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---
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title: "Canopies and Drapes: Emmy the Great’s Twist on the Classic Breakup Song"
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date: 2014-11-09
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url: canopies-and-drapes
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- music
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---
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In the music industry, and in the folk genre particular, breakup songs are not exactly uncommon, and for every chart-topping artist crooning over the radio about the throes of love, there are thousands of disconsolate teens pouring over their guitars. For her 2009 _Edward_ EP, England-based singer-songwriter Emma-Lee Moss (stage name Emmy the Great) visits the genre herself; the four included songs are among Emmy’s earliest, though they contain her usual balance of charm and poignancy, more often than not accompanied only by an acoustic strum.
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Though she rather spontaneously released _Edward_ after her début album, _First Love,_ _Edward_ nonetheless functions as a prequel to _First Love_, as the two share the ubiquitous themes of love, death, and sex. It is within the elegiac third track, “Canopies and Drapes”, that Emmy explores the uniquely teenage voice and experience of losing one’s first love.
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The maudlin emotions of a teenager in love are all too frequently dismissed by the older and wiser, who attribute those feelings to the undulations of hormones — and that genuinely may be their source, but they are nonetheless legitimate to the teens experiencing them, a reality that those who have survived adolescence must not forget. The song’s bathetic speaker laments early on that she “hate[s] the day, it hates me, [and] so does everybody else,” an almost cliché embodiment of the heartbroken teen. Yet it is the teenagerhood of the speaker and the song that makes it so endearing, as it captures and honors a teen in search of identity, attention, and closure, whose youth affords her only one frame of reference for her misery: that she “feel[s] worse than when S Club 7 broke up.” As she absently watches “another routine episode of _Friends_,” she forms her conception of adulthood from its characters, wondering if her future life will be filled with “feelings, coffee, and ‘I’ll be there for you’.” This references not only how teens build their perceptions of reality from the media — an idea echoed through the song — but also how she struggles to define herself and her life when “[I have] loved you so long, I don’t know who I’d be without.”
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Musical references make a reappearance a few verses later, and serve as outlets for her sorrow — songs to cry to and relate to, artists to accompany her in the lonely days that follow. And yet, she cannot separate certain albums and movies from their roots in or resemblance of her relationship, and they become mementos of her beloved boy.
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> Wish I could tell you all the things Woody Allen helps me see,
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> How _Annie Hall_ is beginning to feel quite a lot like you and me.
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> It took a while to come around to David Bowie’s new CD,
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> And it’s much too late to give back your _Magnetic Fields_ EP.
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> Can I keep it by my pillow?
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> Really loved it…
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> How I long to tell you so.
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This desperation for contact with her ex repeats through the song, craving their lost intimacy and companionship; while they are not proud moments for us, I’m sure most would admit to having scrolled through an ex-lover or crush’s Facebook photos and tweets, desiring to know what they’re up to and, perhaps most importantly, who they’re up to it _with_. The speaker quenches her thirst, literally and metaphorically, and dejectedly attempts to gain her ex’s attention in the following verse:
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> Later on me and a bottle will hook up to have some fun,
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> Then I’ll call your house at twelve to let you know that I’m drunk,
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> Say ‘I’m sorry Mr. C, I was just looking for your son,
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> How is he, incidentally do you know if he’s out alone?
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> There is this book he lent to me something like seven months ago,
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> I’m gonna burn it in the street, be so kind as to let him know that I’m dealing with this badly,
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> and could he please get back to me?’
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There’s a bitterness here, a selfish hunger to not be alone in her downward spiral; in short, a desire to stop him from moving on, to ensure he also experiences the hurt she is so overcome by.
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Keeping to form, the song ends with forward steps; she sleeps, dreaming of the titular “canopies and drapes,” and “wake[s] shaking from the knowledge that the mattress holds your shape.” She gradually replaces her acidity and need for attention with a desire for closure, illustrated by the image of a funeral, where she hopes once again to see her ex, but this time to “give back your music and your tee-shirts and your socks.” She begins to project into the future, where the speaker’s voice becomes more mature, and Emmy’s idyllic, poetic songwriting abilities shine through:
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> [I’ll] walk to Jazz’s house in Soho, cry into her letterbox,
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> Take some time out to resuscitate my soul,
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> Take up smoking and drink carrot juice and grow,
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> Teach the mattress to erase you from its folds,
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> Then dry my eyes and keep on moving ’til the motion makes me strong,
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> Until one day I realize I don’t remember that you’re gone.
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> We’ll be strangers who were lovers,
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> I’ll recover,
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> It’s so weird how time goes on.
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The song therefore coalesces into a story of growing up, of how the solitude and sorrows of teenage years eventually fade as we learn to leave them behind. There’s a dual temporality to that final line, the teenage speaker projecting into the future and realizing that her current state will not be forever — despite what it seems in the moment — and that she will eventually move on, and her future-self reflecting backwards on how such an awful experience — one that changed her and plagued her — can then seem as if it happened centuries ago, to a completely different person. The final lines are well-placed as the last Emmy sings on _Edward_ because they truly epitomize the EP. These are songs and emotions Emmy wrote and felt long ago, and _Canopies and Drapes_ is able to, in equal parts, be a rumination on those emotions, while also nostalgically celebrating both their extremity and legitimacy, their place in her development as a woman and as a songwriter. The poignancy and power of _Edward_, Emmy admits, reawakened her love for songwriting, an effect I can certainly rejoice about — because she’s damn good at it.
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title: "Life is Strange Episode 1: Chrysalis"
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date: 2015-02-05
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url: life-is-strange-episode-1-chrysalis
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cover: https://cdn.cassie.ink/images/2015/strangeheader.png
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---
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Set in the fictional town of Arcadia Bay, _Life is Strange_ follows Max, the recently minted 18-year-old photography nerd, attending the elite Blackwall Academy. In the trend of episodic games, _Life is Strange_ centers around player choice, the butterfly effect being both a literal and figurative force in the game. It manages, however, to distinguish itself from not only Telltale Games — with its unique center and focus on two teenage girls, as well as its gorgeous, indie-film presentation — but also from just about everything else we’re seeing in gaming today.
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Max shares the profile that I’m sure many gamers, myself included, occupied in our high school days — the slightly dorky, quiet kid in the back, who drifts through the hallways with earbuds in, avoiding the ritualistic and cult-like social hierarchy. _Life is Strange_ manages to toe a line, careful that Max does not come off too snobbish or superior (a territory I am also familiar with) — in her journal and commentary, she expresses a conflict between wanting nothing to do with her fellow students, particularly those belonging to the “Vortex Club,” and acknowledging that many of them are kind or interesting and that there are rewards for giving them a chance. It’s a thoughtful portrayal of teenage and high school tropes, and one of the only high school-set stories to remind me of my own experiences rather than other media’s shallow and flat idea of what high school is. Fairly early into the episode, however, Max realizes an alienating factor in herself that I’d wager players may not find as relatable — the ability to control and rewind time.
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The mechanic is a refreshing twist on the choice-based episodic game trend, and one that functions especially well in the setting. How often in our high school careers do we wish we could relive something — would we have answered the teacher’s question differently? Been more delicate to a friend? Wore a pair of pants that _wouldn’t_ rip down the rear? And yet, Max’s new-found power is far from a blessing; the player must predict the long-term consequences of a choice that satisfies them immediately, often selecting the option with less desirable instant results in pursuit of future pay-off. Like Pavlov’s bell, the “this action will have consequences” icon and accompanying sound began to trigger an actual feeling of hesitation and anxiety in me, an effect that speaks to how engrossing the game is.
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I tried to resist the urge to rewind _everything,_ and to instead trust my instincts, though I struggled along the way. After every decision made, Max will second-guess her (and therefore, my) choice, wondering if she should rewind. Even though we can see the immediate consequences of a decision play out, it doesn’t make the decisions any easier to make than in a game like _Mass Effect_; if anything, they’re _more_ difficult in _Life is Strange_, because we always have the option to renege.
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Many of the choices _Life is Strange_ presents regard privacy, a motif that helps authenticate it as a realistic portrayal of the teenage experience. In most video games, an NPC will stand by happily as you raid their belongings. In _Life is Strange_, there are consequences for rifling through someone’s possessions — you’ll discover information you’d rather not have known, or trespass on someone’s trust and hospitality. Other times, you’re able to lend a sympathetic ear to, say, a girl with a secret pregnancy. Here the time travel mechanic works in the player’s benefit; if a character objects to you learning their secrets, you can merely go backwards with the information still in mind but without the negative ramifications.
