oliverharbolt-blog

[oliverharbolt-blog]

MEME MONDAY 

( mostly comprised of questions from here )

Send and pick numbers 1-40 to other participating member’s inboxes to ask questions. Anonymous is allowed.

Remember to reblog if you’d like to participate!

1. What’s their favorite color? 2. Their favorite food? 3. Their favorite drink? 4. Their favorite movie and/or book? 5. Their sexuality? 6. Their middle name? (if they have a middle name) 7. Their class? 8. Their MBTI type? 9. Their morality alignment? 10. Their Hogwarts house? 11. Their theme song? 12. Their favorite season? 13. Their favorite weather? 14. Their favorite music genre? 15. Are they a sun or moon person? 16. Are they a coffee or tea person? (or both?) 17. Describe what type of clothes they normally wear. 18. Do they have a nickname? 19. Do they have a morning routine or is it just complaining and groaning while trying to wake up? 20. Do they have parents/are their parents still alive? 21. Do/did they have siblings? 22. Are they left or right-handed or maybe even ambidextrous? 23. Do they have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics? 24. As a child, did they have any dreams or a dream job? 25. What was their childhood like? 26. Describe what they consider “home.” 27. Was there a person in their life that changed their view on life/the world? 28. Is there something they’d change about their past? 29. When was their first kiss? 30. Were they confused about their sexuality at some point in their life? 31. Do they prefer one-night stands or serious relationships? Alternative: Did they use to have one-night stands until they met ‘The One’? 32. Do they openly talk about their relationship/gush about their partner or rather keep it private? 33. Are they optimistic or pessimistic? 34. Do they have any mental illnesses and if yes, do they visit a therapist or talk to someone about it? 35. Do they have any coping mechanisms? 36. What is their greatest fear? 37. What is their greatest accomplishment? 38. What is their favorite memory? 39. What is their least favorite memory? 40. Where do they see themselves 10 years from now?

[oliverharbolt-blog]

lydiaharbolt:

@oliverharbolt

Lydia’s car had been parked in the restaurant’s lot for the last ten minutes, but somehow she hadn’t managed to get out of it. Her legs felt as if they wouldn’t be able to support her once she stood on them - perhaps that was the only thing stopping her from driving away. That, and a gnawing sense of guilt. She’d made dinner plans with her father a handful of times and cancelled them just as often, but this was the furthest she’d manage to get in three months, and it had to count as a victory. 

Which means it wouldn’t be that awful if I just went home now. Perfectly manicured nails dug into the leather of her steering wheel, and she sucked in a shaky breath to calm herself. Overthinking seemed to just be making the whole thing worse but Lydia wasn’t programmed to be the light and breezy type, and so it took another five minutes of psyching herself up before she was able to get out of the car. 

Her heart thumped heavily against her rib cage as she opened the door to the restaurant and stepped inside, ambient music and murmur of conversation drowning out her own swirling thoughts. It was there that Lydia hesitated, hands clasped together, and scanned the tables until she found a familiar face. The split second before their eyes met was when she decided it was time to leave, to try another day, but the proverbial rug was ripped out from under her feet before they could move. Trapped. No choice. 

Steadily she skirted through the tables of people much happier to be there than her, steps slowing as she approached the man she wasn’t entirely sure she knew anymore. She didn’t sit down - perhaps hanging onto the dying possibility of making a getaway - and instead awkwardly clasped her handbag between twisting fingers, searching a blank mind for something, anything to say. 

“…Hi, dad.”

If he got real honest with himself, it was hard to fault her. Eighteen minutes. The ice in his water, smaller when he took a sip, warming where his hand cradled the glass. She’d texted, before -- the other times, when she couldn’t make it -- and he was trying not to check his watch too much, trying to keep his phone flipped screen-side down. There was a line to walk, here. There was pessimism, sure, and there was naivety, and the space in-between was like the fucking DMZ, but if he kept his focus tight and small on what was right in front of his face, then all he had to think about was this cooling basket of bread. 

Lydia was gonna do what she needed to do. They could always try again. It was just -- well, Eastcliff was so small, and he was starting to run out of restaurants. 

Nineteen, now. So much for not fixating. Oliver hinged his elbow on the table, ducking his head to palm the hair on the back of his neck. He only looked up to see if he could find the waitress (idling like a getaway car, he was sure, actively avoiding him); instead, there was Lydia by the hostess stand, peripheral. Unmistakable. He opened his mouth -- to what? to call her over from across the room? -- and leaned, a little, forward in his chair. She saw him, but he raised a couple fingers, anyway. Just in case, y’know. He was greyer than he’d been. 

And he’d played this out, this part, so many times it was just about scripted: how he’d stand, and she’d put her bag on the table, and she’d tuck her face into his shirt. The relief that always comes with reunion, somehow -- the tension sliding out of his shoulders -- he’d been waiting for that wave of--of something, but when she came up to the table, Oliver found himself still waiting. 

