#I don’t know if it’s a pen issue or a whole ass tablet issue

[liatorii]

I’m absolutely ruined, my Huion pen stopped working while I was doing uni stuff. I’m inconsolable, I’m going to wander into the forest and become one with nature, I cannot deal with technology anymore

[udon-udon]

Not sure what it is but lately (or even for a while now) I just don’t feel like drawing, especially fan art. I mean, the fan art thing is probably cause I’m not passionate about any fandoms or wtvr but even if I am I just… don’t want to draw or would rather be doing something else. Drawing feels like a chore now and maybe I’m just still burnt out from the whole visual novel thing last month;;; it could also just be another art block and perhaps I’ll get the motivation to pick up drawing again, which I really wish. I also feel like my decline/lack of skill in drawing is kinda stopping me from drawing (?) but I’m too lazy/not motivated to git gud. Hopefully I can get out of this rut soon. I have been having some things I want to draw like some more OCs and scamedb, but I just can’t bring myself to pick up the tablet pen 😔

And then there’s me doing mental gymnastics again where I think “I’m not drawing lately but everyone around me still is so I feel like I’m being left behind and/or lagging behind” Which like sucks cause we all know I have ~abandonment issues~

Also I feel like going on Twitter and seeing all the art is such a double edged sword now cause on one hand like “oOhh such good art, so inspiring! So motivational!! AHHHH IM GONNA DRAW!!!” But on the other it’s like “wow I’m feeling FOMO on all these fandoms lmao also wow these are so good I fucking SUCK and I never do anything about getting better, udon, you only have yourself to blame stop whining and figure a way to get good” and then I never figure out a way to get good cause -insert first paragraph of this post-

I just have no drive anymore and I still keep holding on and hoping that there is something or even SOMEONE that will motivate me to get me off my ass and start loving drawing again. I guess you could say I shouldn’t be relying on ppl/things but it do hit different when u have someone close to share the same interest with and draw and bounce ideas off each other and motivate each other to draw

I’m sure this isn’t the first time I’ve written about this and I’m sure y’all are tired of hearing it but thank you for reading to the end

[fairy-studies-blr]

Hey guys, this post is all about organizing your life a bit before the new semester starts. I know many of you have already started classes, but you can still implement these tips regardless (if you want to of course). I want to emphasize that this post is not meant to shame anyone for having a messy desk, backpack, or anything else. Everyone is different and what works for me will obviously not work for everyone. However, if you struggle with keeping track of your school supplies, past assignments/handouts, and/or feel as if you can’t find what you need when you need it, then this is the post for you.

Desk

Your desk doesn’t have to be immaculate, but it does need to be at least somewhat organized so that you can have all of your supplies handy, as well as a clear space to work. Before school starts, asses the state of your desk. Clear away any junk that’s managed to work its way in, and then organize what’s left. If your desk tends to get dusty, you can also use this as an opportunity to clean it with a wipe or a wet rag.

You should have a designated spot for all of your pens/pencils, post-it notes, loose papers, etc, but it doesn’t have to be fancy. It could be something as simple as deciding to keep all of your sticky notes in a pile on the right side of your desk, and all of your papers in the top drawer.

School supplies that you normally carry in your backpack I’d recommend getting duplicates of for your desk. That way you don’t have to keep pulling them out of your backpack and forgetting to put them back. As an example, I have a stash of pens in a little bucket on my desk, as well as a huge pencil case in my backpack. I also have two mini-staplers, one for my backpack and one to sit on my desk. 

If you have a laptop that you use for homework (or a tablet) you should also make sure that there’s a charging outlet within easy reach of your desk. If not, invest in an extension cord so that you can charge your device while doing your homework.

Backpack

I can’t tell you how easy it is to just cram random junk into your backpack and forget that it exists. Then when you're trying to pull out something you actually need, you can’t find it for all the crap. Before the semester begins, do a “deep clean” of your backpack. Start by dumping everything out and make two piles: what needs to be in your backpack, and what doesn’t. Your stack of what needs to be in your backpack might look something like this:

folder(s)

notebook(s)

pencil case

snacks (avoid leaving these in your bag for long periods of time though)

water-bottle/portable coffee mug

deodorant, chapstick, tampons, etc.

pepper spray (safety is no joke)

wallet

planner

This is by no means an exhaustive list. Anything that’s not in your “backpack pile” needs to be put away. My backpack sometimes gets random bits of dirt on the inside, so once it’s empty I like to go outside and try to shake all the dirt out. The next step is to re-fill your backpack, but don’t make the mistake of just stuffing it willy-nilly. Give each item a designated pocket/section and commit to always putting it back in that section after you’ve finished using it. Doing this means that even if you have a large backpack (like I do) you’ll still be able to find what you need relatively quickly. 

As a last tip, I would recommend going through your backpack at the end of each school day, and taking out anything that doesn’t belong in there permanently (think gym clothes, that snack you bought, etc.) If you have anything that you don’t want to forget to bring the next day, you can also take this opportunity to put it into your backpack so that you don’t forget it.

Papers

Invest in an accordion folder before classes start (you can get them for around $7 on Amazon). Designate a specific pocket for each one of your classes, and label them accordingly. Any handouts and graded assignments that you receive in class should go in the designated pocket for that class. It’s especially important to keep graded homework in a safe place, not only for study purposes but also because if there’s ever an issue with your grades it’s easy to resolve if you have the assignment in question.

I have one folder that I keep in my backpack, which I use as a catchall for anything my professors hand out in class. Periodically, I’ll transfer all the documents in that folder to my accordion one, and sort them into their respective sections. I receive so many handouts from professors over the course of the semester that to carry them all around in my backpack would be annoying and take up too much space.

One last thing, I never manage to fill up an entire notebook in one semester. So that I don’t waste paper, at the end of the semester I’ll tear out all the pages that actually have notes on them, and staple those notes together. I do this for each class’ set of notes, and then store the stapled pages in my accordion folder along with the rest of the papers for that particular class. This allows me to reuse the notebook the following semester, and still have my notes handy if I ever want to review the material in the future. 

Computer + Phone

It’s extremely important that you have an organized system in place for keeping track of any papers that you type on your computer. Make a folder on your computer for each semester/quarter/academic year, and label it accordingly. Within that larger folder should be separate folders for each class you have. Whenever you create an assignment, save it into the appropriate folder for that class. If you want you can also make a separate folder for more general school documents like forms, general info, etc. If you use google docs to type your papers you can actually make these folders within google drive itself, instead of on your computer.

The next thing you should do is open up whatever web browser you normally use to access school-related sites (student portal, online dictionary, google docs, etc.) Bookmark all of those sites and put them into one bookmarks folder labeled with the name of your school. This saves so much time when you need to access the sites throughout the year.

As far as your phone goes, group together all of the apps that you regularly use for studying into a “school” folder. That way you can find them quickly.

Textbooks

Keep all of your textbooks for the semester/year in one place. This could potentially be your backpack if you have the same classes every day and need to always bring your textbooks to class. If you have different classes on different days then only bring the textbooks you actually need for that day to school in your backpack. You can keep the rest somewhere else (preferably in a place that’s close to your desk and/or where you keep your backpack). If you’re afraid of forgetting to put your textbooks in your bag before leaving for school, make a habit of doing it the night before and you can also set a reminder for yourself on your phone.

You might find that for some classes you never end up using the textbook in class. If this is the case, then you could consider leaving your textbooks for that class at home (unless you plan on studying at school of course).

