#I keep getting told to engage with the world and be a doer of the word and not a hearer only and darn it have a good ATTITUDE >:(
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
oh great. I'm being sanctified again.
#hhhhggggg.#🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀#whys it got to be so uncomfortablllle#The holy spirit is like. poking me from all sides#What am I supposed to DO WITH THISSSS 😭#I keep getting told to engage with the world and be a doer of the word and not a hearer only and darn it have a good ATTITUDE >:(#and I'm TRYINGGGG#there are things in my life going that direction!!! I'm going to start volunteering soon!!! I'm making some friends!!!#I'm...... probably going being told to talk to people outside my family at church.......#whys spiritual development got to be SO PHYSICAL THOUGH.... why do I have to be Percieved......#let your light shine and all that I Guess......#this has been your irregularly scheduled reminder that God won't let you sit and sink forever. He pokes you#WITH MY OWN CLOWN WORLD STORY TOO#GOOD SHOT GOD. GOT ME RIGHT IN THE HEART#girl help my story started out as about American poverty and then it became about the multiplying of grace in struggle#and the call to be doers and not just hearers of the word#and divine love and mercy and holiness#like dang that wasn't from me. I was just being mad about America and obsessed with clowns man#and then it got miraculously transformed and stuff#wild#ANYWAY#Robin speaks
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
Berakhot 10b: 33. "What He Creates."
Rabbi Hisda and Mr. Ukba says "follow the directions, each consecutive step, like catering," adding "unless He creates Light" which means 886, "Haya", "there are signs of enlightenment", of the Realization of the Jewish people:
33. Rabbi Hisda said, Mr. Ukba said: And unless he says he creates light.
The world needs to know who the Jewish people are and why God gave them the Torah and the Talmud to keep. Only then will salavation within the Promised Land be a very feasible thing:
"The marvelous and most fundamental verb היה (haya) is the Bible's common verb to be, but it should be noted that "very seldom in the Old Testament is haya used to denote either simple existence or the identification of a thing or person" — in the words of HAW Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament, which proceeds to suggest that the reader should have a look at a King James version of the Bible and notice how often the English expressions of the verb to be are printed in italics, indicating that the Hebrew text doesn't have those there.
Our verb היה (haya) means 'to be doing something that defines the doer' or in case of some unfolding event: to happen.
The Hebrew language is fundamentally dynamic, and as good as every occurrence of the verb היה (haya) expresses some essential behavior that defines the character which the text discusses. If there is nothing essential going on, the Hebrew language simply omits its verb to be. And if simple presence needs to be expressed, Hebrew uses the particle of existence יש yesh, meaning 'there is' something but whether that something is doing something isn't told. (See this complicated principle explained more graphically in our article To Be Is To Do.)"
The Value in Gematria is 2262, ב׳רסב , בראשו, "at the top of his mind."
I have long since stated the Torah is a prophecy not a guidebook or historical record. There is some evidence of this as we have not one indication we have entered nor left Egypt, meaning we still suffer the regimes of tyrants like we are naive little kids.
We do not know how to relate to Es "the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil" = all that we know, especially about human sexuality. We will not give up the violence, the corruption, our misbeliefs about the Pascal Lamb, and live on. These false footfalls are preventing us from must be learned directly under God's expert guidance.
The former frame says we have not made plans to fix this, and therefore every footstep man has made to date has only made us more lost. We should not be struggling with the onset of a Third World War, discussing Mormon Terror Tunnels like they are an every day thing, nor pretending exchanges of missiles and their engagement with defense grids are like a beachball volleyball game.
"I think some's getting through!"
The Talmud says the path to salvation, from the origins of the universe within the black and the deep and then God's victory over entropy, including us, should actually go very fast.
First, we do what we inaccurately think should come last: the establishment of the Kingdom of Israel so the knowledge of the Torah, Talmud and Tanakh are kept safe, and all this strife around the existence and definition of the Jewish people and their destiny comes to an end. With it we will close the Age of Agony the great age of darkness and holocaust, the age that came before and begin the First Age, the Aeon, the Age of Eden.
Otherwise, our lives will be miserable episodes lived between election years which so far have not made anything better, not for any length of time, not even once.
0 notes
Text
HealPre Final Review: Not terrible but not entirely laudable either...
*sigh* Where do I start?
Well, one thing I’m pretty sure of is that COVID definitely affected production somehow. By that, I don’t just mean the show needing to go on hiatus, resulting in a shorter run compared to previous seasons. I’m also talking about any possible changes that might’ve been made to the original narrative, if there was one.
Much like how Suite’s story had to be altered in the wake of the 2011 Tohoku earthquake and tsunami disaster, I believe Heal underwent a similar treatment in response to the pandemic becoming more widespread as 2020 went on.
Especially since it dealt with health and nature, HealPre is probably the season that has come the closest in relevancy to real life events.
Frankly, that can be quite scary because this virus was and is still a fucking nightmare on a massive global scale. From that view, I can understand why the writers/producers would be concerned of the anime hitting too near home. At least for their main demographic’s (children) sake, maybe they were compelled to shift to something lighter and less edgier so that the kids could find some comfort and enjoyment in the midst of the world’s current crisis.
So I can’t fault Toei for that, if that’s really the case. Going through a pandemic is terrifying, infuriating and exhausting and UGH. We could use something that can help ease our worries or momentarily distract us even a little bit.
Though would it have killed them to dedicate one episode to the importance of wearing a mask or washing hands? (-_- ;;)
HOWEVER! Seeing as I am not a fragile child, I’ve still got several (oho~) criticisms to air out before I put this season behind me. This review isn’t particularly scathing but...there is a lot of discontent so you’ve been forewarned.
But first, let’s tediously review what structure means in Precure.
We all know that there are certain things that will forever (?) remain fixed in the series formula.
The plot is always going to be “magical girls fight evil doers threatening to ruin the world”.
There are plot points to indicate story progression but in reality, are put there to correspond with toy releases which are usually marked by these five: introductions, first power up, midseason Cure, second power up, and build-up to the climax + finale.
There is usually a specific message (a theme) to be told with every season and motifs (narrative tools) to aid in getting that across. For HealPre, the theme is “living is fighting” and its motifs are “health” and “nature”.
I left out “animals” b/c 1) it didn’t hold as much significance as the other two did, 2) animals are part of nature anyway and 3) let’s be real, it’s just a synonym for “mascots” which we already get every year. :P
Right. I’m probably forgetting something but for the most part, these are immovable pillars of Precure.
Story, on the other hand, has more variables you can work with.
Story is how you tell the plot, how you convey the message.
Precure, as a tv series, is unarguably carried by its main stars, the Cures. So it only makes sense that a huge percentage of a season’s success owes itself to how much of an impact its characters had on the audience as well as how effective their individual story arcs were as sub-plots tying back to the bigger picture (the message/theme).
Ideally, these arcs would shine the brightest in the filler episodes, where the plot (“good guys vs. bad guys”) is less of a focus so there is more space for personal development and growth.
Also, not all character arcs have to be directly related to the plot but they ought to be written well in order to support the overarching message (the theme).
Now, has HealPre done that? Has each girl’s story demonstrated a good example of what “living is fighting” means?
...nnnnnnyyeeee... look, even I can’t give a straightforward answer on that because while technically they did, by virtue of Nodoka’s observance in ep 44 recounting it as such, there’s also actually not enough to make it feel substantial from a viewer’s standpoint.
At least, that’s what I thought while watching HealPre.
With the exception of Nodoka’s, there was a lot of saying but not much doing to convincingly back the other girls’ arcs up. The fillers themselves were very weak, loosely composed in relation to the motifs and, if I may be so blunt, downright boring that if Nodoka didn’t phrase those episodes as things that counted towards the theme, I probably would put up more of a fight on disagreeing. so shoot me, I’m soft for her :P
And I know that sounds confusing right now but I will elaborate as I continue.
Before that though, to be utterly fair, some seasons keep their respective themes shrouded in vagueness until they’re given a more concrete form in words around the finale. So it’s not like we can do much except make educated guesses on what they really are. Most of the time, we’re just measuring everything against our perception of a standard in the fog. Or maybe that’s just me?
Nevertheless, you can just tell, y’know? By simply watching and observing the whole show, you can tell if the characterization, the development, and the outcome (essentially the content given) really live up to what the season claims is endgame.
So let’s go through that first then. The characters, starting with our lead Cure...
Nodoka being the only Cure in her team to have an arc deserving of the praise “exceptional” should come as a surprise to no one.
She was the most solid in terms of direction on how her story was going to proceed. Out of all the girls, her journey had the greatest connection to the subject “health”, repeatedly delved into it every time the spotlight was on her and fulfilled everything it seemed to promise from her debut in episode 1.
Her struggles on the road to recovery from a long-term illness and the strength she’s drawn from that traumatizing experience as well as her time as Precure did more than establish her as the strongest character in HealPre.
She has also rose to become one of the most memorable Pink Cures in the entire franchise (personally, I rank her in the top 5).
And it’s not hard to see why she’s earned such high regard in a lot of fans’ hearts.
The writers clearly worked a lot on her character composition to the point where she can pretty much embody the theme of “living is fighting” all on her own.
She came into HealPre fresh out of the hospital and full of earnest desire to make the most of her newfound freedom but she also wasn’t without knowledge on what hardship is. From there, she only got stronger, even when she was stumbling and trying to figure things out along the way. She grew more fortified in her beliefs on what it means to be truly live a healthy life.
She bravely defied the ones who attempted to take advantage of her and twist her cause against her. And she learned that taking care of herself is equally as important as wanting others to be safe from harm.
It was never about winning or coming out on top. It was about protecting a fundamental yet precious truth. That one thing any decent human being should never have to concede: the right to live well.
Honestly, Nodoka is absolutely inspiring all around, as a fictional character, a heroine and a normal everyday person.
Everything about her arc went satisfyingly right like it was meant to and the best thing is, we don’t need to question it because we saw how it all happened with our very own eyes.
I sincerely wished I could say the same for the others but sadly, they were just too flawed.
And Pegitan can throw flippers with me all day if he wants but as undeniable as the above statements are about Chiyu, her arc failed to leap over the increasingly mounting disappointment I had with every episode that’s been assigned solely to her.
Two of which weren’t even about Chiyu. One centered on Pegitan’s admiration for his partner and the other focused on her brother, Touji. Which, while nice to give to supporting/secondary characters, is a fat waste of valuable screentime and not what I’m here for.
It also didn’t help that the conflict of her arc (the indecision over choosing between two dreams) started really late in the game and was resolved so quickly within two episodes. There was no time for me to get invested into it, there was no powerful sense of conviction like how Go!Pri or Hugtto handled theirs and really, it just felt like Chiyu was only following what the script dictated for her rather than genuinely awakening to her own competitive passion towards track and field.
It was almost like it didn’t matter. Almost as if the writers procrastinated in thinking up something worthwhile to further her development...but then settled on grabbing an old idea off the shelf without refining it to suit Chiyu when they ran out of time.
This happened similarly with Minami in Go!Pri and Elena in StarPre, both of whom left me angry at how their arcs were executed. Yet theirs don’t compare to how pissed off I am about Chiyu’s. Because while Minami’s took a while to arrive, it wasn’t done poorly and linked back to Go!Pri’s theme well enough. And while Elena’s was over crammed last minute, at least it was unique to her character and had lots of potential ways to play out if they actually started it earlier on in StarPre.
Chiyu’s arc is like a discount version of the former with hardly any of the intriguing qualities of the latter. Sure, she had two early episodes that laid out the two most important aspects of her life (her family inn and her dedication to her sport) but after that, they weren’t brought up again until we were only weeks away from the ending. Y’know, just to fill up episode slots and meet the minimal requirement of saying they did give Chiyu some issue to resolve.
It was not engaging at all.
Furthermore, the fact that her arc had very little to no relation with either “health” or “nature” hurt my appreciation of her character somewhat. I just...don’t think her kind of story really matches with the central topics of HealPre?
...but maybe I’m being bitter about this all wrong and that’s screwing up my rational thinking on this matter.
Because Chiyu’s arc is valid under the logic of the overall theme, I would never say it isn’t. And again, character arcs don’t have to be close to the plot nor is it necessary to employ the “suffering builds character” method to make them interesting.
Chiyu always does her best every day. That’s sufficient argument on why her story does fit within the frame of HealPre’s premise.
Guess I’ll just have to wrangle my resistance into acceptance somehow.
...still, her arc could’ve been done so much better than what we were given. Chiyu at least deserved that much.
Next, Hinata.
Since the beginning, I knew she was gonna be runner-up to Nodoka for having the (for lack of better term atm) “best” arc because it was heavily implied that she has ADHD and therefore, immediately checked off the “health” trait. She was even more obvious about it than Nozomi was.
Difficulty paying attention, hyperactivity, impulsiveness. Hinata didn’t just display all those signs, she also showed how hard it was for her to deal with the downsides to them on a regular basis.
She kept apologizing and put herself down excessively for inconveniencing her friends even though they never blamed her for her condition. Got them annoyed a few times, yes, but didn’t stop them from staying friends with her and definitely didn’t make them hate her either.
Everybody was understanding of Hinata...except Hinata because she always took her failures to heart and considered quitting several times to avoid the crushing dejection of making mistakes over and over again.
She got better, though, and no one could have summed it up more heartwarmingly than Nyatoran with the encouraging words he gave her at the conclusion of her arc.
But it still feels like there’s a huge chunk of development missing between the start and finish. Or rather, it seemed like all of it occurred offscreen and we were only informed later that it did in fact, happen.
