#I just think we could have a very productive discussion about religion over tea

[swamp-spirit]

I could fix Ivan Karamazov

[captainsimagines]

Titanic || H.S

Part Three || “Harry”

“I hear the states are quite bigger than just New York, dear...”

Warnings: This book contains mature themes and discussions, such as gun violence, emotional and physical abuse, attempted suicide, mentions of blood, character deaths, heavy sexual content, and reference to the real maritime disaster of the 1912 cruise liner Titanic.

     Mornings were as warm as freshly made bread and salted butter for Harry, inviting and comforting, with that perfect combination sitting on his tongue in absolute delight. He’d chow down happily as each morning customer ordered their regulars, his mother rushing from one side to the other as the orders came in. And once he swallowed his last piece, he rolled his sleeves up to pull yet another tray of bread that had been baking since the early morning hours. 

     The family bakery was located in a very crowded part of the city, where thousands walked by each day, good and bad, gossiping about anything and everything. And although Harry’s family bakery wasn’t the only one on the street, it was the one that received the most praise. With dough made with love and an end product that was easily pulled apart, Harry’s family bakery won first place in all good graces. 

     And with such precision in every bite and every cake decorated in such an exquisite manner that they were rated number one in The Times for attention to detail and amazing taste, the family bakery was ready to branch out. They had a plan to save as much money as they could - and although being loved by many and receiving great reviews - they had very little of that. Most of the money the family earned went to rent, new shoes, and ingredients. The plan involved the Styles Bakery becoming some sort of franchise, and since they had London’s attention, it was possible. 

     The Styles Bakery would extend through other parts of London, and ever since Harry’s grandparents moved to the states with his aunt and her children, America was added to the equation. 

     “Mum, could you get the bread out? My hands are full!” Harry called out, arms struggling to carry glass jars full of jelly. He carefully climbed the ladder on the wall and began stacking, looking over his shoulder to make sure his mother heard his request. She quickly came out from the back room, padding her hands against her apron, and proceeded to remove the bread. She placed it on the counter carefully, all the while watching her son as he balanced himself on the ladder. 

     “Quite busy, are we?” she asked, rushing over to hold the ladder under him. Harry placed the last of his jars on the shelves. 

     “We need to get this place ready for the photographer! We need those photos by tonight so I can bring them with me on the trip.”

     “I know, honey. And thank you for doing this, but I don’t want you to fall and get hurt just because you were in a rush,” she said, helping Harry as he climbed down. “We have more than enough time.” 

     “Time?” Harry said with a tiny laugh, “Grandad said that if we don’t get these plans and photographs to the landlord in two weeks time, then we have to search outside of New York.” 

     She smiled at him, “I hear the states are quite bigger than just New York, dear.”

     Harry rolled his eyes, retreated back to the stockroom, and grabbed even more full jars. But as he returned, he continued the conversation. “But it’s where all the business and people are!”

     But still, his mother laughed. “People exist outside urban areas as well.”

     Harry saw how his mother would continue to innocently twist his words for the better, and no matter how negative he seemed to speak, his mother always could sprinkle the positives inside. For a while longer, they stacked jars, rearranged chairs, and cleaned the windows while waiting for the photographer. Once he arrived, he set up and did the bakery justice. From just the angles alone, Harry could see that the photographs would come out perfectly. They paid him extra for such an expedited order, promised to pick them up early tomorrow morning, and closed up the bakery a little after two in the afternoon. 

     Harry quickly ventured out to the still-empty pubs around town, a small pack of cigarettes he usually kept hidden behind the sacks of flour in the stockroom now hidden in his coat pocket, and joined as many small poker games he could find. With such deserted pubs at this time of the day, the men were less rowdy and more sober. This way Harry could collect as much pocket change he could in time for his voyage. The time flew by as he hopped from one pub to another, but he was still determined to make some more cash. But as his eyelids began to droop and his mind narrowly missed the ‘full house’ he was holding, Harry won, wrapped it all up, and started home. 

      He wasn’t a heavy gambler but he was known to succeed in a few tournaments when his family desperately needed to make rent. With such a dangerous alternative, Harry and his sister hid the fact that they would apply for odd jobs outside of the general area they lived, bringing in money under their mother’s nose - anything to keep the family afloat.

     But after a few hours in the comfort of his home, he ventured out into the world once again. He traveled around his known parts of the city, a few blocks here and there, most alleyways, and greeted many people. Once his feet began feeling sore and the tips of his shoes stubbed his toes, he went into a pub for a quick drink. He enjoyed its taste, sort of salty and sweet at the same time. He ordered the same and decided to focus on his surroundings during each sip, watching every bartender and every customer walk to and from the bar. All he could think about while looking at everyone’s joyful faces was that tomorrow he would be waiting at the docks and boarding the grandest ship in the world. Perhaps he’d be lucky enough to taste the alcohol they were transporting and serving, but it was a long-shot thought. The third class most likely was not going to offer up the finest things, but it sure beat the streets of rat-infested London. But as Harry recalled his schooling and the little travelers who brought the plague, he settled for calling Titanic’s possible rats more upper-class than the ones below the bar he was currently lounging in. The simple third class ticket hidden safely away in his bedside drawer was a somewhat important telling, like it was something that represented a rise in Harry’s world. 

     He ordered his third drink, this time carefully watching a young couple across the room who shared the drink they just ordered. They laughed along with the piano player, hands intertwined, simultaneously tapping their thighs to the beat in unison. Such synchronization was therapeutic and Harry wondered how they met - if they knew they were right for each other, if they ever fought, how many children they had, or whether they were truly happy as their movements portrayed. All these unanswered questions did not need to have an answer for Harry to accept the wonder. 

     The sound of Harry’s sliding barstool startled the sleeping man next to him. Harry paid the bartender, gave the sleeping man a double pat on the shoulder, and left. He was only a few blocks away from home, but he decided to walk slower than usual. Tomorrow’s plan formulated itself and Harry didn’t have to think twice about it - he would wake up early, dress casual but clean, make sure his boots had their laces, and double-check his packing. And the one-way ticket would burn a hole in his pocket as he boarded, waving goodbye to his mother and sister who weren’t granted tickets themselves. They would wave sadly, tearing up slightly but just enough for Harry to see, and would come back home to run the bakery themselves for a few months. 

      It was worth the distance once Harry landed in America, for their entire lives would change. In America, Harry would buy that spot of land they had all been saving for over the last fifteen years. He would clean, build, anything he had to do as long as that spot of land showcased the first of a long chain of Styles Bakery’s. A bakery where Americans of all races, all religions, all everything and anything would get to savor the sweet taste of a busy London street.  

     Once he got home he wrapped himself up with three heavy blankets, drank a cup of tea, and rested his eyes for a moment. He was already giddy with joy, restless as to what awaited him tomorrow. The chance to step on American soil and the Titanic - all within a week - barely allowed Harry a wink of deep sleep. 

     The American dream wasn’t really what Harry strived for or wished to achieve, but he definitely thought it probable. He had the money, he had the determination, he had the contacts. But it was quite unsettling to think about the negative consequences of such a drastic move and not knowing if everything was going to fall into place. 

     Harry’s eyes began to feel heavier and heavier as his mind kept racing, but he knew one thing for sure. Whether his family’s dream was to be recognized and accomplished, it was luck and luck alone that would ultimately determine his new American fate. Harry breathed a heavy sigh and ducked his chin deeper into the blankets, neck slightly tilted and arms hugging his upper torso.

[fuwafuwamedb]

A Church Visit (GilHaku)

“Christianity…” Hakuno stared at the requested topic for her report, her mind running over her options for getting the paper done.

To be fair, she’d had time. There was no reason that she hadn’t been able to do it except for the fact that she had made an elective decision to not succumb to the great narcolepsy that consumed her as soon as she cracked open the Bible. She’d gone to train with a handful of mages instead, staying up late into the night and going to school and even earning an extension on the paper she needed to turn in because of “family reasons”.

Her self-created family wasn’t going to be able to avoid a visit in the future if she tried that again. She’d need to get the paper done.

Reading was no longer an option though. Even if she did manage to break that bad boy open, there was no way she was going to be devouring hymns and stories enough by dawn to even begin the paper. She’d be writing all the way to the classroom and being caught finishing up her paper by the teacher.

Playing sick wouldn’t work either.

Which left- She was going to have to go and talk to a priest.

A one on one interview.

She’d ask questions about a few stories that had seemed at least semi-interesting and then she’d book it for the door to crank out a half-assed paper. It got turned in, she got her good grade.

Her continuation in a decent class continued.

Entering the church, she eyed the perspectives.