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Whatever the specific situation it appears in, the choice-based gameplay of _Life is Strange_ feels incredibly natural in the setting, as adolescence is traditionally a period of establishing one’s identity. What may ordinarily be mundane decisions, therefore, have an added weight. From the very start of the game, reading Max’s journal entries, we’re confronted with the harrowing and persistent question that possesses every teenager, and that we must grapple with it every time we’re prompted for a choice: _What type of person do I want to be?_
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The title of _Chrysalis_ is, therefore, well-applied by Dontnod, not simply as a metaphor for the transitional period between adolescence and adulthood. It’s also a quiescent stage, a dormant phase, a chapter that enables introspection — which _Life is Strange_ also portrays, in Max’s internal dialogue, and through the recurring symbols of mirrors and selfies. The player is able to look at Max from both the interior, by controlling her, and the exterior. And like when taking a selfie, we’re allowed to select _how_ to portray ourselves — what light we’d like to place ourselves in, what expression to make, what message the picture creates and communicates.
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On the topic of _Life is Strange_ placing selfies in a positive light, I have to praise the game for celebrating teenagers — both their good and bad — and teenage _girls_ at that. Having only just left my teenage years, I feel right at home in _Life is Strange_. I understand Max. I relate to her. I see myself in her, and her in me. And that’s an incredibly rare experience for a female, teenage gamer. Now of course, Dontnod’s use of teen culture can be somewhat heavy-handed; some of the slang is inserted clumsily into the dialogue (“You hella saved my life”), some of Blackwall’s students are rather trope-y (at least, right now — they may be developed in future episodes, and tropes _are_ valid building blocks), and the overall atmosphere of Blackwall is just a little _too_ hip to be totally believable. Even Max insists on using a retro, Polaroid camera. These problems did momentarily remove me from the game, but they are minor alongside an otherwise believable and realistic world. At a certain point, you’re sucked far enough into the painterly visuals, exaggerated sunsets, ambient soundtrack, or well-placed indie track (personal favorite song and perhaps scene? The birds-eye view of Chloe smoking to Angus & Julia Stone) that you don’t feel these bumps in the road. It pokes fun at the selfie (a character at one point tells Max to “go fuck your selfie”) and my generation’s addiction to social media, but it never extends to mocking or disdain; rather, these are important aspects of today’s teenage experience and they deserve to not only be portrayed, but to be celebrated. Life is Strange turns the stigma of teenage girls around 180 degrees — Max isn’t an enjoyable character because she’s “not like other girls” or any similarly misogynistic statement. She _is_ like most girls. And she’s great. One character in particular could have flopped and ruined the entire experience of _Life is Strange_, fallen into the manic pixie dream girl trope that lines modern-media — and gratefully, that’s not the case.
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If Max represents the incubation period implied by the episode’s title, Chloe is the hard outer shell. Despite being heavily advertised, Chloe doesn’t make a formal appearance until at least halfway through the episode — but her introduction is all the more exciting for it. She has this sort of looming, mysterious presence before we actually see her, let alone are introduced to her _as_ Chloe — through Max’s journal, we learn the girls’ backstory: they were inseparable until Max moved to Seattle and, for whatever reason, never contacted Chloe again. When the two eventually reunite, Chloe isn’t at all what Max expected.
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I won’t beat around the bush. I love Chloe. I spent less than two hours with Chloe and I think she has the potential to be one of this gen’s most memorable characters. She could easily have become a pothole on the manic pixie dream girl ([despite noted issues with the term](http://www.salon.com/2014/07/15/im_sorry_for_coining_the_phrase_manic_pixie_dream_girl/)), wish-fulfillment road, and to be fair, there is a degree of this going on. But [as TV Tropes notes](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ManicPixieDreamGirl):
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> Despite all that (or _because_ of all that), [there are ways of utilizing this trope without falling into that pitfall](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TropesAreTools "http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TropesAreTools"). Given enough time, [Character Development](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/CharacterDevelopment "http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/CharacterDevelopment") can add to their personality and interests and pull them away from the MPDG foundation. The story may even be told from [their perspective](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SwitchingPOV "http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SwitchingPOV"), revealing that there is more to them than bringing adventure to brooding guys. [Deconstructions](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/Deconstruction "http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/Deconstruction") of the idea may show that they resent being considered only useful for the benefit of the main character, idolized as something that they are not, or that once the main character reaches their “enlightened” stage, the MPDG moves on to the next person who needs their help.
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In just the first episode, Chloe has already been fleshed out better than anything other character (rightfully so, as she’s the deuteragonist) besides Max, with enough mystery to carry us through more development and character arcs. She boasts a [mix of abandonment](https://bansheebeat.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/Episode-1-Screen-Shot-2015-01-31-23-40-10.png) and [daddy issues](https://bansheebeat.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/Episode-1-Screen-Shot-2015-02-05-01-30-46.png), is an assault survivor, and has a seriously dysfunctional home situation. Again, Dontnod treads some dangerous ground here, but has yet to use step in any cringe-worthy manner (that I picked up on, at least). It’s refreshing to see these issues portrayed in a character without them overwhelming or otherwise _defining_ the character. Chloe isn’t interesting because she’s had a rough life; she’s more relatable and realistic for it, but these traits aren’t thrown in carelessly. She’s a character with an immense energy, depth, and charisma. She’s tough and she’s complicated and she refuses to take shit from anyone, even Max. I’ve scarcely seen this level of nuance in female characters, let alone _supporting_ female characters, in video games.
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Oh, and she’s _probably_ queer, based off of [some of her decorative choices](https://cdn.cassie.ink/images/2015/chloe-posters.png) and her [affectionate descriptions of Rachel](https://cdn.cassie.ink/images/2015/chloe-rachel.png). I’m aware that I have perhaps cultivated a reputation for [assuming most female characters are queer](https://cassie.ink/princess-bubblegum-marceline-still-just-almost-girlfriends/ "Princess Bubblegum & Marceline: Still Just Almost Girlfriends"), even without pre-existing subtext — I don’t deny that. But as infatuated as I am with Chloe, as both a character and for what she represents, I don’t think I’m reaching here. That said, at its heart — without the science-fiction and supernatural elements — _Life is Strange_ is a story of female friendship, how two young women reunite and support one another as they face adulthood. Despite both being rather pragmatic, they acknowledge that _something_ — destiny, perhaps? the butterfly? — brought them together for a reason. It’s no coincidence that Max’s powers appear just in time to save Chloe’s life. Whether romance becomes part of that remains to be seen; even with my inclination to pair off female characters, Max and Chloe’s interactions have been fairly platonic thus far. I’d be delighted to see that change, but equally pleased if Dontnod makes a conscious design to _not_ change it — to instead craft a (female) bildungsroman that doesn’t culminate in romance, and to celebrate female friendship and sisterhood without sexualizing it or its characters.
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_Life is Strange_‘s first episode managed to deliver on, and exceed, every one of my expectations for it. The first chapter concludes with a slideshow of the vivid characters encountered, who will no doubt hold further significance to the story as Arcadia Bay’s many mysteries unfold, all under the foreboding threat of a coming storm — the tornado Max dreams will hit the town in just four days. As the episode faded out, I watched the credits roll by, the incredible mood and atmosphere still encircling me, and it lingered for days after. There is still so much for me to explore in-game and to talk about outside of it; if nothing else, that’s the mark of a fantastic release — one that inspires me to talk about it, to analyze it; one that draws me into it and _back_ to it several times. _Life is Strange_ is not a game that anyone would bank on as a success in an industry so inundated with guns held by rugged white guys; it set out with a vision to create a modern-day, women-driven _Twin Peaks_, and succeeded. It’s a refreshing change from an industry that is otherwise rather trapped in sameness and stagnation. I have a big journey left to take with Max and Chloe and, judging by its first steps, it will be quite a ride.
|
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---
|
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|
title: Revolutions
|
||||||
|
date: 2015-03-12
|
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|
url: revolutions
|
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|
tags:
|
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|
- music
|
||||||
|
- wordpress
|
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|
draft: false
|
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|
---
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||||||
|
The harrowing process of puberty hit me in 2005, around the midpoint between my 10th and 11th birthday. I blame whatever weird hormones we feed kids these days, and that I probably continue to consume today, for its early onset, or perhaps I can deflect the blame to my parents and chalk it up to genetics — but whichever way, suddenly I found hair creeping up where it had never been before, dried blood on bargain brand, butterfly-clad underwear. Under oversized tee shirts, burgeoning breasts lumped together, hardly noticeable, but they would surely be big one day, I told myself with equal parts dread and wonder — after all, I had already donned my first bra, one of the first in my class, but certainly not the first to worry whether these new marks of my sex would throw my jump shot, bar me from swimming pools for twelve weeks out of the year, and shepherd me into the “girl’s section” of clothing stores where I’d exchange cargo shorts and sneakers for dresses and romances. I’d worry about entering middle school, about finding my locker and my classrooms, about making friends and who my future self would be, whether she’d look anything like the girl I saw reflected in the mirror.
