What Are Things You Could Confidently Info Dump About? If I Needed A Beginner’s Course On Something,

Okay hi I already did this!! 

But these are so much fun and there are some updates for anyone interested, so imma self indulge:

nicknames: I didn’t mention this last time but one of my friends calls me Mija and another has started calling me Anthony Janthony in person :)

last thing I googled: how to draw clouds on procreate

number of followers: 239 <3

amount of sleep: 5 hrs this week (we do be procrastinating)

wearing: school hoodie and pajama pants

favorite animal noise: when a cat has a collar with a bell on it

random: random? uh okay my “nickname” Anthony Janthony is inspired by the fan theory that it’s A.J. Crowley’s real initials, and also my real middle initials are AJ so it just kinda works.

I already tagged some in my last edition of this but I’ll tack on @acrosstobear

ty @mclarenz for tagging me!!

I’m tagging: @plantmuffin @scharletred @formula1circus @ef-1 and anyone else who hasn’t done it & wants to!

✨17 questions and 17 answers✨

nicknames: chlo?? I think that’s it

zodiac sign: virgo

height: 163cm

hogwarts house: slytherin

last thing I googled: us election 2020 lmfao

number of followers: 406

amount of sleep: 10 hours but I need MORE

lucky number: 5

dream job: anatomical pathologist

wearing: sloth pyjama bottoms and daniel hoodie merch, I am a fashion icon

fave song: it changes all the time but rn it’s animals by architects

favourite instrument: uhhhh ?? no idea

fave author: one again, no idea

fave animal noise: anything by a sheep 🐑

random: this bitch gets married in UNDER A YEAR

have a recent pic:

Dear Neil, I am a horrible person. How to be kinder, please?

Sometimes I suspect we are all horrible people. Or at least, we are human people. Same thing. We are impatient, judgmental, irritating and irritated, grumpy, easily offended and the rest of it.

So how to be kinder if it doesn’t come naturally? 

Fake it. 

Fake it a little bit at a time. 

Because there isn’t actually any difference between doing something nice for someone because you are naturally saintly and perfect, and doing something nice for someone because you are secretly demonic and trying to cover it up. It’s still an act of kindness either way, and you still made their lives better.

Smile at people. Say hullo. Ask about their lives. Remember what they’ve told you about their lives. Do small things to try and help them. (They will not know you are horrible, do not worry. They will just perceive that you are helping.)

Give people the benefit of the doubt. Remember that it’s more often stupidity to blame than evil, that everyone can screw up (including you) and what’s important is learning from that.

Think “What would an actually kind person do now?” – and do that. Don’t beat yourself up when you fail. Just be as kind to yourself as you will be to others – even if you have to fake that.

And good luck.

it has happened folks!!!!! the black sheep cover is real

pink and yellow orbeez

i don’t have a brain actually. my head is just filled with lots and lots of dried flowers

The inclusion of Jean-Jaques Leroy has me on the FLOOR dude

i got a college degree and the thing i’m most proud of producing in the process is a full academic presentation about what makes a himbo

because I reblog your shit you cynic

why are people liking my shit i’m only here for @theothermercedesdriver

It’s been a few hours, you’ve just been hanging there. You’ve been quiet, too quiet. Usually there’s music playing, or your foot steps could be heard. But today, you’re quiet. Your little sister, who doesn’t normally come to greet you because you lock yourself away, decides to see what you’re doing. She assumes you’re taking a nap, or doing some homework quietly. She runs up the stairs, eager to see, but she comes to an immediate halt. You’re not doing your homework, nor taking a nap. Your music isn’t playing and you aren’t walking around. You’re hanging there, completely still, now just like her. At this moment, her whole world shatters. Everything she has ever known, looked up to, loved, is hanging there by a thread. At this moment, her life has been changed forever. At this moment, she wishes she was hanging with you.