“Hey,” he said. He didn’t get up from his chair. He didn’t trust himself to try. The restaurant cancelled out his voice with white noise, humming steady like a radio someone had forgotten to turn off, and Oliver cleared his throat to give himself a second to run through his lines. Nothing. No you look great or how was the drive? or glad we could do this, thanks for coming -- he just used his hand to point at the empty chair, blinked, and said, “I, uh... I saved you a seat.” 

[oliverharbolt-blog]

Something in me will save me from utter ruin no matter what comes.

Tennessee Williams (via quotemadness)

[oliverharbolt-blog]

hayeswest:

“If I could go back in time, I would have burned my grandfather’s house,” he said, reading the paper aloud before looking up at the other, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. "I can’t tell if I should commend the kid for his excellent spelling and grammar or fail him for writing something so morbid.” He knew the answer was none of the above, that he should probably talk to the kid, but he’s been checking papers since 10am, and his moral compass has been recalibrating poorly.

“His grandfather’s house.” Or, put another way -- his grandfather’s house. When Oliver thought about his own granddad, all he got was a tobacco pipe and collar pins. Those cherry sours they used to keep in a bowl on the coffee table. None of it was really screaming arson. “There’s no chance this is a fiction exercise?” 

[oliverharbolt-blog]

Cause they know, and so do I The high road is hard to find A detour to your new life Tell all of your friends goodbye

[oliverharbolt-blog]

tamatijones:

“So where do you think the soul goes when we die?”

“I think...” 

Huh. Oliver had thrown around a lot of Big Questions a couple years ago, just to see what shadows he could make in all the spoon-fed spirituality. He hadn’t thought about them in a while, though -- hadn’t even thought about thinking about them, which (hey!) was maybe a good thing, right? After weeks of tired reminders over coffee (you’re not supposed to have all the answers, Oliver) (some things are bigger than you), maybe humility had found a way to sink in. 

He didn’t like it. He tongued a molar and tried again. “I think it’s like compost,” he said. As soon as he said it, he knew he believed it. “Whatever your soul is, it just... dissolves, after a while. Adds to the energy, helps everything grow. Or hurts, I guess, if you’ve been a dick.” 

[oliverharbolt-blog]

Full Name: Oliver James Harbolt

Nickname(s): Ollie (for the very familiar)

Age: 52

Birthdate: 16 October 1965

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Occupation: Former CTO of Volante Robotics (acquired by Boeing); current founder & CEO of Shoal Technologies

Neighborhood: Rockport

------ BIOGRAPHY:

tw alcoholism

Oliver wasn't born on the west coast, but it took him in like a foster parent: unquestioning, comfortable, forever if he wanted it. He did. He came for college, and stayed for grad school, too -- and after graduation, when he couldn't find the right foothold, he and a friend carved out their own. The whole world was full of promise, back then. Or maybe not the whole world, but California was, for sure, that little pocket up by Stanford where people could look at the horizon and ask for more sky.

They called it Volante Robotics. Like all businesses that wind up mattering, someday, it stayed small and modest 'til it stumbled on gold. By the time he was 35, Oliver was CTO of a company that people were noticing -- and there were patents, and big-name contracts, and galas and benefits and conferences to attend. He was a husband and a father by then, too, and he did his best to find balance, but it was hard to stay present with all the success rolling in. He tried, but there were so many things to try at.

They got divorced in 2013. There were a lot of factors there -- his absence, his avoidance, his drinking like a phantom everybody else saw first -- but she was unfaithful, and he held that stone heavy in his throat. The next year, at Volante's 20th anniversary, he announced an acquisition and resigned.

Oliver moved into the family beach house in Rockport after his marriage dissolved. He thought it would be good to him, being that close to the ocean -- and it has been, though he couldn't start healing until he recognized he wasn't well. The first couple of years in Eastcliff, his alcoholism brought him to some embarrassing (and public) lows; but he's been sober since July of 2016 now, and he's committed to a newer, more spiritual self. He’s been going to AA meetings, working with the community, and drumming up support for a new project, under a business he calls Shoal Technologies. Even the tide puts back the sand that it takes. Oliver’s just looking for a little accretion of his own.  

------ FULL BIO COMING SOON 

[oliverharbolt-blog]

nyggmas:

➴ Timothy Olyphant participates in the 27th Annual Chris Evert/Raymond James Pro-Celebrity Tennis Classic at Delray Beach Tennis Center in Delray Beach, Florida. [November 19, 2016]

[oliverharbolt-blog]

“WE’VE GOT THE OCEAN, GOT THE BABES, GOT THE SUN, WE’VE GOT THE WAVES…”

OLIVER HARBOLT

Age: Fifty-two Gender/Pronouns: Male, he/him Occupation: Entrepreneur Neighborhood: Rockport Time Spent in Eastcliff: Five Years FC: Timothy Olyphant

PERSONALITY

+ : Dedicated, Generous, Innovative  - : Indulgent, Indecisive, Passive-Aggressive

OOC

Name: Jenn Age: 26 Pronouns: She / her Timezone: EST

“…THIS IS THE ONLY PLACE FOR ME.”

[oliverharbolt-blog]

and if all our days are numbered, then why do I keep counting?