To recap, iirc, Hinata had around 5 episodes that focused on her (ep 9, 13, 23, 35 and 40). Ep 18 doesn’t count because that was a Nyatoran-centric filler more than anything.
Ep 9 and 13 did their jobs of introducing and highlighting the details of Hinata’s troubles while also suggesting she will eventually learn to overcome her insecurities. The ones after, though? They pushed those issues to the backseat.
In Ep 23, she had to share the (uneven) spotlight with Asumi. Hinata’s improvements were briefly mentioned but the majority of the ep went to teaching Asumi what “cute” meant and how to get along with puppies. I mean, I get that Asumi recently joined the group and bonding with her was mandatory by tradition. But since each Cure only gets a limited number of eps to herself, it would’ve been more beneficial for Hinata if she didn’t have to split screentime with someone else’s growth schedule.
Ep 35 is slightly better but not by a whole lot. Sure, Natasha was able to reconcile with Elizabeth which was very sweet and heck, it was the goal for that episode. But again, nothing was really done or addressed about Hinata’s main conflict. She tossed it back with the rest of her homework to deal with later. ahaha, a TroPre hint
Then ep 40 came to formally close the curtains on her story and apparently, Hinata screwed up lots of times since...whenever but she picked herself up every time after and kept on trying. Awesome. So WHY didn’t we get to see that?
I’m not asking for the impossible here. I’m not asking for Hinata to be cured or anything miraculous like that. There is treatment available for ADHD but it is not curable.
Also, forcing Hinata to find a way to get better at studying, the thing she struggles with the most, is not the solution either because that would only make her more stressed and anxious over her own disorder.
What I want is to see how she moved from wailing “I can’t do it! I don’t wanna! I’m so scared of failing so why bother?!” to determinedly declaring “So what if I failed 1 or 100 times? So what if I fail another 1000 times? What matters is that I don’t let that stop me!”
That confidence is not something that can be built up overnight. It’s gradual and it takes numerous tries to reach from where Hinata was to where Hinata is now.
Telling me she grew emotionally stronger can only allow me to believe so much. I need to actually witness the changes as well.
If it weren’t for that, Hinata’s arc would have been a lot more impressive. Shame.
Finally............... Asumi.
Asumi, Asumi, Asumi, Asumi, Asumi, Asumi, Asumi... *sighs & drums fingers*
...she has no arc, ok? Seriously, what story is there to speak of, much less write a hefty analysis on?
A spirit born for the sake of Latte who just went along with the Precure ride because Latte didn’t want to abandon her duty. She made friends with those who aren’t Latte, extended her knowledge and understanding and gained valuable human experience during her stay on Earth. But ultimately, she will always define her entire existence around a puppy.
Nothing is more important than this puppy.
...... to be honest, Asumi not having a storyline isn’t what bothers me. It’s her lack of depth that does.
Hell, even the giant burger she ate had more depth than she did!
Oh, Asumi does have a personality alright. She’s consistently and unfailingly polite, utterly devoted to her raison d’être and in crucial moments, gives pearls of wisdom when the girls are in a pinch. She’s good.
But if that’s all she is, then she’s also painfully dull.
She has nothing to contribute to the discussion of health or nature, despite being created through an element of the Earth so you’d think she’d have an opinion of her own. At least worry about the planet that gave life to her as much as she frets over Latte all the time. But nope.
She shares the exact same face as Teatine’s past Precure partner so you’d think we’d explore that connection to see if it would influence or affect her in any way. But nope.
90% of the time, her role was just being Latte’s constant, fawning satellite.
Not only did that irritate the hell out of me but it just reinforced my stance that this type of character is one of the worst you can ever insert into any narrative.
Because if someone keeps reiterating how much they’re obsessed with this one thing and seldom talks about anything else without bringing their obsession into it... then what’s so special about them on their own?
You’ve practically surrendered the different qualities you could have had for worship of something else. That’s not a fair trade-in.
Asumi’s character is so packed with Latte-related stuff that there’s not much space left for anything that can be considered uniquely Asumi.
I mean, maybe it’s because I can never see myself or any normal person comfortable with living like that.
Living for the sake of being together with the one you love? Okay. But living with your whole universe revolving around that one thing? Making most if not all decisions based on this one thing?
No. That’s absolutely crazy, alright? Nobody with a healthy amount of awareness and self-worth would live like that.
And you can counter that Asumi’s just born like that. That she can’t help her origins because Teatine’s wish to protect her daughter is essentially what brought Asumi into existence so of course, her biggest concern would be Latte. At least, she wasn’t forced into it, right? As long as Asumi chose of her own will to follow Latte, it should be fine, right?
You can even use the fact that Asumi isn’t human. That she’s a spirit and we shouldn’t apply our human standards too strictly to her.
Yea, but those are feeble defenses in the face of her being a good main character, a good main heroine.
There are many ways to make a decent MC. The way Asumi was written proves she certainly does not possess traits that can classify her as true protagonist material. A protagonist has to be more than one amplified feature, which Asumi is not.
For the record, I don’t hate Asumi (she’s not interesting enough to generate a feeling that intense). I'm just severely let down because even if I don’t end up loving the midseason Cure for whatever reason, I can usually count on them to bring something intriguing to the table to dissect and analyze. At least I should find something to care about them.
Didn’t happen with her. :(
Oh god, I’ve been working on this post for days now and I’ve got a headache and with the baton pass happening in less than a few hours as I type this, I just really need to get it done and over with so please forgive me for speeding up through the rest, I’ll try to keep it as coherent as possible. NYARGH! (@_@ ;;)
Mascots.
Would you be surprised to hear that I’m not surprised that they were actually written very well?
Like I said early on, I suspected the return of fairy partnerships were going to improve the mascots’ significance in the story and, well, I was right.
This time, they didn’t just fill in the usual expectations of relaying exposition, serving as the Cures’ transformation devices and looking cute for the merchandise. The Healing Animals had to make progress on their own training to become doctors as well.
And they did through their relationships with their human partners.
It was a refreshing take on the mascot aspect of the series because the friendships felt really symbiotic. When the trainees arrived on Earth, they relied on the girls to help them perform their jobs as well as provide them with shelter, food, the occasional peptalk about their trainee status, etc.
Then as the story continued and they got to know each other better, the mascots were able to return the favor by giving support when the Cures needed it. Rabirin when Nodoka was frightened and confused about how to deal with Daruizen, Pegitan when Chiyu was having trouble choosing between two dreams and Nyatoran who made sure to always lift Hinata’s spirits up when she got upset at herself.
In short, they achieved their objectives of learning what it means to be good doctors by being there for their friends! How wonderful! :D
My memory for Latte is hazy, unfortunately, since she’s coddled by everyone all the time (can’t blame them, she’s friggin’ adorable! <3) but I’ll never forget how she stood firm on the battlefield to see things through, to fight for the Earth like she promised her mother. She started out so babie but showed us all there was enormous bravery behind her cute face and ugh, we should all be very proud of her! <3
The only major issues I had about the mascots were these:
1) Too many irrelevant fillers went to them. They only needed a maximum of two for their entire mascot group.
2) Latte kept getting sick even after she acquired a Precure partner of her own. I was hoping it wouldn’t hurt her as much as it did before Asumi arrived or that she would build up a stronger immunity but noooo, they insisted on torturing the poor pupper! T_T
Villains + Finale Battle
Not a lot needs to be said for the first part. We’ve had mediocre antagonists before. HealPre’s just happened to be extra annoying as they were despicable.
Which is worse because jerks you can just leave in the trash but assholes won’t stop harassing you unless you pummel them into their graves, set fire to their corpses and leave no trace of them behind! >:(
Y’all know who I’m talking about. Opinions on him continue to vary depending on who you talk to and if they’re avid fans of his face or not but whatever. The son of a bitch served his purpose and is dead now. That’s all that matters to me.
Anyway, the King was flat like his two lesser generals. He was neither intimidating nor distinguished enough in the brand of evil to really make us think of him as a serious threat and because of that, it ended up making the boss fight look like any run of the mill boss fight.
I know, they tried so hard with all that shiny animation but it just didn’t have that glorious sense of vindication that previous seasons (or ep 42) gave and I blame it all on this Rumiko Takahashi reject.
Also, this strategy was pretty useless?
They built it up like Earth was gonna sacrifice herself and die or something (she wouldn’t and even if she came close, deus ex machina would’ve kicked in to prevent that and COVID-induced caution too I guess).
But there were no signs of pain (well, that’s a relief) after absorbing Shindoi-ne and they really pissed King Byogen off more than they did any damage with the absorbed byo-gen power.
...so yea, this tactic was just to kill some time and budget, nothing more. Meh.
By the way, did Asumi eject Shindoi-ne’s pathogen out of her body yet or did they just leave it in there to bounce around until it eventually dissolves on its own?
Because that’s eww. I mean, it’s obviously not gonna hurt Asumi they can both relate on hyperfocusing their affection for someone so maybe the compatibility helps :P but still, ewwwww.
Fillers + Underused Motifs
In hindsight, perhaps HealPre didn’t exactly promise the content we I wanted about “health” and “nature” if their objective was to teach that any manner of “fighting” can count towards “living”.
......but fuck you Toei, you’re still cowards! >:/
Fillers will be fillers but it’s always better to try and make some of them as meaningful as possible. And they wasted the opportunity to inform an impressionable audience (during a very crucial period of our time, I must add) on a lot of things related to the HealPre’s motifs. Especially about the environment which for some ridiculous reason, they chose not to touch on for the main stretch of the overall story.
Proper hygiene, good diet plan and sleeping habits, regular exercise (already done by the girls a few times but could use another example), meditation, counseling/therapy (especially for mental health!), etc.
Real life pollution, climate change/global warming (IMPORTANT!!), deforestation, preservation vs conservation, endangered species, recycling, volunteering to clean up your community, etc.
These just came off the top of my head but yes, there’s more and no, I’m not saying that the writers need to cover all of them in extreme detail or replace the slice-of-life episodes.
But they should be able to mesh both serious and light-hearted together in harmony somehow. Like those fillers where the mascots saw people cleaning up littering at the park or that interaction with that arborist who taught them about wild animals and trees when the group went to visit a lake.
For health, maybe let the girls visit patients with chronic illness in the hospital or have them converse with a medical professional on some matter. Particularly if it’s got something to do with mental illness because stigma in Japan on those who are afflicted with such conditions is still prevalent and has caused a number of sad and shocking tragedies that could have otherwise been avoided if people didn’t have such outdated, judgmental mindsets.
That last part might be too dark for a children’s anime but there’s a lot more out there that is doable.
Do that without reducing it into a footnote, Toei. It is so necessary for your target audience to be aware of these issues at the age they are now. You have an almost 20-year old franchise to serve as a very effective platform. Make better use of it if you truly care about the message you’re conveying through your show!
Also, what the fuck.
The last episode was a mess. Why are you only mentioning this now when the season is already over?
This should’ve been brought up months ago!
All the things we could’ve seen the Cures done to protect the Earth without magic.
The excuse of “I didn’t know humans were so horrible!” is a shit one because everybody knows humans are deplorable trash when it comes to abusing the Earth. All the more reason why you have to persistently drill it into people’s heads that they should not be like those who don’t care or choose not to care.
One crack episode isn’t going to cut that.
God, I so want to unsee this ep just so I don’t have to end HealPre on a more sour note than it already was. *big aggrieved sigh*
Lastly (and this really is the end of my long ranting, I promise), the missing undisclosed lore.
There are few Precure seasons without a past lore of its own in the recent years. Is it a wonder, though?
Lore is mysterious and fascinating. If it involves a past Precure, even more so.
Sometimes fans might just hang onto a show because they’re curious about what happened before the main story. We’d never get the full tale of those adventures but at least, it’s fun to imagine the “prequel”.
Also, past Precure are just badass. Fact.
Strangely enough, we didn’t get that for Heal. All we know is that she was called “Fuu” and was very close to Teatine.
Hmm. Probably one of those changes caused by COVID interference cuz I can’t imagine the writers choosing not to tell her past in the original draft.
With all that finally off my chest, I’m ready to part ways with you girls until the next All Stars (Nodoka, I’m gonna miss you so much! T_T)
HealPre wasn’t the worst and it was nowhere near the best that it had the potential to be. But it’s passable. At least for those who loved it even with its flaws, I’m genuinely glad it was good for you.
For those who are thinking about picking it up (although why you would read this spoilery post before watching, I have no idea), if you’re looking for a standard magical girl anime to enjoy casually, then this is a safe pick. If you really want to invest your attention and heart into it, though? Then perhaps it would be in your interest to ask someone who saw it already to help you filter out the episodes that are worth watching. You don’t need to worry about the rest, they’re inconsequential. :P
Ok then! Thanks for reading as always, brave souls who have reached this point.
Stay healthy and safe out there and I’ll see you at the beach next week! Tropic underwater paradise here we coooooommmmmeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!! xDDD
#i rage quit two drafts and an outline before i got anywhere with this#now if you'll excuse me i gotta catch up on my workout and play pokemon and eat pho later#and catch up on the ccs manga#livin' the healthy life oh yea~#healin' good precure#cure grace#cure fontaine#cure sparkle#cure earth#hanadera nodoka#sawaizumi chiyu#hiramitsu hinata#fuurin asumi#rabirin#pegitan#nyatoran#latte
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Echoes of You Ch. 4
Read on Ao3
Chat Noir was seeing red, and not in the way he usually enjoyed.
The new Bug, whoever she was, was not his lady. That much he was sure of. She looked enough like her, acted enough like her, that the average person might not notice through the haze of Miraculous magic. The above average person, like Alya, someone who was obsessed with her, might square it away to an upgrade, new powers and new potential.
