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papersandkeyboards · 8 months

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6/20-26: finding Pride in many things (cooking for friends, hosting a farewell party, and witnessing naked cyclists, among others)

39th WEEK, JUN 20-26, 2016.

(a.k.a the very very last one.)

Wow. Okay.

Need to breathe it in for a sec.

Alright. The last week of 9 months.

A lot has happened, because of course I willed myself to have a lot happening.

Monday, June 20:

I took this day to do a last good tour of downtown. Did some last-minute shopping, took a fair amount of photographs (which I lost along due to the broken hard drive), and overall feasted my eyes with the wonder of downtown Seattle with its high-rises and hills and valleys and blooming trees lining the wide curb and the pigeons by Westlake Center and the innocence of Pike Place Market and the breeze along the waterfront and the Gum Wall and the hustle and the bustle and everything else in between.

(you know what I will not miss? The weed smell. It’s so Seattle, but at the same time, I can live in a version of downtown Seattle with no marijuana scent constantly hanging in the atmosphere of alleyways and city buses)

Maybe in the future I could be living in another big city or some other beautiful places, but I always know that nothing beats downtown Seattle in all its grandiosity and color. Nada.

Tuesday, June 21:

Part of the downtown tour agenda was shopping at Chinatown for ingredients for what I was about to do on Tuesday. Some of my friends from Rainier Beach (Mary, Rebecca, Emily, Kira) were coming to visit after school (they were juniors and so they still had school), and I planned to make some Indo food! The choice fell to the classics ketoprak (for its ease) and martabak manis (as my propaganda to promote chocolate-and-cheese combo to foreigners—don’t @ me).

I think I initially planned to make gado-gado but some veggies required in gado-gado were scarcely available even in Seattle’s Chinatown, so I settled down for something which ingredients are more readily available: ketoprak. As for martabak manis, I found a quick mix for that thing in the Asian market HAHAHA all I needed to do was wet the drys, pour them into the pan, and wait.

It turned out great—for an impossible-to-screw-up recipe, but I’m still proud of myself. As long as the guests were happy.

I’d see these girls again the next day on Wednesday, June 22, when we had a sleepover at Rebecca’s. Talk about sleeping over on a school night. But it was worth every second of it. I remembered we took a trip ‘round the city doing stuff, and we got back late at night, all of us piled into Rebecca’s bed straight away, too tired to think or do anything else.

Thursday and Friday I went to school to take care of some stuff. Friday, June 24, was the last day of school for the year at Rainier Beach HS (and for me, ever), and at the evening I had my own goodbye party hosted at home. I invited everyone from dear friends at AFS Seattle chapter and at school, former host families, to the adults I’ve gotten to know along the way, like Laura and Imad and other people.

Here's the funny thing: I couldn’t even eat for most of my own goodbye party. The party started at around 6 or 7 I reckoned, and sunset/iftar was not until 9. So what I had been doing—and Eric had been assisting me in doing—was once in a while grabbing a snack I wanted to eat and just sort of store them in a corner in case they ran out before 9.

Imagine roasting marshmallows and making s’mores but not being able to eat them straight away.

It was a fun one rather than a sad one, though, to be honest. Maybe because we weren’t yet registering the fact that a farewell is truly coming, and plus I still have one last chance for good-bye with my fellow exchange students.

Like a normal person trying to squeeze out as many agendas as she can in her last days of living, after the goodbye party I went to Hinaho’s for a sleep over with fellow AFSers. I had been to Hinaho’s before, and I love her house and her neighborhood and her host family is just the nicest people, so I was excited to be back and we had a great time. We all camped in her living room and watched movies (one I remembered was The Divergent Series: Allegiant Part 1) until all of us just dozed off and the TV was left on.

(another personal, trivial moment I remembered was me waking up at the wee hours of the night in my sleeping bag, being reminded that it was time for suhoor, so I lazily grabbed one or two energy bars from my pack.)