If you read this far, you’ll notice I didn’t talk about planners at all, and that’s because I have so much to say on the subject of planners that I decided to make a whole separate post dedicated to them. With any luck, it’ll be out by the end of the month (don’t hold your breath). Thank you for reading, and good luck on all of your studies. If you have any further questions feel free to send me an ask or leave a comment.

[kari-izumi]

Mokuba’s Reason Why Not: Chapter One

Or, “Hey, Kari is Finally Gonna Post That 5+1 Fic She’s Been Dropping Hints About Since Forever”

So, finally…finally, I have something I can live with for this prologue. This was originally 900 words, and now it’s over three times as long. And I don’t think I’ve ever edited a story this many times as I have this one chapter. I’m still not 100 percent, but I need to feel like I’ve made some progress in any part of my crumbling life, so here it is.

I haven’t posted on AO3 yet just in case anyone here has any suggestions to make it stronger before going live (it’s not beta'ed since I’ve been outta fandom for years and I’ve lost contact with most of the folks I used to talk with…but given the pairing, it may have been a hard sell anyway…or not, given the response that this postgot).

So, the premise began with me wanting to write a whole different idea entirely. Actually, two–I tried writing this scenario from several viewpoints but it was far too angsty for my liking. To get into the second idea would be to spoil future chapters. But doing a 5+1 story could incorporate a whole bunch of ideas and characters I wanted to write for as well as to subvert that teen playboy and the prudish nerd girl trope because seriously, did anyone watch seasons four and five and notice how forward Rebecca was towards Yuugi?

Okay, those seasons suck ass, but you know what I mean XD

On that tangent, fair warning: lots of making out in this chapter. I struggled a lot with how um…detailed to make this. Namely to keep as little as possible. And honestly, all the “writing about children having sex at any point in their lives, even years after canon as teens/adults makes you a pedo” bullshit on this site made me nervous about posting this at all. I don’t have a problem with blocking anyone who will ship bash. Don’t like; don’t read applies here. But there won’t be any sex depicted in future chapters.

Beyond that, any comments and critiques are more than welcomed in my inbox.

Title:Mokuba’s Reason Why Not Pairing:Kiddyshipping, with a couple surprise pairings on the side Chapters:1/7 Summary: “Losing his virginity isn’t something he’s planned on in this busy week, but when an intelligent, awesome girl like Rebecca admits to having the hots for him, Seto is out of town and no one else is going to stop them, the question isn’t why he should do it, but why not?

If any two fifteen years old have ability to tell if this is a good idea, it’s them.”

Or, the five times Mokuba thinks he's got this sex thing figured out and the one time he knows for sure what it is he wants.

—  

Fifteen year olds doing homework with their friends happens every afternoon. Normally, it’s for a trig class or Japanese literature or focusing on the college entrance exam.

Fifteen year olds working after class to have a bit of spending money is also common. They have a delivery route or know a family friend in need of a help at the local restaurant.

A fifteen year old girl researching historic artifacts for her university master thesis, five thousand miles away from home is rare. A fifteen year old boy who holds the Vice Presidency of a major gaming corporation whose spending money is more than what most take home in their entire lives is even less seldomly seen.

“We really do have crazy busy lives,” Rebecca remarks on one such afternoon. She holds a textbook open with one hand while writing notes into a tablet with the other. “It’s almost like we’re not even kids anymore.”

From the other side of the desk in his corporate office, Mokuba glances through his own stack of papers; some are contracts to be reviewed, others mundane reports. He’s been at this all day, and if he’s honest, it’s all starting to run together.

It’s not like he has much time to think about stuff like that, least of all these past two weeks. There are times that he wants a bit more normalcy–being able to attend after school clubs or blow off work for a party. But for all that is unusual about his life, he’s content for what it is. He’s got an awesome brother, a set future, plenty of friends–and Rebecca, sitting across from his desk, who understands the pressure of high expectations better than anyone else his age.

Blinking his eyes as he looks over at her, Mokuba says with a wiry grin, “Yeah, but I’ve gotten used to it. I can’t imagine any other way of life. Could you?”

“Eh?” She looks up from her tablet, tapping the pen at her mouth the way she always does when she’s got something she’s contemplating. “I guess I can’t. Even if I wasn’t a prodigy, I think being in high school for four years and gossiping about clothes and boys would have gotten pretty boring anyway. I’m pretty glad for my life and I enjoy all the friends I’ve made in the pro dueling circuit. Like you.“

He sits up even straighter in his seat.

“Its nice having someone my age who isn’t intimidated by me being smart.”

Mokuba feels the room, which is already soundproofed to block outside noise, grow even more quiet as a certain warm, ecstatic feeling comes over him at her words. Intimidated? Her intelligence was his favorite thing about her! “You broke through Nii-sama’s security and helped us get the company back. I guess people might get freaked out, but I think that’s awesome.”

It’s not the first time they’ve discussed DOMA or her crazy hacking skills. But Rebecca usually brags that she could teach him a few new skills and not lower her eyes as her cheeks grow pink.

Letting out a cough, Rebecca asks hurriedly as she resumes scanning through her book, “Speaking of him, when does Kaiba come back from Hong Kong, anyway?”

“Monday afternoon,” he replies. He goes back to his own stack of papers, pretending as he always does that he doesn’t notice or care how much he truly likes having her around. And sure, she’s gotten hot over the past year, objectively speaking; but more than that, her boundless enthusiasm for gaming and school and everything is hard not to get suck into.

Rebecca speaks again. “You looked like you were spacing out for a moment.”

“It’s fine,” Mokuba says automatically as he picks up a new report to glance over.

“Bullshit! Have you even slept in the past few days?”

“Work’s gotta get done. Not like I’m going to school tomorrow.”

“That’s no answer!”

Rebecca reaches over for his free hand, and not even the clearly angry, frustrated scowl on her face negates the sudden jolt of electricity that shoots up through his arm.

“Look, I know a thing or two about all-nighters, and it doesn’t do you or your project any good to burn yourself out. If you work yourself to death like you tell me Kaiba does, how can you help him?”

Realizing that she still is holding his hand–and that somehow, their pinkies have become entwined–they both turn away from each other, but neither moves. Mokuba doesn’t blush that easily with his completion but he does feel his ears burn. “I mean…you’re right about that. I haven’t slept much, but…I’ll try.”

Sighing she says. “No, I shouldn’t bring it up. I know you’re working to keep up the company for your brother. But I can’t help it to bring up a better way of doing things a when I see it.” Rebecca laughs as she adds, quietly, “You probably think I’m too outspoken.”

“What? Not at all! There’s nothing wrong with passion and speaking up. And if other people have a problem with that, that’s their issue, not yours.” He believes this firmly, and looks her square in the eye as he says this. “And I like that you’re direct. You’re like the most honest person I know.”

Rebecca looks like she wants to say something, but closes her mouth. Her expression changes to one of resolve–Mokuba’s noticed the same look appear during her duels when she’s deciding on the best play against her opponent; beyond that he isn’t sure what else to read into it. Maybe he’s said too much, he wonders as she removes her hand from his to close her tablet and textbook, placing them into the bag on the floor. It’s only the training he’s gotten from Seto on how to school his face and emotions when he needs to that keeps him from showing any emotion of his own, as he realizes how nervous he is.

Mokuba watches her stand up out of her seat…

…and walks around the desk, stopping right at his chair, spinning it towards her. His heart nearly stops when Rebecca leans over and places a hand on either shoulder, rolling one thumb on the collar of the blue dress shirt he wore that day.

“How about I show you what I’m feeling?”

Her eyes really more like emeralds when her face is this close, brilliant and clear and reflecting the afternoon sun.

Mokuba has thought about this and thinks of his best line to respond:

“Um…wait, what?”