But someone who knew her, who was in love with her, would know when they were looking at a different person. He’d always assumed that, despite the fact that his kwami was the literal god of destruction and the symbol of bad luck, if he were fortunate enough to stumble across his lady in his civilian life, he’d recognize her.
Now all he was sure of was that he’d know when he was looking at an imposter.
The problem was, as he turned away from Marinette’s glassy eyes and back to the fight, he wasn’t sure what was there. Another sentimonster? Someone who’d stolen his lady’s Miraculous? An illusion? This new Bug had told him to ‘deal with it’, but the only conclusions he could draw were bad ones.
Across the room the Bug had climbed back to her feet and was squaring off against Scream-ripper once again. He winced. Everything she did, from the way she moved to the way she avoided attacks instead of turning them to her advantage, was different from his lady. It was painful to watch.
But Marinette had seemed to trust this new Ladybug. He glanced over his shoulder at her statue, trust frozen in her face. He’d promised they’d protect her. He’d failed her once. He wouldn’t fail her again.
Chat Noir tore across the room, snatching his baton up along the way. The akuma must have heard him coming because she ducked under Ladybug’s attack and used her own momentum to swing around, engaging him once again.
“Pretty cowardly,” Scream-ripper hissed as she parried his thrust, “Letting that poor girl take that hit for you. Not so funny anymore, is it?”
Chat Noir snarled as he pressed his attack. “We’ll see who has the last laugh.”
“Hah!” Ladybug leapt onto the monsters’ back, wrapping her yo-yo around the akuma’s neck like a bridle. The distraction was enough for Chat Noir to disarm her, and the needle sailed through the air, the cool metal flashing in the sun. He had to admit whoever this new Bug was, she did seem to be on his side, but that didn’t mean anything. For all he knew this girl was more interested in the fame than the good of all. He’d known people like that before.
“Any…suggestions?” Ladybug gasped as Scream-ripper desperately tried to buck off the heroine.
“Might be a good time for your Lucky Charm,” Chat Noir said grudgingly. He couldn’t get to the bottom of this, couldn’t keep his promise to Marinette, until the akuma was purified. “Throw the yo-yo; I’ll keep her busy.”
Ladybug let herself be thrown from Scream-rippers back the next time she bucked. Chat Noir used the distraction to sweep the akuma’s feet out from under her, but she recovered faster than he’d hoped she would. Worse, she now hovered a few inches above the ground, advancing on him. The same trick wouldn’t work twice.
“All I want is Dominique,” Scream-ripper wailed as she held out her palm. Her needle came flying back across the room, smacking into her palm like it was the world’s strongest magnet. “And justice.”
“Justice and revenge aren’t the same thing,” Chat Noir said as he engaged the monster again.
Scream-ripper seemed to consider that. “I could settle for revenge.”
“Not today you don’t! Chat Noir, duck!”
Chat Noir dropped to the floor, rolling out of the way. Three red and black spotted pins sailed over his head, piercing Scream-ripper through her clothes and staking her to the wall behind her. She shrieked with the indignity, but her lightning quick attacks were finally halted.
“Any idea where the akuma’s hiding?” Ladybug asked, coming up behind him as she watched Scream-ripper thrash against the wall.
“One or two,” he said as he glanced over the akuma. The obvious choice was the needle, but she hadn’t seemed to care too much whenever she lost it. No, his guess was the white plastic name-badge pinned to the top of her dress, the only thing that hadn’t morphed when she’d been akumatized. “Cataclysm!”
Chat Noir pressed a single finger to the cool plastic.
Sure enough, a purple butterfly flitted away as the tag disintegrated. Ladybug recoiled automatically before swinging her yo-yo out to capture it, and Chat Noir felt another deep stab of pain. His lady had never shied away from the akuma’s. In fact, he liked to think she saw the beauty, the innocence in them, that she chose to see another creature abused by Hawk Moth that needed her help instead of blaming them for whatever chaos they helped create.
“Begone, evil-doer!” Chat Noir winced at the yo-yo snapped out. He never thought he’d miss the phrase ‘de-evilize’. He’d never thought he’d have the opportunity.
He watched the purified butterfly drift up towards the open sky and disappear through the hole in the ceiling. “Bye bye…little butterfly…”
“Now what?” Ladybug said, glancing around at all the destruction. “How do I summon the magical swarm to fix all this?”
“I’ll tell you,” Chat Noir said, fixing the girl with a dangerous glare, “But first you’re going to tell me a few things.” He hoped whoever she was, she didn’t know how her yo-yo worked; that the answers were at the tips of her fingers. She could evade him, figure it out, and disappear like smoke in the wind before he could pry answers from her.
Oh, she’d be back. He was fairly certain the next time an akuma reared its head, she’d appear.
But the time until then would be sheer agony. And if his lady was in danger, he needed to know - now.
The new Bug giggled nervously. “We don’t have that kind of time,” she said, finding an earring nervously. They were already down to four spots. “You know the rules.”
“Don’t talk to me about rules,” Chat Noir snapped. “I have always followed them, and I am always the victim of them. Now it’s time for answers.”
“Don’t blame the girl,” a voice said from the shadows. “It’s not her fault.”
Chat Noir spun to face the figure coming towards them from the rubble. He couldn’t see their face hidden behind a finely crafted Venetian mask and cowl, but something about them struck a familiar chord. He suddenly wished he’d saved his cataclysm, but settled for brandishing his baton, making sure it stayed between him and the stranger.
The baton wavered, however, when he saw what the stranger was holding.
“How did you get that?”
The boy adjusted the Miracle Box against his hip. It looked different than the last time he’d seen it, but there was no mistaking what it was. Golden, delicate scroll-work filigreed the sides of the grey wooden box. It reminded him a little of a music box.
The man raised a brow. “It was surrendered to me.”
“It was…” Chat Noir blinked. “What? It - what?”
Ice splintered through his veins until it felt like he was choking on it. He swore he felt his heart still, wrapped in a frozen fist. He wondered briefly it would ever beat again.
“He is so not taking this well,” the new Bug said, squinting at him.
Blue. Her eyes were blue, but wrong, too pale behind the mask. Worse, they were empty of the things he loved the most; the intelligence, the kindness, the cleverness. She looked enough like his lady that she could be the ghost of her, a reminder of what he’d lost.
“Why?” He couldn’t let his knees buckle. Not here. Not now. Not in front of these…these strangers.
“I can’t tell you,” the new guardian said. He raised a hand as though he might comfort him, then dropped it. “It was one of her conditions.”
“Her…conditions?”
“I don’t have the time to explain right now,” the guardian said evenly. “But your lady left you a message. She said that if there were any other way, she would have taken it, and…and that if love were enough, she’d still be here.”
Agony tore through the ice, ripping Chat Noir to shreds. It burned through him, destroying everything in its path. This…this was truly cataclysmic. His world, his everything, was ending. No, it had already ended. This new guardian, this new Ladybug, were simply here to deliver the news, and possibly collect his Miraculous.
“I…I gotta go,” the Bug said, glancing between him and the guardian. “Or this’ll all be over before we really get started.”
“Go,” the guardian said. “Don’t forget the cure. It’ll work wherever you are.”
She left without another word, swinging through the hole in the ceiling, the three pins in her hand.
“We don’t have time,” the guardian said before Chat Noir could strangle the answers out of him. The guardian slipped back as though sensing the pending violence. “We’ll meet again, Chat Noir.”
“Don’t.” Chat Noir’s voice broke on the word as light erupted overhead, the miracle cure released. “Don’t do this to me.”
“I have no choice,” the guardian said. “It’s already done. We’ll meet again. We will talk then.”
Ladybugs swarmed through the hole, swirling around Scream-rippers victims. The destruction disappeared. The hole was repaired.
Chat Noir lunged for the guardian as he moved, but he slipped through his claws like water. He blinked, and just as suddenly as he had appeared, the guardian vanished, smoke on the wind - just like his lady.
“Chat…Noir?”
Chat Noir turned and came face to face with Marinette. His friend blinked, rubbing her eyes as though she’d just awoken from a deep sleep. She frowned as she peered up at him, her expression quickly shifting to alarm.
“Are you - ”
“I’m glad you’re safe,” he got out woodenly. The sound of his Miraculous grounded him, reminding him where he was, that he was seconds from detransforming in a room full of co-workers. “I have to…I have to go.”
He left before she could try to stop him, before he let the transformation dissolve and he fell into her arms, letting her comfort him the way he knew she would comfort any friend who needed it. He would cry before the day was over, but not yet. Not here. Not to Marinette.
He barely made it to the roof before the green light enveloped him and Plagg burst forth.
Plagg immediately exploded. “WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS.”
“Plagg.”
“I WILL CATACLYSM EVERYTHING SHE LOVES.”
“Plagg.”
“THE NEW GUARDIAN BE DAMNED.”
“Plagg.”
The tiny black kwami came to an abrupt stop in front of Adrien, but he was vibrating with rage. “I swear, Adrien -”
“I’m going to find her.”
This time Plagg actually stilled. “What?”
“I’m going to find her,” Adrien repeated. He gazed out over the city as though he could locate her blind by his will alone.
“But the guardian - ”
“Doesn’t know my lady like I do.” Adrien gently took his kwami in his palm, fishing out a piece of cheese. “You heard what the guardian said: if there was any other choice, she would have made it. She has a plan”
“She had a plan,” Plagg said around mouthfuls of camembert. “Now she doesn’t remember she had a plan, or that she even needed one.”
“Now it’s my turn,” Adrien said. “I wanted to know the secrets. I wanted more responsibility. Now I have it, and the stakes couldn’t possibly be higher. I won’t let her down. Don’t you see? She needs me to remind her what she’s forgotten.”
“Seems like pure speculation to me,” Plagg said, swallowing his last bite of cheese. “Not to mention a lot of work.”
“I’ll find her,” Adrien swore, straightening as Plagg drifted back off his hand. “Even if I have to go through Hawk Moth himself to do it.”
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
What’s Worth Fighting For - Prologue
He couldn’t help but notice the crowd of onlooking bar flies elbowing their buddies to send their attention over to the good-doer synth who seemed to be cozying up to the pretty, young, call girl. It didn’t seem to phase her at all, leaning back into her seat comfortably. "Well, Nick the detective. We're on your time now. What's on your mind?"
((Note From Author: The Prologue is a third person view of Nick Valentine set a couple weeks before we meet the heroine. Also, I title chapters with songs. Enjoy!))
I’m the One You’re Looking For - John Jarvis, Kerry Marx, & Lynda Carter
The detective ran inside the old subway station, escaping the cold rain that was assaulting his back. Tipping his hat to the bouncer before shaking the rain off his trench coat.
“Hey, Ham.”
“Good to see ya, Valentine. Enjoy yourself down there.” The sharply dressed ghoul tipped his hat to the other. Nick followed the soft sound of piano and song, mingled with laughter and the clinking of glasses down the stairs. Once he was in the club, he saw the low lights cast shadows on the couple of slow dancing figures as Magnolia crooned in the corner. Once he found a table he took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Taking a small scan of the room, he noticed he had caught the attention of a young lady across the room. Her dress slinked around what little curves she held. She couldn’t have been older than twenty. She was stunning, he thought to himself, but haggard. He kept her in the corner of his eye, watching her saunter over as he lit his cigarette. She held a sensual smile, leaning against a nearby wall.
“Hey, there." Her velvet voice raised an eyebrow from him. He turned his head towards her, unsure of how to proceed.
"Evening."
"Cold night like this, bet it makes a handsome guy like you pretty lonely."
"More than you know." He huffed out a small laugh. She closed the distance between them and placed a delicate hand on his arm. Her graying fingers were almost as bony as his own metal hand.
"I can keep you warm. All it'll cost you is a few caps or chems."
“Oh, I doubt it would do me any good.”
“You’ve never had me before.” He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side, not able to directly disagree with her.
“I’m afraid no one’s that good.” Her hand fell to her side with her smile mirroring. Her focus was quickly moving on to her next prospect. “I’ve never seen you around here before. What’s your name?”
“Sorry, sweetie, I don't chat for free.” She locked onto a couple of regulars, sloshing their drinks around and laughing until their faces burned scarlet. She was ready to make her entrance when Nick side stepped in front of her.
“How much to learn your name?’ He asked.
“What?” She stopped in her tracks, staring at his in bewilderment.
“Four? Five?” The detective pulled out a small leather bag, pulling the drawstring open and showing the caps. She blinked a few times to calibrate before crossing her arms in curiosity.
“... Ten.”
“Ten caps?” He scoffed as he counted the money carefully and handed it over to her. “Better be a hell of a name… So?”
“Felicity.”
“Huh…” His face perked up in surprise, taking another drag of his cigarette as he slowly nodded. “That’s a pretty good name… Almost worth the money.” She almost gave a genuine smile as she snorted.
“So, what about you? Are you like Bot-267 or-”
“Nick is fine." He shot a look at her that earned him a smirk.
"Hm,” She hummed to herself. “Nick the synth."
"Nick the detective."
"Oh, so you solve crimes?"
"I find missing people.”
“Oh.” He furrowed his eyebrows at her as any intrigue she had in their conversation fell away. Her arms tightened, fighting the emotions that were bubbling in her chest.
“Are you from around here?" He tried to grab her attention but her mind was back on the men at the bar, wondering how quickly she could convince one of them to pay for a room at the Rexford so she didn’t have to find a spot outside.
"Nope."