(not that it’s a good advice to give, but during this time of the year I realized I could survive a fasting day without suhoor, as I almost never miss one my entire life until this year—and an 18-hour fasting day at that. So I figured, at least these energy bars would be enough rather than nothing at all.)

(and I don’t know, maybe being occupied in activities that make the time fly by also helps with fasting because you’re too busy doing these things you’re not reminded of hunger and thirst—as long as it is not a physically-demanding activity. It was pretty much like you’re too focused on doing something that you just forget to eat and accidentally skip meals. Another thing is that Seattle—even maybe the US in general—just did not have that Ramadan vibes, and that’s okay, because in Indo, I am always reminded of Ramadan because almost everyone is fasting and Ramadan being the festivity season that companies take so much advantage of as their marketing strategies. Sure, the lack of Ramadan vibes was saddening—in a way that I was just living my days without eating and drinking and getting angry without the semi-obligatory crowded late afternoon markets full of scrumptious snacks and gluttonous congregation, and nightly two-hour long prayers with noises of kids running around playing cat-and-mouse in the mosque yard—but that’s okay too, because I already knew these things when I jumped in. All I was worried about was surviving 18-hour fasting days and turned out it was the least of my worries.)

Saturday, June 25, Karen took me for a walk around Capitol Hill and Volunteer Park.

I couldn’t believe it was my second-to-last day and I was still discovering new things—Volunteer Park, especially, being so close to our house and I couldn’t believe I never went there before.

The park, like most Seattle parks, was a beautiful one. It was vast, with a greenhouse and a lake and even a museum (Seattle Asian Art Museum, which we didn’t have the time to visit). Karen took me up the water tower, which had an observation deck that provided a view of the park and a portion of Seattle beyond it. By the lake was a sculpture that the park was famous for—originally titled “Black Sun” by Isamu Noguchi, and colloquially referred to as “The Doughnut” (reminds you a lot of the same case with Chicago’s “Cloud Gate”, huh?). From The Doughnut’s hole, you can spot the Space Needle with the lake in the foreground, as though the Needle rose from the waters.

The water tower (volunteerparktrust.org)

The "Black Sun" aka "The Doughnut" (volunteerparktrust.org)

Sunday, June 26: best day in Seattle ever.

No, not it being the last day in Seattle—that part was depressing. But at least I was ecstatic that I got to end the journey with a bang, by watching Seattle Pride Parade.

Add that to the list of things I would never ever ever get the chance to do in a million years had I not decided to jump into the exchange student bandwagon.

I forgot where I had heard of the Pride Parade from. Maybe Patricia and Amber. Maybe Karen, knowing my giddiness for festivals and public events to witness. At any rate, it was such luck that Pride Parade fell on that day, because if it were one day later, I wouldn’t have been able to attend and I would have missed one of the best experiences in my life.

So much coming from a mere spectator. But it truly was a thrilling experience.

Karen end Eric had stuff to do, so I hopped on to the bus downtown by myself (what else is new?) at around mid-morning, when the parade had just started. I was told that Patricia and Amber (along with Vera) would be there too (of course), so I planned on meeting up with them later on.

How was the parade?

Simply put, there were a lot of things.

There were of course big companies and brands with their employees dancing around carrying balloons with their brand on it, there were floats from big and local businesses, there were marching bands, there were local communities marching while carrying a long banner or letter balloons. Many floats have half-naked men dancing and having fun with themselves (from gay bars, mostly). There were people in just about any type of clothing and accessories dancing along the blasting music and giving free high-fives or even hugs to the spectators.

It truly was a day where people get to be free and themselves when 364 other days they don’t get to.

There were drag queens walking along with their stellar outfit and makeup, which amazed me the most because I had never seen such dedicated drag queens before. The image I have of drag queens are the ones available back in the home country—you slap a wig and dress and chest stuffing and you’re good to go to, either for busking around street food stalls for change or for other nightly services. Not saying that Indo drag queens are bad, but objectively the drag queen culture there is not as dedicated as it is in the US, with the addition that the US drag culture is well-facilitated, what with the bars and shows and RuPaul’s Drag Race and overall interest from the audience.