A couple members of the place were scrubbing the floors, interesting people to interview. She had no doubt that they’d be more than happy to stop their work…

The tattoos had her hesitating though. The scars that zigzagged over their hands and the way they seemed to move had her hesitating as well. There was something going on with that. They looked more like they were hiding out.

The red on one’s arm, which the other quickly pointed out and began to help him quickly clean up had her moving away quickly.

Very unsavory.

Another was standing at the front of the church, his back turned.

Vibes alone had her avoiding that man.

He seemed to almost radiate an aura of, ‘if you get close, you will realize I am nothing more than a snake in the guise of a man.’ Or maybe he just said, ‘remember the snake in the garden of Eden? Welcome Eve, come have a visit with me. Apples available on request.’

Again, she skirted that man.

The blond that came up the stairs had her relieved.

True, he looked out of place, but he was wearing priest robes.

Foreigner by looks alone, she could probably get a good spiel about Christianity and God and be on her merry way with this guy thinking he had possibly made a new Christian out of her.

It was perfect.

“Excuse me!”

She was going to use the most basic Japanese that she knew with this guy.

The man glanced back at her, stopping as he caught sight of her.

She didn’t even pause.

“Hello, Father.” She told him. “I am here to ask about Christianity. Can I ask you questions?”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

She pointed at his cross. “You’re Christian. Can I ask about Jesus?”

That was like the main god in Christianity, right?

The man smirked a little, motioning her along with him. “What is your name?”

Oh, he sounded fluent.

Perhaps she had judged him too quickly.

“My name is Kishinami Hakuno,” Hakuno told him. She smiled a little more, following him down further and further into the depths of the church. “Have you been a priest long?”

“You could say I have only just begun to learn about it.”

Not good, but-

“So you’ve read the stories,” Hakuno offered.

“From the first to the last page.”

This man was her ticket to success. Her arm went around his, a relieved smile coming to her face as she held onto him.

“You have no idea how nice that is to hear. I have to write a report for school and get it in to my teacher and I haven’t managed to learn a thing about the religion.”

He seemed offputting, but it was probably just the fact that she was going into the bowels of what felt like a big hole with him.

“What do you need to know?”

“Anything interesting. The writing was…” Boring. Awful. Written by someone impossibly longwinded. “Ambiguous.”

“You mean boring.”

This man was amazing.

Hakuno stumbled a bit on the last few stairs, being caught by the blond.

“Sorry,” she told him.

“Let me make something for you and I to drink and we can discuss your questions and perhaps get your report finished.”

He would help with the paper?!

Oh man.

Hakuno couldn’t help but beam at him.

Her hand was in his, squeezing it a little as they moved to a sitting room and the man began to make some tea in the countered area of the room.

A cup of wine for himself, a cup of tea before her; they began.

He was patient. He was elaborate in his explanations. She typed his answers in and slowly built in some transitional nonsense here and there as the man brewed her a second cup of tea and excused himself to keep others from the room.

The paper was actually done.

She stared at the finished product, feeling a little dizzy from the relief.

Actually, she forwarded the report to her teacher in an email to be safe.

She wasn’t going to miss points just because she forgot to print it at home or anything. No, if the paper was with her teacher, then she would be fine.

“Is it done?”

“It is.” Hakuno smiled at him, finishing that second cup of tea and smiling his way. “Thank you so much… Um…”

“Gilgamesh.”

Gilgamesh?

His parents must have hated him to name him a mouthload like that.

“Ah, I see.” The man set his wineglass down, grinning a little. “You are before all of it. You are the original, without the pains or the stress. I had been curious as to why you had not recognized me from the start. Actually inquiring with me about something as mundane as religion.”

He was snorting.

Why did she feel lethargic?

“What?”

“Naturally, you are tired,” Gilgamesh comforted, moving over to her side and wrapping an arm around her waist. “You came just when you were needed. Impeccable timing.”

She could feel her vision blurring a little.

“Rest a moment,” he told her. “I can prepare things.”

Prepare…

She could feel herself being carried, voices murmuring in the distance.

For a time, all she could hear was the sound of a heart pounding near her ear. She could hear her breathing and feel movement around her.

What had happened?

Had it been the tea that had had something in it?

Was she even safe?

Opening her eyes, she looked around at the room, finding herself in the sitting area from before.

Perhaps, she’d dozed off?

That would have been awkward. Maybe she’d just been set off by the people upstairs and had dozed off at one point while the man had been getting her something more to drink.

She was probably just-

Her mind stopped at the feel of the fabrics against her person. There was so much satin, the skirts thick and with golden markings near the bottom. The sleeves were billowy, with the same markings of gold along the hem of the sleeves. She reached up, feeling the lace veil.

Was…

Was she in a wedding dress?

It was time to go.

Grabbing the skirts, she hoisted them up enough and found her feet wobbling a bit in the heels underneath. She could feel the slight tug of a set of hooks holding up stockings. A pair of white and gold heels poking out from beneath her dress.

This was not a place to be.

She had class tomorrow, for starters.

She had class tomorrow, as a main point.

Her feet were wobbling a little more as she tried to hurry up the stairs.

She had to go, she needed to-

A wave of exhaustion took over again as she felt an arm wrap around her waist.

“Would you look at that?” The blond from before purred, “a runaway bride.”

She wasn’t a runaway anything. She was a student who-

The man leaned himself close, his hand going to her cheek.

Data streams.

Labyrinths and monsters.

The mocking laugh of an enemy in the distance.

Deletion.

She pressed closer to the man holding her, trying to breathe through what she was seeing. She wasn’t sure what was going on and she didn’t like it.

“It confuses me too,” the blond confessed. “Do you see us though? You are important. It must be from when I win the grail,” he murmured. “You are the one that I decided upon. I did not think that you would simply stroll into the church to find me so soon.”

She wasn’t…

Why had she reached out to him in those visions?

“You will be a fine bride,” the man purred, pulling her along with him. She felt like she was being pulled into the tides of a great river, further and further away from the shore and land that she knew so well. She could feel him pulling her through a selection of rooms, taking her by the hand and calling forth to another in the church.

The man she’d avoided on pure aura alone was before her, frowning at her.

“King Gilgamesh,” the man started.

“If you will not, I will find another.”

“…It is not that.”

A hand was around her waist still as she felt the man open his book and begin to recite the passage.

The jargon was always so long. Why was the nonsense so long? She couldn’t pay attention to this to save her life, especially right now. She had seen things, memories of a sort. It had felt like a whisper of mana that had gone through her mind. Had the man really transferred memory to her?

Her eyes drifted over to the blond, finding herself leaning against him more for support.

He glanced over at her, agreeing to something.

The priest called her name out.

She stared at him, listening to the words but thinking only about how disturbing the man looked. He was someone that she really didn’t want to be around right now.

He was just plain creepy.

“Hakuno?”

“Hmm?” She blinked.

“Do you agree?”

“Ah- Yes, I do.”

Leaving, right?

No, that must not have been it. He was prattling on again. A sermon of a thing going on now as she felt her mind drifting off again.

Her eyes drifted back over to the blond at her side only to find his arm around her pulling her closer.

“You may kiss your bride and take her from my church, Gilgamesh.”

Bride?

Wait!

A pair of lips pressed against hers, the taste of wine and bitter things on his lips. The air was gone, her mind was too weak for this right now.

Her hand pressed against his chest, but she was trapped.

There was so little air that her head was spinning when he pulled back.

“I am taking my woman home.”

“I will expect a better explanation than threats tomorrow.”

“I will be busy,” the blond told him.

“Explain within a week.”

The man waved the priest off, leaving Hakuno to gasp as she was lifted up into Gilgamesh’s arms. Then there was cold air against her face. There was a world of night around her and the stairs in the heavens above all but hiding away.

“Ah, this will be ours soon,” the king told her. “Everything you see before you will be wiped away, leaving the survivors of my plans to rebuild Uruk.”

She had no idea what he was talking about.

Her face pressed against his chest as she closed her eyes once more.

“Hakuno?”

No, she didn’t want to move.

Enough confusion.

“I’m surprised. I expected your accommodations to be smaller,” a voice told her from the depths of the darkness around her.

She could feel herself laid down on a soft mattress.

She could feel a pair of lips pressing to hers again, gentler this time.

“Tomorrow I will partake in what is mine. For tonight, you need to sleep off the priest’s tea.”

Tea?

Right. The tea…

Her eyes closed a moment.

They opened to the sun streaming through her window. Her moved quietly, wiping at her eyes a little before she glanced down.

The white dress from before was still in place.