Rebecca doesn’t seem to mind or care that his brain has short circuited as she coos in a voice that’s far quieter than he thinks she is capable of. “Shut up, Mokuba.”

It happens so quickly that Mokuba doesn’t have time to close his eyes or to move his hands off the armrests. Her lips feel so soft along his and a current shoots through him from the sensation.

Rebecca jumps away suddenly, covering her mouth with her hands. Her eyes are wide in shock.

“Did you feel that…that spark?!” she squeaks.

“Wow…yeah.” He definitely felt that, placing two fingers on his own mouth, which is still a bit tingly. “But I liked it, though.”

He really did…and thinks it could be better. Mokuba stands up and pulls Rebecca close, his arms wrapping around her shoulders as her hands reach for his neck.

“You’re so tall,” she notes, looking up at him with a rapt expression, her voice so quiet.

With his own goofy grin Mokuba tilts her chin up to kiss her again, and hell yeah, this is a whole lot better indeed, being able to hold her close, catching the glimpse of a smile each time they break apart. The air grows still and the light gets slightly brighter through the window and he entirely forgets the rest of the world. So maybe he wouldn’t have picked his office for their first kiss; but then nothing in their lives follows the typical teenage script anyway.

As if by some primal urge that he doesn’t fully understand, Mokuba soon finds himself guiding Rebecca onto the top of the desk. She looks down, being careful not to knock over the forgotten stack of papers before leaning back, propping herself on her elbows.

Rebecca lets out an excited giggle. “You have a chair, you know!”

“Yeah,” he says, resting one hand along her hip and gripping her cheek with the other. “But it’s more fun like this.”

Mokuba becomes very aware of the way her thighs squeeze his hips, pulling them even closer. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

He hasn’t planned any of this, but being a Kaiba, he’s long since learned to roll with the unexpected and wield it to his advantage…and from the muffled sounds Rebecca makes as their mouths connect, she’s enjoying this a lot. And he enjoys that she’s enjoying this as the languid, chaste kisses soon give way to deeper, more intense ones each time they separate for air. Their tongues meet,  tentatively at first, then more often; their hands begin roaming along backs and hips and twisting into one another’s hair as the silence in the room is filled with increasingly louder, heavier, more ragged breathing.

“…Mokuba?”

“Mmmm…?”

Rebecca pulls away, her cheeks a dark red, looking down briefly as she asks. “…that’s not your cell phone, is it?”

He freezes immediately, feeling his face growing heated and his mouth goes dry. “Umm…no,” he whispers.

It comes back to him right now–that conversation that he had with Seto a few months ago about biological urges taking over rational thought in the heat of a passionate moment and promise me you’ll take a minute to think it over, Mokuba–or rather, that Seto insisted on having with him over breakfast, the morning after the last tournament. Next the actual sex talk two years ago, it was easily the most awkward and out-of-the-blue conservations Mokuba could remember, and he still hasn’t figured out what exactly prompted him to bring it up when he did.

Maybe Seto realized somehow that this exact situation was going to happen, sooner rather than later.

Rebecca–rather than being bashful by…well, him–is grinning wickedly. “I’m glad.”

Mokuba can barely register her implication as she rolls her hips against his, hooks her legs even tighter and sucks down on a spot right behind his ear and that–that entirely throws his rational thought away so thoroughly that if he wasn’t so entirely turned on, it might have scared him to think he could lose control of himself this quickly–to grab a tight hold of her hair as he lays her back into the smooth wooden surface, being urged on by the noises as he kisses her neck, and desiring to grab her hips to test out how truly soundproof this office really is–

“Mokuba-sama,” he hears.

They both freeze, and the temperature in the room plummets instantly as everything comes crashing back into focus. Mokuba snaps up straight as his eyes instantly focus towards the door that he’s sure he didn’t lock to find it still firmly shut.

“It’s just the intercom,” he tells her, sighing in relief.

“I guess you have to get that soon…” says Rebecca. Her smile is unusually relaxed, even for her.

Mokuba gives her a slight grin in return.“If I don’t pick up, he’ll worry and call Nii-sama.”

“Hmmm.”

“Mokuba-sama, are you there? I have the tournament scheduling you asked for.”

Taking a moment to steady his breathing again, Mokuba reaches out for the intercom button, trying desperately to keep his voice flat and neutral. “Yeah, I’m here, just…can you leave it by the door?”

There’s a slight pause before Isono replies, “Yes, Mokuba-sama.”

Apart from the shock of nearly getting caught, a part of Mokuba is thankful for the interruption. What the hell was that?! He rubs at his face, feeling as though he’s coming back into his body as he remembers the other part of Seto’s talk: a list of all condom brands available in every country Kaiba Corporation did business in.

“Damn, that was too close,” he says, after a pause, low under his breath.

“I’ll say. I don’t what Isono would have done if he’d saw us like this,” Rebecca says with a sly smile and a wink.

Mokuba decides against any clarification on that as he pulls her up, helping her off the desk before pulling her into a chaste hug. His cheek rests against the top of Rebecca’s head, taking in the comforting scents of bright yuzu lemon and sweet jasmine in her hair.

“I’m sorry,“ he says.

“For what?”

“Because I didn’t even think about using…um…when we were about to…”

Rebecca catches his meaning and the smile is beaming as she kisses his cheek. “You silly. It’s sweet you were worried, but I’ve taken the pill for awhile anyway…just in case.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

The thought that Rebecca has been thinking about this…with him…for a while is a huge ego boost and flattered is too weak a word to describe the feeling that comes over him. But then, she’s one of the smartest people he knows.

She continues, not meeting his eyes as her face goes from a slight pink to deep red. “You’re the first guy that I’ve really felt like I wanted to…um, I mean…well, you know.”

“Me, too,” he replies. Maybe he hasn’t given nearly as much planning, but this afternoon…damn. Mokuba doesn’t remember a time when he’s smiled this much or felt so alive. “That was so crazy intense. I felt like…wow.”

“I know.”

There’s a look in her eyes, Mokuba notices–the one Rebecca gets when she’s got a plan or an idea that, he knows from experience, she won’t let go of. But there’s something else behind it this time, and realizes she had a similar look right before they were interrupted–

“I think we should do it.”

Her arms tighten around his back, clinging onto his shirt, her eyes oddly serious.

Mokuba isn’t sure how far his jaw has dropped. Rebecca has never exactly been shy about going for what she wants; she certainly wasn’t earlier. But stating it so plainly just makes it all so real.

“What’s with that look?” Rebecca’s smile doesn’t quite look as natural as usual. “Didn’t you want to do it earlier?”

“Well, yeah,” Mokuba says and squeezes her shoulders more tightly, and he’s never been so aware of his own heartbeat. “But this is moving a little fast, isn’t it?”

“Eh?” Rebecca snaps her head up, scanning the office with a look of disbelief. “Look at where we are! Our whole lives have been moving fast for as long as either of us can remember. At least this is our decision.”

“Shouldn’t we go on a date first?!” 

“Well obviously, we’d go out to dinner first. I have standards.”

“That’s not what I mean!” he sighs, closing his eyes. “I mean, I really want to…you know…but we just figured out that we like each other like that. Why rush?”

“Is this any more crazy than you missing class to run a company or me having yet another degree before I can legally drive here or back home? Kids our age are doing it anyway–”

“Did you really just–?”

She places a finger to his lips. “–and we obviously click. Why would we wait?”

Mokuba opens his mouth to counter, but nothing comes out. Rebecca isn’t wrong; he knows all the reasons kids their age are told to wait, but the biggest one–ruining your future–would hardly apply to them. He’s already lived through things that would have entirely broken many others. In nearly every other way that matters, they might as well be adults already.