Suffice it to say, the drag queen industry was a flourish. And I was there to only experience the gist of it in the parade.

If I had posted this sooner, I would still have the chance to post the pictures, but since most of them are gone with the hard drive, here are some I vetted from my Instagram:

I met Patricia, Amber, and Vera in Seattle Center area, by the Space Needle. I hung out with them as they had lunch, me enjoying my last moments of playing with sweet little Vera while she still knew me in her toddler life.

After lunch, we went back to the streets. Vera looked excited at seeing these many things the parade had to offer (I remembered she was particularly excited when a group of people wearing leather and dog-like accessories—I later learned from Patricia that it was a community for enthusiasts of sub-dom puppy play and the sorts (CMIIW for the description)—and she went “pups!” so cute and blissful of her).

After a while, Vera no longer looked excited, which means she’s all drained. Patricia and Amber said goodbye while I stayed in the streets, still full of energy and not wanting to miss any of the event I would most likely get only once in this lifetime.

I walked along the streets from Seattle Center back to downtown, trying to find a good viewing spot. The floats were still floating, the dancers dancing, even the mayor was there too. At some point, I saw a group of people in the distance that I thought I had missed and would not see in this parade, but then again, on second thought, it totally should be in the parade.

Men and women and all the genders in between, cheering and cycling through the streets with their biggest smiles and hands waving.

They were in on it so good, I didn’t even notice until they got closer that all that was on them was body paint.

Naked cyclists!

My remorse of missing out on the Summer Solstice Parade instantly evaporated. Apparently I’m just that easy lol.

Not long after the cyclists, the parade slowed down to a close, the last show was people carrying a big-ass pride flag as wide as the street itself, facing the sky. The sun shining through the flag turned the asphalt below it into wonderful shades of rainbow colors.

(southseattleemerald.com)

Again, to say that this was an exciting experience was an understatement. This was the thing I had been looking forward to, though I came in with no expectations. Personally admitting, the conservative corner of me was astonished upon seeing what the parade had to offer me, but as the day went by, I ended up enjoying every second of it. I was basking in overstimulation—the clear sky, the hot weather, the bright pride colors, the big floats, the loud music, a new thing to witness every 5 minutes, the sea of excitement radiating from both the spectators and the contributors, and most importantly, the overwhelming amount of happiness, freedom, and, well,

pride.

It may not be my freedom and pride, but seeing them celebrating it made me as jubilant as they were. Happiness is truly infectious.

The other thing I’m most grateful about from this experience is to be able to witness first-hand what the word ‘pride’ in this context really means. Sure, in this era, we can still educate ourselves on the matter—there are thousands of sources and internet friends you can find that can give you all the information you need—but honestly, the Internet can only do so much, especially if the surroundings you’re in do not support or facilitate the issue. I feel like if I hadn’t gotten out, I wouldn’t have been able to empathize this much. I did understand the existence of the issue and that there are struggles on it, but being in Downtown Seattle on June 26, 2016 was what really woke me up.

After all, it kind of boils down to one simple matter: if any goals you have in this life, whatever they are, lead to you being happy and living in a world that is also happy, then why can’t you let other people do the same?

-NS

#langkahanakbangsa #afs friends #rbhs #seattle pride #pride 2016

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divorcedfiddleford · 3 days

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You made a post saying “it has been zero days since our last alex hirsch hates ford so much bullshit” and i know it was mostly hyperbole, but you have some really good takes that I would love to be elaborated on in terms of how ford is written

it really wasn't hyperbolic. over the years he's just really shown a lot of hatred towards this one character.

content warning: discussion of abuse

i want to start with this clip from the commentary which i think of as a microcosm for how the writers and especially alex think about ford.

transcript:

rob renzetti: i mean he [mcgucket] should've basically knocked ford out, and... and destroyed the... you know, tied him up, and, destroyed... and... alex hirsch, speaking over him: yeah he should've beat ford with a wrench and taken this thing apart piece by piece! he's the one who understood how to built [sic] it, but...