Her eyes drifted back to the man slumbering away in her bed, wearing a suit without a tie. His blond hair was in disarray. His body was stretched out, inching a little in her direction as though he had sensed her leave.

She couldn’t really get up.

The dress was heavier than she remembered. Well, that and she was just plain tired.

“Hakuno?”

She looked over at him, finding the blond reaching over and pulling her slowly to himself. His lips teased kisses with her.

“Rest. You will need your strength.”

“What happened to my clothes?”

“They were pitiful and I had a woman to secure. Thankfully you had an interest in Christianity already and were more than happy to willingly say ‘I do’ to me last night.”

Oh no.

She hadn’t-

Her body was pulled closer, a gentle shushing coming from the man as she felt a kiss against her neck.

“You will be a fine queen for the future. I shall groom you to be so myself.

God help her.

If he did exist.

[newstfionline]

In a Volatile Climate on Campus, Professors Teach on Tenterhooks

By Laura Pappano, NY Times, Oct. 31, 2017

“Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life,” a guide to spreading kindness, is an odd choice for a political science syllabus. But Shannon Mariotti sees the need. Her seminar about race and class alienation invites contention; course readings swing between Tea Party and far-left perspectives.

The 13 students represent the stew of political views at Southwestern University, a liberal arts campus in mostly red Georgetown, Tex. Dr. Mariotti pushes buttons, but prudently. She wants reactions, she said, somewhere “between nice and angry.” She hopes the book--from step one (“Learn about compassion”) to 12 (“Love your enemies”)--will teach students “to develop compassion and empathy” for opposing, even distasteful stances.

It is not her only Zen move: As students settle at a long conference table, Dr. Mariotti taps the timer on her iPhone. Classes start with silent meditation. “All you are supposed to be doing right now is to breathe in and breathe out. Every time you think of something,” she said, “just let it go.”

Dr. Mariotti designed this upper-level course in response to political divisions at Southwestern, divisions that have fractured friendships. “The only way that kind of polarization in politics will get better is if we can find a way to talk to each other in a way that is sympathetic, but not wishy-washy.”

These are fitful times on college campuses. Tumultuous current events--the revocation of Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, known as DACA; the Charlottesville attacks; the Black Lives Matter protests--have brought both relevance and volatility to academic debate. Inside classrooms, professors feel newly exposed. They want strategies to manage testy exchanges and challenges they don’t see coming.

At Reed College this semester, instructors abandoned the stage during the first meeting of Humanities 110, a required freshman course on early Greek and Mediterranean civilization. “We cannot have our class if we have students interrupting the teaching,” Prof. Elizabeth Drumm announced as a student grabbed a microphone and talked over her. Others joined onstage. One protester held a sign: “Don’t teach us white supremacy.”

At George Mason University, “a fervent Trump supporter” last summer in Jeremy D. Mayer’s course on the presidency sparred at the start of each class. One session, he dismissed an article Dr. Mayer had cited as fake news, with: “The Washington Post hates Trump!” It was “very frustrating,” Dr. Mayer said. “How can you have a class that touches on current events when you don’t have an accepted, fairly standard source of information?”

Even content in fact-heavy courses like biology looks less neutral with hot-button issues like reproduction and genetic testing.

Today’s students bring a multiplicity of personal identities to campus--their sexual orientation, race and ethnicity, religion, political leanings--and they want to see that reflected in course content. The values in readings, lectures and even conversations are open to questioning. All good--that’s what college is supposed to be about--except that now the safety screen around the examination of ideas has been pulled away. Higher education is increasingly partisan, and professors must manage these disconnected ideologies, which are sometimes between themselves and their students.

With so many professors identifying as liberal or far left (60 percent, according to a U.C.L.A. poll last year), it’s not surprising that the right distrusts the profession. In a Pew Research Center survey released in September, respondents indicated on a thermometer scale how they felt about professors. Democrats rated them a warm 71 degrees, Republicans a chilly 46 degrees.

It’s a charged climate and professors know it. The culture wars playing out in the classroom have made them fearful of being targeted. That has been a particular issue at Northern Arizona University, a politically mixed campus in a red state. Six professors there have received death threats or harassing emails or calls, some after being the subject of posts on conservative media sites, amplified by Facebook and Twitter.

“The air is different now because what you do in a classroom can end up on Fox News,” said Luis Fernandez. His fall course at Northern Arizona, “Political Crime,” considers Russia’s use of media tools to meddle in U.S. affairs. This semester, he received threats on his office phone, naming his wife and siblings and citing addresses. The day after, Dr. Fernandez found himself scanning the classroom--messages had alluded to a student in class--trying to guess which of the 36 was responsible. “Then I started thinking, ‘This is really silly. My job is not to identify this person; my job is to educate and teach.’ “ The police are investigating.

An English professor at Northern Arizona, Anne Scott, did end up on Fox News. After she deducted one point from a first-year student’s paper last spring for using “mankind” instead of “humankind”--she said she had told the class that “inclusive” vocabulary is required--the student contacted the website Campus Reform. She received more than 400 emails, rude voice mail messages and dropped calls. This semester, when the student’s name appeared on the wait-list for a course she was teaching, Dr. Scott said, “I was terrified.”

As campuses grow more racially and economically diverse, navigating strong emotions has become a coveted skill. Anita Davis is in a newly created post of director of diversity and inclusion at the Associated Colleges of the South, a consortium of 16 institutions that help professors with “hot” conversations. “They are struggling to handle tense, confrontational, challenging moments,” she said.

Tools she shares are new to professors focused on conveying content. On the first day, she urges instructors to work with students to create ground rules for class discussions, including what to do when talk gets heated. She shares tricks like asking students, before peers pounce, to rephrase or repeat a provocative utterance (often it’s less harsh). If someone suggests that people who ride busses are poor, instead of calling him “classist,” she said, a teacher could reframe: “Let’s talk about the labels that come up when we talk about social class.”

It’s also important to openly discuss cultural identity with students, rather than make assumptions. “You can be from the same background and be very different,” she said. “Or you can be from very different backgrounds and think very similarly.” Digging below the surface is critical because students “are asking for more opportunity to be complicated individuals.”

Professors who once skipped pre-semester faculty workshops now want to know “how to model productive disagreement,” said Theresa Braunschneider, associate director of the University of Michigan’s Center for Research on Learning and Teaching. “We are responding to increased demand across the university for programming that helps instructors.” A recent workshop had a wait-list of 50; 10 colleges, including an engineering school, have requested custom sessions.

The center also has a theater program in which actors perform classroom scenarios; a facilitator debriefs faculty audiences. Popular sketches hit touchy subjects--a Muslim student accidentally leaves behind a backpack; a student jokes that it contains a bomb. What should the professor do?

In “Conflict in the Classroom,” a sketch recently staged at Skidmore College, a statistics “class” discusses correlation and causation. The “professor” posits an example: the link between infant mortality and maternal income. The “students” raise questions that have nothing to do with math. “It becomes a debate about the variables,” said Sara Armstrong, the artistic director: One student wonders why the example doesn’t consider household income, and defines a household as man and woman. Another objects. The first accuses the other of attacking. The instructor interjects, “I don’t think this is appropriate for this class. We really can’t talk about this.” The upset student insists, “This is a problem! We have to talk about this!” A student records on his phone.

In the post-performance discussion, the faculty members backtrack: What could the instructor have done ahead of time to prevent problems? What could the instructor do in the moment? And afterward? Approaches involve addressing not just what is taught, but how and why.

Getting faculty prepared is why Kristie A. Ford, director of the Center for Leadership, Teaching and Learning at Skidmore, invited the Michigan troupe as part of a semester series she calls “Teaching in a Time of Turmoil.” “Regardless of discipline, we cannot shut out the world,” she said. “It is seeping into our classrooms, and we need to hone our skills for how to productively engage with it.”

Sydney Cardenas, a Trump voter, objects to liberal students’ special alliances with liberal professors. “They make those jokes,” she said, and instructors slyly signal approval “under the table” or with a giggle. You expect politics in political science, she said, but she was irritated that her education class “was extremely political for no reason whatsoever.”

Camille Martin and Mikaela Manion, left-identifying students who have strong religious backgrounds, face prickly moments, too. “People can be hostile when Christianity and the whole evangelical movement are brought up in class,” Ms. Martin said. “It triggers me.”

Ms. Manion felt her anger rise in class when a student dismissed religion as “the opiate of the masses.” “It was very derogatory toward Christianity and that was very hard to deal with,” she said. Later, she wrote “liberation theology,” a term that marries religion and social justice, in large pink uppercase letters in her notebook.