Even if Mokuba isn’t exactly sure he’s ready for that step right now, there isn’t anyone else he would even consider sharing this with…so does it really matter if they do this now or in a few months anyway? The newly awakened part of his mind reminds him of the excitement of wanting to melt into one another, hearing her cry out in pure bliss at his touch; the images quickly crush the nagging voice that says slow down because you want more than just sex.

“Not like anyone would stop us anyway,” Mokuba points out. Arthur Hawkins still resides in San Francisco in between his archeological digs, Isono he’s sure wouldn’t breathe a word of it to anyone as long as he comes home before Seto gets back–

Shit.

As far as he knows, Mokuba officially has more first hand knowledge of this subject than Seto does at twenty years old. How would he even begin to approach this subject with him? Would Seto even understand? Or try to stop him?

“You said Kaiba won’t be back till Monday?” Rebecca asks as though she could read his mind.

Mokuba blinks a few times as the realization kicks in. “Yeah…”

Maybe just this once, Seto doesn’t have to know anything about this at all.

Rebecca strokes behind his ear, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “So, Saturday works?”

Losing his virginity isn’t something he’s planned on in this busy week, but when an intelligent, awesome girl like Rebecca admits to having the hots for him, Seto is out of town and no one else is going to stop them, the question isn’t why he should do it, but why not?

If any two fifteen years old have ability to tell if this is a good idea, it’s them.

He reaches for her neck to bring her in for a quick kiss on the forehead as he says, “Let’s do it.”

I bet I can totally feel her up now.

He goes for it, slipping one hand into the opening of her shirt.

–and gets his hand slapped hard.

“Ow!”

Rebecca cheerfully waves a finger at his nose. “Nuh-uh!”

“But–!”

“Nope!”

“Weren’t we gonna do it earlier?!”

“Yeah, but it’ll be way more exciting to wait, won’t it?” She giggles as she pulls away and claims her backpack. “Besides, it’s only two days. I’m sure you can wait that long.”

Mokuba honestly doesn’t know how he’s managed to live this long without it!

“Can’t I feel over the shirt?”

“Hmmm…” Rebecca pretends to think on it, tapping a finger against her chin. “No, that’d be way too distracting when I get home. Sorry!”

“Distracting how?”

Rebecca doesn’t respond as she heads towards the door, only giggles. “You’re way more innocent than I thought…oh…”

The tournament schedule that Isono left, he remembers. He walks towards the door and reaches down for the folder.

“Oooh, I wanna see who I’m up against!”

“Sorry, Rebecca,” he says. “You know I can’t show anyone that.”

“Awww! Not even a hint?”

He pretends not to notice the hand that reaches his arm as he taps the folder lightly on the top of her head. He’s grinning as he replies, “Won’t it be more fun to wait?”

They lock eyes; a second later they’ve pulled each other into another searing kiss, but Mokuba breaks it off before either can get carried away again.

“Saturday,” he tells her.

Rebecca blinks, her hand lingering on his chest for a second before taking a step back and heads out the door. “Yeah…see ya.”

Mokuba takes his folder back to his desk, but sets down without opening its contents. There’s no way he can go back to his work now or even go to sleep with thoughts about Rebecca–

Distraction.

…oh.

He suddenly feels a bit distracted himself at the thought, regretting the decision to have this suit tailored so snug to his lithe frame. Mokuba growls, running both hands in his hair.

It’s going to be a long two days.

[icouldbemuchworse]

Me Update™

Selena here, bringing you news live from my home in Something Or Other, Florida. After a (very) long hiatus on Tumblr and a four month hiatus from art in general (breaks are good. I lied. They're awful don't take them) I'm back in action! I'm currently dealing with some minor (major) art style regression but that shouldn't take me very long to recover from. In school news, the new fall semester starts on Thursday! I only have five classes at my high school this year as I am taking two college classes at my local college (because AP sucks, tbh) I'm straying from my norm this year and not taking an art class, which I honestly never thought I'd do. Personally I had a few issues with the teacher, clashing personalities and her distrust of my friend base to boot. I'm still in my schools design academy, but I'm not entirely sure how much longer I'll be staying considering the massive changes they seem to have planned. I'm not a big fan of change, especially if it involves changing the whole dynamic of something that I loved and essentially shoving it into a tight corset of school regulated conformity. High school sucks. In other art related news, my tablet pen charger got eaten by my good-for-nothing shitty ass roomba so my digital art, and commissions consequently, are temporarily out-of-commission. (See what I did there? Ya I'm trash) Good things did, however, come out of my fourth month long art hiatus. I picked back up an old hobby of mine: Figure Skating Sounds funny, right? Shady little artist, hands all fidgety and overworked, stressing about her knife shoes. In reality, I've rediscovered an old love of mine and with it, as preposterous as it sounds, happiness. In the past four months I have progressed further than I had in my childhood (screw you @ 7 year old me for quitting) I can now do scratch spins, forward and backward, toe loops, and of course the ever annoying Waltz Jump™. (Not to mention the basic things like forward and backwards crossovers, lunges, spirals, swizzles, and numerous stopping techniques) To make this more impressive, I've been doing it in a miss-sized pair of Riedell Opals, a boot and factory grade set meant for going forwards in a straight line and nothing more. Soon, hopefully, I will be getting new boots n blades that are for a higher level, but until then I'll enjoy my last few days with my Opals. Speaking of skating, I ended up finally watching Yuri On Ice after my close friend locked me in her room and asked for my Crunchyroll password. And honestly 10/10 Yuri On Ice is fricking AMAZING and PURE and HOLY That kinda brings me to another issue. Yuri On Ice inspiring people to skate. I know for a fact that this is controversial in not only the Figure Skating community itself but in the YOI fandom as well. So, here's my take. If you want to try skating because of YOI go for it. Go for it with all of your might and fight in your body because, hell, you might end up really finding an affinity for it. I've personally watched kid after kid come into my home rink fall and fall and fail. Some get up, dust themselves off, and keep going, while some just give up. (Some even come back! One little girl that I taught swizzles came back a week later with a pair of skates! She's taking lessons now and I am So Proud) You won't know if you're good at something if you give up, so don't let anyone stop you if they say you "aren't good enough" or are doing it "just because of an anime" This, like anything, has conditions of course. If you watched YOI and want to become a skater: •DO NOT go to a rink and act disrespectful to the staff, the ice, the facilities, or, heaven forbid, the figure skaters themselves. I've seen this before, and it's pretty grim. •DO NOT go into a rink, or a rink program/academy, expecting to be able to 'rise above the rest' or to 'be naturally talented on the ice'. We all start from somewhere, kids, and in this case, your place is on the bottom (or on your bottom. Falling is natural. Trust me I fell on my ass two days ago, and I'm decently experienced!) Your skating will improve drastically once you realize that legit no one on the ice in front of you is perfect in any way. We all forget things. •DO NOT try to critique a higher-level skater. Please. dear god please. I've experienced this one personally and it makes me want to CATCH ON FIRE. If you're a public skater, don't go up to a figure skater and tell them that they did something wrong. Chances are, they probably know already, and, chances are, all you'll do is severely piss them off. If you NEED to comment on something say it politely. "Maybe if you lifted your leg a little higher...." Or "You seemed a little off balance" might work, depending on the skater, but in all honesty, we don't want your opinion. (Chances are what we want is to complete an actual scratch spin without almost slicing open a random child's head. yes this happens) •DO NOT get in a figure skaters way. Y'know what, just don't get in anyone's way. "They'll move for me" isn't an excuse and neither is "they can move faster than we can". I had a friend the other day who had to stop her routine and fling herself face first into the ice all because a child skated into her blind spot and got in the way (my friend dislocated her pinky finger in the process) Please watch out for us. We try to watch for you but if we're in the middle of a spin or are going backwards, please for the love of god shuffle out of our way. All of these things aside, please do feel free to talk to figure skaters during their free time. We like to help people and, chances are, we like YOI too! I don't have one skater friend who hates YOI, and I'm friends with almost every skater in my home rink! I can tell you from personal experience that all positive commentary is appreciated greatly. Small talk too. Chances are, you'll be talking to a skater that felt like they didn't quite make the cut that day or who felt like they weren't going to place well in a competition. A quick "wow! You look so good on the ice! How long have you been skating?" Can really brighten someone's day. (Even for those of us who hate conversations ((me)) a little encouragement can go a long way) Wow! I'm Really Bad At Keeping On-Task!!!! Anyway, this is Selena signing out of your random Me Update™! Until next time!