Before you decide to take your life, imagine who will find you. Imagine them walking into a room, and seeing you just hanging there. Whether it be your little sister, little brother, mother father, grandparents, a friend. Imagine what will happen when they find you. No, they will not say “Finally, they’re gone.” No, they will not say “I’m happy they did that.” No, they will not say “I never loved them anyways.” They will die. Their hearts will break. They will hurt, more than you ever could. They will cry, scream, and break down. They’ll believe it’s all just a dream, praying to wake up. Except, they won’t feel that for a few seconds, or a few days, not weeks, nor months. They will feel that until the day they die. Everyday will be hell. They’ll think of you ever second. They’ll hate themselves for not being able to help or save you. They’ll wish they could die too. They’ll want to give up, just to be with you. They won’t be ever be happy again. They won’t smile. They won’t go back to their daily routine. They’ll die every time they walk past your room, or see a picture of you, or think of a memory with you. They’ll think, but stay quiet. They’ll visit your grave, feeling a knife go through their chest every time. And every morning when they wake up, no matter how long it’s been, they’ll wake up to thinking they’ll see you, only to be let down once again. And every night, they will cry themselves to sleep, because even though they refuse to admit it, know you’re gone forever.

Before you decide to take your life, think of your family, burying you. Yes, your own mother and father are planning your funeral. It’s supposed to be the other way around, but it’s not. They’ll have to call the cops, sign a death certificate, pick out clothing, buy a tomb stone, a casket, pick out flower arrangements, and more; All for their child’s funeral. The morning of your funeral, everyone who loves you is wearing black. Tears are streaming down their face, while their heart is breaking. Everyone who you thought didn’t need you, or didn’t care, are waiting in line to see you. They aren’t waiting in line at a party, or a graduation, or at a wedding reception. They’re waiting to see you, hands folded, lifeless, in a casket.

Before you decide to take your life, think of everyone you will be hurting. Don’t you dare say no one, because absolutely everyone will be affected. Your grandparents, won’t have a grandchild anymore. Your parents, won’t have a child anymore. Your brother or sister, won’t have a sibling anymore. Your pet, won’t have an owner anymore. That person you sit next to in class, won’t feel your presence anymore. Your teacher, won’t have a student anymore. That time your grandparents told you no, will haunt them forever, thinking it is their fault, that you are now dead. That time your parents yelled at you, will haunt them forever, thinking if they didn’t yell at you, you would still be here. That time your sibling said they hated you, will hate themselves, because they believe you would still be alive if they said they loved you instead. Those kids who made you feel bad, will wish they were dead too, because if they just smiled at you instead, you would be here. That teacher that said you didn’t meet her expectations, will feel like a failure, because you would still be here, if she believed in you. Everyone, who has ever been in your presence, will hurt, because if they showed you they cared, you would still be here.

Before you decide to take your life, think. Don’t just think of yourself, think of the consequences for everyone else. No one’s life will be the same again. That person who God made specially for you, won’t have you. That happiness that was waiting for you, will never show again. Before you decide to take your life, realize that you may be ending your pain, but you’ll be starting a lifetime of everyone elses.

If you are feeling alone, and think that suicide is the only way out:

My ask is open, and I’m always here. I’ll never judge you. I’ll try to help you.

If you are thinking of taking your life, call:

1-800-784-2433

1-800-SUICIDE

Why I Love Yuri On Ice: A Brief Lesson in Music Theory

I began learning Yuri On Ice on the piano a couple months ago, and here’s my thoughts on it:

No song, in the 10 years that I have been studying music, has been so enticing, made me so desperate to master it, that I would dedicate as much time and amount of headspace to it that I have for Yuri on Ice.

It is due to such intense concentration and analysis that I began to notice the true beauty of this song, which lies in the music theory weaved between each note. Music theory is like any conspiracy- sometimes it’s there, sometimes it isn’t, and it can be hard to distinguish the red herrings from the true intent of a piece. However, in the case of Yuri on Ice, my theory connected so well to every clue laid out throughout both the song and the show, the thought of it being incorrect never crossed my mind.