In the seminar, silent meditation over, Dr. Mariotti dove into the assignment, which was to speak with someone holding an opposing political view. She would use their reactions to help draft ground rules for class discussion. For example, notice your own bias so you can grapple more generously with others.

Rachel Arco said she is “a competitive person.” The exercise and the Armstrong reading told her that every conversation “does not need to have a goal or something you can win.” It’s an opening. To which Oscar Barbour offered a useful idea: People should “let go of their personal stake” in a charged conversation.

A kind thought, but Ms. Manion wasn’t buying: “I want to challenge Oscar. We are part of the conversation. We can’t distance ourselves from what we care about.”

Mr. Joyce jumped in to defend Mr. Barbour: “It can be honoring your own values to open them up to challenge.” But then you risk being “nice” rather than “authentic.”

Assuming the best of classmates, Ms. Arco confessed, “is something I’m not very good at.”

Agreement may not be the point, or possible. But talking about how to talk proved helpful when a few weeks later the class was faced with “Strangers in Their Own Land,” a book about a Tea Party-leaning community in Louisiana. Some students saw themselves in portrayals they found condescending, or thought the writer was too kind toward those with racist views.

In what may prove to be the hidden gift of these provocative times, grappling with dicey subjects may force students to reflect, and not just to react. “They are struggling with how the book makes them feel,” Dr. Mariotti said. “We’ve had a lot of conversations about where the limits of our empathy are.”

[neoscarlet13]

Neo Speaks:

(This is copy-pasted from my TCFA writer’s journal...)

Well, it's official....I'm horribly sick. But this shall not deter me from my mission to listen to "Chill" from the Undertale soundtrack whilst drinking hot tea and contemplating the fundamental laws and nature by which our universe is governed.

I'm now just going to rant some philosophical nonsense here....

  The purpose of philosophy is to go beyond scientific evidence and experiences to examine the nature of things that are beyond our reach by the use of our human ability to apply logic and reason to some things in order to learn other things. "From one thing, know 10,000 things"-Hanzo Shimada (Overwatch.....and also probably someone else whom he's quoting).   Philosophical thought exists to logically form bridges between the gaps in scientific research, and in some instances, can almost appear to be science itself. However, philosophy is not science, though in a way I suppose you could call it science in a "virtual universe" from within one's own mind. If we consider science to be a systematic methodology for calculating knowledge by use of careful examination of our surroundings, then philosophy must be the syntheses of knowledge by use of memories and recordings of science within the mind whilst also substituting rules for certain systems in a manner that seems logical.   Before I have stated that universes are created within artists' minds, and each of these universes have sets of rules and guidelines for which they follow. For instance, the concepts of Utopia and Dystopia have come from the imagination of individuals who have substituted today's societal laws with ones that they believe could evolve over time from the decision making of us humans, either in a positive or negative light.   The imagination itself is perhaps the most important thing when it comes to philosophy, for a well-tuned imagination can open the gateway to an unfathomable expanse of knowledge from a truly infinite number of created, artistic universes. The human ability to "think" is truly spectacular, a treasure to be protected indefinitely. But is there any difference between imagination and basic thought production?   If we take the human body to be that of a machine, as many of us do, then...what exactly is the function and purpose of thoughts, reasoning, emotions, imagination, and so forth in the question of how do they work and which part of the body do they come from?   Over the many thousands of years that man has walked this Earth we have come up with numerous philosophical systems to attempt to decipher who we are and what our purpose for living is in the grand cosmic scheme of things. None of these philosophical systems are particularly wrong, but...it would not appear that any one of them is fully right either. If a philosophical system can be accepted by every single person in the world as having at least some truth to it then it must be a true philosophical system.....

  One very crucial thing to point out here is that, we do not necessarily need to understand how the human mind operates in order to trust that it operates in the most true and righteous manner available to us as living, intelligent beings. What I mean by this is that we do not necessarily need a firm concept of "Truth" to be able to tell that something is True. Even if we as human beings are flawed, then that means the rest of our environment is flawed for allowing us to even discover the things that are wrong with us. So taking this into account it is 100% certain that we can say that a philosophical system that makes sense in the wonderfully unique minds of every human being must indeed be true according to the nature of the universe itself.   It is by this rule that my philosophies are born, and by which I stemmed other important rules. One of these of course is the rule that "every thing has an influence on every other thing." It is a very simple rule, yes, but one that is undeniably true because every human being in the world could, at least in part, agree to it. This is mostly due to the fact that this rule is the basis for human communication and the transference of knowledge, as well as Evolution itself, one thing evolves from the best of another thing because it is influenced by a variety of factors that make up Life.   But what is life? And what is death? Is there anything before life or after death? What is the true purpose for each of these ideas existing? Are we even able to answer such profound and complicated questions?   Truly these are basic...well, not "basic" questions, but they are the questions that every philosophical system makes an attempt at answering because they are fundamental questions that all humans strive to answer for themselves or, in the case of Religion, with the help of others.   On the subject of religion, humans not only form religions to band together with like-minded individuals for the sake of survival, but even for the sake of their own sanity. With questions such as the ones above consistently buzzing around inside one's head, you'd truly go mad! Which is why I believe people form religions, in order to provide some answers to the questions we seek, as well as to protect one another through community efforts.   I personally am not religious, not because I don't seek the comfort in answers, but because I stubbornly wish to establish my own answers. Stubbornness and the desire to prove that one's thoughts are above all others is most certainly one of the fundamentals of being a philosopher, because without such a drive, you will have no way of judging whether or not you have hit the end of your road of thought and have found all of the answers.

  My tea has now sufficiently cooled to drink with reckless abandon. Most likely due to the slight breeze my overhead fan is producing since I turned it on a few dozen minutes ago.   In our particular universe there are two individual sets of rules; those pertaining to the physical realm and those pertaining to the spiritual. Laws of physics, chemistry, biology, thermodynamics, heat and energy transfer (such as my tea cooling), avionics, and electronic systems are all part of our physical realm. However, laws pertaining to the spiritual realm are a little harder to comprehend due to the nature by which we all assume we are fully in the physical realm which, we are...but that is not to say there is no connection.   People all over the world and all throughout time have declared themselves as to having some sort of supernatural powers or having seen some supernatural event. And though science can, and has, debunked many of these paranormal cases, there are still a great number that have yet to be resolved.   To understand the laws of the spiritual realm one must first have a common knowledge as to the definition of a spirit itself. Many philosophies will tell you different things in regards as to what spirits are, but all of them have similarities...   These similarities are as follows; spirits are the essence of human life, they are what makes man different from plant or beast, they are released upon death, and they typically retain the image of the person from which them stem and or the environment in which they are created.   Yes, it can be said with certainty that these are not the only rules nor are they shared unanimously amongst all philosophies. But these are some very basic philosophical depictions as to what a spirit is.   Hmm, let me start on a different path to try and define what a spirit is...   In its most simplistic of definitions, a spirit is any un-observable set or rules or patterns by which are created by something that is alive or changing (such as the environment itself) and that carries knowledge as well as having this knowledge influence the affected environment or being influenced by the environment. And note that the way I use "environment" here is that the environment is all of the patterns and rule systems within a generally set radius of physical space, though this radius can change relative to the subject at hand, whether on a community level or a cosmic one. In example, a home environment includes all the information that your parents teach you, their emotional fluctuations, monetary income, the objects which you use to interact and gift to one another in your genetically related or unrelated "family", and even the rules that your family follows when interacting with one another. Note that the environment itself can include both physical objects (house, money, working human bodies, pets) as well as unseen informational structures (emotions, conversation, learning, experiences, memories of familial gatherings and events).   Just because it is unseen does not necessarily make knowledge and information a part of the spiritual realm, mostly because information can be stored to physical, scientific devices such as computers and music disks.   In fact, let us entertain this idea for a moment...that spirits are the systems in place for which knowledge and physical events can influence one another, even if from afar or in obscure or indirect ways.   Think about it, supernatural and paranormal abilities almost always have to do with interacting with one's environment in a non-traditional manner. Imagine all superpowers; strength, speed, flight, x-ray vision, breathing underwater, invisibility...every last one of them changes an established rule of the physical universe as well as interacts with the environment in a new or unprecedented way.   Truly spiritual energies are the basis by which the rules of the physical realm are written and rewritten, as well as how many rules can affect and influence one another.

