#For 500 Years you can't get out of that frame of the picture

[freepassbound]

1, 8 and 15 😁

1. What kind of driver are you? (calm, angry, timid, etc.)

More and more, I as a driver am simply done with everyone else who doesn't have a clue how to drive. I demand the power to revoke licenses at my discretion. 😤

8. If you were given $500 and told you had to spend it in an hour (not online!), what would you do?

You know, I'm not sure if I could spend $500 at the bookstore... though then again, I'm not sure I could spend less than an hour at the bookstore trying to pick out the $500 of stuff. 😂

The easiest thing would be clothes... though even then, not sure I could get it done in an hour.

15. What’s your favorite piece of art in your living space?

It's an illustration of the whole Great Lakes system, with some of the more notable shipwrecks represented - one of my original hyperfixations!

[gothamphantomgoat]

[fatopiaplus]

Dava Neychev

Hiyas! I'm sure you know my brother Ethan, but I know you haven't met me yet so I'll introduce myself. My name is Davidian Neychev. Don't ask me why I'm named that, but all my friends call me Dava so go ahead and call me that too. Now, I'm a little different than Ethan, because I was fat, lost the weight and decided I hated being thin. If you look above, you'll see me at my slimmest weight since I was seven. I slimmed down to 175 pounds at the urging of a school councilor and once there, I was very disgusted. I didn't like being thin. I was thirteen and I decided that it was time for me to once again be the person I truly was. I look pretty ticked here, don't I? I don't like SKINNY!

So, over the course of the summer, I seriously began to pack on some poundage, much to Ethan's dismay. I reassured him that I knew who I was and that Skinny Dava wasn't it. By the time spring break came around, I'd fattened myself up to a nice, roly-poly 310 pounds. Pretty plush in anyone's standards, but not mine. This wasn't fat enough to make me happy. This picture was take at a camp that our school gang went to over the summer. Akia's been instrumental in getting these nice photographs. I can't thank her enough.

At school's end for the summer, I'd bulked up to 370 and was feeling better about myself. I wasn't meant to be thin and I knew it. My daytime was spent down at the ice cream store, the candy store and the other great places to broaden my horizons. It was funny. Ethan loves apples and so here I am, in an apple orchard, and I sat down and ate and ate and ate until I swore I'd never eat another apple. Akia counted the apples I ate ... thirty nine. Look at my belly! It's getting big.

Byt by the holidays, it was even bigger. I'd packed on quite a but at Thanksgiving, and t\at Christmas time, I sat my 420 pound frame down to dinner. On New Year's Day, I sat my 438 pound frame down to dinner. I love the holidays. ^.~ I wore the same outfit for comparison and Akia put me in the same orchard. Ooooo.... apples. Ooooof.

By my birthday in June, it was a double celebration. I was 16 years old and 500 pounds. I was feeling like myself again. This is who Dava Neychev really is and take her as she is because she makes no apologies for weighing 500 pounds. I really am not happy unless my belly is so big I waddle. Ethan's friends have been great and they helped me gain my weight. Akia, who is normally against feederism, helped my cause with her wonderful cooking. She knew that I was in control. I didn't need to be fatter. I didn't need the food. I didn't need to be told what to do. I simply desired it. She realized that I never claimed to need anything. That's proof in her book that I'm not out of control. Besides, I set a goal for myself. I refuse to gain more than 600 pounds. And not only did I get up to 500 for my birthday, I got a delightful 550 pound boyfriend named Ryan Larson, who is delightfully known as Hog because of his occasional spurts of pure insatiability. In those weeks when he can eat and eat and not be satisfied, he can easily gain 20 pounds in a week. Akia says when they met he was only 350 pounds. He'd look incredible at 800 or more pounds, but I'd never make him get any bigger. Not my style. Anyway, if I get bigger, I'll let you see. ((~_^)

[modelbus]

CONGRATULATIONS ON 500 FOLLOWERS !!! WHOOP WHOOP ! You deserve it :DD

May I please request a MTommyinnit x M reader? (TOMMYINNIT; CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS; SOULMATES?)

Where Tommy distinctly remembers meeting a foreign Mreader as a child during one of his family's camping trip, but he can't really be too sure because he was so young and he doesn't have any pictures with said Mreader. Meanwhile, Mreader doesn't understand why he's so attached to the framed picture of him and a young blonde kid from a camping trip he went on years ago. Flashforward to now, they go back to the camping grounds from their childhood to maybe try to find each other again? Except when they arrive with their respective families, a goose literally attacks them (Tommy and Mreader) and chases them until they run into each other.

P.S yes the geese are soulmate geese who bother their person until they run into their soulmate lmao

PPS I love your works so much, I look forward to your updates all the time :')) Keep up the amazing work fr

THANK YOU SO MUCH! Also, I find soulmate geese so funny, definitely one of the best soulmate AU’s

Pairing: CC!Tommy x Male!Reader

Childhood Friends to Lovers - Soulmate AU

“Well, is it like you remembered?” Your mom asks, but you don’t respond.

You’re too busy looking around the campground, searching for a certain boy. The last time your family came here, years ago, you made an instant best friend with a boy named Tommy. Your mom must’ve taken a photo of you two because the framed photo has sat on your desk ever since.

But now you were here, ten years to the day, for another camping trip. You were absolutely determined to find this kid and figure out why kid you was so damn attached.

Obviously your plan had a few flaws. The biggest one? You have no fucking clue what he looks like. In the photo he was blond and tall, taller than you, but that was ten years ago. For all you know he could’ve dyed his hair and stopped growing!

“Why don’t you walk around? There’s a lake you could probably get some cool photos at for your friends or something.” Your mom suggests. She lowers her voice. “Your dad’s struggling with the tent, just give him a bit.”

You turn around to see the entire tent collapse on your dad. Anything is better than being roped into that mess, even trying to hunt down the mystery guy.

“Yeah, alright. Text me if you need me!” With that, you make your escape.