First, to understand the theory laid out in song form, it is important to examine it from a visual perspective. The song, Yuri on Ice, comes from the similarly-named anime TV show Yuri!!! On Ice. For anyone that hasn’t seen the show, it tells the tale of Japanese figure skater Yuuri Katsuki, who has reached rock bottom in his career and close to giving up as a skater, until his childhood hero and current competitor Viktor Nikivorof decides to coach him. Together, the two progress through the many rounds of an international skating championship, learning about life, love and each other along the way. It is a simple narrative, but presented masterfully, and the romance between the two is one that is widely beloved by fans all over the world.

As the show is based around figure skating, there are many instances where we see Yuuri perform, each one set to music of some kind. This is where Yuri on Ice comes in. It is introduced as a song written and recorded for Yuuri’s Free Skate Program by a friend of his attending a music conservatory. He specifically requests a song to represent his skating career, highlighting the more recent events of meeting Viktor and renewing his confidence to skate one more time. 

Now, unpacking the music theory in all of that may first appear a little difficult, as the main way of understanding a song in media is analyzing where and when it is played. In movies produced by studios like Star Wars or Marvel, there are specific character/moment themes that are played when the characters they represent are onscreen, or even more frivolously, when anything important happens. Unfortunately, in the case of Yuri on Ice, the song is almost exclusively played while Yuuri is performing in competitions, moments that don’t include a whole lot of emotional weight or relevance.

But this doesn’t mean that the theme does not appear elsewhere. Almost every instrumental song throughout the show contains elements of the Yuri on Ice theme (all composed around the main notes Ab, G, F, and Eb), so much so that I find it hard to not consider all of them the same song. It is most prominent in the song Heartbeats, which plays during many important moments between the couple.

Even more important than that, however, is the fact that music theory concerns more than just the placement of a song or theme. The actual notes in a song, and how they are composed to interact with each other, is far more crucial to any meaning it intends to hold.

As I said, Yuri!!! On Ice follows a very specific progression of Yuuri’s connection to Viktor. He starts off alone, meets Viktor, starts working with him (but a bit clumsily), learns to operate in unison, and it all culminates with the two falling in love by the end. The realization that I came to while learning this piece is that the song itself expresses their story perfectly.

To explain, let’s assume that the right hand (which plays the top of the piano) represents Yuuri, and the left represents Viktor. Yuri on Ice starts off with a simple trill played almost entirely by the right hand. There is no backing, no harmony, and the segment is essentially a solo. Just as Yuuri is in the early episodes, it is an isolated sound, with nothing to compliment or amplify it.

After a couple bars of this trill emerges one, resonant bass note. I believe this represents the moment in the show where Viktor and Yuuri cross paths, but do not interact. One brief moment of his presence in Yuuri’s life, and then it’s gone.

Following are a couple more bars of the trill, then, just as Viktor found his way into Yuuri’s life unexpectedly, the left hand returns out of nowhere, joining the right hand to play a fast-paced arpeggio sequence. Despite the emphasis in this being placed on the right hand, both are required to complete the segment, and the left hand works to amplify the sound of the right.

After the arpeggios comes a crossover sequence that truly utilizes both hands. As the right plays the main portion of the melody, the left plays the bass while occasionally crossing over the right to complete the melody. Both hands must be played in perfect unison to achieve the effect of one harmonious tune. By this point, Yuuri and Viktor have begun to work together, falling into place as partners both on and off the ice, and the song expresses how far they’ve come and the beauty that they can create together.

The song essentially continues in that manner for another 3 minutes, every segment relying on both hands to sound complete, just as Viktor and Yuuri needed to remain together to retain their success on the ice and as humans.

In essence, the song Yuri On Ice may not have lyrics to state what it represents, but the evidence is there among the notes if you only know where to look. It’s a love song, as poetic as any other, telling the tale of one of the greatest love stories ever written, without ever having to state that explicitly.

Waves

A short story by Me

“You want to join us?” She asks before she knows me.