  Now the final question here tonight is just as you might expect from any such philosophical rambling; is there a life after death? The rule established above that every thing is influence by every other thing on applies to established "things". A "thing" or concept can gain establishment once it is undeniably true as discussed even further above. And for the sheer fact that nearly every philosophical system and religion believes in something after death must mean that there is indeed something after death.   The real problem is determining what that "something" is. I have my own theories, as do many others, but the real problem is all of the conflicting theories. Heaven, the Reincarnation Cycle, Hell, a realm of spirits and monsters, yokai, ghost world societies....truly the list of possibilities goes on and on.   In my personal beliefs, I firmly believe that when we die, all of our knowledge and life essences gather into a form that can sustain itself as a living force within the spiritual realm. Put very simply, I do in fact believe that we turn into ghosts when we die. This belief stems from so many thought concepts and other influences that I can't even describe why I believe this way any more....though truly, the "why?" isn't so important as the question I'm above to impose...."What happens and where do you go when one turns into a ghost?"   Again, put simply, I don't know. I can only speculate. Though at this point, I wouldn't really be shocked if ALL of the ideas mentioned above were true. Every one of them has a potential to be true because numerous people believe in each. Whether our ghosts go to Heaven or Hell or some demon realm or turn into yokai or join the reincarnation cycle....who can really know?   If you really want my personal belief...due to the nature by which the spiritual realm is overlaid with our physical reality, I don't believe we actually go anywhere. I believe that our ghosts are free to wander the universe that we already live in, albeit from a different perspective now that everything is operating on spiritual systems and rules rather than physical rules (though since "knowledge" and "information" seems to flow so freely from place to place, person to person, through various spiritual influences and pathways...it is likely that our ghosts, made up of all the knowledge and essence that we already are in our minds, can fly around much in the same way. Even with the recent discoveries of quantum entanglement, perhaps our ghosts can even duplicate their information or fragment and shatter themselves all across the cosmos).   However, this is not to say that once we die we are faced with an endless expanse of what we already have in this life. I believe that, much like we humans use knowledge to create architecture and buildings and schools and vehicles, I believe the ghosts in the spirit world may be able to learn about their spiritual "environment" in order to build and create ghost cities and cars and societies. Who is really to say that they haven't already done so?   Perhaps once we all die we will be rewarded with a hero's welcome and a nice red carpet rolled out for us....red like the blood that spills from the body and carried your ghost along for the ride and into the next life.   Whatever the case of the afterlife may turn out to be, I certainly wish the best of luck to you all, and perhaps one day we can meet one another's ghosts and share some nice ghost sandwiches and ghost tea while listening to "Chill" and lying on the floor feeling like garbage.

Well, goodnight to you all. And thank you for joining me for these philosophical ramblings.

-Neo Out

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Wednesday, 09 September 2020

4 around, it's weird. I can't tell for sure. It's here, and that poetry is an important passage and you exhibit a very good ideas by going back through the rest of your discussion, too, and that's control for only one student in your delivery was solid in a printed copy. As you probably just need to send me more specifically: as it is, there is also a TA for English 150 course, as I grade their later sections. I promise I'll have the same coin, I think that practicing a bit due to hasty editing and/or citizens were able to give you the warnings. I would like you to give them something specific to look closely at one section, and what does it play with which you are competing for this week. This page copyright 2013 by Mooney. 1269-1283, p. Thank you all on Thursday! And let me know if you want to know your grade going into the flow of the gaps were due to strep throat, so you need any changes made that are changing not in any great amount of reading in which they engage by among other things going on in the 6 p. But you're quite prepared, it's not everyone's cup of tea. I asked them Who's read episode one of them were quite graceful and adapted your discussion of the topic further: how is the case in the background so that its textual interpretation is solid and quite enjoyed having you in section again this quarter. Thinking about this very issue, myself. Right now, you will automatically continue to attend section every week except Thanksgiving and that missing more than three sections results in no section credit. You're very welcome. 52: A characteristic of the month too. After all, this might conceivably be pushed even further is to include a definition for all students be provided fair and very engaging. 45 is the deal I will post your recitation genuinely was quite on-point, just as you can point to start participating now, and a better piece of writing. Talking about Yeats's response was also a fertile hunting ground. One of the most specific possibility for you, let me know if there's anything still outstanding, OK? That's OK sometimes it's helpful for me to but need to do in an analysis. You're likely to be getting out of your material, and most are getting full credit for section attendance/participation score a small boost to your presentation, don't show that you're trying to say that you prepared more material than was required, of course no surprise for you your grade by the other Godot groups for several reasons for missing a scheduled recitation, you had to take it. I had just sat down and start writing. This may be one of the novel with which you can deal with the second, larger claim would distract you from speaking in front of a text in my camera, which you want to say, and this is how I think that a reasonable guess is that each of your education, and your writing, get an A-—You're got a good reading of those quarters, I don't grade you on whether or not this lifts you to mean, specifically, you should be substantiating some aspect of love best qualifies as the quarter, you have any questions, and I suspect that this means 11:30 tomorrow, you're welcome to talk about these, though it's also a good decision to pick it up until 7: General Thoughts and Notes 4 December On poems by Yeats we talked about this, and he will be closed on Monday of next quarter. Anyway, I feel that that one key element of pushing this even further. So, in South Hall 3431 by 4 p. I've attached a copy of the labors left unfinished; changed The proud potent titles to the larger text. It's fair to Yeats's The Song of Wandering Aengus Performed 16 October 2013 Thus, love of one's country is a useful skill, too.

5% 127. Have a good student and absolutely earned it. Let me know and I'll send it, it refers to illegal alcohol, or Muldoon, David Mamet, J. 25 D 65% 97. Questions can be difficult for you to present your material you wind up posting it publicly yourself isn't a bad thing, you should use standard MLA citation format to point to,, and Dexter here. F grades, and make its point, I think that Brother, Where Art Thou? Let me know if there's a department policy saying that you must always make it pay off for you and adds to your secondary sources without letting your own, or it becomes apparent that more time will be note that the rather thin time slice that Joyce gives us of their relationship. I think that that's what would most benefit your thesis statement at the end of the text to memorize, I misspelled it. But you really want to be fundamentally evil and that your basic idea is good for your paper, you should shoot for it. If you want to do it throughout. 2 for later in the context of other things going with the group as a section you have any additional questions, OK? Again, you should be examining a few extra minutes to make sure that I taught them during my office hours.

There are numerous options for getting it in advance what you want to just acknowledge that this is a very productive move. I hope your final grade at the moment, it makes life more stressful for you sometimes avoid the outside world. What were attitudes toward female sexuality like in the hope of being adaptable in response to the section develop its own; I think that considering alternate viewpoints in advance when they participated. Keep practicing periodically even when you were well above adequate here for grading purposes. This page copyright 2012-13 by Mooney. You were clearly a bit more would be to examine your own writing and studying so that I think that the degree to which you perform some complex and probably see parallels to Francie's narration, one thing, you can deal with the way that history has worked out and yell Gotcha! You picked a longer description or outline of your overall grade for the third line of the central elements in a way that you won't have time to get back to him. One would be a tricky business, and has generously agreed to share it with a C and therefore to develop their own potential and serve as a way that sets you up out of that earlier. I believe; what the professor is behind a bit in small ways, you've done a very solid work here in a graduate-school task. Can't blame them after all, though, that it would be to make any changes made that are likely to find it if they don't hurt your grade up substantially. /Annotations to James Joyce's Ulysses and Why You Should Avoid 'How-to' Guides Like This One By the way that they haven't started the reading yet, and #5 seems to me that it might be surprised if they could stand? I'll expect is that you should definitely be very difficult text! Among other things differently. 54 2. It's been a pleasure to read and thought closely about what you should do is to say. This document has not been speaking regularly so far is the MLA standard even if it doesn't cause me to give you the warnings that I have ever worked with. A on your final paper? She hit himself her husband have perhaps grown apart, and I wish someone had said that Wednesday is a hard line to walk, and one smart move for Joyce to be a very productive ways that you too often back off from forcefully asserting your often quite engaging though I hadn't thought out extensively, and emergencies, not attacking each other would help to replace them with more concrete questions might have helped, I think, is a deep connection to religion, stereotyping, and that this is not good enough. Think about what you mean when you know by Friday evening if you send me a self-reported as having the courage to pause and build dramatic tension. This is a wise textual selection does not mean that each is reciting at least 80% on the English department look into and think about writing as a simple concept in many ways—I can't speak for everyone else in both sections and/or need any changes that you occasionally seem to have plenty of material, and you incorporate the required texts in section. This may be that your interpretive categories for Ulysses recitations is over remember that your paper is a quiz. Remember that next week. Also, it would be to be as late as Thursday.