|
||||||
|
|
||||||
|
Ten years later, it turns out that my chest would never be full enough to matter much and that I would leave behind that basketball of my own volition, sooner than I expected. I would realize that, much the same as I squirreled poetry under my mattress and concealed any tears to the quiet dark of my pillow, I hid from femininity all those years because I equated it to sensitivity and vulnerability, to love and expression, my paramount fears. I’m still afraid today. The great takeaway from my teenage years is learning to trace, to accept, to embrace, and eventually, to overcome that fear, but I didn’t reach that point alone. There are a variety of influences I could name and explore, but somewhere between all my petty and beautiful adolescent struggles, I found gaps in time to turn my brain off for a few hours with video games. Among my illustrious collection of the hallmarks of the PlayStation 2-era were entries from the _Tony Hawk_ skateboarding games; I practically salivated in anticipation over _Tony Hawk’s Underground_, a _Tony Hawk_ game that boasted a literally game-changing innovation: the ability to leave your skateboard. I ran and climbed through the streets of various settings in that game, reacted with shock and thrill at the prospect of a _Tony Hawk_ game with _characters_ and a _story_ (for I’ve always been, at heart, a reader and a critic, who specializes in the two). And in the midst of the grinds and kickflips and hijinks, I would hear a song.
|
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|
||||||
|
I was no stranger to music, of course. Like most children of the 90s, I began with Britney Spears and NSYNC (which I would, at the time, vehemently deny — and now revel in). But come my pre-teen years, I would exchange pop hits for what I viewed, at least, as outside the mainstream, trade _Oops!… I Did It Again_ and _No Strings Attached_ for a copy of Green Day’s _International Superhits!_, for memorized Simple Plan lyrics, for Red Hot Chili Peppers verses I was far too young to understand. But with its heavy riffs, scratching vocals, and best of all, a bass line that introduces and finishes the song, two bookends to my musical homecoming, this song was starkly unlike anything I’d heard before. Never had anything felt so powerfully _mine_ before, something only I knew and understood, a song that didn’t come from the radio or my mom or my sisters. It was my secret.
|
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|
||||||
|
So secret, I learned, that I could scarcely find it anywhere, because in 2005 there’s no YouTube or Spotify or iTunes, no endless library of music waiting behind a few clicks and presses. There’s hardly even an _internet_. All I knew about ‘downloading,’ back when that was a new word for the world, was that if I ever did it illegally my family and I would be sentenced to life in prison and our computer would explode. Or something like that. Even if I had the money to buy CDs, Best Buy didn’t stock it, and a trip to the fabled (and faraway) Tower Records seemed unlikely.
|
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|
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|
I was an addict; I had my first taste and I needed more. Desperate, I relied upon _THUG_ for my fix, removing all from its in-game playlist until it was just one song, my song, on repeat, over and over, again and again, until I had almost caught all the lyrics, until it became a background noise that I only registered enough for it to sew itself into my subconscious, to weave itself into the fabrics of my mind.
|
||||||
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|
||||||
|
The song made a home in my head and my heart as I entered middle school; eventually, on my 11th birthday, I would receive the only gift I’d ever remember from my dad, one he didn’t think of himself but outsourced to my sister, who was vaguely aware of my obsession, one he tracked to a hole-in-the-wall record shop, one that I would unwrap and I would spot a pair of headphones plugged into a hand grenade, all under a spray-paint logo.
|
||||||
|
|
||||||
|
Absolutely giddy, I immediately dropped it into our trusty PlayStation 2, in the living room, for everyone to enjoy. But in the hubbub of birthday celebrations, I missed the first songs, not that I would have heard them over my impatience for track five. But my dad shattered my exhilaration somewhere in the screaming chorus of “Halfway There”, as he asked with a cringe “is this really what you like?”, as my stepmom left the room in displeasure. I refocused my ears and my heart sunk; I wondered, perhaps, if I was in over my head. But I smiled and nervously laughed “yes,” because even though the music is angry and loud and frightening, even though I’m 11 years old and not nearly punk rock enough for it, I was also possessed by the awareness that this was the heaviest music I had ever heard. And I really liked the idea of that, because I too was angry and loud and frightened, though I didn’t know how to express it. I wanted to become worthy of it.
|
||||||
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|
||||||
|
That desire ignited me and propelled me forward, continues to today. The album, however, was more of a slow burn for me; the band’s following releases proved far more accessible and solidified my interest, but I would constantly return to that hand grenade, my fear slowly abating with each listen; one day I wouldn’t skip it in my shuffle, another I’d add one or two of the harder songs to a playlist, and the next find myself singing along, until today, a decade later, I’m queuing up such releases as Perfect Pussy’s [_I have lost all desire for feeling_](https://prrfectpussy.bandcamp.com/album/i-have-lost-all-desire-for-feeling), and I’m once again afraid of what pumps through my speakers, of the raw rage and rapture behind each note, the sensation that these are words and sounds that will literally kill the musicians if left unexpressed and unheard. I’m once again afraid that this album has weighed me and I’m not enough for it.
|
||||||
|
|
||||||
|
But that copy of _Revolutions Per Minute_, cracked and unhinged with age, did more than provide a suitably angst-ridden soundtrack to my teen years. It taught me to take a breath and to take a chance, to allow things time to marinate, even that which terrifies me — _especially_ that. It gave me the courage to stare down that fear, to recognize the part of me that wanted to be stronger and tougher and harder and better, and to chase after it; the courage to espouse unadulterated outpouring of emotion, in the face of years spent repressing and in horror of true, honest expression. It was the first song to change and to free me as a person, the first of many tiny revolutions that music creates in one’s life. I must acknowledge, of course, that my life has not yet been very long; as _Revolutions_ preaches in its lyrics, I’ve come a long way, but I know there remains a long journey left ahead of me. And the change I perceive in myself from age 10 to now, at age 20, may be nothing compared to other transformations along the way, massive transformations that may occur over just a few minutes but alter me for years to come. And that’s scary but it’s also okay, because no matter what road I take, _every_ road I take, will one day lead me back to, and I will discover the light within, myself.
|
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@ -7,8 +7,12 @@ draft: true
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---
|
---
|
||||||
## Doing
|
## Doing
|
||||||
I'm backporting a bunch of content from my old blogs so I can finally stop maintaining WordPress blogs. Here are the posts that I've moved over:
|
I'm backporting a bunch of content from my old blogs so I can finally stop maintaining WordPress blogs. Here are the posts that I've moved over:
|
||||||
|
* [Revolutions](https://cassie.ink/revolutions) (2015-03-12)
|
||||||
|
* [Life is Strange Episode 1: Chrysalis](https://cassie.ink/life-is-strange-episode-1-chrysalis) (2015-02-05)
|
||||||
* [House of Leaves: Appendix II-E, The Three Attic Whalestoe Institute Letters (May 8th, 1987)](https://cassie.ink/house-of-leaves-appendix-ii-e-the-three-attic-whalestoe-institute-letters-may-8th-1987/) (2015-01-01)
|
* [House of Leaves: Appendix II-E, The Three Attic Whalestoe Institute Letters (May 8th, 1987)](https://cassie.ink/house-of-leaves-appendix-ii-e-the-three-attic-whalestoe-institute-letters-may-8th-1987/) (2015-01-01)
|
||||||
Sorry for unintentional pings on RSS aggregators; also, be aware that a lot of these are vey old (like, almost ten years) and don't necessarily reflect who I am as a person today! I'm trying to be better about preserving and sharing my writing, so I suppose that means I must submit to [the mortifying ordeal of being known](https://archive.nytimes.com/opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/06/15/i-know-what-you-think-of-me/).
|
* [Canopies and Drapes: Emmy the Great’s Twist on the Classic Breakup Song](https://cassie.ink/canopies-and-drapes/) (2014-11-09)
|
||||||
|
* [Princess Bubblegum & Marceline: Still Just Almost Girlfriends](https://cassie.ink/princess-bubblegum-marceline-still-just-almost-girlfriends/) (2014-08-14)
|
||||||
|
Sorry for unintentional pings on RSS aggregators; also, be aware that a lot of these are vey old (like, ten years) and don't necessarily reflect who I am as a person today! I'm trying to be better about preserving and sharing my writing, so I suppose that means I must submit to [the mortifying ordeal of being known](https://archive.nytimes.com/opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/06/15/i-know-what-you-think-of-me/).
|
||||||
|
|
||||||
## Reading
|
## Reading
|
||||||
|
|
||||||
|
|||||||
157
public/canopies-and-drapes/index.html
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<!DOCTYPE html>
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<html lang="en-us" dir="ltr">
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<head><script src="/livereload.js?mindelay=10&v=2&port=1313&path=livereload" data-no-instant defer></script>
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<meta charset="utf-8">
|
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<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width">
|
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||||||
|
<meta name="description" content="In the music industry, and in the folk genre particular, breakup songs are not exactly uncommon, and for every chart-topping artist crooning over the radio about the throes of love, there are thousands of disconsolate teens pouring over their guitars. For her 2009 Edward EP, England-based singer-songwriter Emma-Lee Moss (stage name Emmy the Great) visits the genre herself; the four included songs are among Emmy’s earliest, though they contain her usual balance of charm and poignancy, more often than not accompanied only by an acoustic strum.