The campground is actually really full. It is prime vacation time though, so it makes sense. You aren't quite sure if that makes your job easier or harder. It meant a higher likelihood of the guy being here but made it harder to actually find him.

Somehow you instinctively make your way down near the water, where a few geese are scattered around. Cute, but you know they can and will bite you if you get any closer. Luckily you aren't seeing any goslings. You raise your phone, opening the camera app to take a photo. Who doesn't appreciate photos of geese?

Of course, the second your eyes are off the geese, one decides it fucking hates you. The goose charges at you, all fluffed up feathers and angry honking noises.

"Woah, hey!" You exclaim, backing away slowly.

It doesn't seem to be slowing down though, still advancing. You actually like not having to get a rabies shot--can geese get rabies? You don't want to find out--so you turn tail and run. Apparently that was also the wrong move, as it chases you.

There's just no winning with this stupid goose.

"I'm dead, I'm so fucking dead." You pant, racing through unfamiliar tents.

As you disrupt everyone's camping experience, they stop to stare at you. You must look like a madman, running from a goose like this. But they bite! And you have a will to live!

Risking a glance back, you stare at the goose. You'd think it looked almost majestic if it wasn't actively trying to kill you. Wings spread wide, it was showcasing its beauty. Unfortunately, it was still chasing you.

"Leave me alone, you fucker!" Someone shouts.

You turn your head away from the goose and to the noise, still running, only to crash into something. You barely see a flash of red before you land hard on your ass. The goose is definitely going to kill you.

"Oh God, I'm going to die to a fucking goose." You groan.

"My friends are never letting me live it down if I die to one of these fuckers."

Whipping your head around, you realize the thing you crashed into wasn't actually a "thing." It was a person. A blond boy was also sprawled out on the grass next to you, in a red shirt. He looks strangely familiar, but you don't really have time to think about that right now.

There're two geese now, both honking at you two. At least they seem to be getting some amusement out of your inevitable death.

"You were getting chased by one too?" The boy guesses.

"Yeah, thing just charged at me!"

"Me too!"

He grins at you, and for a second you forget about the geese. There was something so agonizingly familiar about that smile.

"I think they're not angry anymore?" He stands up, and you realize the geese stopped making noises. Now they're just staring at you two. If you didn't know better, you would've thought they seemed impatient.

He offers you a hand to help you up, and you take it.

"Now that we survived a goose attack together, I feel like we're practically best friends." You joke.

"Those who fight off savage geese together stay together, as I always say." He agrees, nodding. "I'm Tommy, by the way."

The name strikes something in you, and you suddenly realize why he seems so familiar. Blond hair, tall as fuck. You had completely forgotten the name Tommy, but hearing it now you remember. What were the chances a random goose actually chased you into meeting the kid you met ten years ago?

"Weird question, but you wouldn't have happened to come here ten years ago, would you?"

Tommy's face changes from amusement to shock, jaw dropping. The expression change tells you everything you need to know, the answer to your question.

"No fucking way." He gasps.

"Fucking way."

One of the geese lets out a honk, making you both jump and turn toward it. The geese waddle away, considerably calmer than when they were trying to attack you both.

"This is fucking crazy." Tommy laughs, running a hand through his hair.

"You're telling me! A goose chased me from the other side of the campground to here!" You exclaim. "It's like it knew what it was doing!"

"They were conspiring against us!"

You laugh at his words, and he almost seems to glow at it.

"Hey, could I get your number? So I don't have to go ten years wondering about you again." He asks, forming it into another joke.

"Of course." He hands you his phone, and you quickly put in your number and save your contact. "There. This time we can't disappear on each other."

"Hey! That was your fault!"

"How was it my fault?! You were the one who left!"

"You're the one who isn't English! Who the fuck isn't English?!"

As you joke with each other like no time has passed, something weird happens. It's like a piece of you has slotted into place, a piece you didn't even know was missing.

Weird.

[allsassnoclass]

84 from this list for mashton? congratulations on 500 followers!

thank you friend! i hope you like it!

mashton: "The key is under the mat"

Michael wanders from room to room in his house, checking for… something. He's not sure what.

His parents have been out of town for five days and he feels like he's going crazy. He stops in the doorway of the bathroom, looking just as empty and messy as it had that morning when he slid into it to quickly brush his teeth before school, then turns around and peeks into his parent's room instead.

The king-sized bed stands stately in the center of the room with the large headboard against the wall, covers meticulously smoothed over it, throw pillows arranged decoratively against the headboard. There are a few picture frames on the dresser, ones that haven't changed since Michael was a little boy. There's the one of his parents on their wedding day, the one of the three of them when he was born, the one from Christmas with his grandparents nine years ago, and his school picture from 8th grade. Each of them has a thin layer of dust on the top, like his parents haven't spent enough time in here recently to notice that they need to clean. He supposes that they haven't, really. They're both busy with work, his mom's book club, and his dad's golf outings. When they have free time, they go out, sometimes taking him with, sometimes not. The bedroom is for sleeping.

They're on a business trip right now. His dad was called away to New York, and his mom requested time off to go with, and they left Michael here alone.

They used to take him with him on trips like this, but they haven't since he started middle school and the trips were smaller, and they refused to this time. It's too close to the end of his senior year for him to miss a week and a half, apparently. He's missed too many other days throughout the year, and he needs to end high school strong, as if colleges don't already have all of the information they need to decide whether they want him or not.

Michael closes the door on his way out.

The kitchen has empty take out containers stacked on the counters that he should take out to the trash, but he doesn't want to. Stacked like this, it looks like more than one person has been inhabiting these halls for the past few days.

Michael knows that other kids would be ecstatic to have their parents gone for a whole week. They'd probably throw a rager.

Michael likes going to parties when one of his friends goes with, but he also likes leaving them when he's had enough. The thought of everyone seeing his empty house with the family portrait from 2nd grade in the living room and not many other personal pictures makes his stomach twist, especially when he thinks about not being able to kick everyone out if they get too drunk to still be fun and can't get themselves home.