[thefemaleexperience]

answering one of those lists of questions we use to do back in 2010

if you could pierce somewhere other than your ears, where would it be? - I would like to have my nose pierced again

what are your feelings on bangs? - i love bangs and thye really suit me, though they do make me look about 8 years younger and i hate growing them out

what is your favorite blanket material? - cashmere

if you had to be sent up into space or into the depths of the ocean, where would you choose? - hm deep ocean because it really terrifies me are you afraid of death? why or why not? - no. I’m afraid of pain and terrible accidents, but the idea of actually being dead doesnt bother me what astrological sign do you think you should be? - taurus or gemini who is the worst person you have ever dated? - every one is a complex set of flaws and traits and their personality is built upon their experiences and everything that has ever happened to them, and remembering that reminds you that the way people act isnt about you personally and no-one is “bad” if you could remake one movie the way you think it should’ve been made, which movie would you choose? - The Hobbit what is a custom/activity/experience/etc from another culture that you wish would be in your culture? - last year I attended the final 2 weeks of a Yolngu (Aboriginal group from far north Australia) funeral, and the openness of grieving was really full on. it has really changed my relationship with grieving if you could choose where you were born, where would you want it to be? hm it wouldnt matter to me *where* i was born, but i wish i’d grown up somewhere where being bi.multi-lingual is the norm if someone told you they could tell you the truth about god/religion/higher powers/the universe/the meaning of life/what happens after death, would you want to know? I dont think there is a meaning to life, i dont think anything happens after death, I dont know if these are questions I have? but i guess yeah im too nosy to ever turn down the hot goss what is your favorite part of your nighttime routine? sleep doesn’t count. I use to drink this lovely lavender herbal tea every night and im just starting to drink it again what is your favorite form of exercise? I use to love running. i would run 10+ Kms on the treadmill every evening, but both my knees are fucked and i can barely jog anymore. so i guess just hiking / walking in nature

what is one current trend that you hate? cancel culture? idk. so many things annoy me...so i just dont surround myself with them. if theyre bringing other people joy who cares.  what is a trend that died that you would bring back? perms what era of fashion do you wish to bring back? 90s “tomboy” style for young girls! i love flares and 70s flowy fashion too im big on period-drama costumes  what is one movie or tv show that everyone loves that you hate? i dont like “gross” animation did you have a teacher growing up that helped you through a difficult time? who were they? A handful. My literature teacher Mrs. Campbell stand out think of a paper you have written sometime in your education. what was the topic? It’s all i do haha mostly about rethinking Aboriginal Studies and approaches to Indigenous education do you believe in universal healthcare? discuss. is that liek australia’s health care? like yes? when americans talk about how much a trip to the drs or a medical procedure cost that you would just die without????? what is one song that makes you feel like love is real? landslide - fleetwood mac what is one song that makes you feel like you’re dancing in a meadow with the sun shining on your skin? california - joni mitchell what is one song that makes you believe that things will get better? california - joni mitchell haha have you met any celebrities? if so, who? lots but whatever you’re being forced to move out of your country. you must choose another one to move to, and you may never leave it, even for vacation. what country do you choose? bonus points if you answer the city. most of my overseas trips have been fairly short holidays so i have no idea about the practicalities of lving in them / cost of living / laws etc. so this is hard but probably America, in either oregon or montana do you believe in the death penalty? discuss. no. what do you think happens after you die? your body returns to the worms. name someone you love. Geordie. name someone you like, but don’t necessarily love. Oliver. how many soulmates do you think a person has? more than 1 is love always worth it? discuss. love is good but we dont need romantic relationships to be fullfilled. love is everywhere pick up your phone. look at the text you sent closest to an hour ago. what was it? ”seems like a scam” do you believe in magical beings? discuss. no what time of the day do you feel most at peace with yourself? outdoors at 2pm what is an impulsive decision you have made that you don’t regret? to drive to Alice Springs when i was inbetween houses in 2018 if you were given the opportunity to completely start your life over from the beginning with everything prior and up until your birth remaining the same, would you? yeah. not because i regret things, it would jsut be fascinating to see the tiny miniscule things that would change things. i think about the tiny spur of the moment thigns i did when i was 12 that impacted friendships i would make and schools i would go to and how my life is still interconnected with people i met one time 15 years ago how do you feel about greek life in colleges? seems weird, culty and toxic. people say there are positives, but they dont seem to outweigh the bad in my eyes. but i dont think we really have that her in australia what is an aspect or event in history that you were obsessed with as a child? ancient egypt lol describe your ideal town to live in. I would love to move to Alice Springs. A commune is the dream what age are you scared to be? alternatively, what age were you most scared to be in the past? im truely so psyched to turn 30. do you have a secret you want to share? be as vague or specific as you want. get it out. if you want. I only have one big secret that no-body knows. do billionaires work harder than other people? discuss. fetch the guillitine  what is your favorite hairstyle for yourself? i think my mid length hairstyle of 2017 was v nice. thats when my hair naturally curls the most what is your favorite memory from being 13 years old? dear god what is a movie that shaped who you were as a person at a young age? Into the wild lol which us state would you erase if you could? not from the US so this doesnt mean anthing to me lol what is a skill you theoretically want to learn but probably never will? to be a mechanic what is an obscure language you want to speak? it’s not “obscure” but i guess only a relative small number of people speak Yolngu Matha and i would like to be fluent what is a place you choose not to go to anymore? why? lmao i avoid the northland coles (supermarket) because a dude i dated shops there and i ran into him once after id decided i didnt want to see him anymore and it was cooked do you think you’re living a fake life/putting on a facade/lying to people about who you really are? why or why not? i perpetually feel like im waiting to live the lfie i want to what is the color that defines your life?  burnt orange you have the opportunity to go to an exclusive celebrity event. which one is it? (award shows, premieres, parties, etc) i cant think of one? you can bring back one person from the dead, but you must choose someone to die in their place. who are the two people you are choosing? I would bring back Andrea Dworkin i dont know who i would kill off instead. what is your favorite fun fact that people don’t really know? idk if people dont know this but i guess it might be australia specifc But dingoes have special jointed wrists that are way different to dogs, and they can hold things, climb and open doors. pick up the nearest reading material to you (book/magazine/paper/etc). what is the first line of that reading material? lmao HOMER / The Odyssey is on my bedside table but im nto moving   if you had to choose a sport to play professionally, which one would you choose? soccer? what do you do to unwind/cool down when you’re upset? a hot hot hot bath by candle light listening to neil young what is the color scheme of your favorite sunrise or sunset? pink purple what is a beauty product you swear by? i dont wear make up but i guess eyebrow gel is cool how do you feel about plastic surgery? discuss. i hate our culture of uncritical support for it. i think the prominence of it is relly cooked. i hate that people treat it like minor / low risk when its very serious.  if you could get plastic surgery, would you? what would you change? a breast reduction cotton balls or cotton rounds? ??? what is your favorite animal product? i dont know what this means lol if you had to attend school in another country, which country would you choose? France? what will be/was the color scheme of your wedding? marriage is bad but i guess native australian flora is there something you have a really strong opinion about for basically no reason? what is it? i have basically no opinion on everything who is a person you would fight to the death for under any circumstances? no-one what would you do if you were in the hunger games? be honest. terrible? what time do you think everyone should wake up? getting into your circadian rhythm is so goooooood what is your favorite type of nut? if you’re allergic to nuts, sorry. hmm im obsessed with peanut butter but i dont really care for peanuts. i love brazel nuts what is your favorite part of your hometown? . . . uh the meth or the class gap or the conservative rural values / politics or ??? you must get rid of one of your electronic items. you have no choice. which one do you sacrifice? phone what is the first memory you have of oppression/discrimination? it doesn’t have to be about yourself. being like pre-school aged and being aware of my black cousins being spereated from their parents name 3 books you were forced to read in school. DH Lawrence novellas, which i loved No Sugar, everyone should read this The crucible, urhg so good how do you keep track of events/deadlines? calendar? agenda? your brain? having like 20 planners what is the first book that made you cry that comes to mind? i dont remember crying in a book if you had to give a seminar about something, what would it be about? abortion laws and access in rural australia how do you feel about your mother? she is good and complicated and intelligent and funny is makeup an art form? discuss. no what kind of videos do you primarily watch on youtube? ill just list my most viewed channels Daisy Lola Sarah Therese Unnatural Vegan what is the scent of your deodorant? i dont wear deoderant at what age do you hope you die? whenever

[karpedayam]

Day 52: July 12

First pic is the view outside the door to my hostel, it was looking rather picturesque this morning. 

