Daniel Jun - Tumblr Posts
It's crazy how Alice creates the most diverse but also relatable characters. There are characters of different sexual orientations, different races, genders, mental illnesses, family life and eating disorders. They're all so different??? but there's something that binds them all together. For example, I relate to Tao and his love for films but I also relate to Georgia with her loyalty to her friends, and I relate to Tori but I relate to Frances and her obsession to do well in school and not be a disappointment, but I relate to Lister but I... They're all different, but there's something so familiar about them and you can see similar traits in each of them in yourself. you're never just one character, but a perfect mix of a bunch of them. I feel like a collage or mosaic of my favourite characters. Not just the four of them, but all the characters, like Aled Last, Micheal Holden and Elle Argent.
Alice Oseman's characters radiate comfort and warmth. Her books give the same vibes as curling up in you're cozy messy bed after an exhausting day at school or work, buried under a mountain of blankets when it rains or snows outside. The months between September and February when the sun sets early and you get to wear extra layers of clothes like that oversized black hoodie to cover your face from the unfamiliar or jean jacket covered in fandom pins. Returning to your room filled with artifacts from your childhood, old middle-grade fantasy books you haven't touched in like four years but wouldn't sell or donate because they mean too much, book reports and DIY science projects from 3rd grade and that movie poster filled haven where you could leave the stresses of the real world behind.
All the lights are off, except for those fairy string lights above your bed. You're sipping a hot cup of tea or hot chocolate, rereading your old favourite books you loved as a teenager and watching that old favourite film that you've seen so many times that you can remember all the dialogue to, but you watch it anyway. Listening to that carefully curated 90s indie rock playlist from 2019 to drown out and forget the world outside. listening to artists like cavetown, girl in red, the 1975, Arctic monkeys, phoebe bridgers and the smiths. staying up wayyyy too late, the only light being the screen of your laptop or phone, reading fan fiction on AO3 while your whole family's asleep. That warmth and authenticity that you don't find much in modern media. The nostalgia. How she accurately portrays what actual teenagers are like, both the good and the bad. and every other feeling in between. confusion and the odd feelings of growing up, especially how characters like georgia and Nick never realized their sexualities until later (it can be nerve-wracking to figure something out), but also people who have known who they are since forever like frances and charlie. knowing yourself but also feeling like a complete stranger in your body. i don't know how, but even if you're reading it for the first time, @chronicintrovert books have the feeling of returning home.
Today’s goal: daydream about osemanverse type relationships I want and try not to cry, who’s with me? :D
I JUST finished Radio Silence.
Oh. My. God.
That was beautiful, I literally can’t come up with a better word for how perfect it was than: Beautiful.
The way Alice Oseman writes first person is stunning, I’m not even a die-hard-study-needs-to-get-into-good-college girl, but I am a senior in high school who doesn’t really see a point in going to college but doesn’t know what she wants to do with her life and—characters like Frances, Aled, Raine, Carys, even Daniel, spoke to me. On a whole ‘nother level, I connected to so many characters in this book and TRULY felt like I wasn’t alone. The plot was amazing—‘simple’ I suppose, but oh my god. I could see it all clearly, and I was very invested in how everything turned out.
And SPOILERS RIGHT HERE, that end scene, when the announcer is announcing Aled and he and Frances are backstage, my heart was stuttering with nervous excitement right along with them. I was listening to “It’s All So Incredibly Loud” by The Glass Animals as I read it, and oh my god. This book felt like a dream come true. Like a longing for more, a creative supernova exploding, a painful ache when a friend moves away, the crushing rush of LIFE when something goes right—this is my new comfort book. That can be very much concluded.
Radio Silence by Alice Oseman is a freaking masterpiece in my opinion.
The intense urge to redye my hair for the second time this month, yet another shade of pink, so I can have pastel pink hair…
I mean, I’ve always WANTED pastel pink hair and never got around to it but…now I REALLY want it—
Help—
Does anyone else imagine Radio (maybe at the live event, idk—) singing this song???
Maybe it’s the subject matter, or the fact that the voice is transposed, but I can SO imagine him and his guitar, honestly they would be so cool singing this and I just love the thought.
´´La Caída de la Casa de Usher´´: Primeras Imágenes del Nuevo Horror de Mike Flanagan.
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Universe City: EP. 1 - Dark Blue
In distress. Stuck in Universe City. Send help.
>> scroll down for transcript
Hello.
I hope somebody is listening..
I'm sending out this call via radio signal - long outdated, I know, but one of the few methods of communication the City has forgotten to monitor - in a dark and desperate cry for help.
Things in Universe City are not what they seem.
I cannot tell you who I am. Please call me ... Please just call me Radio. Radio Silence. I am, after all, only a voice on a radio, and there may not be anyone listening.
I wonder - if nobody is listening to my voice, am I making any sound at all?
[...]
EXCERPT #12:
Hello. I hope somebody is listening.
This is a signal… Oh, of, um… Distress… And… You get it… Do I have to say this every time?
I don't know why I’m asking you, old sport. You’re the one who needs to listen to me saying the same things over and over.
[Sighs]... I know you want me to get to the point. But… well…
There is none…
There is no point!
I haven’t seen her. Anywhere.
I’ve been on patrols, changing my location every night to somewhere new, places I’ve never even been before.
I called Nightcrawler… just in case he knew… That’s how you know I was desperate, old sport. That’s how you know I tried! I swear!
Of course, in all “Nightcrawler” fashion, he doesn’t let me speak and instead continues to ask why I haven’t been answering… blah, blah, same old stuff…
So, he was no use either.
I revisited those streets… Every. Day.
And nothing…! Just the same people, same crowds, moving out of the way for me.
I’ve started to theorise that she may have just dyed her hair a normal colour and changed out of that dress… It’s easy to blend into the crowd if you try hard enough… But why?
We met so quickly and exchanged such little words… Why did she have the urge to run? To hide?
I’m starting to give up hope, old sport. But I’ll keep trying. I need to know who she is…
[…]
…and she just had this faded, dyed hair! Just like mine! You would’ve been jealous of how cool she looks, as I feel about you, February.
I wonder if you’ll look any different, since I last saw you, when we see each other again.
I wonder if you’re thinking about me as often as I think about you.
I really do wish you were here. You would be able to find this girl, I just know it.
You always knew exactly where to look, whenever I lost something, or whenever we played ‘Where’s Wally?’, you’d always know in a matter of seconds where he was hiding.
You always found me, February, in my darkest of times. But how on Earth am I to find you? If I cannot even find Wally on a page of a children’s book, what chance do I have searching the universe for you?
Maybe you can find yourself… Perhaps, that’s what you’ve been away trying to do. Perhaps you already did. And for that, I am so proud. Please, February, let me find you; let me tell you how proud I am.
♪ There’s nothing left for us anymore Why aren’t you listening? Why aren’t you listening to me? There’s nothing left. ♪
In the kind words of Frances Janvier
"I'm well-practiced in the art of bullshitting."