|
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|
">
|
||||||
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|
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|
<meta name="fediverse:creator" content="@cass@social.lol" />
|
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<title>Canopies and Drapes: Emmy the Great’s Twist on the Classic Breakup Song | cassie.ink</title>
|
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<link rel="stylesheet" href="/css/main.css">
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<h1>
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<a href="http://localhost:1313/">
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cassie
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ink
|
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|
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<a href="/about/">About</a>
|
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|
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<li>
|
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|
<a aria-current="true" class="ancestor" href="/posts/">Posts</a>
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<li>
|
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<a href="/tags/week-notes/">Week Notes</a>
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</nav>
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<article>
|
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||||||
|
<time datetime="2014-11-09T00:00:00+00:00">9 November 2014</time>
|
||||||
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|
||||||
|
<h1>Canopies and Drapes: Emmy the Great’s Twist on the Classic Breakup Song</h1>
|
||||||
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|
||||||
|
<div class="barcode">
|
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canopies-and-drapes
|
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|
||||||
|
<p>In the music industry, and in the folk genre particular, breakup songs are not exactly uncommon, and for every chart-topping artist crooning over the radio about the throes of love, there are thousands of disconsolate teens pouring over their guitars. For her 2009 <em>Edward</em> EP, England-based singer-songwriter Emma-Lee Moss (stage name Emmy the Great) visits the genre herself; the four included songs are among Emmy’s earliest, though they contain her usual balance of charm and poignancy, more often than not accompanied only by an acoustic strum.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Though she rather spontaneously released <em>Edward</em> after her début album, <em>First Love,</em> <em>Edward</em> nonetheless functions as a prequel to <em>First Love</em>, as the two share the ubiquitous themes of love, death, and sex. It is within the elegiac third track, “Canopies and Drapes”, that Emmy explores the uniquely teenage voice and experience of losing one’s first love.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The maudlin emotions of a teenager in love are all too frequently dismissed by the older and wiser, who attribute those feelings to the undulations of hormones — and that genuinely may be their source, but they are nonetheless legitimate to the teens experiencing them, a reality that those who have survived adolescence must not forget. The song’s bathetic speaker laments early on that she “hate[s] the day, it hates me, [and] so does everybody else,” an almost cliché embodiment of the heartbroken teen. Yet it is the teenagerhood of the speaker and the song that makes it so endearing, as it captures and honors a teen in search of identity, attention, and closure, whose youth affords her only one frame of reference for her misery: that she “feel[s] worse than when S Club 7 broke up.” As she absently watches “another routine episode of <em>Friends</em>,” she forms her conception of adulthood from its characters, wondering if her future life will be filled with “feelings, coffee, and ‘I’ll be there for you’.” This references not only how teens build their perceptions of reality from the media — an idea echoed through the song — but also how she struggles to define herself and her life when “[I have] loved you so long, I don’t know who I’d be without.”</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Musical references make a reappearance a few verses later, and serve as outlets for her sorrow — songs to cry to and relate to, artists to accompany her in the lonely days that follow. And yet, she cannot separate certain albums and movies from their roots in or resemblance of her relationship, and they become mementos of her beloved boy.</p>
|
||||||
|
<blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p>Wish I could tell you all the things Woody Allen helps me see,<br>
|
||||||
|
How <em>Annie Hall</em> is beginning to feel quite a lot like you and me.<br>
|
||||||
|
It took a while to come around to David Bowie’s new CD,<br>
|
||||||
|
And it’s much too late to give back your <em>Magnetic Fields</em> EP.<br>
|
||||||
|
Can I keep it by my pillow?<br>
|
||||||
|
Really loved it…<br>
|
||||||
|
How I long to tell you so.</p></blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p>This desperation for contact with her ex repeats through the song, craving their lost intimacy and companionship; while they are not proud moments for us, I’m sure most would admit to having scrolled through an ex-lover or crush’s Facebook photos and tweets, desiring to know what they’re up to and, perhaps most importantly, who they’re up to it <em>with</em>. The speaker quenches her thirst, literally and metaphorically, and dejectedly attempts to gain her ex’s attention in the following verse:</p>
|
||||||
|
<blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p>Later on me and a bottle will hook up to have some fun,<br>
|
||||||
|
Then I’ll call your house at twelve to let you know that I’m drunk,<br>
|
||||||
|
Say ‘I’m sorry Mr. C, I was just looking for your son,<br>
|
||||||
|
How is he, incidentally do you know if he’s out alone?<br>
|
||||||
|
There is this book he lent to me something like seven months ago,<br>
|
||||||
|
I’m gonna burn it in the street, be so kind as to let him know that I’m dealing with this badly,<br>
|
||||||
|
and could he please get back to me?’</p></blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p>There’s a bitterness here, a selfish hunger to not be alone in her downward spiral; in short, a desire to stop him from moving on, to ensure he also experiences the hurt she is so overcome by.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Keeping to form, the song ends with forward steps; she sleeps, dreaming of the titular “canopies and drapes,” and “wake[s] shaking from the knowledge that the mattress holds your shape.” She gradually replaces her acidity and need for attention with a desire for closure, illustrated by the image of a funeral, where she hopes once again to see her ex, but this time to “give back your music and your tee-shirts and your socks.” She begins to project into the future, where the speaker’s voice becomes more mature, and Emmy’s idyllic, poetic songwriting abilities shine through:</p>
|
||||||
|
<blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p>[I’ll] walk to Jazz’s house in Soho, cry into her letterbox,<br>
|
||||||
|
Take some time out to resuscitate my soul,<br>
|
||||||
|
Take up smoking and drink carrot juice and grow,<br>
|
||||||
|
Teach the mattress to erase you from its folds,<br>
|
||||||
|
Then dry my eyes and keep on moving ’til the motion makes me strong,<br>
|
||||||
|
Until one day I realize I don’t remember that you’re gone.<br>
|
||||||
|
We’ll be strangers who were lovers,<br>
|
||||||
|
I’ll recover,<br>
|
||||||
|
It’s so weird how time goes on.</p></blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p>The song therefore coalesces into a story of growing up, of how the solitude and sorrows of teenage years eventually fade as we learn to leave them behind. There’s a dual temporality to that final line, the teenage speaker projecting into the future and realizing that her current state will not be forever — despite what it seems in the moment — and that she will eventually move on, and her future-self reflecting backwards on how such an awful experience — one that changed her and plagued her — can then seem as if it happened centuries ago, to a completely different person. The final lines are well-placed as the last Emmy sings on <em>Edward</em> because they truly epitomize the EP. These are songs and emotions Emmy wrote and felt long ago, and <em>Canopies and Drapes</em> is able to, in equal parts, be a rumination on those emotions, while also nostalgically celebrating both their extremity and legitimacy, their place in her development as a woman and as a songwriter. The poignancy and power of <em>Edward</em>, Emmy admits, reawakened her love for songwriting, an effect I can certainly rejoice about — because she’s damn good at it.</p>
|
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<div class="tags">
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<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="24" height="24" viewBox="0 0 24 24" fill="none" stroke="currentColor" stroke-width="1.5" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" class="icon icon-tabler icons-tabler-outline icon-tabler-tag"><path stroke="none" d="M0 0h24v24H0z" fill="none"/><path d="M7.5 7.5m-1 0a1 1 0 1 0 2 0a1 1 0 1 0 -2 0" /><path d="M3 6v5.172a2 2 0 0 0 .586 1.414l7.71 7.71a2.41 2.41 0 0 0 3.408 0l5.592 -5.592a2.41 2.41 0 0 0 0 -3.408l-7.71 -7.71a2 2 0 0 0 -1.414 -.586h-5.172a3 3 0 0 0 -3 3z" /></svg>
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<a href="/tags/music/">Music</a>
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<li>
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<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="24" height="24" viewBox="0 0 24 24" fill="none" stroke="currentColor" stroke-width="1.5" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" class="icon icon-tabler icons-tabler-outline icon-tabler-tag"><path stroke="none" d="M0 0h24v24H0z" fill="none"/><path d="M7.5 7.5m-1 0a1 1 0 1 0 2 0a1 1 0 1 0 -2 0" /><path d="M3 6v5.172a2 2 0 0 0 .586 1.414l7.71 7.71a2.41 2.41 0 0 0 3.408 0l5.592 -5.592a2.41 2.41 0 0 0 0 -3.408l-7.71 -7.71a2 2 0 0 0 -1.414 -.586h-5.172a3 3 0 0 0 -3 3z" /></svg>
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<a href="/tags/wordpress/">Wordpress</a>
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|
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<p>I’m backporting a bunch of content from my old blogs so I can finally stop maintaining WordPress blogs. Here are the posts that I’ve moved over:</p>
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<p>I’m backporting a bunch of content from my old blogs so I can finally stop maintaining WordPress blogs. Here are the posts that I’ve moved over:</p>