[i-amusemyself]

All the stationary.

Ahhhh ty!!! I can’t tell if you wanna know that much bc you gaf or not though.....

Paranoia aside imma overshare either way!! *finger guns*

gel pen: when are you most comfortable?

I mean, I have anxiety so that just doesn’t happen much lmao! My first thought though was when I visit my favourite place, a little corner of a field with amazing views where I’m always on my own. I love it there.

ballpoint pen: tell me about the day you’ve just had

The day I’ve had was hell, so I’d rather relive yesterday.

Yesterday I woke up and binge watched supernatural; actually remembered to eat for once then was actually motivated enough to do revision. I got into hysterics over a tumblr post so quickly decided it was a day I should be avoiding hella emotional stuff....10 minutes later I was watching the last ever episode of prison break and sobbing uncontrollably at every word. In the afternoon I went out but not before losing my phone which was exactly where I left it. By that point though I was so late I had to speed walk at least 2 miles to the next village, where of course my friend arrived flanked by two pretty decent looking guys. I honestly looked like a tomato with water retention issues at that point so I’m sure that was a fabulous first impression. Then we got over to our revision session at the library early so went to the pub instead which was a dream; didn’t get any alcohol though because you can’t revise biology while hammered. Believe me. Then I stayed up late enough to get my ass whooped last night but it was so worth it because even though it turned into some sort of snapchat contest, I was laughing my ass off the whole time it was amazing. 

That enough of a day for you?fineliner: what’s your greatest achievement?

I used to train with the england basketball team, and I played for East Midlands. That was a pretty cool experience.highlighter: what are your best qualities?

Jfc, plural? Idk! I’m pretty motivated? And I always make an effort to tell the truth (if its good, otherwise I keep my mouth shut).

greylead: what is something you want to try for the first time?

Being attractive. Being loved. Need I go on? Oh and also giant zip-lining.felt-tip: describe your aesthetic

My bedroom looks like an ikea showroom lmfaooo so whatever that is. Weird architecture and cacti and random objects in neat little storage places.

But equally like, overgrown graveyards mixed with roses and anything black. Depends on my mood.crayon: your earliest childhood memory

Treading on a bee and having to have the sting removed from my foot lmao

scrapbook: something from your childhood that makes you smile

............um??

Okay there was this one time we found an old camera in the loft. I must’ve been 3 since my dad was still there. Anyway we all went out in the garden and it was such a normal little family thing, but it’s the only time I ever remember that happening. It’s got my parents waving and looking happy and me sticking my head out from inside a little wendy house grinning and it’s so cute. It’s the sort of thing I wish I’d had more of.

sketching pad: describe yourself from a stranger’s point of view

A lanky thing approaches. It has a stereotypical lesbian haircut, bad eyesight and appears to have given up on all things fashionable. It’s shy and awkward, so makes you feel extremely uncomfortable too. It appears to be reasonably friendly, but occasionally says things that don’t make a single bit of sense before desperately looking around the room looking for more small talk inspiration. You’re overall impression is it’s a pretty boring human being, probably totally harmless, but would be incredibly easy to replace.notebook: what’s your favourite quote?

I have a couple of little quotes I remind myself of on a daily basis, ranging from song lyrics; “darling you’ll be okay” and “the sun will rise and we will try again” to “pick your fights” and “you gotta give a bit of yourself to get something in return”. I kinda live my life by those.paper: what kind of book would you write?

I have absolutely no idea! I can’t see myself ever having the motivation to write a book.stapler: out of all the people you know, who do you think you are closest to?

My best friend @only-slightly-dangerous who literally knows me so well it’s scary! She can literally message me out of knowhere and know from 3000 miles away if I’m in pain.glue stick: what do you look for in a lasting relationship/friendship?

I can’t be dealing with people that lie or are fake or whatever. So definitely honesty. Also people just being themselves and not being afraid to be weird or whatever, because that’s when I relax a bit lmao! I guess a decent sense of humor too? And someone that doesn’t mind you asking questions or whatever. Idk. Sometimes you just click with people without being about to put it down to a specific characteristic.tape: tell me about your longest friendship

It wasn’t very long. 

I mean I had “friendships” through all of primary school but that doesn’t really feel like it counts. Secondary school? The first girl I made friends with and was really close to for 5 years is now like,,, someone I honestly can’t even stand to hear about soooruler: what line will you never cross?

I could never cheat. eraser: what do you consider to be your biggest mistake?

I’m not sure. Maybe not standing up for myself more at school and at home. There have been occasions where it would have been totally reasonable but I just shut up and let shit happen so I’ve spent a lot of time beating myself up about that stuff.

Also, and I know I shouldn’t but, I still spend a lot of time thinking about a boy at our school who killed himself and I never knew him but I still wonder if I could have done anything.scissors: ever had a bad break-up?

Nothing hella nasty but I don’t really talk to any of my ex’s at all.calculator: list fifteen things that make you happy

Lmaooo I’ll do my best!! Okay so music; concerts; friends; seeing other people laughing; making people laugh; stand up comedy; hella good art; hearing people tell stories; sitting and listening in the middle of knowhere; thunderstorms; exploring; helping people; good food; the sound of rain on the roof; cuddling and tumblr.protractor: an unpopular opinion/angle you have on an issue

Pinapple is good on pizza.sticky note: something about yourself you’d like to change

I feel like I have no personality so like,,,I wish that could be better. I wish I was pretty. Or attractive or whatever. Oh and I wish I could sing those hella high notes because I feel sorry for the neighbours atm.stamp: a date that’s special for you and why

25th March because that’s the day my life changed just enough for me to carry on.bookmark: a book that means a lot to you and why

I always just say Numbers, but honestly it was the first ever book I cried at and I feel like it helped me understand the world a little more.folder: describe your family

How long do you have? I mean, it’s quite a small family but I’m not that close to any of them. Most of them are just pretty conservative living in little nuclear families. I didn’t used to get on too well with my dad but we’ve got a lot closer. I still don’t get on with my mum very well though bc she’s abusive. welp. whiteboard: tell me your plans for tomorrow

I’m gonna die a slow, painful death by revision and then recover when I go to my dad’s and walk Borris.blackboard: tell me about a memory that has affected who you are today

All those memories are locked away in a place I can’t get to and I think it’s best to keep it that way for now.

A low key one is probably when a friend once told me nobody cared about me or what I had to say and I’ve basically been mute in most social situations since XDpinboard: what are you focusing on in your life right now?