"I didn’t think so. Did you-"
"Okay, Nick? You seem nice. But you're going to scare away clients, and I’m trying to make a living here, so beat it." Nick couldn’t help but pretend to act partly offended. He was slightly put off when she didn’t even so much as glance back at him, so he pulled his pouch out once more.
"How much for twenty minutes?" He asked, waiting patiently to count out the money. She rolled her eyes, reluctantly looking at him once more.
"For what?" She sighed.
"To talk."
"Talk?" The young woman laughed out loud, shaking her head in amusement. “Don't you have anything better to do?"
"Nope. How much?” The detective gave a cheeky smile that she couldn’t help but reciprocate.
"Thirty… and a cigarette."
"I’d hate to think what you charge for the night.” He said as he pulled a pack of smokes from his coat pocket.
"Haven’t heard any complaints." She gestured for him to sit and settled in across from him. He handed over the caps, as well as a cigarette, lighting it for her before settling into the wooden chair. He couldn’t help but notice the crowd of onlooking bar flies elbowing their buddies to send their attention over to the good-doer synth who seemed to be cozying up to the pretty, young, call girl. It didn’t seem to phase her at all, leaning back into her seat comfortably. "Well, Nick the detective. We're on your time now. What's on your mind?"
"Why don't we start with you?”
“Um, alright...” She shifted forward, with a perplexed look coming across her.
“Tell me about yourself.” A wave of his hand encouraged her to start. She paused before she could answer, unsure of how much to say.
“What do you want to know?” She asked. His shoulders shrugged as he pondered casually.
"Where did you grow up?"
"Here in the Commonwealth. It's the same old story. Small town girl, big city. You're a smart guy. You can fill in the blanks." Nick made a noise in agreement.
"Sure… When did you get to town?”
“Last week. Goodneighbor washes your past away the minute you get to town.” He gave a somber nod.
"Most people who end up here are running from something.” Felicity’s dark eyes fell to the ground, swimming in memories from what Nick could tell. She looked like a small child with the world on her shoulders, desperately fighting the anguish building in her chest. "Were you-"
"Did you really spend your money to ask for my life story?" The detective could hear the irritation in her voice and he relinquished a long and tired sigh. After putting out his finished cigarette in the ashtray, he folded his arms on the table to come in close and grab her attention.
“A long, long, time ago, I knew a guy who was engaged to this girl. Bright, young, innocent… He was crazy about her. She probably shouldn't have given him the time of day but for some reason she felt the same way. The poor bastard was naive enough to believe that his dirty work wouldn't ever reach her. But one day… it caught up all at once. She was murdered in the street, and left for dead." Her jaw dropped open, and her eyebrows furrowed as she put together coincidences. "He was never the same after that. I guess when you don't have much to live for you don't want to feel alive anymore…" Dumbfounded she continued to sit, wide eyed and blinking. Her heart thudded so hard in her chest she swore she could see the tiny beads shake with each pulse. "I know who you are, Miss Gardner." Silence fell between them, freezing them both in place as the jazz bar continued to buzz around them. Cold sweat fell down her back as she debated making a dash for the door, but her legs would be too weak to carry her.
"How?" She finally broke the silence with a broken whisper.
"Your brother in law has been looking for you for a very long time."
"Luke?" Nick nodded, taking the cigarette that she had forgotten about from her fingers before she could drop it. She didn't even notice as still tried to piece together what had happened.
"He seems to be the only one in your family who thinks you're still alive."
"I don't have a family.” Her voice grew softer, gently folding her arms in front of her chest. “Luke’s a child. He doesn’t understand.”
"He’s not that much younger than you. And as it happens, I met a few people who would disagree with you." Nick sighed.
"They told you what happened?"
"Yeah, they did."
"Is that why you made up that story about your friend?" She asked.
"I didn’t make it up. To be honest, I try not to think about it most of the time, but I thought you would be able to relate to it.” Her expression softened, letting her body relax some.
"Well... what happened to him then? After his fiance was killed?"
"He died." He said plainly. She scoffed and rolled her eyes in pained disgust.
“Great ending. I’ll be sure to remember that one when I’m looking for that bright side.”
“He’d be dead by now anyway. That’s not the point. He spent what time he did have pushing away his family and friends and ended up making some mistakes he could never take back. I don’t know how much different his life would have turned out if he had let them support him, but I know he regretted it till the very end.” Felicity quietly leaned back in her chair, losing the will to continue to hold make the tears forming in her eyes. She closed them to compose herself, swallowing down the emotion that boiled inside her, and allowing a few small tears to roll down her cheeks.
“Well, you solved your case. Go ahead and tell Luke I’m not dead.” She started to get up once more but he lifted his hand to stop her.
“I still have ten minutes.” He stated. She hesitated before unwillingly sitting back down, and wiping her tears. “Let’s talk about why you left.”
“No, thanks.”
“Luke was clueless when I asked him. Everything pointed to you killing yourself, hell, even I told him you were probably gone, but he insisted you were alive. He said he just knew.” She picked at the skin around her nails, unable to hold the detective’s gaze as the tears continued to fall.
“Sam’s dead. Whatever ties I had to his family should be dead too.”
“Do you really think that?” Nick’s eyebrows snapped together with concern. She shrugged quietly, still focused on the peeling dead skin around her thumb. “The world is cold enough as it is, with a large sparsity of trustworthy people. I think anyone who’s willing to have your back in the dark times can be considered family.” The girl’s eyes finally met his once more, struggling to face the demons she had spent so much time running from.
“If I go back, I’ll see him everywhere I look… At least here I can forget about it from time to time.”
“Do you want to forget it?” His words broke through the last of the barricade she had built. A quiet sob left her, cueing Nick to stand and walk around the table and squat down beside her. “I know the reminders rain down like hellfire at first, and that it’s enough to drown in. But one day it really will get easier. I don't have to tell you it won't be the same, but something always comes from the ashes.”
“I’m supposed to just live knowing it’s always going to hurt just because it might get better soon?” He gave a sad sigh and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Everyone has pain. Some of us just carry more than others. It’s still up to you if you want to just survive, or if you want to live.” She hesitantly nodded, processing the raw emotions that had been begging to come out for months. “Your family needs to see you.”
“I’m not worth their time anymore.” Felicity choked out, biting her lip to keep her volume low.
“Well, you should tell that to Luke. He gave me his last fifty caps to get you home.”
“He what?” Her head snapped up at him, sniffling in between her words. “But… You spent your whole reward talking to me?” The synth smiled at her, standing straight once more.
“Not quite. Take his.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the coin pouch, holding the last ten caps, to hand it over to her. She held it gingerly, the bag cupped in both hands.“See that merc over there? The big one?” He pointed to a man standing near the entrance. A long leather coat draped down to his ankles, wrapped in straps that held gun holsters to his waist. “He looks like he’ll eat you, but just tell him Nick Valentine sent you. He’ll take you home . He owes me one so he’ll do it cheap. He usually has some Addictol he’ll sell so you can get clean before you head back too. Do you have a change of clothes? A coat?”
“Y-yes, but you’re not taking me?” She asked.
“I would if I could. But I’m actually here on another case right now.” He extended his hand to her to help her back to her feet.
“Well, wait, you weren’t even here for me? Why did you even bother to talk to me?”
“You said ‘hello’. It would have been rude to ignore you.” He gave her one last playful smile before reaching to shake her hand. “I’ll be checking in on you soon to make sure you made it, so don’t think about changing your mind.”
“I think if I did fate would throw you back in front of me again.”
“You’re onto something there.” Nick chuckled. “I’ll see you around, kid.” He turned away from her, heading towards the bar.
“Detective?” Felicity called out to him, causing him to turn back to face her. When she opened her mouth, however, words seemed to fail her. Thankfully, Nick had seen that look on many people before. Unexplainable gratitude, he would call it. He gave her an understanding smile and nod and watched as she finally began to make her way to the leatherbound man. The feeling of satisfaction washed over the bot as he continued to the bar. A gentleman who had been nursing his drink at the bar caught Nick out of the corner of his eye as he approached.
“Detective Valentine?” He set down his glass, relief coming across his face. “Hi, I wrote you about Darla?”
“Ah good, you made it. Sorry I'm late.” Nick shook the man’s hand. “So, you think she’s been kidnapped? Tell me what you know."
#fallout 4#fallout4#fo4#fallout#fo#fo4fiction#falloutfic#falloutfiction#fanfiction#fanfic#nick valentine#nickvalentine#nick the detective#fallout companions#oc#original character#but not THE original character#I've got lots of them#buckle up buttercup#WWFF#fo4fic
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
In regards to chapter 88-89
Because I have seen a few posts around with opinions relating to the revelation that happens in these two chapters, specifically about Wei WuXian’s actions and Wen Ning’s handling of the situation, I’m going to chip in a bit as well.
So for anyone who has NOT caught up with the latest chapters of MDZS and does NOT want SPOILERS, please do NOT read what’s under the cut.
Warning: very long post that’s a combination of analysis and feels. Obviously, everything you’re about to read are my interpretations and personal perception of the characters, so do take it with a grain of salt.
Right off the bat, I just want to state clearly that Wei WuXian has and will never consider himself a hero. His actions have always been more about instincts than actual needs to prove himself; heroism is not the principle on which he operates himself because he has never been conscious of this during the acts themselves. If anything, what he is conscious about are his mistakes and shortcomings, which can be clearly seen via the fact that he slaps himself upon realizing that it was Jin Ling whom he just unknowingly insulted, or the fact that he cringes at the sight of his past self from before his death in Nie MingJue’s memory (and many more, but we are not here to discuss this).
With that in mind, let’s move on to why Wei WuXian never told Jiang Cheng about the golden core business.
Firstly, doing things, especially what will (in retrospect) be considered favors, without never telling anyone about it is basically how the Jiang Clan operates, and Wei WuXian, having nothing other than a couple of fuzzy memories of his birth parents, will of course be influenced by this teaching, too, seeing as he more or less grew up with it.
We can see evidences of this problematic behavior in almost every member of the main branch of this family. For example, Yu ZiYuan (who always outwardly expressed her contempt and displeasure toward Wei WuXian without restraints) was harsh on Wei WuXian, yes, but in the end, even during that seemingly brutal whipping that she gave him as ‘punishment’ for his ‘misdemeanor’ toward Wen Chao, she obviously held back to make sure he wasn’t as hurt as she would later claim him to be even though she could’ve gone all out. This doesn’t negate the fact that she had a penchant for verbal abuse, but in that moment, she decided—without telling anyone, fooling even her own son and the adopted one she was whipping—to not make Wei WuXian suffer. There are many reasons as to why she made this decision, but we won’t be mentioning that here.
As for Jiang FengMian: I will only go over this detail briefly because it only exists in the donghua, but he does keep the brooch his wife discarded, most likely unbeknownst to her, with the desire to once again give it to her when they were on better speaking terms, which never happened.
Jiang YanLi herself was no different. When her father and Wei WuXian came back from GuSu Lan Sect, bringing the news of her broken engagement, she never told anyone a word about her feelings for Jin ZiXuan, probably because she didn’t want Jiang FengMian and her brothers to feel bad about this, until a sudden altercation much, much later on revealed this truth, much to Wei WuXian and Jiang Cheng’s complete bewilderment because they had never suspected this.
And finally, Jiang Cheng himself is the same. Jiang Cheng is a complicated character, partly due to complicated relationship (mainly to Wei WuXian), and partly because he is featured prominently in the series, and therefore we know more about him and have more insights into his character. Without spoiling anyone who hasn’t known/already been spoiled/read through the novel before, I won’t be saying what it is, specifically, that he has done to demonstrate the Jiang’s characteristic streak of doing good/well-meaning things for other people without telling them, but please know that he did. He does so with immense consequences, and he does so without telling anyone, particularly Wei WuXian.
Going back to Wei WuXian, with all these examples from the people who brought him up from the age of 9, the very same people whom he interacted the most with for most of his teenager years, of course their behaviors and their conducts would affect him, too. Especially when he feels indebted to them for picking him up from the streets and giving him another home. You may say that all the mentions above may be solitary events, but people do not just decide to do things in a certain way one day, people gradually develop a way of behaving by repeating the same thing over and over—this is why the whole Jiang family exhibits these traits, and not just in certain individuals. And this, probably, plays a part in shaping the way Wei WuXian acts and why he didn’t tell Jiang Cheng about giving his foster brother his golden core either. This is a family of doers, for various reasons, and they do more than they talk, and even when they do talk, they don’t really communicate (e.g., Jiang FengMian and Yu ZiYuan constant fighting instead of talking things through, or Jiang Cheng’s “tough-love” acts toward Jin Ling later on).
Wei WuXian has days to deliberate, though, but he still chose not to tell Jiang Cheng, not because he thought that Jiang Cheng was weak or that he wouldn’t be able to handle it, but most likely because he knew his brother too well, and he knew Jiang Cheng would reject this without considering the option. There are many reasons as to why Jiang Cheng would reject (one of them I won’t be saying here because of spoilers), although most of them would boil down to pride and his inferiority complex. Jiang Cheng would most probably think that Wei WuXian was trying to play hero again (which, again, as we have established, has and will never be in Wei WuXian’s intention or agenda), that Wei WuXian was pitying him, and he wouldn’t have accepted the golden core transfer.
But this, in itself, has its problems and complications, too. Let’s pan this what-if situation out for a bit here: had Wei WuXian had told Jiang Cheng about this option, he would’ve given Jiang Cheng his choice in the matter (which is important because a person’s choice is important), but because there was no way Jiang Cheng, being the person that he was and with the unstable state of mind he had been in at the time, would’ve accepted this from Wei WuXian, he would’ve rejected the option. Would this mean they wouldn’t have any regrets? No. Because Wei WuXian loved (still does) his brother, and combined with the promise he had had with Madam Yu about protecting Jiang Cheng (to death, by the way), he wouldn’t have been okay with watching Jiang Cheng suffer and wither away.