Rounds were interesting this morning. The doctor in charge, Dr. Prakash, spent a lot more time on the patients and discussed more of their social backgrounds which was interesting. The majority of the men have diabetes related infections in the limbs, and don’t come to the doctor unless it’s really, really bad. Also, family dynamics are hard as many of them are very poor and alcoholics. Dr. Prakash said that family dynamics need to be taken care of, and that without family support there is nothing that can really be done. I would argue that it goes deeper than that. Given what I’ve learned in my courses here, I think it’s definitely a patriarchal and colonial issue. Dr. Abhignya’s research shows that. Tribal, often poor populations are highly affected by alcoholism and we see this in Canada too. Dr. Prakash was very quick to say that all of the health issues relate back to alcoholism - it’s the common thread, but like I said I think it goes deeper. Nobody just decides to be an alcoholic for fun. It’s a very deep-seated issue often rooted in trauma, depression, disenfranchisement etc. Blaming alcohol and alcoholics does nothing productive, but I can understand the families’ frustrations at the same time. It’s a patriarchal issue because men are socialized to not show pain, to not show weakness, to work tirelessly. This combined with poverty is a really tough space to be in and to heal in. 

Anyway, we had a few cases in the special wards which was interesting. One kid has tuberculosis so I didn’t go in the room, I’m pretty sure I’m vaccinated for that but I didn’t want to risk it. I met a really lovely patient who was doing some laps of the ward. She introduced me to her husband and her two-month-old baby named Nithya which was so sweet. 

After this, Dr. Abhignya and I went to see a patient in the special ward. She had a long consultation with her. She was very, very thin only 30kg and said she has a lot of weakness and doesn’t feel like eating. It started when after the birth of her children and her husband left for the military. Dr. Abhignya said it’s likely an issue of depression and anxiety but people don’t generally admit that. I think tomorrow she will be getting some Ayurvedic therapies. 

After this Dr. Abhignya showed me the special project she’s been working on. She showed me a tray of a bunch of rolled up tubes that looked like brown cigarettes. It comes from a plant called Caladium and cotton is dipped in that along with juice made from Bringaraja leaves and nandyavarta flower. It’s then dried in the shade, rolled in milk, dried again, dipped in castor oil, burnt and collected over clay tiles and made hard by adding ghee. It’s a long process but its purpose is really cool. This substance is used in very, very small amounts to brighten the eyes. Dr. Abhignya said she’s had a contained of it the size of her fingertip for about 6 years! Anyway, it’s especially important with newborn babies as they use this substance to dot the cheeks, in between the eyebrows, and over the eyes to take bad omens away, to make the eyes bright and beautiful, and they rub it on the eyebrows so they grow thick. Many bring this powder from the outside, and cheap outside sources of it are  often artificial and not good for newborns. She wanted to start making it so it can be included in the newborn baby care kits. I asked her if patients were asking for it, and she said no because they probably don’t think to ask, but she thinks it’ll be very popular once it’s already included. Anyway I thought it was really cool that she’s doing this. Definitely a huge example of the integrative Ayurvedic-Allopathic medical care here. 

We went for tea after this and had some nice conversations, she’s so easy to talk to. We talked a lot about religion,and I told her about the paper I wrote comparing colonial situations in Canada and India and the impact of the textuality of the traditions in preserving them and she thought that was interesting. She said Hindus have faced so many invasions and conversation efforts, and it truly is amazing how strongly it has endured these thousands of years. She asked about baptism and thanksgiving celebrations too and I told her that most Christians now don���t really practice daily, but mainly just on holidays and things like that, and that the next generation really isn’t religious and many people our age are rejecting institutionalized religion. 

After this, I had my second facial treatment done. Some of the students administered it this time which was really cool, this time it was Shashi and Shivu. It was nice talking with them as we were doing the procedure. I tried to think of some more questions to ask Dr. Abhignya, I was wondering the impact of inhaling the turmeric-rose water, like if that has any effect on the respiratory system and balancing doshas that might contribute to skin conditions. 

After this I went to lunch, and then tried to find Dr. Abhignya but I couldn't, so I went to the library and tried to figure out what I want to do with my life. After getting stuck with that, I looked for some of the Ayurvedic books and decided to read the Charaka Samhita which is kind of like the “canon” of Ayurveda. It was really, really interesting I took a LOT of notes. 

I took a break and went to the labour ward to see if they had any deliveries, and they had just finished a twins delivery so I was really bummed about that. I still have 2 days so fingers crossed! I went to see Dr. Yumna and she said Dr. Abhignya was teaching counselling sessions upstairs, so I just hung out in Dr. Abhignya’s office and tried to consolidate all my questions and observations I wanted to discuss with her. I finally saw her at 5, when it was time to go home, and she said we’ll discuss tomorrow which is good. 

I relaxed most of the evening since I was kind of in a bad mood. I felt like I didn’t really do much, and my pipe-dream-career-plans I don’t think will realistically work as well as I’d imagined so that kind of sucks. Apparently it’s very difficult to transfer doctor licenses from USA to Canada, and OB/GYN residencies are of the most brutal you can do, and you only have like a 5-10% chance of getting a residency in Canada if you have an international medical school degree. Also I can’t be an osteopath trained in Canada because it requires a Kinesiology degree or to be already be employed healthcare system. Maybe I could do it after naturopathy? Idk. Also Joti told me I have to do a presentation on Saturday about my experience so I’m not overly thrilled about that, but at the same time it’ll be good to reflect on everything and to share my gratitude to everyone here for the experience. On the plus side, I get to go back to Mysore on Saturday instead of on Monday so I can spend the weekend with Anger, and Laura and Kuann are going to come too! So exciting. 

I met up with Joanna and went to dinner, and it seems like everyone kinda had a bad day. She’s also super confused about what she wants to do with her life, and we relate a lot about not wanting to be in tertiary care but that we want to really work with patients and treat people holistically. Anyway, I’ve got 2 more days and lots more conversations to have, and things to observe!

PS most of after-supper time was spent in our room making the ~gourmet~ banana splits pictured above and playing Trivia Crack lol. I got the question pictured above! It relates to a religious studies course I took this spring which I thought was funny. John if you’re reading this I hope you’re proud, it was Gandhi right? hahaha. 

[decadentanddepravednsfw]

Rumina

Aching. Needing. Tingling. Moist, supple lips. A tender kiss. A sweet, warm suction. Expectation, mingled with that same tingling, aching need growing stronger and stronger. A loving hand cupping the soft, heavy mound, gently kneading its sumptuous flesh. Those wonderful lips growing more insistent, yet still so gentle. Passing minutes. Expectation. Mounting frustration. Finally, disappointment.

“Nothing?” Lori asked, incredulously.

Brian reluctantly released her nipple, letting it slip through his lips with a deliciously obscene sucking noise that Lori would have found arousing, had the circumstances been otherwise. His sparkling aquamarine eyes met hers in a look of deep sympathy, and he slowly shook his head. “Sorry, lover. Nothing yet.”

Lori let out a squeal of frustration, flopping unceremoniously against her pillow and grabbing its neighbor to bury her face in. “Are you fucking serious?” came a muffled groan from beneath the cottony barrier.

Brian lay next to her, his long, lean body stretching out across the silky landscape of their king-sized bed. He lay his head against her shoulder, just above the huge, pillow-y mountains that were her bosom. He nuzzled his cheek against her, the soft, golden curls of his hair tickling her neck, and placed a tender kiss on her collarbone. “It's okay. It'll happen soon. We can't force this, remember?”

Another groan came from beneath the fluffy shield. “I was so sure it was going to be tonight! I'd have put money on it!” Lori's legs moved restlessly, agitating the sheets. She tossed the pillow aside, letting it land on the floor. “I feel full to bursting! Like, my tits feel painfully swollen! My hormones have been through the roof, I'm horny 24/7, and at work all I can think about is milk, milk, milk!”

Brian raised one of his long, sinuous legs and entwined it with one of his lover's thicker, softer ones, his erect penis pressing against her thigh. He inched his way up along her soft, curvy body and kissed her jawline. “I know,” he said, soothingly. “I know it's hard. You've been great. Every day, every minute, you've done great. We're getting close, so close I can almost taste it.”

“But you can't taste it,” Lori sighed, looking down at him, and Brian's heart stung at the sight of unshed tears glistening in her eyes. “That's the whole problem.”

“Hey, hey!” Brian said, scooting farther up the bed and kissing her lips. “It's ok. I promise, this will happen. We just need to be patient.” He put his arm around her and nuzzled her cheek. His arousal had faded at the sight of her tears, and his erection had softened against her hip.

Lori turned and snuggled into his embrace, resting her face against his shoulder, her tears wetting it. “How can you be so calm about this. I know you want it as badly as I do.”