I shake my head, telling her I’m happier staying inside with Caroline. I say that because it’s the truth. I don’t know that it’s my truth, but it’s a truth. Not that she’ll notice the difference. The excuse washes over her like sand. She shrugs, blows a kiss that is caught by the glass between us, and scampers away, hoisting her surfboard higher under her arm.

I turn away from the window, to where Caroline is crouched on the floor, her green dress splayed in a halo, the blizzard of paper around her coating the grey carpet like a snowfall. She clutches a shriveled blue crayon in one hand, dwindled to below the length of her pinkie. The crayon moves across the paper in front of her in careful strokes; Caroline thinks as she draws.

Tucking my knees to my chest, I sit down beside her and ask what she’s drawing. It’s a foolish question, and I almost expect her to face me with the expression shared by many adults when foolish questions are asked. But Carolina doesn’t look up from her work. “Waves,” she answers, and they are- soft, cascading waves, folding in on each other, one after another. Tame stallions bounding through the water, side by side, before dissolving back into the mist. I enjoy looking at her waves. They do not send spikes of nausea down my spine.

She returns after a couple of hours, sun-browned and shivering with adrenaline. Her ankles are brushed with sand, her hair looks the same, and her feet leave behind ponds of salt water with each tread as she walks through the house. When Carolina sees her emerging from the hallway, she beams, and rushes forward into her mother’s arms. Their smiles are identical. Caroline pays no mind to the dripping wetsuit or rough brush of sand against her skin.

I mop up the trail of water with a towel while she takes a shower, and soon after we sit down to dinner. The evening is brief, dimming as the sun outside burns the rippling water with golden light before plummeting beyond the horizon. Carolina is sent to bed as soon as the sky fades to a dull, deep blue, and her mother follows, confessing that she is exhausted from the day’s activities. She bids me goodnight, but I’m too restless to sleep, so I stay in the living room, curled up on the couch, salty sea air filtering in through the open window. It fills my lungs as if I were inhaling the water itself, and for a brief moment, I don’t mind.

Outside, the moon is the eye of a great beast, holding my gaze, great and pale and luminescent. It casts a silver glow over the ocean, who’s waves have subsided, though the ripples remain. Something catches my eye, so I walk to the window, peering out into the night as much as my diurnal eyes will allow.

The water shifts. It bobs and sways, moving around without any particular rhyme or order. The sound of splashing, distant but unmistakable, pierces the air. Somewhere in my head, an alarm goes off, and it sounds like the pleading shrieks of a child. A child thrashing underneath the pressing weight of a current. A child being pulled down by the cold grip of saltwater. A child about to die.

Carolina.

My heart stops. Then it revives, and it’s a hammer, because there’s blood pounding in my head, stronger and more insistent than any tangible sound in the darkness. I reach the front door, and I can see her now, moving underneath the water. It reminds me of a snake shifting underneath sand in a desert. Tiny, and unseen. But there.

Then I’m running, and I’m not running fast enough.

I force myself to go faster.

Sand coats my feet as I hit the shore.

And faster.

Her screams grow in volume, and I want to respond, to tell her I’m near, but I can’t seem to form words.

And faster until I’m breaking the surface of clear water sliding up the shore. My toes curl around clumps of sand in the cold but I don’t stop moving.

My knees sink underwater, then my waist, then my shoulders. I can feel the panic attempting to claw me back to the shore as my ears threaten to go under, and I shove it down. She’s in sight, but her screams have stopped, which turns my blood colder than the water in which I am submerged.

I don’t know how to swim, but my body is stronger than hers, and I trust it to support us both as I cross the final couple of feet to reach her side. Her hands still brush the surface, though the rest of her limp body is slowly descending to the depths of the ocean. I grab what I can reach of her arms and pull her close to me, forcing her head back above the water. She isn’t moving anymore, nor breathing, but her body is warm, and this information is what carries me back to shore, her tiny frame slung over my shoulder. 

“I’m here,” I tell her, over and over. “I’m here for you.”