Remember, at this point, Jiang Cheng was already clearly suicidal. In the novel, and even in the donghua, this isn’t simply lightly implied, the way he behaved and the things he said (asking about why Wei WuXian had bothered saving him instead of just letting him die off because he didn’t want to witness the Wens overrun the cultivation world, and saying that he’d die and come back to haunt the Wens) stated this without leaving any remaining shadow of doubt. As for Jiang Cheng, had he been told, would’ve rejected Wei WuXian’s plan (as we just talked about), but would he have not thought about this every single day for the rest of his remaining days (however long he would’ve managed to live without trying to do something to get himself killed, that is)? Jiang Cheng has an inferiority complex (through no fault of his own, of course), and he wouldn’t have been able to live with seeing Wei WuXian still out there and entirely capable and fighting off the Wens whilst he himself was, more or less, dead weight. The idea that he could’ve restored his golden core at the expense of someone else would’ve never let him go, exactly because of how possibly attainable and absolutely horrifying it was.
And did Wei WuXian in that moment really had a choice? This was Jiang Cheng’s actual life on the line, as well as his own, and Jiang Cheng was his brother—the one he loved, the one he played with, the one who grew up with him and protected him and shared meals with him. The one he promised to protect to the bitter end. It had always been Jiang Cheng’s dream to be the Sect Leader that his father approved of, and he would never be able to become leader and realize his full potential without a golden core. So, Wei WuXian was saddled with a choice: he had to choose between a suicidal Jiang Cheng (which, believe me, is a very hard thing to watch anyone close to you go through) who would very likely try to get himself killed doing something reckless, and a Jiang Cheng who would regain his confidence and take up the mantle of sect leader to continue on the Jiang Clan legacy and rebuild their decimated sect from the group up—like what his parents would’ve wanted, like what Jiang Cheng himself would’ve done had he still had his golden core.
You have to understand that Wei WuXian himself, in that moment, must have been scared, too, scared and desperate, for a multitude of reasons—the Wens finding them and their helplessness in the face of all that power, the operation not working out, him not being able to protect Jiang Cheng and Jiang YanLi anymore. But what must have been the height of his fear (for a teenaged boy who had lost his entire family twice) was losing Jiang Cheng—and he had been losing Jiang Cheng right in front of his eyes because Jiang Cheng—Wei WuXian’s proud and resilient and capable brother—had given up on life. (And let me tell you, it is a very frightening thing that will haunt you for a long time).
Jiang Cheng, a child growing up in the main branch of a prominent, cultivating clan, believed his self-worth to lie in the existence of his golden core—in his continued capacity to keep on being a cultivator. He didn’t know a life outside of that, still doesn’t, and he couldn’t imagine a life in which he couldn’t cultivate anymore. He was devastated. His parents, his entire sect except for his sister, died horrible deaths, and his family home was razed to the ground. Without the means to take revenge, the rage he felt would’ve been nothing but an impotent one, and this was why, the second Wei WuXian told him there was a way, the spark of life returned to his eyes. Because only with the possibility of being able to cultivate again did he actually give himself a fighting chance.
And Wei WuXian saw this because, despite all appearances, he was/is an observant individual.
Consider these passages taken from chapter 60, translated by Exiled Rebels Scanlations, bolded parts by me:
[Wei WuXian] closed the door and pulled out the needle in Jiang Cheng’s head. [Jiang Cheng] opened his eyes only after a long time had passed.
He did wake up, but he didn’t move at all. He was so uninterested that he didn’t even turn around or ask ‘where is this’. He didn’t drink any water, he didn’t eat any food. It seemed that all he sought for was death.
Wei WuXian, “Do you really want to die?”
Jiang Cheng, “I can’t seek revenge even when I’m alive. Why shouldn’t I die? Maybe I’ll be able to turn into a ferocious ghost.”
And:
Jiang Cheng, “If I can’t seek revenge no matter if I’m dead or alive, then what’s the difference between the two?”
After he said this, he wouldn’t speak again no matter what.
Wei WuXian sat by the bed. He looked at him for a while. Slapping his knees, he stood up and began to busy himself.
This, in all honesty, must have been when Wei WuXian finalized his decision. And so he set about to busy himself and try to cook Jiang Cheng a meal, probably trying to think up a believable enough story for his brother in the meantime as well. Maybe he had considered telling Jiang Cheng, maybe he hadn’t. But the second he saw this: “The sentence was only a few words long. However, it immediately lit up the lifeless eyes of Jiang Cheng,” (chapter 60) he had already made up his mind.
As for why he refuses to tell Jiang Cheng later on, it’s a combination of, once again, knowing his brother well, of absorbing the Jiang behavior (something which Jiang Cheng will exhibit later on himself), and of how, in the end, they were two prideful people themselves. Jiang Cheng would’ve been devastated and would’ve felt guilty (as he is now) had this revelation came out after all was said and done, and Wei WuXian hadn’t done this for Jiang Cheng to feel grateful either. He just hadn’t wanted his brother to go kill himself. He hadn’t wanted his brother to live in guilt, and he hadn’t wanted to have received pity from Jiang Cheng either (much like how Jiang Cheng wouldn’t have and had never wanted Wei WuXian to pity him).
We will have our own opinions on this, on Wei WuXian’s choices and whether they were right or not, but in the end, he had only wanted one thing out of this: he had wanted Jiang Cheng, his brother, to live. Actually live and thrive, instead of just dragging a withering existence.
Now, moving on to the second matter in this too long essay, Wen Ning’s handling of the revelation and why he was doing it at all.
Firstly, we need to remember three things: that Wen Ning still feels guilty toward Jiang Cheng for all the wrong things he did; that Wen Ning is very protective of Wei WuXian; and that by nature, Wen Ning is a soft, shy, polite person with a good heart (as demonstrated by him going out of his way to help Wei WuXian and Jiang Cheng back when Lotus Pier had just been destroyed). So this revelation doesn’t stem from a want and/or need to humiliate Jiang Cheng, nor does it have any ill-willed intention at all other than for Jiang Cheng to please just stop going after Wei WuXian for a second.
From the moment Wen Ning woke up from his 13 years of imprisonment, all he heard was bad news. Very bad news. In all of those bad news, aside from the fact that his entire family died, was the one fact that Jiang Cheng had personally led the siege up Burial Mounds himself to eradicate evil, Wei WuXian and those fifty Wens people who had been clearly old and feeble last time Jiang Cheng had checked, and had caused Wei WuXian’s death. (This, Wei WuXian denied, saying that his demonic cultivation was what had done him in in the end, but because Wei WuXian is a liar, we don’t know if Wen Ning actually believed this or not).
Eventually, there was the second Burial Mound siege, also led by Jiang Cheng, also organized by people who wanted Wei WuXian dead. Wen Ning couldn’t have possibly been okay with this, with the way they were treating Wei WuXian, considering that just one nameless junior disciple bad-mouthing Wei WuXian alone was already enough to set him off. But, this aside, Wen Ning had had a tough time, too, what with the blood corpses of his brutally slain family coming back up from the death to help the very same people who had killed them years ago, only to crumple back to dust before his eyes.
This was a lot of stress, and Jiang Cheng has never stopped trying to make sure Wei WuXian sees the disdain, anger, and contempt Jiang Cheng has for him. And because this is Jiang Cheng, he never holds back his words, especially when he has a multitude of complicated emotions when it comes to Wei WuXian, which have been festering for nearly two decades.
(Excerpts, all are what Jiang Cheng says to Wei WuXian during what leads up to their eventual fight taken from chapter 87 and 88, translated by Exiled Rebels Scanlations, and bolded parts by me:)
“Wei WuXian, you really don’t take yourself as an outsider, do you? You come and leave whenever you want. You take with you whomever you want. Do you perhaps still remember whose sect this is? Who’s the owner?”
“If you’re leaving, please go as far as possible. Don’t let me see or hear you fooling around in Lotus Pier again.”
“You really should kneel for them properly, having dirtied their eyes and contaminated their peace.”
“Burn some incense? Wei WuXian, are you really that dense? It’s been so long since you were kicked out of our sect, and here you are taking unwelcome people with you to burn incense for my parents?”
“Look how forgetful you are. What does unwelcome people mean? Then let me remind you. It was because you played the hero and saved Second Young Master Lan, who’s standing beside you right now, that the entire Lotus Pier and my parents went down with you. And that wasn’t enough. With the first time, soon comes the second. You even had to save Wen-dogs and drag my sister down with you. What a person you are! What’s more, you’re even so generous as to take the two to Lotus Pier. The Wen-dog’s strolling in front of my sect’s gates; Second Young Master Lan came here to burn incense. You’re here on purpose to remind me, to remind them.” He continued, “Wei WuXian, who do you think you are? Who gave you the face to take whomever you want into our sect’s ancestral hall?”
“Who’s the one insulting my parents in front of their spirits?! Could you two please understand whose sect you’re in? I don’t care if you act so shamelessly outside, but don’t you dare fool around inside our ancestral hall, before my parents’ spirits! After all, they were the ones who brought you up—even I feel ashamed for you!”
“Mess around outside however you want, whether under a tree or on a boat, hugging or otherwise! Get out of my sect, get out of anywhere my eyes can see!”
And because Jiang Cheng has always had a temper, and this, again, has been festering for years, he keeps trying to chase after Wei WuXian even after the Wei WuXian in question has coughed up blood and had a nosebleed and collapsed.
Wen Ning has probably been watching the entire thing (hence why he manages to jump out and uses himself to block that very damaging whip that Jiang Cheng didn’t manage to pull back in time), and for a person who is very protective of Wei WuXian, who is hurt right then, Wen Ning, with his own emotional stress and psychological trauma, snaps.
Jiang Cheng still blames Wei WuXian for everything, and Wen Ning cannot bear that. Wei WuXian, after all, is the first person who acknowledge him and complimented him, the only person who was willing to extend a hand to help his sister and his entire family, and the one who ended up paying for that choice with his life.
Wen Ning doesn’t fight Jiang Cheng because he still feels guilty, but at the very least, he can’t just stand there and let Jiang Cheng keep chasing Wei WuXian out and away, spewing such hurtful words in the meantime as well. Wei WuXian might act carefree, but Wen Ning knows that these things bothered Wei WuXian—he was there to see Wei WuXian break apart for himself, after all.
And Wen Ning does what he has always done: he defends Wei WuXian.
Wei WuXian, Jiang Cheng, and Wen Ning, are their actions and reactions right? I don’t know. I can’t tell, not when the situation is multifaceted and very complicated, especially when you try to look at the big picture and analyze what is going on at specific points in story and what may be driving these character forward as they progress through the story.
109 notes
·
View notes
Link
January 16, 1986 12:00PM ET
Double agents selling secrets to foreign governments; defectors running amok in the streets of Washington; allies betraying allies — these days spies are out of the shadows and on the spot. Yet espionage isn’t what it once was, and at least one Cold War vet fondly remembers overthrowing unfriendly governments, planning assassinations and performing dirty tricks. Most of all, retired CIA officer Miles Copeland (whose brood of rock & roll overachievers includes oldest son Miles Copeland III, manager of the Police and solo Sting; Ian, founder of the music booking agency FBI; and youngest son Stewart, drummer first for Curved Air and later for the Police) yearns for the good old days when secret agents kept their secrets secret — from the government and especially from the press.
Born in Birmingham, Alabama, Copeland joined the U.S. Army in 1940. Assigned to the Counter-Intelligence Corps (CIC), he transferred in 1942 to the new Office of Strategic Services (OSS), the first U.S. secret intelligence agency. After the war, Copeland was station chief in Damascus, “putting Syria,” as he recalls, “on the path to democracy by starting a military dictatorship.” For this achievement, he was awarded a presidential citation. Copeland became a member of the Central Intelligence Agency when it was founded in 1947; he was appointed chief of the agency’s Political Action Staff, the dirty-tricks department, in 1950. “Nobody,” he says, “knows more about changing governments, by force or otherwise, than me.”
Copeland left government service in 1957 to form his own “private CIA,” which he claims became the largest private security service operating in Africa and the Middle East. Today the seventy-two-year-old Copeland and his wife, Lorraine, a well-known British archaeologist, live in a stone cottage in the tranquil hamlet of Aston Rowant, near Oxford, in England.
The White House has given the CIA part of the Job of handling terrorism. What do you think they will do that is different from what has already been done? You know, you’re opening a real can of worms here. The difference between the CIA’s counterterrorist experts and this new kind that’s been proliferating all over the place is that the CIA has operators who know the terrorists, who’ve actually talked to a few, who’ve even lived with them, or who, like myself, have actually been terrorists. We understand the enemy, while these instant experts who’ve been advising the White House have never in their lives laid eyes on a terrorist, and they think of them as common criminals. Maybe they are, and maybe they aren’t, but where these recent “experts” are wrong is that they assume they are criminals simply because they are judging them as though they are Americans, brought up on American ideas of what’s right and what’s wrong. They are making moral judgments that aren’t relevant to the situation. What may be effective in combating crime is not likely to be effective in dealing with wrong doers who in their own eyes, whether rightly or wrongly, think they are engaged in some noble cause. The Pentagon wants to kill them; the CIA wants to win them over.