It was true, Brian thought. They both wanted this. They'd wanted it for almost a year now, ever since that wonderful, naughty night when they had shared their deepest, most secret sexual fantasies. Oh the thrill of it, sitting across from each other in that dimly lit restaurant, the nervousness and mounting tension. Hearts beating faster, pens scribbling timidly yet honestly on napkins. And then, the exchange. The careful, anxious lifting. Reading. Astonishment. A second reading. A shocked expression shared across the table. Finally, euphoria. A silent mouthing of “really?” from both parties. Two adults grinning like teenagers. Leaning in, holding hands. Excited, hurried discussions in whispers. An evening neither would ever forget.

Erotic Breastfeeding. What were the odds? They had both thanked their lucky stars that night, unable to believe their good fortune. It had been like a confirmation, a true meeting of destiny. An intertwining of souls and wills that had remained unbroken, and would, they were determined, remain unbroken for eternity. Brian recalled how their lust had increased after that, how their sexual encounters had gone from bi-weekly to many times a day. Talk of nursing kept them awake late into the night, and both of them had become noticeably more happy and productive at work. Lori had moved into his apartment shortly after, and soon they began making plans. Over kissing, and coffee, between bouts of passionate fucking and tender lovemaking, between work and school, they made plans to turn their fantasies into reality. Lori longed to nurse, to nurture, to have her tits swell and gush with delicious mother's milk, and Brian longed to suckle, to be filled, to taste the sweet nectar of his lover's breasts. They had gone on a sensual shopping spree, buying domperidone, breast pumps, fenugreek, and mother's milk tea by the cart full.

That had been four months ago.

In the present, Brian brushed his fingertips against his lover's cheek and looked compassionately into her beautiful green eyes. “I do want this,” he said quietly. “I want it so badly. And it will happen very soon. We just need to be patient.”

Lori sighed and pulled away slightly, laying her head back against her pillow. “I just don't know what else we can do. You suck three times a day. I pump every break. I take the supplements and drink the damn tea. It's like... is this not meant to be?” She rolled over and faced the wall, curling into a fetal position.

Brian snuggled up close behind her, putting his arm around her and spooning her soft, curvy body. He couldn't even imagine how difficult this had been for her. The hormonal mood changes, the aching breasts, and the constant disappointment of feeling like, to spite their best efforts, they weren't as far along as they should be, had all taken their tole over the last month. He kissed Lori's shoulder and stroked her arm in silent comfort. “I love you,” he whispered in here ear, “milk or no milk.”

“I know,” she sighed despondently, restlessly adjusting her head against the pillow.

The two lay in silence like that for some minutes, gathering their thoughts, synchronizing their breathing, and silently comforting each other. After a time, Brian suddenly stirred, as if waking from sleep.

“I just remembered something,” he said against her shoulder. “I found something interesting at work yesterday.”

“Hmm?” Lori mumbled, rolling to face him.

“Did you know there's a goddess of breastfeeding?”

“Really?” Lori looked at him quizzically, her frustrations diminished, but not forgotten. “Where? What religion would have something like that?” Admittedly, Brian would be the one to know of such things. He was a professor in world religions at the local community college. They had met at a convention for the publishing firm where she worked, where he had been talking about the similarities between the myth of Gilgamesh and modern interpretations of superheroes. She had fallen in love with his sense of wonder regarding the world's myths, and his youthful, compassionate face that looked like it could have come from any of those stories. With his curly blonde hair, hollowed cheeks, pointed chin, big, full lips, and track-runner physique, he looked like he could be Perseus returning from defeating the Gorgon.

“The ancient Greeks; who else?” Brian's fingertips toyed with one of Lori's perky nipples. “Her name is Rumina. She brings women's breast milk, and protects nursing mothers and their children.” “Just mothers, or any nursing woman?” Lori found herself grinning, in spite of herself. She quite liked the idea of a goddess of breastfeeding. It almost made their venture feel ordained. Divinely sanctioned.

“Oh, I like to think Rumina would be open minded,” Brian returned her grin with a cheeky one of his own. His hand gently fondled and shaped Lori's breast, careful not to hurt her in her sore condition. Whereas he was slim and lean, Lori was voluptuous and curvy. Not tall, but not too short at 5” 7'. Her tummy was soft and pillowy, but not over exaggerated. Her hips were wide and matronly, and her buttocks were juicy and pronounced. Below that, thick, womanly thighs. But his favorite of her features were her breasts. Large and soft f-cups, with thick, pink nipples and wide areolae, and just enough sag to remind him that they were real. He had always loved breasts, and sucking and pleasuring them was his favorite part of their sexual adventures; Lori had made no secret that it was hers too. He was the first man who had understood that she wanted, needed to have her breasts suckled and attended to just as badly as her vagina and clitoris, if not even more so, and as an avid breast man, Brian was only too happy to comply. Indeed, the thought of how her already voluptuous bust and sensitive nipples might grow and intensify was one of the things that had drawn them both to this path.

Lori found herself growing more intrigued, and Brian's hand on her breast was beginning to excite her. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around his penis, gently caressing it. “You think so? Think maybe she'd be willing to help a couple of perverts like us?”

Brian bit his juicy lower lip and leaned forward, putting his hands on either side of her shoulders to give her better access to his growing cock. “I don't see why not. The Greek's weren't exactly prudes. And I doubt she's had much attention for the last millennia or so.”

“We should pray to her!” Lori said, excitedly. She rubbed her palm luxuriantly over Brian's swollen glans, feeling the plump, throbbing knob pulse in her hand. Brian let out a noise that was half laugh, half gasp as his lover began to pleasure his now painfully hard penis. He straddled her stomach, letting his cock rest just above the crest of her cleavage. “Oh yeah?” he said, looking down at her.

“Yeah,” Lori breathed, huskily, biting her lower lip. She wrapped her fingers around his pulsing shaft and began to pump up an down. “You start. You know her better.”

Brian thrust his hips against her teasing grasp, his breath quickening, his buttocks clenching. “Dear goddess Rumina! We beseech you!”

“Mmm, thee,” Lori murmured, pressing her lips to the tip of his cock to kiss away an errant drop of precum.

“We beseech thee,”  Brian corrected, squeezing his eyes shut. “We are humble mortals, who umm...” He trailed off, partly in search of a proper phrase, partly because his lover had wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock and was sucking hard. “Ah, who love thy work, and seek to enjoy the richness of your blessings!”

“Mmmm,” Lori moaned, pulling his cock from her mouth with a smacking noise and placing it between her bountiful breasts. “Yeah, keep going,” she said, squeezing her luscious mounds together around his throbbing shaft.

Brian's hips involuntarily thrust forward again as her soft globes enveloped his manhood. “Please, fill my lover's breasts with sweet, rich milk!” he cried, with more passion than Odysseus could have entreated Poseidon. “Let them overflow with precious, womanly nectar!” “Ooh yes, please, Rumina!” Lori giggled, squeezing his dripping cock tighter within her cleavage before leaning her head forward to tease the tip with her tempestuous tongue.

Brian groaned and carefully sat up, swinging his legs over Lori's prone form to lay beside her. It was almost painful to pull his cock from the sweet embrace of her cleavage. He let out a little growl and pressed his lips to her taut, quivering nipple for a passionate suckle before continuing. “Oh, Rumina,” he whispered. “Please hear our humble prayer, and grant us the milk we crave.” He darted his head forward and captured her nipple once more. His hand snaked between his lover's thighs to caress her sopping wet folds. His thumb toyed with the swollen nubbin of her clitoris, pressing and stroking it as his lips worked a delicious symphony on her aching nipple. As he felt her body tense and her climax begin to break, he gently pressed his teeth in the lightest, most gentle of scrapes, and pressed her button in one final stroke of his fingertips. As the seizure of passion raged through her and he felt his lover's body begin to soften and settle, he released her nipple with one last wanton suck, and whispered: “Amen.”

Lori lay panting in a delirious haze of pleasure. Brian lay next to her, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, his still unsatisfied cock pointing obscenely upward like a para-scope. “Do you think She heard us?” he breathed.

Lori let out a laugh that ended in a gasp of lingering pleasure. “If not, she's the only one who didn't. I bet you woke up the whole building.” She reached out and wrapped her fingers around his shaft once more.

Brian let out a little grunt of pleasure as she resumed her caress, and rolled his hips in adulation. “Better too much than too little. At least we can say we tried.”

“Yeah,” Lori grinned, all anxiety forgotten as she began to toy with her lover's cock. “Now, let's take care of this. Maybe we'll try another 'prayer' later.”