Exams. A level exams. Just one more month and I’m freeeee!!!tablet: tell me your plans for the future

Start a fresh life at uni and get this degree. Then who knows? I’ll probably go and get another degree and I’m pretty sure I’ll end up doing medicine.stencil: who are your role models?

I don’t have very many. Kaitlyn Alexander for sure, because they really helped me understand who I am and start to accept it. Also Luke Cutforth because I love his YouTube channel but also a lot of things he’s done related to mental health have been helpful and I relate a lot.envelope: tell me a secret

I’m going to my end of year prom in a shirt and tie and I haven’t told anyone yet and I’m scared shitless. I’m still gonna do it though!!

[babaleshy]

I know I haven’t touched this thing for a while but whatever. I’m gonna rant. Yes, it’s about my folks. Yes, they are Trump supporters. No, I still can’t move out because my husband and I cannot afford it nor is there any jobs in the area that pay enough for us to move out.

On with the rant (plus, like, a mental health update which I will do first).

Going to get re-evaluated for ADHD because as much as I loved seeing Mark for counseling, he wanted to simply focus on my struggles, hence why I was diagnosed with EFD. He was great, helpful, all that. Just... There’s other stuff going on with all of these signs pointing to ADHD, and I actually forget that sometimes symptoms outside of executive functioning issues can get in the way because my depression makes me forget shit.

On top of this, Paulnetta (my new counselor) has referred me to a couple of places to go and get tested for dyslexia and other learning disabilities. What has kept me from getting tested the past couple of months is that my ID expired back in April and I fucking forgot about it. I’m going to the DMV tomorrow to get my ID renewed but will have to wait for it to appear in the mail, now, because of bureaucratic bullshit. Once I get my ID, I can finally get tested for a learning disability and FINALLY apply for goddamn Medicaid.

I’m getting mighty sick of what my parents are pulling. I’ll start with my mom since there’s not TOO much bullshit to bitch about with her like there is with my dad.

My mom still won’t engage much with me in conversation about anything I want to talk about. But the moment she decides to talk, she immediately changes the topic to her favorite country singer or something about horses. I don’t hate horses as in the animal, but looking at anything involving horses has me feeling rage because of her. She keeps getting old horses (never surpassing 3 horses) that aren’t really able to be ridden, wanting a few for companionship so no one feels alone when my mom rides the only one that is capable of being ridden. Horses are social animals. I get this. All fine and well. But my mother does the ABSOLUTE FUCKING BARE MINIMUM care for these animals. They’re healthy and doing okay mentally, but she has yet to ride since I moved back that I can remember. SHE SPENT WHO KNOWS HOW MUCH MONEY ON A ROUND PEN AND SHE STILL HASN’T RIDDEN THE HORSE SHE WANTS TO RIDE. She just sits on the couch on her phone AND tablet watching livestreams of her favorite country singer who has developed this cult surrounding the pledge of allegiance while being on FB interacting with other horse owners. My mom seems to like the aesthetic of the western/country/farm lifestyle without actually LIVING it, and I’m betting it’s because she’s too old and tired from working 6 days a week at a minimum wage job she’s been at since the mid 90s and refused to consider looking for another because she knows people who work there and shop there (small business hardware store). On top of all of this, she refuses to listen to any other radio station unless it’s country, so that plays on constant in the living room for the dog when my parents aren’t home, or she has it on in the truck and wonders why I have my earbuds in. She BLASTS anything she and my dad watch, which includes but is not limited to things like Last Man Standing, NCIS, faux news, and pseudo-hillbilly shit shows from the 60s and 70s on YouTube.

This woman did not interact with me on my terms in the past unless it was something she was interested in. If I distracted her from her soap operas or baseball/football games, she got pissed. As an adult? If she does interact with me, it’s because it involves the topic of money. My mom IMMEDIATELY gets pissed at me when I inquire about our financial situation. I don’t complain, I’m not nosy as fuck, I just wanna know “hey, can I get some help getting thirty-something bucks worth of lumber so I can build shelves for my room since I have no income?” Nope, the topic bothers my mom too much. I don’t even think she listens to me talk to her when she doesn’t participate in conversation because she is just... ADDICTED to FB. Like, hopelessly fucking addicted. And she used to get on my ass about being on MY computer too much in high school! (circa 2005-2007)

And now, onto the dumpster fire that is my father.

The bastard is having us live in a meatlocker. The air is so cold and so dry here that my skin is very dry, my nose is CONSTANTLY running and bleeding, and I’m too cold to do ANYTHING most of the time, including sitting at my desk to do anything from art to surfing the web! He uses his breathing issues as an excuse, but it was never this cold in the summer last year or any years prior. He says it’s to keep the humidity down. By the same damn excuse, because we do NOT have a working ventilation fan, and opening the bathroom window (which faces the street) would expose us and give us no privacy, my dad HAS THE HAIR DRYER RUNNING BY THE BATHROOM SINK WHILE HE SHOWERS. His logic? “The heat will cause the moisture to evaporate!” Not kidding. But he’s huffing and wheezing by the time he’s done in the bathroom. And he won’t listen to me when I tell him just how wrong he is.

The bitter old bastard has whatever they’re watching on blast in the living room. He re-clutters whatever I de-clutter. He tries picking fights with my husband by purposefully trying to engage him in topics my husband doesn’t want to talk about to get my husband to react a certain way (never works because my husband caught on real fast). This is all my dad trying to “establish dominance” or some bullshit like that. He’s flaunting the fact that he can be a piece of shit all he wants to us, and if we put up enough of a fight, he can kick us out. He’s also hoping (and he’s used a similar logic on other shit before in the past) that he pisses us off enough to move out, because he thinks we can move out whenever we want. This guy has not been in the real world since ‘95 or ‘96, and before that, hadn’t had to look for a job since the ‘70s, hadn’t had to look for another place to live since the ‘90s. He has no idea how expensive rent is, how shit the job opportunities are around here, how it’s impossible to find a decent paying job and be expected to make rent while being able to feed one’s self, etc. He is so detached from reality that he’s trying to delude himself that shit still works like it did in the 70s.

I had to make up a lie that I get car sick unless I have my music. The reality of it is that my dad stresses me out so much I fear him bringing up a topic we both know I won’t be able to keep my mouth shut on to where he will then stress me out, threaten my life, and then tell me he threatened my life “just so I would shut up.” So, dad believing that I get car sick without my music, he claims it’s a “problem with the middle ear,” which is a thing with some people, so I’m playing along with that. Gives me an excuse to not listen to my mom’s piece of shit radio station in the truck on those VERY DAMN FEW times she takes me somewhere (seriously, unless it’s to work, seeing a local country concert, or seeing her sister, my mom doesn’t wanna leave the house) and not have to explain to her why I bury my head in my own music when she won’t fucking talk to me about shit I wanna talk about, shit I’ve wanted to talk about since childhood but she doesn’t fucking care. She tried so hard to get me to be like her, wanting to live on a farm, but it failed. She knows it failed. So she doesn’t wanna talk unless it’s about the lifestyle she always wanted.

And this is the weird part, they have views and shit that would make you go “that’s not very typical of a Trump supporter” so because they’re “not so bad” to other moderates or right-wingers, I don’t have a right to complain. My parents know evolution is a thing (yet are climate change deniers), have no problem with me being a Pagan or practicing witchcraft (but will talk shit about Muslims), think that Halloween is too kiddified and the fun is sucked out of it (but there’s a “war on xmas”), and thought I spent way too much time in my room on my computer in high school (but they rarely leave their own internet devices in the living room; dad just has a computer but refuses to touch social media and hates modern technology despite being hopelessly addicted to YouTube). Like...?