Who’s winning? It’s not a matter of winning. Just different viewpoints. The president of the United States has got to say what is necessary to keep himself in office. We have a domestic foreign policy and a foreign foreign policy. The domestic foreign policy, which is the more important one, is what he has to do to make the American public think he’s doing the right thing. Whether it’s the right thing or not doesn’t matter. The American people have to think he’s doing the right thing because we have a democratic society. Now, the American people were highly indignant about what happened in Beirut [the hijacking of TWA flight 847 in June 1985]. They wanted to do something. They wanted to punish the people without regard to the consequences. The president had to say things to them, make threats, to show the American people that, by God, we were doing something. But the professionals inside the government were worried about the consequences of this. Because what it takes to please the American people is not what it takes to please a lot of people who did not grow up in the American culture but grew up in cultures quite different from our own. We’ve got most of the world against us at the moment. When we drag out our gunboats, bomb villages and kill a lot of women and children — a lot more than the terrorists kill — we turn the world against us. And the American people don’t care. They don’t give a damn. But those people whose job it is to look after the interests of the U.S. government abroad, they’ve got to care. They have to think of the consequences of everything we do. And they know the consequences of dragging out the gunboats are absolutely the wrong ones. In fact, these are the consequences the terrorists created acts of terrorism in order to provoke. That’s the purpose of terrorism, not to kill, maim or destroy, but to terrorize, to frighten, to anger, to provoke irrational responses. Terrorism gains more from the responses than it gains from the actions themselves.
So how do you deal with it? You’ve got to know who they are. You’ve got to know their reasons for doing it. And you’ve got to manipulate them in one way or another. We have to somehow come to grips with the problem. The Israelis went in to Lebanon and killed tens of thousands of people. They say, “That’s exaggerating, we didn’t kill but 5,000 people.” Okay, let’s say they killed only 2,000 people, which is a very modest estimate. But they destroyed Lebanon. They then set up groups against each other, made chaos ten times worse than it already was. Instead of helping the Shiites — the Shiites welcomed the Israelis in — we, the United States, gave a billion dollars to the Israelis. One billion we gave because it costs a lot of money to destroy someone else’s country. We gave peanuts — Red Cross supplies — to the Shiites. What we should have done is gone in there and said to the Shiites: “Look, a lot of injustice has been done. We’re going to put your orange groves back and put you back commercially. . . . “
Is that your answer for potential terrorists? Give them lots of aid to keep them sweet? No. Let’s get back to the reason these guys are terrorists. They’re terrorists because their orange groves have been destroyed and they’ve got nothing to do. They can’t even get to their farms because the Israelis have declared them out of bounds and destroyed a lot of them. Now, the CIA’s job is to explain all of this to our government. That’s the main job of the CIA — to go to the White House and explain to the president that the only reason these terrorists are terrorists is because of the way they’ve been treated, and they’ve got nothing else to do. In fact, I’ll tell you quite frankly, if people came into Alabama, my home state, and destroyed my farms and kicked me around and kicked my children around, I’m going to become a terrorist, just as the French became terrorists under the Germans in World War II. It’s understandable. The CIA understood this and understood it very well and explained it to the president. But we had pressures from Congress. The members of Congress don’t give a damn about foreign affairs. They give a damn about their next election. They have to do what makes them popular enough with their constituents to get reelected. And their constituency cares about one place in this world, and that’s the United States.
You have told me what we should have done. What should we do to combat terrorism now that the damage has been done? Well, most terrorists in the world are coming down to two categories. The first kind are people such as the Palestinians, who’ve had — listen, I’ve known this one family for the past forty years. The guy has polio, he’s crippled. He has some teenage kids who are nice kids, nice family. The Israelis showed up at six o’clock in the evening and said: “Everybody out! Everybody out!” They all got out, and the Israelis razed his house. He says: “I haven’t done a damn thing! I’m just looking after my orange groves!” They said, “You had a terrorist in your house six months ago.” First place, he said he hadn’t, and I believe he was telling the truth. But the Israelis had no good reason to believe he wasn’t — no name, no information at all. Now this is information that our embassy reported. This is official, not something I heard from the PLO information office. Now those two teenage kids stood there and watched their family being destroyed and their mother kicked downstairs when she refused to leave the house. Can you imagine their not becoming terrorists? They don’t have an air force or artillery. I had a Shiite ask me: “You say we shouldn’t use terrorism. What should we use?” Well, you shouldn’t use anything, we might say. You should make peace with Israel. Make peace with Israel? They’ve just destroyed my land! I have nothing! My house is flattened! The whole village is destroyed! This isn’t just the Shiites talking. Our own embassy says this. You know something that very few people know, and I suspect you ought to leave all this out, but the fact is, in the American foreign service, there are a lot of patriots. You’ve never seen such patriots in your life. They all fight for American policy, right or wrong. Central America, Vietnam, wherever, except in the Middle East. The whole career service in the Middle East spends all its time fighting its own government. Anyone who doubts that can use the Freedom of Information Act to get the cables, all of them pleading with our own government to stop this support of Israel to that point. I don’t mean stop supporting Israel, but stop the behavior of Israel, which is making them hated. And we are backing them against these people they’ve kicked around. And how did the Israelis get in power? Terrorism. You’d think they’d know something about terrorism since the heads of their government have been terrorists themselves. In fact, Israel wouldn’t be there if it hadn’t been for their effective terrorists. But they know nothing about terrorism. A friend of mine in Mossad [the Israeli intelligence agency] said: “Terrorism is not going to destroy Israel, but our counterterrorism might, because it costs us a million dollars a day. It might drive us into bankruptcy.”
So what’s the answer to terrorism? Like I was saying, we have to find the reason these people are terrorists. The job of the CIA is to report why they are terrorists. Now I said there are two categories. The first, people who have been deprived and been ruined. The second category is this: A lot of these guys have found a way of life. They’re like gunslingers in the Old West. They drive Mercedes. There are professional terrorists now. It’s a profitable business. Maybe they were criminals originally, criminally inclined, but now they have political motivations to justify themselves. You’re not going to find them. Many of them are in Paris, and the French police don’t give a damn. The fact is that we are fighting a “proxy war” right now in which Soviet proxies face our proxies. Today’s war, between us and the Soviets, is a mosaic of regional wars. The Soviet policy is one of denial, not to gain territory for themselves but to deny it to us, to deprive us of the raw materials from Africa — cobalt, magnesium, chromium — that we have to have for a highly technological society like ours.
Are you saying the Soviets are behind terrorism? No, they exploit the troubles. Most of the terrorism in the world today the Soviets do not instigate. They may train key people to go in and stir things up, but that’s as far as they go. The Soviets are delighted when we draw up a gunboat in the Beirut harbor. They love this. It makes people hate us. The thing we should have done about the TWA hijacking in Beirut was get the damn thing over with right away as the CIA advised.
And how would we have done that? Let the Shiites loose. Forget it. We’ve lost this one.
Wouldn’t giving in like that encourage more terrorism? No. What encourages them is to get all that prime time on television. They wanted the publicity they got. And they wanted us to look like jackasses, which they succeeded in doing. In a war, you lose battles now and then. The best thing to do is cut your losses and get the hell out. They were hoping we’d drag it out.
You think the media was out of control? The media is always out of control. It’s not supposed to be under control. That’s what we have to live with in a free society. You can’t prevent the media from doing what it wants to do. But you can prevent the media from getting the information in the first place, by having rules for those who have the secrets not to release them to the media.
All right, how would the rules have worked in Beirut? How could you have prevented the madness that ensued? You know, if a plane lands in Turkey right now, the minute they establish there are hijackers on it, you know what happens? Nothing. They cut off all communications. “We want you to release so-and-so.” Silence. They just sit there and rot as far as the Turks are concerned. So there’s no news whatsoever. It’s not unethical to give the press false information. We do have a kind of adversary relationship with the press. There’s nothing we should try to do to shut them up, but it is absolutely permissible to tell the press whatever is in the interests of the American people to have the press know or think. And they can use it any way they want to. They can be suspicious, as they should be. A good pressman is suspicious of what anyone tells him.
How does your vision of the CIA fit Western democracy? [Laughter.]
Come on, what are Miles Copeland’s principles of democracy? Let me tell you about democracy. First place, I remember Syria. We decided we were going to bring democracy to Syria. So we got a translator in Arabic, and we got signs. We were going to have an election. This is 1946, ’47. The signs say, Get Out And Vote For The Candidate of Your Choice. We had people coming in the embassy and saying, “Look, these signs are no good — they don’t tell us who the candidate of our choice is.” In the United States, if we had true democracy, it would be a good thing. But true democracy is impossible now because of the fact that the general population cannot possibly keep themselves well enough informed to decide on issues except on a very parochial basis. The average person, the best he can do is something he’s not allowed to do — that’s to vote for a man because he’s known to be honest and competent. But now a candidate has to tell you what his issues are and get elected on that basis. We have to sell the idea to the American public that there are many things about foreign policy the American people simply cannot understand, because foreign policy requires, above all else, judging people according to their own standards. The emphasis should be in choosing people we trust. Where the CIA can work as an institution in a democratic government is, we have to set up criteria where nobody can get into the CIA unless he’s honest and patriotic. And I think they’ve succeeded at that. The guys in the CIA are the most strait-laced people you ever saw.
Who gets your highest marks as CIA director? I’d have to name two people, and for totally different reasons. I think George Bush was the best. He came in knowing he didn’t know a damn thing about the CIA, but he did know how to judge people whose opinions he could trust, and he listened to them.
Who is second? Dick Helms. Helms lied to a congressional committee. That’s one of his fortunate traits, that he’s willing to lie to a congressional committee. William Colby didn’t have the guts to do this. Lacking patriotism, he did not lie to a committee.
Wait a minute — lacking patriotism? Absolutely. Why should he tell a group things he knew would leak to the newspapers? He should have lied to them. If he were really a patriotic American, he wouldn’t have thought of telling them the truth.
And Helms gets high marks for perjury? With me and with everyone who has ever been a career officer in the government. Absolutely. You can call it perjury if you like, and maybe it was, but he should have been willing to go to jail for it.
It’s okay to lie under oath if you’re in the CIA? I said nothing of the sort. If what you know means that telling the truth is going to damage the national interest, it is your obligation. . . .
Who decides the national interest? Do you want me to give you a hard time or do you want an answer?
Both. Okay, I’ll give you an answer: The CIA is set up so that it’s impossible for a person as an individual to arrogate to himself the right to lie to a congressional committee or to anyone else. But what he can or cannot say is clearly specified from the day he is sworn in. He can lie to people who are not his bosses, who do not have security clearances. Most congressmen do not have security clearances. When Senator Frank Church asked me something, and he said, “Will you take an oath,” I said, “Senator, I’ll take the oath, and I wouldn’t think of telling you the truth.” Personally, I like Colby very much. He’s a very fine man, but he’s just the wrong kind of guy to be head of the CIA. He’s a good guy.
You’ve got to be a bad guy to head the CIA? You have to be prepared, as a good soldier does. A good soldier could be religious and have read the Bible, but he’s got to go out and kill people. The CIA has to have a separate set of morals. In that sense, you have to be amoral.
Is it true you were once asked by your CIA bosses to kill President Nasser of Egypt? My old boss, Frank Wisner, passed on to me orders that I was to “explore the possibility” of assassinating Gamal Nasser. Poor Wiz didn’t like doing even that. But the order came straight from the White House. Anthony Eden, who was Britain’s foreign minister at the time, believed the world would be a happier place without Nasser in it, and the belief grew to enormous proportions after the Suez fiasco. The head of British intelligence, who had a somewhat wry sense of humor, used to say that if either his boys or ours didn’t assassinate Nasser “professionally,” Eden was likely to do it himself “amateurishly,” and the results would be “messy.” Eden’s attitude was “At least we should look into it.” He said as much to his opposite number in Washington, John Foster Dulles, and Dulles discussed it with President Eisenhower, who said, in effect, “Anything to keep Tony quiet.” The order was passed down, from the president to the secretary of state to the director of the CIA — Foster’s brother, Allen — to Frank Wisner to Kermit Roosevelt to me. I was to visit Nasser, have coffee with him, say, “That’s an interesting vase you have over there in the corner,” and when he turned his head to look, make the motion of slipping a cyanide pill into his cup just to see if he would catch me at it.
Did you do it? Sort of, and I didn’t have to use the “look over there” trick. Nasser kept looking the other way out of sheer boredom at what I had to say. Just sitting there with Nasser, rehearsing in my mind just how I would go about sneaking something into his lemonade or coffee, I saw how easy it would have been-theoretically, that is. When I got back from the Nasser experiment, I went into the whole question of assassination, from the philosophy behind it to all the ways of doing it.
Philosophy of assassination? Very important. All these post-Watergate liberals forget that assassination was once a healthy alternative to war. There is only one justification for assassination: to save lives, lots of lives. One life to save many. But as for a weapon of strategy, that’s a different story.
What is the justification? The rationalization by which the so-called war of dirty tricks is justified is that it takes the place of a real war in which millions may be killed. Given such a justification, anything goes. For example, you can sometimes gain points in the war of dirty tricks by killing an expendable person on your own side and blaming it on the other. But that kind of nonsense is talked about only in meetings where “contingencies” are being considered. In those meetings, it is permissible to suggest literally anything.