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<li><a href="https://cassie.ink/house-of-leaves-appendix-ii-e-the-three-attic-whalestoe-institute-letters-may-8th-1987/">House of Leaves: Appendix II-E, The Three Attic Whalestoe Institute Letters (May 8th, 1987)</a> (2015-01-01)
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<li><a href="https://cassie.ink/revolutions">Revolutions</a> (2015-03-12)</li>
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Sorry for unintentional pings on RSS aggregators; also, be aware that a lot of these are vey old (like, almost ten years) and don’t necessarily reflect who I am as a person today! I’m trying to be better about preserving and sharing my writing, so I suppose that means I must submit to <a href="https://archive.nytimes.com/opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/06/15/i-know-what-you-think-of-me/">the mortifying ordeal of being known</a>.</li>
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<li><a href="https://cassie.ink/life-is-strange-episode-1-chrysalis">Life is Strange Episode 1: Chrysalis</a> (2015-02-05)</li>
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<li><a href="https://cassie.ink/house-of-leaves-appendix-ii-e-the-three-attic-whalestoe-institute-letters-may-8th-1987/">House of Leaves: Appendix II-E, The Three Attic Whalestoe Institute Letters (May 8th, 1987)</a> (2015-01-01)</li>
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<li><a href="https://cassie.ink/canopies-and-drapes/">Canopies and Drapes: Emmy the Great’s Twist on the Classic Breakup Song</a> (2014-11-09)</li>
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<li><a href="https://cassie.ink/princess-bubblegum-marceline-still-just-almost-girlfriends/">Princess Bubblegum & Marceline: Still Just Almost Girlfriends</a> (2014-08-14)
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Sorry for unintentional pings on RSS aggregators; also, be aware that a lot of these are vey old (like, ten years) and don’t necessarily reflect who I am as a person today! I’m trying to be better about preserving and sharing my writing, so I suppose that means I must submit to <a href="https://archive.nytimes.com/opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/06/15/i-know-what-you-think-of-me/">the mortifying ordeal of being known</a>.</li>
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<meta name="description" content="Set in the fictional town of Arcadia Bay, Life is Strange follows Max, the recently minted 18-year-old photography nerd, attending the elite Blackwall Academy. In the trend of episodic games, Life is Strange centers around player choice, the butterfly effect being both a literal and figurative force in the game. It manages, however, to distinguish itself from not only Telltale Games — with its unique center and focus on two teenage girls, as well as its gorgeous, indie-film presentation — but also from just about everything else we’re seeing in gaming today.
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<time datetime="2015-02-05T00:00:00+00:00">5 February 2015</time>
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<h1>Life is Strange Episode 1: Chrysalis</h1>
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<p>Set in the fictional town of Arcadia Bay, <em>Life is Strange</em> follows Max, the recently minted 18-year-old photography nerd, attending the elite Blackwall Academy. In the trend of episodic games, <em>Life is Strange</em> centers around player choice, the butterfly effect being both a literal and figurative force in the game. It manages, however, to distinguish itself from not only Telltale Games — with its unique center and focus on two teenage girls, as well as its gorgeous, indie-film presentation — but also from just about everything else we’re seeing in gaming today.</p>
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<p>Max shares the profile that I’m sure many gamers, myself included, occupied in our high school days — the slightly dorky, quiet kid in the back, who drifts through the hallways with earbuds in, avoiding the ritualistic and cult-like social hierarchy. <em>Life is Strange</em> manages to toe a line, careful that Max does not come off too snobbish or superior (a territory I am also familiar with) — in her journal and commentary, she expresses a conflict between wanting nothing to do with her fellow students, particularly those belonging to the “Vortex Club,” and acknowledging that many of them are kind or interesting and that there are rewards for giving them a chance. It’s a thoughtful portrayal of teenage and high school tropes, and one of the only high school-set stories to remind me of my own experiences rather than other media’s shallow and flat idea of what high school is. Fairly early into the episode, however, Max realizes an alienating factor in herself that I’d wager players may not find as relatable — the ability to control and rewind time.</p>
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<p>The mechanic is a refreshing twist on the choice-based episodic game trend, and one that functions especially well in the setting. How often in our high school careers do we wish we could relive something — would we have answered the teacher’s question differently? Been more delicate to a friend? Wore a pair of pants that <em>wouldn’t</em> rip down the rear? And yet, Max’s new-found power is far from a blessing; the player must predict the long-term consequences of a choice that satisfies them immediately, often selecting the option with less desirable instant results in pursuit of future pay-off. Like Pavlov’s bell, the “this action will have consequences” icon and accompanying sound began to trigger an actual feeling of hesitation and anxiety in me, an effect that speaks to how engrossing the game is.</p>
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<p><img src="https://cdn.cassie.ink/images/2015/consequences.png" alt="Screenshot of an in-game indicator stating “This action will have consequences”"></p>
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<p>I tried to resist the urge to rewind <em>everything,</em> and to instead trust my instincts, though I struggled along the way. After every decision made, Max will second-guess her (and therefore, my) choice, wondering if she should rewind. Even though we can see the immediate consequences of a decision play out, it doesn’t make the decisions any easier to make than in a game like <em>Mass Effect</em>; if anything, they’re <em>more</em> difficult in <em>Life is Strange</em>, because we always have the option to renege.</p>
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<p>Many of the choices <em>Life is Strange</em> presents regard privacy, a motif that helps authenticate it as a realistic portrayal of the teenage experience. In most video games, an NPC will stand by happily as you raid their belongings. In <em>Life is Strange</em>, there are consequences for rifling through someone’s possessions — you’ll discover information you’d rather not have known, or trespass on someone’s trust and hospitality. Other times, you’re able to lend a sympathetic ear to, say, a girl with a secret pregnancy. Here the time travel mechanic works in the player’s benefit; if a character objects to you learning their secrets, you can merely go backwards with the information still in mind but without the negative ramifications.</p>
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<p>Whatever the specific situation it appears in, the choice-based gameplay of <em>Life is Strange</em> feels incredibly natural in the setting, as adolescence is traditionally a period of establishing one’s identity. What may ordinarily be mundane decisions, therefore, have an added weight. From the very start of the game, reading Max’s journal entries, we’re confronted with the harrowing and persistent question that possesses every teenager, and that we must grapple with it every time we’re prompted for a choice: <em>What type of person do I want to be?</em></p>
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<p><img src="https://cdn.cassie.ink/images/2015/bathroom.png" alt="In-game screenshot of showing the back of Max’s head. The subtitle reads, “When a door closes, a window opens… Or, something like that."></p>
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<p>The title of <em>Chrysalis</em> is, therefore, well-applied by Dontnod, not simply as a metaphor for the transitional period between adolescence and adulthood. It’s also a quiescent stage, a dormant phase, a chapter that enables introspection — which <em>Life is Strange</em> also portrays, in Max’s internal dialogue, and through the recurring symbols of mirrors and selfies. The player is able to look at Max from both the interior, by controlling her, and the exterior. And like when taking a selfie, we’re allowed to select <em>how</em> to portray ourselves — what light we’d like to place ourselves in, what expression to make, what message the picture creates and communicates.</p>
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<p>On the topic of <em>Life is Strange</em> placing selfies in a positive light, I have to praise the game for celebrating teenagers — both their good and bad — and teenage <em>girls</em> at that. Having only just left my teenage years, I feel right at home in <em>Life is Strange</em>. I understand Max. I relate to her. I see myself in her, and her in me. And that’s an incredibly rare experience for a female, teenage gamer. Now of course, Dontnod’s use of teen culture can be somewhat heavy-handed; some of the slang is inserted clumsily into the dialogue (“You hella saved my life”), some of Blackwall’s students are rather trope-y (at least, right now — they may be developed in future episodes, and tropes <em>are</em> valid building blocks), and the overall atmosphere of Blackwall is just a little <em>too</em> hip to be totally believable. Even Max insists on using a retro, Polaroid camera. These problems did momentarily remove me from the game, but they are minor alongside an otherwise believable and realistic world. At a certain point, you’re sucked far enough into the painterly visuals, exaggerated sunsets, ambient soundtrack, or well-placed indie track (personal favorite song and perhaps scene? The birds-eye view of Chloe smoking to Angus & Julia Stone) that you don’t feel these bumps in the road. It pokes fun at the selfie (a character at one point tells Max to “go fuck your selfie”) and my generation’s addiction to social media, but it never extends to mocking or disdain; rather, these are important aspects of today’s teenage experience and they deserve to not only be portrayed, but to be celebrated. Life is Strange turns the stigma of teenage girls around 180 degrees — Max isn’t an enjoyable character because she’s “not like other girls” or any similarly misogynistic statement. She <em>is</em> like most girls. And she’s great. One character in particular could have flopped and ruined the entire experience of <em>Life is Strange</em>, fallen into the manic pixie dream girl trope that lines modern-media — and gratefully, that’s not the case.</p>