Here’s what’s sad...

When my parents first got together and had me, they were a loving married couple with a kid. My brother came along, things were still smooth sailing. Dad gets hurt and we’re plunged into inescapable poverty and all of a sudden dad ignores me, mom ignores me, only interaction is breakfast, dinner, and screaming and belittling. That’s it. There was still favorites, and because the favorite died, it’s like I don’t matter that much to them, especially since I didn’t turn out anything special like they’d hoped for. They won’t own up to their mistakes, they conveniently ignore that half the time growing up I was yelled at for lack of social interaction outside of forced interaction with my brother and having ADHD and anxiety. In fact, I still can’t tell if they’re the cause of my anxiety or if I was born with it because of how young I was when the complete one-eighty with them happened.

And yet they still act like they’ll be wealthy someday, so they support the rich getting tax cuts and worship the cheetoh in office. I think they banked on me and my brother becoming successful and wealthy after high school that they continued to avoid admitting they’re stuck in poverty. Now they think they’ll eventually get wealthy with the fucking royalties on the oil (spoilers: no, lol, they’re kinda getting screwed actually but won’t admit it) or hitting the lottery.

Dad presses all of these money-making ideas onto me, ideas I don’t care about or don’t like, and won’t do it himself. He won’t even write stories to have them published because that would mean he’d have a hobby. Too much work. He even said the whole reason why he got a job at the steel mill was so he didn’t have to think. He literally claimed he’d rather have someone think for him and admitted that he’s proud to be ignorant of technology. No, I’m not kidding.

So my husband and I are forced to live with these two assholes, whose marriage is barely held together (they barely interact with one another, and when they do, half the time one is pissed at the other) and only keep the marriage going because divorce is expensive and at least they’re not as bad as their exes (mom had her jaw broken by an ex, dad was nearly killed by an ex).

Once they move north, we’ll be going with them, attend Kent State, and get the fuck out of Ohio. And I’m never looking back.

[thecrapshoot]

PINOCCHIO IN FLORENCE

While I was in Florence taking a course on something called content language integrated learning (a course designed to offer strategies for conversational English teachers), I found a bookstore where I saw a copy of the book The Adventures of Pinocchio, by Carlo Collodi.  Carlo Collodi is the pen name, or pseudonym, for Carlo Lorenzini.  He was born in Florence, but was raised in the nearby town of Collodi, hence the pen name.  Collodi is a town in Tuscany where his mother is from.  This was my second time in Florence because I had been there a year and a half earlier at the same school taking a different course from the same instructor.  I decided to go back and further strengthen my C.V. (curriculum vitae or resumé) with a follow up course about these teaching methodologies that are so popular throughout Europe.  I felt like it would do me some good because after taking her class the first time, I wound up with a job teaching English online.  I wound up with a second job online after traveling to Florence this second time.  I am starting to see a pattern with Florence.

For this most recent visit to Florence, I planned a whole three-month trip around this “CLIL” course.  I visited five different countries; two of which I had never been to before: Spain, France, Italy, Croatia, and Germany, with Spain and Germany the countries I had never seen before.  I knew the dates of the course in Florence and meticulously crafted an itinerary around them, taking care to arrange all my lodging and transportation with this class being the real reason for my trip.  It was kind of an excuse to travel, too, but hey…  

When I got home from this most recent visit to Florence, I was looking through my pictures as I had recently decided upon making a travel blog that documents some of my experiences and things I have learned from them or found odd during them.  I found this picture of myself that I took while I was sitting in the Tronchetto People Mover in Venice.  The People Mover ferries you from the main bus station over to the real Venice that you see in the travel brochures.  As you can see, it is rather odd as I was fooling around with the picture options and effects and came up with this:

Being in Florence just a few weeks before finding this picture again, it reminded me of the The Adventures of Pinocchio book that I found as I decided to find a book to read in Italian in order to improve my command of the language while I was in Florence this second time.  Traveling and teaching English gives me the chance of immersion in these different countries.  With immersion among the people and culture, I feel like it is an excellent opportunity to practice and become more familiar with the languages I study.  And with immersion in the culture comes a closer observance and accessibility to the literature.  I had decided to get the book because I kind of knew the story of Pinocchio, so if there were vocabulary words that I did not know, I would have more of a chance to figure them out given the context clues and my general previous exposure to the story.  Everyone knows the story of Pinocchio.  

I absolutely love the Italian language and the more I expose myself to it, the more and more I become familiar with it and the happier I become.  The bookstore was in very close proximity to this language school 

at which I was earning my second certificate for teaching English as a foreign language.  Since my first visit to Florence, my fortunes had been improving.  I had been traveling over a big part of Europe and since my last visit here, I had been through a lot of ups and downs.  Slowly but surely I had been growing more and more optimistic about being legally and financially able to make a life and name for myself in Europe as an English teacher.  It had seemed a hopeless and next to impossible thing getting a visa for an extended stay in Italy without being a student, a wealthy retiree, or the fiancé or husband of an Italian woman.  Since with the right credentials and networking, teaching English can be a fairly lucrative endeavor, and it was something I could build a flexible schedule with, it was the perfect thing to do as I also have aspirations to go to graduate school.  Teaching English is an ideal way to earn money, stay close to the linguistics field, and have time to study and learn different languages.

So, as I looked in the window and saw the book about Pinocchio, I thought that I should go in and get it.  The book only cost me four euros and when I asked the old Italian man who was working in the store if the book was really four euros, he looked at me and told me yes slightly cynically, as if to imply that I should know that already from having looked at the price beside the book.   It was like he was asking me why I was in awe because it is only a book.  I was so into the moment about finding this classic piece of literature in the author’s birth city, I was kind of in awe.  I laughed a little to myself at his manner of slightly snide reply and I bought the book and left.  I was so happy that I found this little treasure for such a nominal amount.

The picture of me at the beginning looks a little like Pinocchio and I thought that I remembered this picture once I started reading the Italian text. Thumbing through my travel photos on my tablet with my two thumbs, I found it again and decided to write about my time in Florence.  The real (cartoon version) Pinocchio looks like this:

Don't we look a little similar?  Don't both of our eyes seem to be bulging out, big and wide with wonder and anticipation?  I feel so close to being able to make a life among the many languages I love to read and speak in Europe.  Around the time of that picture, I was just experiencing how difficult the Italian bureaucracy makes it for Americans who want to teach English.  There was a point in time where I felt like I was crying out like Pinocchio for an opportunity or a contact that would help me along the way.  All I wanted was to get my foot in the door and have the chance to start teaching English and enjoying the Italian culture.

More often than not, the process has seemed hopelessly just out of reach as I have trudged around Italy seeking a school that would give me a work contract. The thing about Italy is that paying the taxes on English teachers from the United States is not actually financially worth it to them, especially when there are so many English teachers in the U.K., which had been in the European Union until recently deciding to leave the agreement.  An American finding work in Italy or France was something that people were telling me was next to impossible.  Now there is a little wave of optimism now that England has voted out of the European Union.  It will take some time but it seems like there may be more opportunities on the horizon for Americans who want to teach in Italy, even though I have felt like an ass for trying sometimes.

This book about Pinocchio, a wooden puppet or burattino in Italian, kind of gives me hope about this primarily pessimistic situation.  The book first appeared on shelves for public reading in 1883.  Those familiar with the story can see the theme of opportunity in the story as Pinocchio wants to be a human boy, and experience life and learning.  Traveling around Italy looking for a job as an English teacher made me identify with Pinocchio’s character.  It makes me think about how difficult the process has been up to this point.  I have been able to sustain consistent income since becoming an English teacher, but only online and not in a traditional classroom.  I actually did get hired by a school in Treviso, Italy but still have not been assigned any teaching duties as of yet.  I doubt that will ever happen with that particular job.  I think I have gotten lost in the administrative shuffle.