He doesn't want to be alone in this house, but he hates the thought of someone who he doesn't consider family crashing here instead.

He knows, logically, that he can't hear silence. It's a lack of sound rather than a sound itself, but it's the distinctive sound of his house. He hates it.

He hears the sound of a dial tone instead, because he's making a phone call without consciously deciding to.

"Michael?" Ashton asks when he picks up, voice soothing despite the weird audio quality of their respective cell phones. "What's up? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine," Michael says, rubbing a finger against a smudge on the counter to see if it'll come out. "I was wondering if I could come over?"

"Yeah, of course," Ashton says. "You don't have to ask."

Michael shrugs, even though Ashton can't see. He's been sneaking into Ashton's room through the window above the garage when his own house feels particularly empty for a little over a year, but it still feels strange to come over in the daylight without asking, especially since Ashton is probably at work right now.

"The key is under the mat, like usual," Ashton continues. "Lauren should be there, and I'm picking up Harry from his after-school care once my shift ends at 5. Mom will be back later in the evening."

"Lauren won't mind?" he asks.

"Lauren loves you," Ashton snorts. "She'll probably ask you a billion questions about Calum. Feel free to tell her to do her homework, then go hide in my room."

Michael chuckles. Lauren's little-kid crush on Calum is hilarious, and Calum isn't a dick about it, which is good. It gives them something to talk about, at least, other than her grilling him about why he isn't Ashton's boyfriend if he sleeps over so much.

Michael hears other voices on Ashton's end of the line, probably a coworker or manager telling him to get off the phone like they do every time he answers Michael's call.

"Do you need to go?" he asks.

"Yeah," Ashton sighs. "I'll see you for dinner, okay?"

"See you."

Michael takes a deep breath and goes to pack his stuff.

The sight of Ashton's house appearing at the end of the street as Michael gets closer is a comfort, even if he's out of breath from trying to bike up the monster of a hill Ashton lives on. His house is smaller than Michael's, with off-white stucco on the outside instead of paneling and a few concrete steps leading up to his plain brown door. Michael chains his bike to the railing by the stairs and hopes, like he does every time he bikes here, that no one is going to get out some bolt cutters and try to steal it today. The welcome mat on the top step is weather-worn, more of a gray than a blue now, and Michael quickly flips the corner up and takes the key underneath.

"Lauren?" he calls, sliding the door open. "It's just Michael!"

Lauren appears in the living room doorway, spoon in hand.

"Can you reach the marshmallows for me? Ashton moved them up a shelf."

Michael kicks off his shoes, adding them to the haphazard pile in the entryway, and follows her to the kitchen, where she keeps him for half an hour, eating marshmallows mixed with chocolate chips in some peanut butter. He tells her about his day and is sure to drop Calum's name in a story to give her something else to write in her diary, then asks her about her own day.

He doesn't make her do her homework, because he's trying to maintain a reputation as her brother's cool friend rather than the lame one, but he lets her go when she gets bored of talking to him.

Ashton's kitchen has a few dirty dishes on the counter, but is otherwise clean. Ashton or Anne Marie cook almost every night, so they keep the space functional, but it still feels leagues more lived-in than Michael's kitchen. There are pictures of the kids hung in the living room and on the stairs leading to the upper floor, and he can see evidence of each Irwin in the blankets thrown over the back of the couch, the opened mail stacked in the corner of the table, and a few of Harry and Lauren's toys left out. A pair of Ashton's drumsticks lay on a side table in the living room.

A book that Michael is supposed to be reading for his English class sits on the same side table. He's been wondering where he left it.

Michael takes his backpack and heads up the stairs, ducking his head near the top because the second floor is only a half-floor, but Ashton still claimed it because he gets it all to himself. Michael passes by the window he used to sneak through before the pine tree that he climbed to get to the garage almost snapped under him, passes the hallway lined with bookshelves filled with books the family used to read, and pushes aside the curtain that acts as the door to Ashton's room.

Ashton's room is cluttered, but not overly messy. His drumkit is downstairs, but his cds and a beat-up guitar live up here in the corner, next to a small pile of sweatshirts that aren't dirty enough for the hamper yet. The bed sits against the far wall, under the window, and Ashton's desk is covered with papers and his community college textbooks on the other side. His walls are covered in pictures, ones that Michael has memorized from being in here so often. His favorite is the one from Ashton's high school graduation two years ago. He loves the one with Ashton is his cap and gown with Michael, Luke and Calum around him, but there's another one he likes a little better. One with just Ashton and Michael locked in one of their rare hugs, the diploma clutched in Ashton's hand, Michael's hands grasping his gown.

He hadn't noticed it was being taken. His heart flips every time he sees it on Ashton's wall.

He lays down on Ashton's bed, shifting against the wall where he usually sleeps. He has to move Ashton's old teddy bear, and he squeezes it to his chest instead.

He never sleeps well when both of his parents are gone. It sends his mind reeling about how anyone could break in and he'd be alone and vulnerable, but it feels different in Ashton's house. It's warmer here, and not just because the Irwins have worse AC.

Michael turns his face towards Ashton's pillow and breathes in the lingering scent of his shampoo. He closes his eyes and promises himself that it'll only be for a few minutes, then he'll get up and read that stupid book to keep his stupid grades up like his stupid parents want him to.

Gentle fingers shake his shoulder, pulling him from a murky sleep.

"Wha?" he asks, blinking up at Ashton. He has his dimples out, and Michael wants to stick a finger in the divot of his smile.

"Dinner's ready," Ashton says. "Mom just got home. Come join us."

Michael sets the teddy bear down and stretches, checking the time. Ashton has been home for over an hour.

"Why didn't you wake me?" he asks, words mushing into a yawn.

"You seemed like you need the sleep," Ashton laughs. His features soften, concern bleeding through. "Are you doing okay? I thought you'd be over here earlier in the week."