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<p>If Max represents the incubation period implied by the episode’s title, Chloe is the hard outer shell. Despite being heavily advertised, Chloe doesn’t make a formal appearance until at least halfway through the episode — but her introduction is all the more exciting for it. She has this sort of looming, mysterious presence before we actually see her, let alone are introduced to her <em>as</em> Chloe — through Max’s journal, we learn the girls’ backstory: they were inseparable until Max moved to Seattle and, for whatever reason, never contacted Chloe again. When the two eventually reunite, Chloe isn’t at all what Max expected.</p>
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<p><img src="https://cdn.cassie.ink/images/2015/chloe.png" alt="In-game screenshot of Chloe, a young woman with blue hair and tattoos"></p>
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<p>I won’t beat around the bush. I love Chloe. I spent less than two hours with Chloe and I think she has the potential to be one of this gen’s most memorable characters. She could easily have become a pothole on the manic pixie dream girl (<a href="http://www.salon.com/2014/07/15/im_sorry_for_coining_the_phrase_manic_pixie_dream_girl/">despite noted issues with the term</a>), wish-fulfillment road, and to be fair, there is a degree of this going on. But <a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ManicPixieDreamGirl">as TV Tropes notes</a>:</p>
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<blockquote>
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<p>Despite all that (or <em>because</em> of all that), <a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TropesAreTools" title="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TropesAreTools">there are ways of utilizing this trope without falling into that pitfall</a>. Given enough time, <a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/CharacterDevelopment" title="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/CharacterDevelopment">Character Development</a> can add to their personality and interests and pull them away from the MPDG foundation. The story may even be told from <a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SwitchingPOV" title="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SwitchingPOV">their perspective</a>, revealing that there is more to them than bringing adventure to brooding guys. <a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/Deconstruction" title="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/Deconstruction">Deconstructions</a> of the idea may show that they resent being considered only useful for the benefit of the main character, idolized as something that they are not, or that once the main character reaches their “enlightened” stage, the MPDG moves on to the next person who needs their help.</p></blockquote>
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<p>In just the first episode, Chloe has already been fleshed out better than anything other character (rightfully so, as she’s the deuteragonist) besides Max, with enough mystery to carry us through more development and character arcs. She boasts a <a href="https://bansheebeat.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/Episode-1-Screen-Shot-2015-01-31-23-40-10.png">mix of abandonment</a> and <a href="https://bansheebeat.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/Episode-1-Screen-Shot-2015-02-05-01-30-46.png">daddy issues</a>, is an assault survivor, and has a seriously dysfunctional home situation. Again, Dontnod treads some dangerous ground here, but has yet to use step in any cringe-worthy manner (that I picked up on, at least). It’s refreshing to see these issues portrayed in a character without them overwhelming or otherwise <em>defining</em> the character. Chloe isn’t interesting because she’s had a rough life; she’s more relatable and realistic for it, but these traits aren’t thrown in carelessly. She’s a character with an immense energy, depth, and charisma. She’s tough and she’s complicated and she refuses to take shit from anyone, even Max. I’ve scarcely seen this level of nuance in female characters, let alone <em>supporting</em> female characters, in video games.</p>
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<p>Oh, and she’s <em>probably</em> queer, based off of <a href="https://cdn.cassie.ink/images/2015/chloe-posters.png">some of her decorative choices</a> and her <a href="https://cdn.cassie.ink/images/2015/chloe-rachel.png">affectionate descriptions of Rachel</a>. I’m aware that I have perhaps cultivated a reputation for <a href="https://cassie.ink/princess-bubblegum-marceline-still-just-almost-girlfriends/" title="Princess Bubblegum & Marceline: Still Just Almost Girlfriends">assuming most female characters are queer</a>, even without pre-existing subtext — I don’t deny that. But as infatuated as I am with Chloe, as both a character and for what she represents, I don’t think I’m reaching here. That said, at its heart — without the science-fiction and supernatural elements — <em>Life is Strange</em> is a story of female friendship, how two young women reunite and support one another as they face adulthood. Despite both being rather pragmatic, they acknowledge that <em>something</em> — destiny, perhaps? the butterfly? — brought them together for a reason. It’s no coincidence that Max’s powers appear just in time to save Chloe’s life. Whether romance becomes part of that remains to be seen; even with my inclination to pair off female characters, Max and Chloe’s interactions have been fairly platonic thus far. I’d be delighted to see that change, but equally pleased if Dontnod makes a conscious design to <em>not</em> change it — to instead craft a (female) bildungsroman that doesn’t culminate in romance, and to celebrate female friendship and sisterhood without sexualizing it or its characters.</p>
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<p><img src="https://cdn.cassie.ink/images/2015/lis-sunset.png" alt="In-game screenshot of Max and Chloe watching a sunset"></p>
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<p><em>Life is Strange</em>‘s first episode managed to deliver on, and exceed, every one of my expectations for it. The first chapter concludes with a slideshow of the vivid characters encountered, who will no doubt hold further significance to the story as Arcadia Bay’s many mysteries unfold, all under the foreboding threat of a coming storm — the tornado Max dreams will hit the town in just four days. As the episode faded out, I watched the credits roll by, the incredible mood and atmosphere still encircling me, and it lingered for days after. There is still so much for me to explore in-game and to talk about outside of it; if nothing else, that’s the mark of a fantastic release — one that inspires me to talk about it, to analyze it; one that draws me into it and <em>back</em> to it several times. <em>Life is Strange</em> is not a game that anyone would bank on as a success in an industry so inundated with guns held by rugged white guys; it set out with a vision to create a modern-day, women-driven <em>Twin Peaks</em>, and succeeded. It’s a refreshing change from an industry that is otherwise rather trapped in sameness and stagnation. I have a big journey left to take with Max and Chloe and, judging by its first steps, it will be quite a ride.</p>
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<time datetime="2014-11-09T00:00:00+00:00">9 November 2014</time>
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<h1>Canopies and Drapes: Emmy the Great’s Twist on the Classic Breakup Song</h1>
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<time datetime="2015-02-05T00:00:00+00:00">5 February 2015</time>
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<h1>Life is Strange Episode 1: Chrysalis</h1>
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<time datetime="2015-03-12T00:00:00+00:00">12 March 2015</time>
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<h1>Revolutions</h1>
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<p>The harrowing process of puberty hit me in 2005, around the midpoint between my 10th and 11th birthday. I blame whatever weird hormones we feed kids these days, and that I probably continue to consume today, for its early onset, or perhaps I can deflect the blame to my parents and chalk it up to genetics — but whichever way, suddenly I found hair creeping up where it had never been before, dried blood on bargain brand, butterfly-clad underwear. Under oversized tee shirts, burgeoning breasts lumped together, hardly noticeable, but they would surely be big one day, I told myself with equal parts dread and wonder — after all, I had already donned my first bra, one of the first in my class, but certainly not the first to worry whether these new marks of my sex would throw my jump shot, bar me from swimming pools for twelve weeks out of the year, and shepherd me into the “girl’s section” of clothing stores where I’d exchange cargo shorts and sneakers for dresses and romances. I’d worry about entering middle school, about finding my locker and my classrooms, about making friends and who my future self would be, whether she’d look anything like the girl I saw reflected in the mirror.</p>
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<p>Ten years later, it turns out that my chest would never be full enough to matter much and that I would leave behind that basketball of my own volition, sooner than I expected. I would realize that, much the same as I squirreled poetry under my mattress and concealed any tears to the quiet dark of my pillow, I hid from femininity all those years because I equated it to sensitivity and vulnerability, to love and expression, my paramount fears. I’m still afraid today. The great takeaway from my teenage years is learning to trace, to accept, to embrace, and eventually, to overcome that fear, but I didn’t reach that point alone. There are a variety of influences I could name and explore, but somewhere between all my petty and beautiful adolescent struggles, I found gaps in time to turn my brain off for a few hours with video games. Among my illustrious collection of the hallmarks of the PlayStation 2-era were entries from the <em>Tony Hawk</em> skateboarding games; I practically salivated in anticipation over <em>Tony Hawk’s Underground</em>, a <em>Tony Hawk</em> game that boasted a literally game-changing innovation: the ability to leave your skateboard. I ran and climbed through the streets of various settings in that game, reacted with shock and thrill at the prospect of a <em>Tony Hawk</em> game with <em>characters</em> and a <em>story</em> (for I’ve always been, at heart, a reader and a critic, who specializes in the two). And in the midst of the grinds and kickflips and hijinks, I would hear a song.</p>