Twenty years before The Adventures of Pinocchio hit the shelves in 1863, Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation and made all slaves in the southern rebellious states free.  I figure the story of Pinocchio, wanting to be a real boy and experience what is was like to be human, to be a spin-off of the story behind the Emancipation Proclamation and the hope that Lincoln incubated by freeing slaves in the rebellious southern states, declaring that slaves were no longer the property of slave owners.  

Even though I was in Florence, I did not think that this was an impossible comparison to make. Florence was a city known for its guilds and powerful working class families.  Back then, guilds were the city’s integrity.  I learned this on a sort of backstreets tour of Florence by one of the teachers at Europass, away from the main monuments and all of the obvious brochure/textbook places that all of the tourists see.  Guilds had power and were master craftsmen and experts, putting a completely positive light on the work they did and the nature of their commerce.  Everyone knows the impact that slave labor had on the American economy.  It was free labor, but the nature of the labor was not based around the idea or structure of guilds; it was based on inferiority.

As an African-American trying to find opportunities in Italy, I often feel dwarfed by that sense of giant pessimism cast by the Italian bureaucracy.  I can't help but imagine the zeal that baited the African-American psyche by that singular endorsement by the nation's leader over in the United States with that order that finally started to lift some of the burden that slaves had been assuming up to that point.  I call it bait because it would take so many years for Black Americans to experience the benefits of actual citizenship.  I would have been like, “What are we supposed to be, glad? Uh...glad?” 

White Americans were the perfectly imperfect children of God surely to be redeemed by Christ, while that side of being pitifully almost human and subservient was something African-Americans knew too well. The Emancipation Proclamation was a small step, but it was a step in the right direction, like manipulating the limbs of a burattino Pinocchio.  Ideally through the granting of human status, one would surmise that the ultimate goal would be for the bruised collective black embryo to start to grow and develop into that then, modern man whose imperfect ways were human, too.  But, it would take a century before the African-American collective would even begin to be considered citizens in the same vein as European-Americans.

Before becoming a children’s author, Carlo Lorenzini founded several political newspapers in Florence and was also involved in the theater and censorship. This loans more validity to my hypothesis.  I can't help but notice this metaphor in the story of Pinocchio when I think about American history and being an American who has spent time in Italy.  “Collodi” was a Florentine and I see this connection with the intellectual community in Italy reacting to the Emancipation that maybe culminated in Collodi writing this book about the antics and tribulations of a puppet, that was a symbol of a slave, that wanted to be a boy who would eventually become a man.  This new man would lead an adult life inspired by some estimable anticipation of what the joys of being human must have been.  Thomas Jefferson had well-known ties with Italy before Lincoln’s presidency, so I don’t think it too far-fetched a hypothesis to think that The Adventures of Pinocchio may have something to do with legally and officially freeing the slaves in the United States.

This is just a thought, but there is a pleasant metaphor of redemption about the melancholic and mourning side of a trapped human spirit inside a medium of wood that is crying and crying to be raised, cared for, and let out in order to experience a decent life.  This spirit has a nose for the good life, but is still ultimately compromised and seems intent on defending its place in the world among sin, among virtue, with the repeated antics of the puppet symbolizing the trial and error inherent with this newfound increase from what I see as slave master America, an increase that only some generations would see.

It seems that Collodi was teaching this metaphor to a historically stubborn readership because it was among his final works because he died in 1890, just seven years after its publication.  It makes me think of African-American teaching psychology and how much African-Americans have had to accomplish in order to be believed and deemed credible instructors.  The one thing about Pinocchio’s brand of burattino was that with every lie he told, his nose would grow into an obvious sign of him having just lied about something.  As an African-American on this journey I am on, as I am often in Europe these days, I feel an impetus that tells me that I can maintain a relevance in the teaching field, as long as I strive to be genuine with my circumstances and thankful for the opportunities that I have been afforded.  With every new credential I get, no matter how minor or what corner of the world it may come from, I feel my credibility as a teacher being buttressed, and my appreciation of it comes from moments of revelation to myself like my picture in the Tronchetto People Mover and my finding of this book in a little Florentine bookstore.  

The burattino is hung, or dangled, and manipulated in the theater performances that feature it.  It could be considered a mild simulation of being hung, or lynched, a fate experienced by many African-Americans throughout America’s history. There is a longstanding metaphor that African-Americans are played against each other like puppets and you can see it by the number of us in prisons and the number of us who live in less-than-desirable conditions as a part of America’s urban demographic.  How do survivors of the legacy of lynching begin to describe that transition from noose to afterlife that this story just may also represent?  Who would even dare to look at the story that way?  One of my Italian teachers from Sardegna even told me that Italians have a history of being lynched, something I knew nothing about.

The African-American intellectual voice is rooted in years of servitude and fear. After much tribulation, that servitude evolved to vocation and skilled labor, paired with a new and evolving awareness of what that kind of skilled labor and master craftsmanship could mean.  Everybody likes nice things.  The sophisticated side of skilled labor has to be present in the scholarship, voice, and pride that you hear in the names attached to works and accomplishments now being worthy of standard documentation as opposed to works where our contributions, competence, and genius were once upon a time routinely hidden.  No one wants to be associated with work of low quality, and people want to be praised when they do something special.  The guilds in Florence were synonymous with quality work and pride in craft, unlike the associations with crudity and being half-witted that slaves in America experienced.

Psychologically, I often feel tentative when engaging intellectually with others, but I don’t think it is always rooted in fear or lack of self-confidence on my part.   I always feel like there is so much more at stake with every accomplishment I try to make, and with every positive step forward I take.  I think it’s because that a lot of what happens, and what has happened, academically in America is based on fear or an inability to respond and it is based on a historic inability to defend oneself because of lynch mob psychology and racist bombardment.  If I may offer the metaphor of the puppet show and an audience at a puppet show, being a lynch mob in the American South surrounding a new victim guilty or not guilty of God only knows what.  That theory of three-dimensional effigy in a puppet show speaks volumes about that period in American history and it is a bit unsettling.  

Trying to assemble a portfolio to the Italian bureaucracy in regards to potentially coming and living in their country is an unsettling task, as well.  Not to compare being lynched to the labyrinth of the Italian bureaucracy, but the process does seem a little too hopeless and a little too arrogant to take part in, but nonetheless I will continue until a door opens.  I have been shot down several times from people at embassies telling me what a privilege it is to live and work in Italy, without ever really answering my questions posed in the emails. Ironically, the kinder, gentler side of the spirit of community is present in the story about Pinocchio around the protagonist struggle of the single father, Geppetto and the spirit of community that loves to see the value in a soul and what it can communicate.  Some Italians are very protective of their culture and would rather not see anyone intruding on it.

Pinocchio’s story was written in that now familiar backdrop of European great expectation, and the not-so-comfortable African-American backdrop of a dream deferred is something one could easily miss as a part of this humanity Carlo Collodi was describing. 

 Charles Dickens was a contemporary of Carlo Collodi, but it would take another century before Langston Hughes even put to page that concept of a dream deferred.  

The older generation always has some idea, however remote, of what may or may not bridle the next. Things that may shock me may come as no surprise to people older than me from the previous generation.  It is always what that older generation has experienced that becomes the norm.  I think that stereotypes have resulted in a disproportionate number of African-Americans in the global teaching game.  Every little step I can make forward means a lot to me.