember responding to now; the fictional sacrifice for their baby’s life as stirring and inspiring as anything else that trip.

When I was sixteen I once had a crush on a boy just because he resembled the fifteen-year-old James Potter from the Order Of The Phoenix film adaptation, incidentally my last non-celebrity / fictional crush to date.

Needless to say, that went nowhere and Harry Potter has stayed an important happy place for me longer than anyone in school ever did. There might still be times when the high school years negatively affect how I feel about myself but those days are few and far between.

Luckily for me, it’s a fact that time heals all wounds and someday only those powerful happy memories will remain. As Albus Dumbledore wisely said after all...

Even as a writer, with a craft as creative and yet honed by habit as many others, the end result of a piece like this isn’t always in sight from the beginning. There’s always the fine line of discussing a work in progress with my cheerleading family and figuring out on my own what feels right. I’ve had all sorts of advice; to combine experiences or don’t, or to be honest and heartfelt but draw the line somewhere. But at the end of the day, I know that the only way to get the words out is to find my own flow and go with it. All the song lyrics and Disney mottos about following your heart have got to come from a place of some kind of experience I suppose, so that’s what I decide to do with every word.

The theme of this article is holding on to joy and describing some hugely happy moments in my recent past would not be complete without the last week’s trip to Kottayam in Kerala. Some say this past week, with a royal Indian wedding and such a fabulous vacation with old friends deserves its own article and maybe someday it will get it. After all it took three years to pay tribute to the Potter joy as this article does.

But stand-alone tribute or not, the vacation after the Scindia wedding deserves a very heartfelt mention for inspiring me to write again in the first place with the love from old friends and simply breath-taking experiences. In a way, it does tie into the whole filmy Potter experience because Chacko Uncle shared his jaw-dropping world so modestly with us. How often does the average person get to sneak onto an active TV set and witness a girl prance onto the stage to an iconic SRK song?

For almost a decade my love of Bollywood became a way to connect with my roots from abroad and now it is always being in India that finds some way or other to remind me how much I will always admire King Khan. Granted there’s a huge nostalgia factor now but that song choice and moment in a little corner of that studio, trying to sneak a peek without tripping over the wires or squealing out loud was something I won’t forget in a hurry.

Over the next two days, the thrills just kept on coming, whether it was the epic serenades of our very own crooner Charles (the man stole my heart with Kuch Kuch Hota Hai and kept it awed with a freaking Swiss German number) or getting to feel like a film star speeding along the backwaters, it was definitely like the Warner Studios tour in that I wanted to drink in all the sights and hold on to how I felt in the moment.

I’m not normally particularly keen on selfies, but with the enforced dressing up for the wedding before the Kottayam vacation, maybe the habit of sharing spilled over to that part of the holiday. Cruising along the backwaters I felt able to define wind-swept hair quite literally and even the slight motion sickness became easy to ignore with the sun kissing my exposed skin and finally getting to put my prescription sunglasses to good use. The picturesque backdrops helped me to feel beautiful and for that, I am more thankful than anything. Here’s hoping ten years don’t go by until the next reunion, visits to the south are as much a fascinating window into Mom and Dad’s past as anything else.

As my former obsession show used to say “by its very definition, glee is about opening yourself up to joy” and with experiences like these under my belt I might yet learn to do just that more often.

Despite the way it crashed and burned, Glee did teach me to never stop believing and I like to think I’m one step closer to that faith with the power of all these good experiences to guide me. One Tree Hill creator Mark Schwahn made the idea of “someday” a trademark of many couples he wrote and I think my someday of just feeling good might be a lot closer these days. To end on one final OTH quote because it has words for everything

I’ve come to realize that I don’t have to dismiss the bad things in my past in order to find happiness, but I feel like my perspective on the years of teenage suffering has changed and that, for now, is good enough.

#personal #oth #one tree hill #glee #kerala #backwaters #harry potter #watford #warner studio tour #lillian adler #srk #ddlj #peyton sawyer #quote #julian baker #mark schwahn #journey

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