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<title>Princess Bubblegum & Marceline: Still Just Almost Girlfriends | cassie.ink</title>
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<time datetime="2025-08-20T00:00:00+00:00">20 August 2025</time>
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<time datetime="0001-01-01T00:00:00+00:00">1 January 0001</time>
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<h1>Princess Bubblegum & Marceline: Still Just Almost Girlfriends</h1>
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<time datetime="2015-03-12T00:00:00+00:00">12 March 2015</time>
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<h1>Revolutions</h1>
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revolutions
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<p>The harrowing process of puberty hit me in 2005, around the midpoint between my 10th and 11th birthday. I blame whatever weird hormones we feed kids these days, and that I probably continue to consume today, for its early onset, or perhaps I can deflect the blame to my parents and chalk it up to genetics — but whichever way, suddenly I found hair creeping up where it had never been before, dried blood on bargain brand, butterfly-clad underwear. Under oversized tee shirts, burgeoning breasts lumped together, hardly noticeable, but they would surely be big one day, I told myself with equal parts dread and wonder — after all, I had already donned my first bra, one of the first in my class, but certainly not the first to worry whether these new marks of my sex would throw my jump shot, bar me from swimming pools for twelve weeks out of the year, and shepherd me into the “girl’s section” of clothing stores where I’d exchange cargo shorts and sneakers for dresses and romances. I’d worry about entering middle school, about finding my locker and my classrooms, about making friends and who my future self would be, whether she’d look anything like the girl I saw reflected in the mirror.</p>
|
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<p>Ten years later, it turns out that my chest would never be full enough to matter much and that I would leave behind that basketball of my own volition, sooner than I expected. I would realize that, much the same as I squirreled poetry under my mattress and concealed any tears to the quiet dark of my pillow, I hid from femininity all those years because I equated it to sensitivity and vulnerability, to love and expression, my paramount fears. I’m still afraid today. The great takeaway from my teenage years is learning to trace, to accept, to embrace, and eventually, to overcome that fear, but I didn’t reach that point alone. There are a variety of influences I could name and explore, but somewhere between all my petty and beautiful adolescent struggles, I found gaps in time to turn my brain off for a few hours with video games. Among my illustrious collection of the hallmarks of the PlayStation 2-era were entries from the <em>Tony Hawk</em> skateboarding games; I practically salivated in anticipation over <em>Tony Hawk’s Underground</em>, a <em>Tony Hawk</em> game that boasted a literally game-changing innovation: the ability to leave your skateboard. I ran and climbed through the streets of various settings in that game, reacted with shock and thrill at the prospect of a <em>Tony Hawk</em> game with <em>characters</em> and a <em>story</em> (for I’ve always been, at heart, a reader and a critic, who specializes in the two). And in the midst of the grinds and kickflips and hijinks, I would hear a song.</p>
|
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<p>I was no stranger to music, of course. Like most children of the 90s, I began with Britney Spears and NSYNC (which I would, at the time, vehemently deny — and now revel in). But come my pre-teen years, I would exchange pop hits for what I viewed, at least, as outside the mainstream, trade <em>Oops!… I Did It Again</em> and <em>No Strings Attached</em> for a copy of Green Day’s <em>International Superhits!</em>, for memorized Simple Plan lyrics, for Red Hot Chili Peppers verses I was far too young to understand. But with its heavy riffs, scratching vocals, and best of all, a bass line that introduces and finishes the song, two bookends to my musical homecoming, this song was starkly unlike anything I’d heard before. Never had anything felt so powerfully <em>mine</em> before, something only I knew and understood, a song that didn’t come from the radio or my mom or my sisters. It was my secret.</p>
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<p>So secret, I learned, that I could scarcely find it anywhere, because in 2005 there’s no YouTube or Spotify or iTunes, no endless library of music waiting behind a few clicks and presses. There’s hardly even an <em>internet</em>. All I knew about ‘downloading,’ back when that was a new word for the world, was that if I ever did it illegally my family and I would be sentenced to life in prison and our computer would explode. Or something like that. Even if I had the money to buy CDs, Best Buy didn’t stock it, and a trip to the fabled (and faraway) Tower Records seemed unlikely.</p>
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<p>I was an addict; I had my first taste and I needed more. Desperate, I relied upon <em>THUG</em> for my fix, removing all from its in-game playlist until it was just one song, my song, on repeat, over and over, again and again, until I had almost caught all the lyrics, until it became a background noise that I only registered enough for it to sew itself into my subconscious, to weave itself into the fabrics of my mind.</p>
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<p>The song made a home in my head and my heart as I entered middle school; eventually, on my 11th birthday, I would receive the only gift I’d ever remember from my dad, one he didn’t think of himself but outsourced to my sister, who was vaguely aware of my obsession, one he tracked to a hole-in-the-wall record shop, one that I would unwrap and I would spot a pair of headphones plugged into a hand grenade, all under a spray-paint logo.</p>
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<p>Absolutely giddy, I immediately dropped it into our trusty PlayStation 2, in the living room, for everyone to enjoy. But in the hubbub of birthday celebrations, I missed the first songs, not that I would have heard them over my impatience for track five. But my dad shattered my exhilaration somewhere in the screaming chorus of “Halfway There”, as he asked with a cringe “is this really what you like?”, as my stepmom left the room in displeasure. I refocused my ears and my heart sunk; I wondered, perhaps, if I was in over my head. But I smiled and nervously laughed “yes,” because even though the music is angry and loud and frightening, even though I’m 11 years old and not nearly punk rock enough for it, I was also possessed by the awareness that this was the heaviest music I had ever heard. And I really liked the idea of that, because I too was angry and loud and frightened, though I didn’t know how to express it. I wanted to become worthy of it.</p>
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<p>That desire ignited me and propelled me forward, continues to today. The album, however, was more of a slow burn for me; the band’s following releases proved far more accessible and solidified my interest, but I would constantly return to that hand grenade, my fear slowly abating with each listen; one day I wouldn’t skip it in my shuffle, another I’d add one or two of the harder songs to a playlist, and the next find myself singing along, until today, a decade later, I’m queuing up such releases as Perfect Pussy’s <a href="https://prrfectpussy.bandcamp.com/album/i-have-lost-all-desire-for-feeling"><em>I have lost all desire for feeling</em></a>, and I’m once again afraid of what pumps through my speakers, of the raw rage and rapture behind each note, the sensation that these are words and sounds that will literally kill the musicians if left unexpressed and unheard. I’m once again afraid that this album has weighed me and I’m not enough for it.</p>
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<p>But that copy of <em>Revolutions Per Minute</em>, cracked and unhinged with age, did more than provide a suitably angst-ridden soundtrack to my teen years. It taught me to take a breath and to take a chance, to allow things time to marinate, even that which terrifies me — <em>especially</em> that. It gave me the courage to stare down that fear, to recognize the part of me that wanted to be stronger and tougher and harder and better, and to chase after it; the courage to espouse unadulterated outpouring of emotion, in the face of years spent repressing and in horror of true, honest expression. It was the first song to change and to free me as a person, the first of many tiny revolutions that music creates in one’s life. I must acknowledge, of course, that my life has not yet been very long; as <em>Revolutions</em> preaches in its lyrics, I’ve come a long way, but I know there remains a long journey left ahead of me. And the change I perceive in myself from age 10 to now, at age 20, may be nothing compared to other transformations along the way, massive transformations that may occur over just a few minutes but alter me for years to come. And that’s scary but it’s also okay, because no matter what road I take, <em>every</em> road I take, will one day lead me back to, and I will discover the light within, myself.</p>
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<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="24" height="24" viewBox="0 0 24 24" fill="none" stroke="currentColor" stroke-width="1.5" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" class="icon icon-tabler icons-tabler-outline icon-tabler-tag"><path stroke="none" d="M0 0h24v24H0z" fill="none"/><path d="M7.5 7.5m-1 0a1 1 0 1 0 2 0a1 1 0 1 0 -2 0" /><path d="M3 6v5.172a2 2 0 0 0 .586 1.414l7.71 7.71a2.41 2.41 0 0 0 3.408 0l5.592 -5.592a2.41 2.41 0 0 0 0 -3.408l-7.71 -7.71a2 2 0 0 0 -1.414 -.586h-5.172a3 3 0 0 0 -3 3z" /></svg>
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<a href="/tags/music/">Music</a>
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<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="24" height="24" viewBox="0 0 24 24" fill="none" stroke="currentColor" stroke-width="1.5" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" class="icon icon-tabler icons-tabler-outline icon-tabler-tag"><path stroke="none" d="M0 0h24v24H0z" fill="none"/><path d="M7.5 7.5m-1 0a1 1 0 1 0 2 0a1 1 0 1 0 -2 0" /><path d="M3 6v5.172a2 2 0 0 0 .586 1.414l7.71 7.71a2.41 2.41 0 0 0 3.408 0l5.592 -5.592a2.41 2.41 0 0 0 0 -3.408l-7.71 -7.71a2 2 0 0 0 -1.414 -.586h-5.172a3 3 0 0 0 -3 3z" /></svg>
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<a href="/tags/wordpress/">Wordpress</a>
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</ul>