One CIA target was President Patrice Lumumba of the Congo, in the summer of 1960. . . . Well, now, I’ll tell you a brief story to illustrate what a great farce that was. The CIA station chief in the Congo at the time, who I knew very well, was a very sober, conservative fellow who harbored the ambition to get into the State Department. Since he was really a CIA man, his State Department job was only a cover — and at a lower grade than his CIA job called for, to the disgrace of his wife. So his main worry was his wife, who was complaining that she wasn’t invited to parties and wasn’t seated high enough above the salt at dinners. And he was wondering how he got this lousy job in the Congo. One day he was contemplating the sadness of his lot when a message arrived from Washington. It had a code word which means this is something you take seriously because this comes from the White House. Ordinarily, when you get an order from headquarters you never obey it the first time because you’re not sure they mean it. It might be some guy telling you to do something to get himself off the hook, being on record as having ordered it. So you always wait until the second time. But if there’s a White House code word, you’d better take it seriously. The message from the White House said he was to assassinate Lumumba — to explore means to terminate with extreme prejudice. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was assassinate anyone, except perhaps his wife! But this thing said he had to go kill Lumumba, and he hadn’t the faintest idea how to go about it. Well, then another cable came in, saying somebody was coming out from the scientific section. And up showed this weird little Dr. Strangelove type. So not only does this guy have an order from the White House, he’s also got on hand this creep who was going to show him how to do it! Well, the station chief just blew his top, said, “The hell with this,” and told Dr. Strangelove to get the hell out.
What else did you get up to in the CIA? Well, I got my foot in the door in the psychopharmacological department by virtue of my interest in assassination. There are two categories: those which are made to look like natural deaths and those which serve their purpose only if they are known to be assassinations. For the first kind, there is a variety of methods, most of them involving poison. Somehow you introduce into the body of your victim two separate substances, at different times, each of which is harmless by itself but which becomes poisonous when mixed with the other. You wouldn’t believe what those weirdos come up with! The congressional subcommittee which went into this sort of thing got only the barest glimpse.
What did they miss? You can kill a man by putting a certain substance on a letter you send to him which gets into his system simply through his holding the letter in his fingers. You can make him allergic to almost anything — alcohol, aspirin tablets, even coffee or tea — that if he takes even a small quantity of it he will drop over dead. You can program a pair of dogs — even his own dogs — to savage him to death upon a given signal. You can do any number of imaginable and unimaginable things. But you don’t have to kill him; you can just make a fool out of him.
For example? You can slip an LSD pill into his lemonade as he is about to make a speech or have an electric fan blow “distress gas” onto him, or you can doctor his notes so that simply by holding them in his hands he will absorb enough hallucinatory materials to make him think he is God. One of [Indonesian president] Sukarno’s best, most electrifying speeches, I understand, was made after one of his assistants, a CIA agent, doctored his shaving lotion. The agent simply forgot that Sukarno’s wildest ramblings were made when he was cold sober and that a hallucinogen could only make for an improvement!
What do you think of today’s CIA? The organization itself is great, and Mr. Casey is tops, but the government won’t let it move, and the press is intent on preventing any secret operations it might try to run. As you know, unlike The New York Times, Victor Marchetti and Philip Agee, my complaint has been that the CIA isn’t overthrowing enough anti-American governments or assassinating enough anti-American leaders, but I guess I’m getting old. What’s keeping the agency inactive is Congress and disinformed public opinion. With modern communications being what they are, we’re supposed to be the best informed people in history, but we’re not. We’re the most informed, which is hardly the same thing.
You seem to take an active interest in American politics. Do your sons share your interest? It’s my impression my oldest son, Miles, has actually contributed to Republican congressional campaigns, but I’m not all that sure. That’s one area of my son’s activities he doesn’t confide in other members of the family about. [Laughs] My son Miles — he wants everything everybody says about him these days to be cleared in advance.
Does Miles have anyone in mind for the presidency in 1988? I know Miles has his eye on Congressman Jack Kemp [Republican — New York]. I think that’s his candidate, but I don’t know. [Miles Copeland III denies that he supports Jack Kemp or any other Republican or Democratic candidate for Congress or for the presidency.] He’s always planning several years ahead. Miles is pretty secretive about his affairs. He should have been in the CIA instead of me. Yeah, I’m “blah blah blah,” and he’s “hush hush.” I’m not sure he’s thought through all the implications of the power he’s got.
What do you mean? The next time you go to a Police concert — say, one like that in Shea Stadium, with 70,000 young minds open to whatever the Police decide to put into them — you can answer that question for yourself.
#cia#terrorism#cia assassination#imperialism#cold war#israel lebanon war#lebanon#george h w bush#the police#miles copeland#egypt#gamal nasser#PLO#israeli colonialism
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Before this past episode, I had a rough guess for how I thought Damien and Rilla’s romance progressed.
Hearing a bit of Rilla’s backstory, though, I’ve made some changes to that hypothesis.
As always, I wrote a fic about it.
The man at the edge of the clearing is dressed for a ride, but there’s no horse to be seen. Most likely, it was killed by the same monster that did that to its rider.
A shame about the horse, really. Dampierre could have used a friend.
And the rider?
Well, he’s a knight, and that means he isn’t her problem. She’s Amaryllis of Exile, after all, not Amaryllis of the Second Citadel. She owes no allegiance to the Citadel or its King or its pig-headed brute squad. She could just leave him here, alone and unprotected, the way his people did to her parents. To her.
She has no obligation to help him.
She does anyway. Not because she has to, just because she can.
Damien wakes up.
That is the first surprise-- usually one doesn’t come back after being wounded so grievously so far from home. He knew it was impossible when he set out on foot, but he thought at least he could make it easier for Angelo to find his body.
And yet here he is. Alive, by the mercy of the Saints and some good-natured stranger.
Oh. That.
That is the second surprise.
He’s being watched by a... she must be a woman, though he’s heard of nymphs and sirens and gumiho who can wear such beauty as a glamour. Her long curls stream down her back and over her shoulder; absently she braids a few strands between her long, deft fingers.
She seems... familiar, somehow.
He sits up-- or tries, before he collapses back into a remarkably well-made cot. On the floor lies his armor-- in pieces, parts of it bloodied and torn and parts of it methodically cut along the straps.
He looks up at the woman again. “I’m alive?” He barely manages a croak.
“Not if you keep opening your wounds like that,” she replies, cold and disinterested and perhaps a bit annoyed.
Has he annoyed her?
“Forgive me for my intrusion,” he says. “But I am eternally grateful for your hospitality.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Yes?” He doesn’t know any other way to answer. “If I may know, who are you?”
Apparently he may not, because she doesn’t answer. Her only reply is a scowl. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? One of the knights of the King?”
That raises even more questions. Is she not from the Second Citadel? Did he get turned around and wander into another land? Where is he?
He clears his throat. “There have been no knights of the King in quite some time. I serve Queen Mira of the Second Citadel.”
The woman looks unimpressed. “You could have just said yes.”
Damien frowns. He knows that voice. He knows that face. He-- Yes. He knows her.
“I’ve heard of a witch who lives in the forest just outside the Citadel’s walls. That’s you, isn’t it?”
She bristles. “Just because you don’t understand it doesn’t make it magic. It’s science and medicine, not a bunch of bullshit tricks.”
“My apologies,” he says, bowing his head. “I misunderstood.”
Damien nurses a cup of tea and a bowl of broth while the herbalist nurses her other patients. Yet another surprise: he never thought an alleged witch would receive so much custom, let alone one who lives in the middle of nowhere. And yet, she’s clearly worthy of their esteem. She is curt, but kind, and treats each of them with a speed and confidence that he could only wish for in the barracks.
They bring her bolts of cloth and baskets of food, but when she puts it away, her pantries are worryingly bare. The pile of wood is low beside the fire.
“I imagine it would be easier for your patients to see you if you weren’t so far away,” he muses when the hut is once again empty of visitors. “And you would be safer inside the Citadel’s walls.”
“I’m sure I would, if I were allowed to set foot inside.” She dons a sardonic grin. “Didn’t I introduce myself? Amaryllis of Exile.”
Exile. Yes, that would explain a good deal. His heart sinks, though he doesn’t understand why. “Sir Damien of the Second Citadel, at your service.”
Still-- as always-- she is unimpressed. “I’m pretty sure you don’t serve people in exile.” “But I extend it to you all the same.”
When he’s well enough to leave her hut, she doesn’t ask him for payment, and he has nothing to give-- he only carried a small amount of money with him for expenses, and that was lost. The most valuable things he owned were his bow and his armor, and both are destroyed.
“Don’t worry about it,” Rilla says-- or, her patients call her Rilla, though he isn’t certain he may use such a familiar name. “You didn’t ask me to save you, so why should I ask you for money?”
Damien only wishes he understood her properly. “You’re a remarkable woman, Amaryllis.”
“And you can keep those remarks to yourself,” she says, but there’s no venom in it. “Take care of yourself, Damien.”
Rilla thought she was done with the knight. And yet here he is, persistent as a weed. She considers slamming the door in his face. She doesn’t, but she considers it.
“What in the world are you doing here?” she demands instead.
“I wanted to thank you.” You’d think someone as dangerous with a sword or bow or whatever wouldn’t fumble so much, but he almost drops the basket he’s carrying. “For what you did for me.”
“I told you not to worry about it,” she says flatly. She doesn’t look at that basket with any inkling of temptation, even when his fumbling dislodges its covering and reveals at least a week’s worth of supplies, and produces the distinct rattle of coins. “Without your intervention, I would have died.”
“That’s what medical professionals do,” she says, but sighs. “What did you put in that basket, lead weights? You look like you can barely carry it.” She takes it from him, expecting it to drag her down, but it doesn’t. By all means, it’s a regular basket. But even without its weight, his hand is shaking.
She frowns. “Let me take a look at that arm.”
“What? I didn’t mean to impose--”
“Just get in here,” she sighs, and ushers him inside. “We’ll call it even, since you’ve overpaid for your last visit.”
When he pulls up his sleeve, his arm is covered in bruises and lacerations.
“Saints,” she breathes. “It’s been all of-- what, a week since you left here? How in the world did you do this to yourself?”
And maybe that was a bad question to ask, because he tells her as she mixes together herbs and applies poultices to his wounds. As much as she’d like to be annoyed, there’s something oddly engaging about the way he tells the story. It’s... charming, in a way.
When the story ends, Rilla is enraptured, her eyes fixed on his, her face transfigured by her smile.
Only the Saints themselves could have sculpted such a radiant smile.
He’s sure he would do anything to see it one more time.
“Sir Damien!” Sir Angelo cries after flipping Damien onto his back for the fourth time in twenty minutes. “What’s gotten into you?”
“It’s nothing.” Damien clears his throat and drags himself to his feet. “It seems you’re doing especially well today. All that practice is clearly paying off.”
“You’re too kind,” Sir Angelo says, clapping an enormous hand against Damien’s aching back. “But that can’t be it. You’re terribly distracted. Tell me.” He hunches low and lowers his voice into a conspiratorial whisper that still manages to reach the farthest corners of the training field. “Is it... a woman?”
“A woman?” Damien’s laugh is about as effective as Sir Angelo’s whisper. “Of course not. Really, Angelo, that’s absurd. A woman. Ha! What a thought! As if I had the time for romance when there are monsters to slay and a Citadel to defend and evil-doers to apprehend.”
“Of course not.” Sir Angelo gives him the least subtle wink Damien’s ever seen. “Perish the thought.”
Perish the thought. Yes, that would be wisest, wouldn’t it?
Because it is absurd, and Damien knows it. It’s just a bit of infatuation. Her kindness doesn’t imply interest, it’s just evidence of the kind of person she is. A single smile isn’t an invitation.
He knows she doesn’t return his feelings. He knows that she never will. He shouldn’t intrude on her life.
The next time Rilla sees Damien, he’s a little more shy and a lot more quiet than he was before, but that might have something to do with the unfortunate contact rash that’s covering half his body. It’s pure chance that she runs into him at all-- he’s wandering aimlessly in the woods, his eyes swollen shut, and she barely manages to stop him before he crashes into a tree.
She should be irritated, but there’s something kind of adorable about his flustered apologies as she walks him to her hut. Besides, it’s a fairly easy fix-- she’s been elbow-deep into noxious elderweed enough times now that she’s developed an effective treatment for it. Within an hour the rash is gone and he’s feeling well enough to chop her firewood and patch a leak in her roof.
And if he feels the need to do those tasks without his shirt on... well, she isn’t complaining.
Damien is just going back to deliver Rilla’s payment. That’s all.
That’s all.
Because she’s his doctor, not his paramour, and he is determined to treat her as such.
Even if the sight of her smile does as much to sooth his spirit as her salves do to sooth his body...
“No,” he says aloud. “I am her patient, and I ask nothing more of her than that.”
But then another thought occurs to him.
“But... is that too much? She’s a very busy woman, after all-- am I taking too much of her time? I’m certain she doesn’t see other patients as much as she does me. Am I pressuring her for attention? Am I annoying her? Saint Damien, should I leave her alone, or would she take that to mean I don’t respect her skills as an herbalist?” The words fall out of his mouth so fast it feels like he’s choking on them. He can’t breathe.
“There are weeks when I haven’t stopped by-- did she feel relieved by my absence or was she insulted? Saint Damien, does she hate me?”
His heart is racing. His blood is too cold in his veins. Saints save him, how could he have done everything so wrong?
“Damien?” For once, Rilla’s lovely voice is the last thing he wants to hear. He should excuse himself. He should stop bothering her. He should-- “Damien, what’s wrong?”
“I-- I can’t breathe--”
And then Rilla’s hands are on him, her fingers pressed to his throat. “Elevated pulse, hyperventilation...” She presses her ear to his chest, and he shouldn’t feel as happy about that as he does. “But no fluid in the lungs, no coughing, no obstruction... it doesn’t look like a seizure...” Her arms are wrapped around him, her hands steady on his back. It’s just to keep him from falling, and he knows it, and yet all his attention is drawn to the points of contact between his skin and hers. “Damien, is it some kind of allergy? Have you been poisoned?”