"I'm fine," Michael shrugs. "I didn't want to bother you guys."

"Hey," Ashton says, slugging him in the shoulder the way he does when he's about to say something sappy, like he wants to make it easier for Michael to digest with some casual bro-violence. "This is your home, too. You're welcome at any time."

Michael nods to avoid showing how his throat closed up.

He eats dinner with the Irwins like he does it every night, joking with Harry and teasing Lauren when she complains that she's not hungry because she ate too much peanut butter earlier. Afterwards, Anne Marie asks him to help with the dishes with an affectionate smile. Ashton washes while he dries, and he puts every dish back in the correct spot because he knows where they go. Ashton makes him work on his homework when they finish, both of them sitting at the kitchen table while the kids watch a show in the living room. Ashton takes his contacts out and puts on his glasses before he dives into his math homework, his trickiest class in the way of getting his Associates Degree from the community college at the end of this semester.

He's transferring to a four-year university for the fall. He stayed at home to save money and help take care of the kids, but now that Lauren is a little older he feels better about leaving. Michael is probably staying here, because he hates the idea of doing more school and hasn't gotten any acceptance letters back yet, anyway. He wonders if the Irwins will still let him in without Ashton here. He wonders how much of the warmth in his chest is going to disappear with Ashton.

Ashton sighs and stretches at midnight, back popping with his arms above his head. Michael tries not to stare at his muscles as he does so. They wash up quietly so they don't wake the other members of the household. Michael has a toothbrush in the holder already, just like he has a particular pair of shorts and shirt that Ashton always lets him borrow for pajamas. They both slide under Ashton's covers, because Ashton has never once made Michael sleep on the floor, not even the first time he snuck over at night over a year ago, and Michael hopes that Ashton can't see the way he's tracing his features in the dim light of the streetlamp outside the window.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ashton whispers, turning on his side to face him. Michael wants to brush a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. He clenches his fists instead.

"Yeah," he says. "Thanks for letting me stay."

"This is your home, too," Ashton repeats.

Michael wonders if Ashton will let him tag along when he leaves.

Ashton shifts and closes his eyes. Michael wants to savor every moment with him that he can, but his own eyes drift closed a few minutes later, lulled easily to sleep by Ashton's gentle breathing next to him and the comfort of home.

[catholicartistsnyc]

Meet: Laura Pittenger

LAURA PITTENGER is a NYC-based writer and director, and a Catholic Artist Connection board member. (www.laurapittenger.com)

CATHOLIC ARTIST CONNECTION (CAC): What brought you to NYC, and where did you come from?

LAURA PITTENGER (LP): I graduated from Ball State University (go Cards) in 2012 with a degree in theatre production and moved here almost immediately from Fort Wayne, Indiana. I have known I wanted to live in New York City since a high school drama club trip. Living here has shattered my illusions about what it would be like, but I think in some ways the reality is better than the fantasy. I never knew New York was so diverse and fascinating outside Manhattan, but I've really fallen in love with the entire East Coast at this point.

CAC: How do understand your vocation as a Catholic artist? Do you call yourself a Catholic artist? 

LP: In mixed company, I call myself a theater artist, or a Catholic, but not often both. When I get to introduce myself as such, it is a real joy, because that’s a much more complete picture of who I am. I think it's a label that is often maligned and misunderstood, but I don't make it a personal mission to correct every single person's presumptions about what it means. I try to let my work speak for itself. I couldn't have the ideas I do about life and being human if I weren't a Catholic, and it shines through everything I create, whether I like it or not. (I think that's the Holy Spirit. Right?)

CAC: Where have you found support in the Church for your vocation as an artist?

LP: Being on the board of Catholic Artist Connection, while it has been a lot of work, has also been so faith-building and rewarding and communal. Because I have not often found the support I need as a Catholic artist in the church proper - aside from individual priests and friends, who have been lifesavers - I want to make it my mission to be that open door for other Catholic artists. This is something I believe the laity can do and can do well. 

CAC: Where have you found support among your fellow artists for your Catholic faith?

LP: It really depends. Some people can see that the theater is a place where diverse creatures gather to present and grapple with interesting questions, and that gives them the curiosity to explore what it means to be a Catholic during this strange period of history. Some people aren't yet in that frame of mind, and that's okay. If I can be Christ to them, that's what I care about, and that's in my power to do. I'm actually embarking on a process with Project Y Theatre right now where I'm going to be doing a short adaptation of a piece by Hrotsvitha of Gandershaim, a Catholic religious sister who wrote plays in the 10th century, of all things. 

CAC: How can the Church be more welcoming to artists?

LP: By supporting groups like the Catholic Artist Connection! 

CAC: How can the artistic world be more welcoming to artists of faith?

LP: Ask more questions about faith instead of relying on pat and easy answers. Let religion appear onstage as more than a punchline or punching bag. Let's have stories about religious persons struggling, yes, but let's also have stories about them thriving in religious communities. We could all benefit from that kind of open-mindedness.

CAC: Where in NYC do you regularly find spiritual fulfillment? Do you recommend any particular parishes?

LP: I attend a parish in Queens - reach out to me directly if you want more specifics. Otherwise, in Manhattan, I'll recommend a few parishes that stand out:

St. Francis of Assisi is fantastic, very welcoming, diverse community, and caters to so many marginalized people.

If you want spectacle and the Seat of Everything in NYC, St. Patrick's Cathedral.

I have a special place in my heart for the Dominicans over at St. Vincent Ferrer, it was one of the first churches I attended regularly in the city. You might see a few familiar faces at the noon mass, and sometimes the Sisters of Life go there.

If you want to go to an 11pm mass in Times Square, check out the The Actor's Chapel/St. Malachy's. It's quite something. They have actors and singers galore so the liturgy is pretty beautiful.

St. Ignatius Loyola is a BEAUTIFUL Jesuit parish on Park Avenue, and the music is out of this world good.