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</div>
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</article>
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</main>
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<footer>
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<ul class="social">
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<a href="mailto:me@cassie.ink" aria-label="Email">
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<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="24" height="24" viewBox="0 0 24 24" fill="none" stroke="currentColor" stroke-width="1" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" class="icon icon-tabler icons-tabler-outline icon-tabler-mail"><path stroke="none" d="M0 0h24v24H0z" fill="none"/><path d="M3 7a2 2 0 0 1 2 -2h14a2 2 0 0 1 2 2v10a2 2 0 0 1 -2 2h-14a2 2 0 0 1 -2 -2v-10z" /><path d="M3 7l9 6l9 -6" /></svg>
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</a>
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</li>
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<li>
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<a href="/index.xml" aria-label="RSS">
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<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="24" height="24" viewBox="0 0 24 24" fill="none" stroke="#f26522" stroke-width="1" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" class="icon icon-tabler icons-tabler-outline icon-tabler-rss">
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<path stroke="none" d="M0 0h24v24H0z" fill="none" />
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<path d="M5 19m-1 0a1 1 0 1 0 2 0a1 1 0 1 0 -2 0" />
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<path d="M4 4a16 16 0 0 1 16 16" />
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<path d="M4 11a9 9 0 0 1 9 9" />
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</a>
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</li>
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||||||
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<li>
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||||||
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<a rel="me" href="https://social.lol/@cass" aria-label="Mastodon">
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||||||
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<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="24" height="24" viewBox="0 0 24 24" fill="none" stroke="#6364ff" stroke-width="1" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" class="icon icon-tabler icons-tabler-outline icon-tabler-brand-mastodon">
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<path stroke="none" d="M0 0h24v24H0z" fill="none" />
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<path d="M18.648 15.254c-1.816 1.763 -6.648 1.626 -6.648 1.626a18.262 18.262 0 0 1 -3.288 -.256c1.127 1.985 4.12 2.81 8.982 2.475c-1.945 2.013 -13.598 5.257 -13.668 -7.636l-.026 -1.154c0 -3.036 .023 -4.115 1.352 -5.633c1.671 -1.91 6.648 -1.666 6.648 -1.666s4.977 -.243 6.648 1.667c1.329 1.518 1.352 2.597 1.352 5.633s-.456 4.074 -1.352 4.944z" />
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<path d="M12 11.204v-2.926c0 -1.258 -.895 -2.278 -2 -2.278s-2 1.02 -2 2.278v4.722m4 -4.722c0 -1.258 .895 -2.278 2 -2.278s2 1.02 2 2.278v4.722" />
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</a>
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||||||
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</li>
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||||||
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<li>
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||||||
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<a href="https://listenbrainz.org/user/babyspace/" aria-label="Listen Brainz">
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||||||
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<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="24" height="24" viewBox="0 0 24 24" fill="none" stroke="#eb743b" stroke-width="1" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" class="icon icon-tabler icons-tabler-outline icon-tabler-brand-metabrainz"><path stroke="none" d="M0 0h24v24H0z" fill="none"/><path d="M3 7v10l7 4v-18z" /><path d="M21 7v10l-7 4v-18z" /></svg>
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</a>
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</li>
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||||||
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</ul>
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<p class="forget">
|
||||||
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don't forget to have fun.
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||||||
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</p>
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<p class="copyright">
|
||||||
|
all errors © cassie
|
||||||
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</p>
|
||||||
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|
||||||
|
</footer>
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</body>
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||||||
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</html>
|
||||||
@ -5,7 +5,7 @@
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|||||||
<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width">
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<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width">
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||||||
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<meta name="description" content="Doing I’m backporting a bunch of content from my old blogs so I can finally stop maintaining WordPress blogs. Here are the posts that I’ve moved over:
|
<meta name="description" content="Doing I’m backporting a bunch of content from my old blogs so I can finally stop maintaining WordPress blogs. Here are the posts that I’ve moved over:
|
||||||
House of Leaves: Appendix II-E, The Three Attic Whalestoe Institute Letters (May 8th, 1987) (2015-01-01) Sorry for unintentional pings on RSS aggregators; also, be aware that a lot of these are vey old (like, almost ten years) and don’t necessarily reflect who I am as a person today! I’m trying to be better about preserving and sharing my writing, so I suppose that means I must submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known. Reading Watching Playing I’m still playing Fields of Mistria, although I have had a few mid-day game crashes this week. The game is in early access, so I can’t complain too much, but it’s the first time it’s happened to me. It’s frustrating to lose progress, but I suppose I should get into the habit of saving a few times throughout the day.1
|
Revolutions (2015-03-12) Life is Strange Episode 1: Chrysalis (2015-02-05) House of Leaves: Appendix II-E, The Three Attic Whalestoe Institute Letters (May 8th, 1987) (2015-01-01) Canopies and Drapes: Emmy the Great’s Twist on the Classic Breakup Song (2014-11-09) Princess Bubblegum & Marceline: Still Just Almost Girlfriends (2014-08-14) Sorry for unintentional pings on RSS aggregators; also, be aware that a lot of these are vey old (like, ten years) and don’t necessarily reflect who I am as a person today! I’m trying to be better about preserving and sharing my writing, so I suppose that means I must submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known. Reading Watching Playing I’m still playing Fields of Mistria, although I have had a few mid-day game crashes this week. The game is in early access, so I can’t complain too much, but it’s the first time it’s happened to me. It’s frustrating to lose progress, but I suppose I should get into the habit of saving a few times throughout the day.1
|
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">
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">
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||||||
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||||||
<meta name="fediverse:creator" content="@cass@social.lol" />
|
<meta name="fediverse:creator" content="@cass@social.lol" />
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@ -63,8 +63,12 @@ House of Leaves: Appendix II-E, The Three Attic Whalestoe Institute Letters (May
|
|||||||
<h2 id="doing">Doing</h2>
|
<h2 id="doing">Doing</h2>
|
||||||
<p>I’m backporting a bunch of content from my old blogs so I can finally stop maintaining WordPress blogs. Here are the posts that I’ve moved over:</p>
|
<p>I’m backporting a bunch of content from my old blogs so I can finally stop maintaining WordPress blogs. Here are the posts that I’ve moved over:</p>
|
||||||
<ul>
|
<ul>
|
||||||
<li><a href="https://cassie.ink/house-of-leaves-appendix-ii-e-the-three-attic-whalestoe-institute-letters-may-8th-1987/">House of Leaves: Appendix II-E, The Three Attic Whalestoe Institute Letters (May 8th, 1987)</a> (2015-01-01)
|
<li><a href="https://cassie.ink/revolutions">Revolutions</a> (2015-03-12)</li>
|
||||||
Sorry for unintentional pings on RSS aggregators; also, be aware that a lot of these are vey old (like, almost ten years) and don’t necessarily reflect who I am as a person today! I’m trying to be better about preserving and sharing my writing, so I suppose that means I must submit to <a href="https://archive.nytimes.com/opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/06/15/i-know-what-you-think-of-me/">the mortifying ordeal of being known</a>.</li>
|
<li><a href="https://cassie.ink/life-is-strange-episode-1-chrysalis">Life is Strange Episode 1: Chrysalis</a> (2015-02-05)</li>
|
||||||
|
<li><a href="https://cassie.ink/house-of-leaves-appendix-ii-e-the-three-attic-whalestoe-institute-letters-may-8th-1987/">House of Leaves: Appendix II-E, The Three Attic Whalestoe Institute Letters (May 8th, 1987)</a> (2015-01-01)</li>
|
||||||
|
<li><a href="https://cassie.ink/canopies-and-drapes/">Canopies and Drapes: Emmy the Great’s Twist on the Classic Breakup Song</a> (2014-11-09)</li>
|
||||||
|
<li><a href="https://cassie.ink/princess-bubblegum-marceline-still-just-almost-girlfriends/">Princess Bubblegum & Marceline: Still Just Almost Girlfriends</a> (2014-08-14)
|
||||||
|
Sorry for unintentional pings on RSS aggregators; also, be aware that a lot of these are vey old (like, ten years) and don’t necessarily reflect who I am as a person today! I’m trying to be better about preserving and sharing my writing, so I suppose that means I must submit to <a href="https://archive.nytimes.com/opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/06/15/i-know-what-you-think-of-me/">the mortifying ordeal of being known</a>.</li>
|
||||||
</ul>
|
</ul>
|
||||||
<h2 id="reading">Reading</h2>
|
<h2 id="reading">Reading</h2>
|
||||||
<h2 id="watching">Watching</h2>
|
<h2 id="watching">Watching</h2>
|
||||||
|
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Reference in New Issue
Block a user