... so that seems like a pretty violent course of action. shall we unpack that?

ford is a character who's pretty explicitly written as a victim of abuse, and who now has c-ptsd as a direct result of the abuse he experienced. alex hirsch believes that ford deserved everything bad that happened to him, that it's ford's own fault, and that he also deserved worse things to happen to him. this is why, given every narrative chance, alex hirsch has piled more suffering onto ford's plate. the biggest example of this i can think of is in the journal, when he wrote that fiddleford was actively erasing ford's memory (despite this being a massive timeline contradiction which i still refuse to accept). because god forbid ford even have one remotely healthy relationship with somebody. that would be too good for him. ford was manipulated and lied to by bill, but alex repeatedly compares him to icarus, a teenager whose demise was the result of his own ignorance. this comparison is still so fucking offensive to me. the sun did not lie to icarus, did not guarantee icarus all of the happiness and success and sense of belonging which he had been denied all his life, did not actively shut out the voices of those around him who would try to help him.

alex in general has a very strange relationship with abuse. he seems to get really upset when people read his characters as victims of abuse. the strongest instance of this is actually not with ford, it's with pacifica - especially in the nwmm episode commentary. the episode says "pacifica's parents have conditioned her to respond to a bell" and alex says people got "the wrong idea" about it. like. dude. what the fuck. you wrote abuse. even if you didn't mean to, that's what you wrote. you can't say people got "the wrong idea" just because you didn't think about the subtext of what you were writing. anyway, back to ford: i believe this extends to him as well. alex wanted to write a character who's a foil to stan and who was a selfish unlikable victim of his own arrogance. however that's not what he wrote. he somehow seemingly accidentally wrote a really compelling and relatable awesome autistic guy who had to fight for every good thing he he ever had in his life only for it to be taken from him every single time. but alex can't let go of seeing ford as just "the opposite of stan". when he talks about "how someone as smart as ford could fall for bill's tricks", he refuses to realize he wrote a situation in which a man was being psychologically manipulated and tortured.

it goes back further, too. people repeatedly theorized that filbrick was... not a very good father, to say the least. on top of the very explicit and canon fact that he threw one of his children out on the street (seriously, there is no defense for this), people pointed out that stan would flinch at filbrick, that ford seemed upset by things filbrick said but dared not talk back, that filbrick was mad at stan not for hurting his brother, but for "costing the family potential millions". but alex can't have people seeing ford as sympathetic. ford can't have it bad like stan did. ford had to have everything and he lost it all because he sucks so much. so he wrote the graphic novel story where ford is filbrick's favorite child and filbrick also is not even a bad parent you guys he's just stoic. ignore the whole thing in dreamscaperers where stan perpetuates the abuse that filbrick did to him. ignore the fact that ford was shouting at stan and then completely shut up as soon as filbrick entered the room and did not say another word for the rest of the night. ignore all that because i just made up this story where he cries at a present from stan. filbrick loved his boys for sure you guys!!!

i'm not even touching on how alex repeatedly villainizes traits commonly associated with mental illness and neurodivergence. ford's hypervigilance becomes arrogance. his passion for knowledge means he's a know-it-all. his difficulty socializing and making friends means he's a misanthrope. his lingering resentment for the way he was raised means he hates his brother and is the worst human being to ever have lived. i could go on, go even further into how the finale reaffirms this, but i feel weird talking about this too much.

#help you unclogged the dam and it all came rushing out #it's been years #didn't know i still had all this in me #apologies for the lack of sources. i reference a lot of old interviews and tweets from 2016-2017 #i know insider was one of them but a lot of it was questions he'd be asked at convention panels and off-handed comments from the dvds #seconds before the clip i included alex says ford's great flaw is pride #as though it was his pride that led to the world ending #and not a millenium-old plan by a monster using advanced manipulation tactics supplemented with literal mind control #tales of the wild zeep #1009

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