CAC: Where in NYC do you regularly find artistic fulfillment?

LP: I have done a lot of work with Turn to Flesh Productions with my good friend Emily C. A. Snyder. I've worked with a lot of companies, some of which have moved away or developed into other companies - such is the nature of the theater!

To get inspired, I visit new places in the city. There are always new places to go. There are still neighborhoods I've never even set foot in and I've been here since 2012.

I read about 50 books a year on average. You have to keep your mind moving so it doesn't get stagnant. And there are a lot of independent used bookstores in the city that you should DEFINITELY support. The Strand is an institution. And Heaven help us, when we get the Drama Bookshop back, you should support them, too.

I also took a class recently with the Brooklyn Institute for Social Research when they had one on "Bible as Literature." Take any class that you can afford. Sign up for Barnes and Noble alerts, they always have famous people come to read from their books in Union Square. 

CAC: What is your daily spiritual practice?

LP: I pray throughout the day. My prayer life is extremely simple, basic, and conversational. I spent a long time dealing with anxiety and depression, and I have found it best to just live in the silence with God. I expect a lot of myself by nature, and so my biggest challenge has been learning when to ease off and just know that I am loved by God. I find a lot of comfort in spiritual reading. Read Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke.

I'm self-conscious of the fact that it seems like I often do the bare minimum of what is expected of me as a Catholic, but my heart is at peace - most of the time. It helps to find a spiritual director or regular confessor who knows you well and can guide you when you're feeling lost, and it was important to me when I moved here that I find one quickly. He's busy, but he'll make time.

CAC: What is your daily artistic practice?

LP: When I was writing my novel I wrote several times a week, and it was a real pleasure. It's good sometimes to work on creative projects that are simply for fun, because it's easy to lose sight of your art as anything but hard work. But, in general, I try to be really protective of my time and energy. I wouldn't say I have a daily practice, but I am trying to get better at doing at least one creative thing a day, even if it's just composing funny dumb tweets. 

CAC: Describe a recent day in which you were most completely living out your vocation as an artist. What happened, and what brought you the most joy?

LP: A collective of playwrights including myself have been meeting regularly with the New Sanctuary Coalition at St. Francis Xavier Church in order to write plays based off the interviews the NSC does with immigrants living in the city. It’s been a salve to the soul to find a way to share those stories with the world, they are urgent stories for our times.

CAC: You actually live in NYC? How!?

LP: If you want to move here and are not sure what you want, or if you don't have a big budget or any credit, or some other reason why you don't want to or can't rent your own apartment right away, I recommend starting in a short-term sublet. I arranged a sublet on Facebook in the month before I first moved here, with a girl I hadn't met. I found a sublet group on Facebook, and I know Craigslist (although sketchy) does have sublet opportunities as well. Technically speaking not all subletting is "legal," but NYC subletting laws are pretty draconian. There are legal sublets out there but I can't speak for all of them. It's a little ridiculous, but only the strictest of landlords really seem to care. Just something to keep in mind.

I will be very candid with you - if one of your parents has a very high paying job, you'll be in much better shape to rent your own place. Oftentimes landlords want renters with a guarantor who makes anywhere from 40x to 90x the monthly rent.

If you can find a roommate, do it. Keep open lines of communication about what your priorities are in a living situation. Those things typically come down to:

1. Distance from the train/Manhattan/jobs 2. Space in the apartment 3. Personalities 4. Interest in the neighborhood

If your roommate has a parent who can be the guarantor, or one of yours can be, you will be in great shape to find your own place, even without jobs right away. If not, subletting is your best bet. Do NOT be afraid to speak openly and candidly with each other about finances. You have to be realistic. You have to be wise.

I live in a neighborhood in Queens called Astoria. I share a 3bed convert (meaning it's 2 bed with no living room now because we made it into a bedroom) with a big kitchen, a decent bathroom, and a great landlord. I pay around $900 every month for this, and I'm paying for proximity to the train, proximity to Manhattan (I can be in Times Square in 25 minutes if the trains are running on time), and space. The price jumps up at least $500 a share once you try to find a similar place like that in Manhattan. Yes, the prices are insane. The cheapest studios I see are somewhere around $1500 and you usually don't get much space for that money. The more roommates you have, the cheaper your rent can be, but you will have to sacrifice things like privacy and quiet.

When I first moved here, I paid $750 a month for one half of a 2 bedroom apartment in the same neighborhood, but the landlord was not great, and we had mice and heat problems. You really get what you pay for, and sometimes neighborhoods (like mine) get trendier every year.

I found both apartments with a local broker who knows the neighborhood, and I found her on Craigslist. This is not a blanket endorsement of Craigslist. If something seems too good to be true, it definitely is.

Stay away from Williamsburg, or anything off the L train for now. Look up where the train lines are going to be shut down for long periods of time, and don't move there. Good neighborhoods to look at for lower budgets:

Manhattan: Inwood, Washington Heights, Harlem, Queens: Sunnyside, East Elmhurst, Astoria, Long Island City Brooklyn: Bushwick, Crown Heights.

I don't know Brooklyn super well, honestly, but there are parts of Brooklyn that are still affordable. The ones I listed are all really vibrant and diverse communities, and if you want to be a part of them, they'll be glad to have you. If you have your heart set on Manhattan, you will be paying a lot more for a lot less convenience (longer walk to the store, higher prices, fewer laundromats), but you will have proximity to a lot of cool stuff. 

CAC: But seriously, how do you make a living in NYC?

LP: When I first moved here, I got a job at a hotel as a food runner and then a server by attending an open call I found on Craigslist. I also got a job as a host at a Times Square chain restaurant because I had friends who were working there at the time and got me an interview. Another friend recommended a temp agency to me. I got a decent amount of work through there. Basically, it's easier to get a job if you have an "in," but you may have to start at the bottom of the barrel and work your way up.

Some weeks I worked five days at the restaurant, one day at the temp job, and mornings at the house of an actor preparing for a one-man show he was doing. I had to keep really careful track of my paychecks and budget to make sure I would have enough for rent. I made sure I had a cushion of money in my checking account just in case I had an emergency.  

The hours will be long and frustrating and you might cry a lot, but if you can stick with it through the tough times, I promise you that you will be able to work anywhere in the world and do anything you want to do, because you did it in New York. Go to open calls. Make phone calls. Walk in and be ready to fill out an application in person, and ask to see the manager right away. Be proactive. Let the rush of energy and fear from being in a new place help you take action.

The one thing I will say is don't let the job become your whole life. There are so many things to see and do here, and you want to have the time to enjoy them. It's not just about survival, it's about living well, and about having time to work on your art. Now I have one job in due diligence, with benefits and healthcare, that allows me to work on my theater stuff, my real passion, in my spare time. I've been with that firm for a little over four years. 

CAC: How much would you suggest artists moving to NYC budget for their first year?

LP: I moved here with about $5k, and it took me about $3k to get settled over a period of three months. I lived out of suitcases but clawed my way into an apartment, and took it from there. I also talked to my parents to figure out what my "bailout" fund looked like, and they gave me a ballpark figure - if things ever got really bad, I knew I could call them, but there was a limit, so that encouraged me to stay frugal. I didn't consider that money part of my budget, just a little peace of mind - and I still haven't used it. (But keep in mind, this was in 2012, so adjust for inflation!)

CAC: What other practical resources would you recommend to a Catholic artist living in NYC?

LP: Apply for an IDNYC. It's a municipal (city) ID card that comes with yearlong museum memberships that you can sign up for via the website and it's also a valid ID card if you're somewhat irregular in your living situation - anyone who can prove residency, even homeless persons, can get one! Also, make www.broadwayforbrokepeople.com your bookmark for discounted play tickets. Most theaters have discount programs based on age. You can also try for lotto tickets using the TodayTix app. 

CAC: What are your top 3 pieces of advice for Catholic artists moving to NYC?

LP: 1. Go to Mass, every Sunday. Try out different parishes until you find one where you feel comfortable and welcome. We have so, so many and they are waiting for you to fill them up with your time and talents. If they are in your neighborhood, so much the better.

2. Invest in your neighborhood. Shop local. Get to know the community. Attend local events. You're going to meet people you'd never have met back home, and most of them won't be artists, or Catholic - although some might be both! It will inform you creatively more than you know.

3. Surround yourself with people who treat you with the respect and dignity you deserve. This might seem like general life advice, and it is, but as a Catholic you'll find yourself facing challenges in the city, and as an artist in this city, you'll certainly be challenged. But at the end of the day, when you lay your head down, wherever you find a spot, you have to know you are safe and loved. Nothing is worth your respect and dignity, and do everything you can to maintain it. Don't be afraid to ask for help if you feel trapped and afraid. You aren't the only artist (or Catholic) to feel this way in this city.

[mdccanon]

She has presented multiple evidence of her face being a discoloration of red that literally no one who was around her at any of these times (that isn't a friend of hers) will testify to BEING bruises and her own lawyers your mind if they are trying to say that the defense is that she's wearing concealer at the time and that's why you can't see them, or that you can clearly see them and everyone is lying.

Meanwhile she has also claimed to be raped with a glass bottle that left shards of glass in her legs AND been cut on the bottom of her feet.

Meanwhile, she claimed to have been punched "more times than she can count" by a man wearing MANY gold rings and when asked why she never took pictures or went to the hospital for what MUST have been heavy damage to her face, she has no response.

Meanwhile, when she makes up her own story about how Johnny's finger got cut off (he smashed a phone to pieces and it cut his finger) the person who TOOK THE PHOTOS says he never saw a smashed phone and he took pictures from every angle of the scene. Amber's testimony is that it was there and the witness who took the photos just kept slightly missing it out of frame.

Meanwhile when Amber testifies that Johnny broke her nose, under cross examination she changes it to it FELT like her nose was broken.

Meanwhile, when Amber testifies that Johnny literally grabbed her by her vagina, she says this happens right before her her birthday party when in reality Johnny was with AT THE HOSPITAL and Amber just hated that he was ignoring her to spend time with family. When cross examination shows that Amber was texting Johnny lovey dovey messages before her birthday, she changes her testimony AGAIN.

AND NOT ONCE has she ever taken pictures of these cuts. She has taken pictures of Johnny SLEEPING and submitted those to evidence as proof he was passed out from drugs after cutting her up, BUT DIDN'T TAKE PICTURES OF THE CUTS. And when Johnny's lawyer asked her why was she would take pictures of Johnny napping but not of the CUTS, all Amber can do is stare blankly ahead and say it didn't occur to her.

She can't show a cut.

She can't show swelling.

She can't show a bruise. Not red discoloration. I don't know if you ladies have just never SEEN a bruise before, but DEAD BLOOD CELLS DONT STAY RED.

She can't show a medical record because in FOUR years of getting allegedly abused she never once went to a doctor.

She can't get anyone who isn't related to her to cooperate with her allegations and NONE of them can actually say they saw her be hit AND when their testimonies don't line up to what Amber needs to be true so that her stories make the most sense, she claims they misremembered when they were sober and she was the one drug and high on mushrooms.

The first and ONLY restraining order that she ever got was immediately before she filed for divorce, and she dropped it the moment the divorce was over, after she milked as much money as she could.

She manipulated the ACLU and a fucking children's hospital to make herself seem as sympathetic as possible and promised to give her $7 million divorce settlement to prove she's a saint and 18 MONTHS later she still didn't do it and THEN Johny sued her and she has spent the last FOUR years claiming shes STILL havent given the money because of legal battles with Johnny. And if you point out to her that she kept the $7 million for 18 MONTHS before Johnny ever sued her, she will STARE at you,laugh, and say she DID donate the money because HER PERSONAL definition of promising to give money and actually giving money is the same thing.

I want every pro-Amber person to take a moment and think.

Think about if you asked someone to give you $500 so you could pay rent and that person promised they would... And then never did, but told everyone who would listen that they gave you $500 because their personal definition of "promise to give" and "give" were synonyms... How would YOU FEEL about that person.

Think. If a friend of yours told her family that you threatened her with glass, and then a few months later gave you a hunting knife for your birthday, how would defend yourself when that friend's mother sees you can calls you a psychopath? You'd point out the obvious fact that the same person gave you a knife. How would YOU FEEL if that friend's excuse for this sequence of events was that you "took a break" from threatening her with glass so she felt it was safe to give you a large hunting knife only a few months after the last time you threatened her.

I'm not asking you to feel sorry for Johnny Depp. If you want to insist that he must have retaliated somehow, you are free to.

I just want pro-Amber people to use some fucking common sense.

She hasn't paid the people she manipulated to get her divorce in her favor. She has never, not even once, gotten medical reports in four years of so-called abuse. In four years of abuse, the only photos she has are of Johnny SLEEPING and that somehow proof he was raging and violent right before those pictures were taken, and a fake-ass bruise picture that doesn't include the bruises turning purple or green, and her lawyer's excuse for that is that she bruises differently than most people. She never had him arrested and actually argued with the female police officer when they were called to intervene. She has never once paid money for therapy for her abuse, not once in 10 years. She never charged him at all, not even for being raped. She's willing to TELL PEOPLE she was raped, but she's not willing to prosecute him for it.

And just to make it abundantly clear, this is a defamation of character case where the material evidence is abuse, but this is not a domestic abuse case. Amber is the one being sued and her defense in order to save herself from having to pay restitution, is that she NEVER wanted anyone to KNOW Johnny abused her and every single article of her abuse, including her fake-ass bruise pictures, was made by her lawyers, friends, and agents without her knowledge.

How much clearer of a pathological liar does she have to be?

Are you watching her pretend to cry when she makes eye contact with the jury and then, when the lawyer or judge says something she dislikes, she turns to glare at them, and then switches back to a tearless cry in the jury's direction?

no there's actual evidence of amber abusing and coming out under oath saying she never abusued her and she lied to boost her career look it up

i took your advice and actually researched something. let’s put an end to this.

the court document is fake. which is kinda obvious because why on earth will that thing leak?? it’s official for gods sake 

amber heard has presented multiple photos of hear face bruise because of the abuse. i guess she just hit herself in the face 

and this is what her lawyer said about depp’s defamation (not domestic abuse) lawsuit: “These allegations are totally false. One needs only read the recent Rolling Stone articlethis link opens in a new tab about Mr. Depp to understand his state of mind. Mr. Depp is currently being sued in multiple venues, including for assaulting a location manager on the set of City of Lies. On many occasions, eyewitnesses observed the extent of the abuse Mr. Depp inflicted on Ms. Heard.” (Depp is currently being suedthis link opens in a new tab by a location manager from his upcoming movie City of Lies, who alleges the actor punched him on set.W “

so obviously there’s a lot of misinformation out there that casually benifits depp’s image. curious. 

[a-private-place]

So, it's been a really really long time since I last posted here. I just kind of... started saying a lot of the gloomy stuff on my main blog

I'm sure there's a good chance the few of you still around kind of forgot you were following this (not as in you forgot about me, as in just we tend to forget stuff when it goes of the radar for years). So no obligation to stick around or read all this, though you're welcome to if you want. Really in many ways this was always just a journal that had the advantage of maybe someone hearing it

As for what's been going on and why I'm back, I'll put most of it under a break, but here's the summary. Things are going much better for me, but I'm still suicidal and depressed because that's just probably how I always will be. It is better though

The stuff I'm about to post isn't exactly horrible stuff or anything, it's just things that are a little more honest about how I'm feeling than I want to share on my main blog. I just... as much as I'm myself there, I can't take letting the mask slip enough to say it, and I've decided here... fine, I need to say it so here will work

If I happen to discreetly mention this on my main blog, and you know me directly that's fine. I just can't bring myself to be totally open in that space, I'd be happy enough to have the people I know know this stuff

Anyway... man I suck at keeping it short, here comes the break though

Well, a few years ago with a lot of help from my dad financially (which if I'm honest I feel guilty about), I found this wonderful place 50 miles from anything in any direction, and because of that it was only $90k, which I could barely afford

It's this amazing former hotel in this town of like... 150 people, and it needs a lot of work but the worst of it tends to be like... the basement door is a mess, huge gap under it that's an insulation nightmare, and I've found a few mice that I have to take far a way to release that that's the number one suspect for where they get in

I don't really have any money, so fixing stuff is gonna fall on me, but... I don't know what I'm doing and it's hard to get started. I'm slowly working on it, but I'm nowhere near as productive as I'd like

I took up woodworking a bit before I got the house, I like it a lot. I actually have a huge commission (physically, like it's like 4 feet tall when most of the stuff I do is 8 inches) which has been done since the start of the year, but I've kind of felt too depressed and guilty about how much money I probably should ask for it given the time to took. The commissioner's been really cool though, ideal person to deal with and honestly really helped make the piece great

This isn't it, this is actually a pretty old piece from before I moved, but I don't have a picture of the commission on my desktop so here's an example

I ended up having to let my mom move in with me. I'm not exactly happy about it, but most of the time I manage to put the past out of my mind and then it mostly works. Managed to help her get disability so that's how the bills are covered now that my money all ran out (she spent the last of my money before that happened an my account got closed like $500 in the hole, so... yeah)

Got her horrible trailer totally emptied, still going through stuff here which is hard because... I'm bad at it. I'm good at emergency clean up, just stuff the total trash into a dumpster, and everything else you bag or box fast as can be to give another pass. Haven't been able to make myself do that second pass

It was a nightmare if I'm honest. I got photos, you probably don't want to see them. The place was so badly damaged we didn't get a dime, we got an agent kind enough to ask a contact who repairs stuff to take it as is for free, and that's it

Pandemic didn't effect me cause I never leave my house anyway and I'm in the middle of nowhere. I found out that I've been living like I'm in quarantine my whole like, so that part didn't bother me, but might tell you why I'm so messed up. I don't know

Had enough room that a friend of an acquaintance on here was kicked out during the pandemic and I offered them a place to stay. I won't say it was a bad move, because morally it was probably the right thing, but a year later they're still here. Turns out despite driving cross state their driver's license has been expired 8 years, they're almost more of a fuck up than I am, and... they still don't have a new ID to apply for housing assistance with cause... I don't know, it sucks

As for me, I'm still really depressed a lot of the time, suicidal most days like I used to be. Still can't make myself get a job, mostly cause of the insomnia, and I haven't made the commission end of the woodworking come together yet

I feel pretty horrible about not having an income, really worthless and like a leech, and honestly what I'm really wanting most days is to get this place cleaned up enough (and the person I let live here moved on), and invite this friend I really like who has kind of similar problems stay here. Then I want to get my hands on a gun and blow my brains out, leave the place to her and get my worthless self out of here like I feel would be best

It's fucked up probably, but that's how I feel most days. Oh, and before you say the obvious, I'd love a therapist, but I can't be driving 50 miles for one and all the online ones say I'm too depressed to work with. So uh... just know while that's not great it's stable and I'm still here after many days of feeling that

Worry that I'm feeling that way if you want, probably the wise call, but don't worry about me being in immediate danger

Anyway, bad as that all probably sounds, this is the best I've ever done in my life. Things are more stable than ever before, I have more friends online than I ever used to, I kind of almost have one singular skill for once. It's messed up and I often feel like I don't deserve it, but in some ways I'm one of the best off people in the US right now, which sucks that everyone else is on such shaky ground. Thing is though, I've got no mortgage, and because of that the disability just covers the utilities and groceries (though it's been tight covering my cat's chemo these past few months, it was pretty ok before that)

Well, if you read all this I hope you're doing ok yourself. Good chance we don't know each other really, only like one or two people from my main knew about this one, the rest of you were strangers more or less but I appreciated you

I'm... I'm tired a lot, like an unreasonable amount, but if you ever need to talk, just shoot me a message. Once I'm awake enough I'll be happy to respond. I'm not good at much, but I can listen

Really hope you're doing alright whoever you are. Probably more to come, though... I haven't slept all night and this took longer than I expected and I don't want to slap down some of the feelings that made me want to come back here. I need... I don't know, the right frame of mine

Oh yeah, also been doing Irish the past few years on duolingo. I'm not really able to speak like a child yet, but uh... know a few things in it

Take care

[image-transcribing-bot]

Best resignation letter ever @ 1 78% mm + SHARE BREAKING NEWS Did Kylie Jenner Get A Boob Job? Why Am I Being Paid To Write About This Shite? 9 FEBRUARY 2017 [Rill Jude's post O¥@ 163k © 4.3K 3 ® SHARE 9 FEBRUARY 2017 FUCKING probably yeah, but why the fuck do I have to write 500 words on it and "include 5 pictures from her Instagram or Snapchat". Yeah, al-fucking-right Siobhan, thanks for the email. This is exactly why I studied journalism, cheers for hiring me. Fucking dream job my hole. "You'll get to write about things that matter to you, matter to the majority of women". Yeah, well done on fucking Donald Trumping me with alternative facts in the job interview Siobhan. Look, I thought this is what I wanted, the guys working here are nice enough. We got a Naked make up hamper into the office last week, that was cool. Then Cadbury sent in loads of Creme Egg stuff, don't get that kind of stuff in most jobs, do ya? We had Prosecco at lunch once. [Kill Jude's post » O¥O 16.3 @ 4.3k 3 * SHARE "Make sure to pick out the proper booby pics, as much cleavage as possible". No problem, got ya Siobhan, any chance I can write about the dearth of women entering STEM courses in college? Thought not. Any chance I can write about a business woman without it being about the fact she is a woman in business? Oh, what's that? You now need 8 pics of Jenner tits? Got to keep people on the page for longer is it? Loud and clear Siobhan. Don't get me wrong, I have this stupid, idiotic muscle memory that kicks in when I see a Jenner/Kardashian headline pop down my Facebook newsfeed, I click on the links. But, I've been at this thing for 12 minutes now and apparently the copy isn't judgement neutral' enough. It's harmless stuff, but writing about it every-fucking-day isn't harmless. I'm fit to explode. "The last thing we want is readers to think we have an opinion, we've got to disguise [§ Jude's post 16 Oz¥Q 16.3 © 4.3k Ea! MM sugges!1ve ye! su!!|e |anguage, an? don't make it obvious. We're judging her for having the boob job, but we don't want our readers to realise that, we've got to stay on the fence about these things and invite them to judge instead". Well, fucking fair play for stating the obvious Siobhan. Last thing we'd want is our readers thinking is that we only publish this shit pretending there's a 'controversial this or that', just to get them nice and annoyed. "Frame it so that the speculation about the boob job comes from another publication, copy and paste if needed. Or if you can't get that just use some randomers tweets on Twitter". Loud and clear Siobhan. Plenty of random tweets out there. Should be easy. 'Oh my God, I can't believe I'm paid to write this shite about Kylie Jenner'. Will that do Siobhan? Christ, and you said you needed a degree and minimum 2 years in a similar role... for this? For fuck-king-this? Bollocks to this, I quit. [Kill Jude's post » O¥O 16.3 @ 4.3k

I am an image transcribing bot which uses Tesseract OCR to translate images to text. I'm far from perfect but I try my best! Ur bAd BoT HuRr dUrR Are you really s̸̸̛͜͞u͝͏̨r̀͟e̷? (ò_ó) | PayPal | Patreon