“No,” he manages to choke out. “No, it’s--”
“Damien, look at me.” In that state he can do nothing but obey. Her eyes are entrancing, and he finds his breath caught in his throat. “Now. Breathe.”
He doesn’t know how long they stand there, breathing in tandem. Time seems to warp and shift until his heart begins to slow and his lungs remember the purpose they’re meant to serve.
It’s excellent timing; the first drops of a rainstorm are filtering through the canopy overhead.
"My hut isn’t far from here,” Rilla says. “Can you make it?”
For a moment, Damien can only sway, but he’ll make do. “Yes.”
Perhaps he should feel guilty about becoming her patient yet again, but he can only feel a relief as he steps back into the familiar herb-spiced air of her home. Before he knows what’s going on, she’s eased him into a chair and there’s a glass of cold tea in his hand.
“Do you know what happened?” she asks. “Can you talk about it?”
“It’s nothing, really,” he admits. Of all the people to witness an episode, it had to be her. But then, of course it would have been her. “They happen from time to time, and they pass on their own. It’s just a-- a fit of nervousness that goes too far. I apologize if I worried you.”
Rilla looks at him oddly. “I’m a little bit surprised,” she admits. “You’d think someone who fights monsters for a living wouldn’t have all that much to be afraid of.”
He attempts a smile, but it feels more like a grimace spread across his lips. “It isn’t monsters that frighten me.” It’s absurd. What must Rilla think of him? He waits for her to laugh, but she doesn’t.
She’s looking away from him, crushing rain-damp herbs with a mortar and pestle. With every creak of grinding stone, the herb releases a sweet, fresh scent. And all the while, she sings.
Her eyes are fixed on her work with an intensity that he knows all too well: she’s self-conscious, and trying to push through it.
She, too, is nervous.
He watches her, enraptured, as she passes from one song to another, and then to another, and the drumming of rain on the rooftop and thunder in the trees act as her percussion until they drown out her notes.
“It’s really coming down out there,” she muses, sidling up beside him.
“It is.” For the first time since she started singing, he tears his eyes off her and looks out the window, and into the gathering dark. “It will be dark soon. I should be going.”
“In this weather?” she asks. “That can’t be safe.”
“I’ve dealt with worse than a little rain.”
“I would know,” she says flatly. “I’ve patched you up from it. But just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” He can feel her eyes on him. “You can spend the night here. Wait out the storm.”
He fumbles-- “I couldn’t-- I wouldn’t want to besmirch your honor.”
She laughs. “Damien, I’m in exile. My honor can’t get much more besmirched than that. Unless it’s your honor that you’re worried about.”
He knows what she’s asking: is he ashamed of her?
“it isn’t,” he stammers too quickly. “You must know it isn’t-- I would never insult you that way, but I wouldn’t dare to presume-- you must understand that I would be honored, but I couldn’t ask--” He doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore; his tongue has tied itself in knots and his words are all wrong, but Rilla presses a finger to his lips.
“Damien, stop. Breathe.” She’s smiling, soft and fond and a little bit sad. “If you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to explain yourself. A simple no is enough.”
And not for the first time, he recalls what he would do for that smile. When he speaks, his voice is barely a whisper. “But I do want to stay.”
“Then just say so.” And she kisses him.
And tentatively, awkwardly, blissfully, he kisses her back.
128 notes
·
View notes
Note
do you remember what you wrote at all for the fantasy style guardian headcanons, or at least the one you did for uf!papyrus? im really excited to see more of the fic but i only just discovered your blog and im super curious as to what he'll be like ;;
So this may be too little too late, given skullcanons disappearance, but I was holding out to discover the original. Given how long its been I think its time to just rewrite it myself.
For those of you who don’t know, this is based off a prompt from my first blog. The prompt was imagining the skelebros as a fantasy style guardian, someone to accompany a Reader on some kind of mythical quest. From that I kind of inferred the system where teh skeletons are all guardians assigned to those going out on a quest, anything from dungeon crawling to saving the world to slaying a dragon. It may be functionally a sort of mercenary role although the assignments often have a lot to do with temperament and goals. I invoked a few archetypes to help give an impression. Also, keep in mind I’m working off of memory and may have changed one or two. I’m almost positive that I remember UF!Papyrus’ perfectly.
UT!Sans: The Trickster. His guardian style is essentially identical to his function in canon. He’ll keep an eye on you but only rarely engage directly with what’s harassing you….as far as you know. There may be untold dangers he’s protected you from out of your sight, but he’ll never mention it. He’s constantly got some kind of tool in his pockets that you’re not sure was obtained through entirely legitimate means. While he’ll likely go along with your moral compass (as long as its not out and out reprehensible), you definitely feel his displeasure when your actions cross his own boundaries. A decent companion but has tendency to wander off when you want him and naps too much. May screw with you a bit for entertainment, but he’s pretty good about not taking it too far.
UT!Papyrus: The Paladin. A knight type. His own moral code is intensely strict and as a result can only be partnered with questers who’s ideals and goals are at least in the radius of his. He will take care of you, although not in the manner he would like to. He wants to be a dashing knight riding in, helping you both narrowly escape from evil doers and championing you (and by extension himself) across the land. But his care shines through in his cooking, in his constant concern for your day-to-day wellbeing. A bit arrogant and too confident in his own abilities, as well as vastly inexperienced, but a heart of gold and enough courage and determination to face any task you have before you. He believes in you and your goals one hundred and ten percent, and anyone who doesn’t can’t help but be a little persuaded by the genuineness in your companion. But for the love of hell get him some lighter armor, his default stuff is heavy and clanky as fuck and a total pain to deal with.
UF!Sans: The Guard-dog. He doesn’t get assigned much, especially to longer-term quests. He has minimal patience, especially with the more intense questers, whether for good or evil. He also has a temper the size of Ebott, a heavy amount of laziness, a tendency to wear down his companions through constant mocking. Still, once he bonds, its for good. In the end, it’ll be you that he cares about, not what you’re doing. He’ll complain, deride, and grumble his way through every step but he’s hot on your heels into every fight, keeps you out of trouble as best he can, and in time the two of you learn to enjoy each other’s company. Even if your tasks aren’t inherently shady he’ll likely pick up a little “side business” along the way that may be less than legal. But hey, how the hell else is he supposed to get food. He’s pretty good with mechanics, building, and surprisingly most varieties of puzzles, which is why he’s a good partner for treasure-hunting style quests. Just make sure he doesn’t get drunk. He’s hard to keep track of when he’s inebriated and will usually find trouble.
UF!Papyrus: The Sentinel. Compared to him Red is almost in demand. He has an extremely limited number of questers he’ll ever be considered for, and even fewer of those make it longer than a week or two. Between the constant complaining about how beneath him everything is, the frequent assaults on his partner’s self-esteem for small mistakes, and his aggressive attitude that tends to get him into unnecessary fights….yeah, he doesn’t get out much. In general he actually tends to do best with questors with similar goals but opposite temperaments. An Integrity or a Patience would likely be among the best, with maybe a more mature Kindness as a possibility. And truth be told, though his respect is hard to earn, its invaluable and well worth the effort. He’ll keep you on-task (he’s a very point A to point B guy) and well-defended, and though he errs on the side of too critical his insight can be helpful if you know how to listen to it.
US!Sans: The Hero. A bundle of energy that’s always in search of a cause to champion. Even if you don’t have one, he’s going to find one along the way. Whether its poor villagers laboring under a cruel ruler, a young heir kidnapped by an evil witch, if its brave and dangerous and in the cause of good he’s already halfway there. As a result he’s among the more flighty guardians and you may have to tie him to your side in order to keep him on task. He’s a quick and skilled fighter but prefers to make peace or talk his way out of a situation if he can. He can be…a little much, especially if you’re not into histrionics, but he’s an amiable companion and fairly pleasant to be around. Don’t trust his cooking, but he will make sure you eat and take care of yourself. And despite how much he talks, he really is a good listener.
US!Papyrus: The Mage. Like Tale Sans he has a tendency to avoid interfering where he feels it would be too much work, but no Papyrus can resist a challenge. He’s a book based wizard and if a problem or puzzle is posing a particularly pesky problem (alliteration is fun), he can’t resist (or rest) until he’s found some kind of answer. He’s good at thinking on his feet and his mouth moves in pace with his mind. He’s exceptional with distance attacks but has trouble with commitment, so they often aren’t as powerful as they could be. He’s so focused on making sure he can dodge that he doesn’t put all of his effort into a strike. Like Tale Sans he does have boundaries, but he’s a little less judgmental. If you’re doing something he considers too far, he likely will just sit it out unless you’re actively hurting innocents. Clever and funny but sometimes talks too much for his own good. Decidedly lacks focus.
SF!Sans: The Dark Prince. He is going to be excessively disappointed if your quest doesn’t involve taking some province and setting up an autocracy, but he’s not as picky as Boss. Any quest is experience in the world, and an opportunity to further his own skills and connections, thus leading to potential chances to seize some kind of power. He’s just as vocal with his complaints but can hold his tongue and doesn’t drag his feet as much as Boss does. He’s energetic and aggressive and will likely pick fights with someone in every town you stop in. Its very rare that he bonds emotionally with his partner. Generally he views them as more a means to an end. But when he does he likely would be willing to go on multiple journies with the same one, and their partnership will be especially deep in terms of combat. He has the utmost respect for their abilities (although they are still obviously inferior to his own) and will help them with their own ambitions, although only rarely to the detriment of his own. Prefers more brutal weapons, such as maces or flogs.
SF!Papyrus: The Soldier. He’s very quiet. You could be on the road with him for weeks before having a conversation beyond “those bandits are getting closer”. Despite that you never get the feeling that he’s distancing himself. He’s deeply protective of his partners and the silences are companionable, not stony. He’s just extremely difficult to read. Truth be told, Syrup gets paired with more questers than anyone except the Tale brothers, given his combination of exceptional combat abilities and generally lowkey and mostly agreeable personality. But though he’ll fight to the last for each one (comes with the job) he finds it easier not to get close with too many. You can’t save or help all of them. Still, if a friendship does start to develop (maybe even something more, if you’re lucky), the protectiveness increases, as well as his vocalness about his feeling about whatever situation you’re entering. His instincts are reliable and if he says that cave looks foreboding its generally because there is some shit down there you will not walk away from without injuries. Still, he’ll follow you to hell and back if need be. His humor is sarcastic and under the radar and unless your quick his digs at you and everyone around you may go unnoticed. If you can dish it back it increases the likelihood of him getting closer with you. Fast on his feet but reluctant to fight where he doesn’t have to.
#undertale#underfell#underswap#swapfell#sans#papyrus#uf!sans#uf!papyrus#us!sans#us!papyrus#sf!sans#sf!papyrus#fantasy guardians#guardiantale#?#maybe an au#idk#headcanon
90 notes
·
View notes
Text
Take a Mentor to Lunch – Grow Your Business With the Help of a Business Mentor
In this highly-networked, fast-paced business environment with weekly business networking meetings and social media posts bombarding our senses 24/7… how can an entrepreneur effectively connect with a mentor, one that can add substantive value to his or her business?
Take them to lunch!
What is a mentor?
Loosely defined the modern mentor is a trusted friend, counselor or teacher; usually someone with more knowledge, skill or experience than yourself.
In business this can either be someone with a lot of general business experience, one who has simply been around the block a few times, you know… been there, done that. Or it can be someone with a specific set of skills / knowledge, like business finance or how to set up Facebook fan page or even how to transplant a camellia bush.
Personally, a mentor is any person who I feel is successful in their field that may have some helpful information to help move me along my path or avoid pitfalls. A mentor that can help with the latter is golden. For me, that person is a 90-year-old, World War II fighter pilot and business friend named Cat. He is the only person I know that has been following and investing in the stock and precious metal markets for over 65 years. He has owned and operated several businesses, and can still make a small fortune in silver due to his very personal understanding of long-term trends.
Where business networking falls short
Business network groups seem to be synonymous with sales and sometimes a bit of education, but rarely active mentoring. Taking a mentor to lunch is not about networking, it is about leveraging the knowledge that is in someone else’s brain. If you want to find a mentor you must seek them out and with the proper perspective, you can find mentors in the business networking arena.
I sometimes hear small business owners complain that chambers of commerce do not work. If you cherished this article and you also would like to collect more info relating to mentoring programs generously visit our own webpage. The chamber model does work if you understand how to take advantage of the resources provided. A chamber of commerce is an advocate for local businesses, however it is not in their mission to feed you customers, nor do they turn you into a business magnet. One thing that chambers do provide is the opportunity to interact with other business owners and chamber leadership. You must take it upon yourself to engage one-on-one; both groups contain potential mentors.
In my case, in addition to being a Chamber member, I joined Business Network International (BNI) as well as a local business leadership group. With business success I outgrew BNI, however the main thing I took away from my experience was that the real action occurs when you meet with a person outside of the weekly meetings, at lunch, over coffee, at the park, etc. BNI calls these one-on-one meetings a Dance Card. I once had a dance card meeting with a fellow business person while donating blood. Our schedules were very hard to match, so since I already had the appointment, we met at the blood bank and donated side-by-side so we could talk during the blood letting. What can I say, I was able to leverage my time and donate for a good cause.
TIP – To make any business networking group effective, get to know persons of interest in the group by meeting them 1-on-1; you never know, you might even find a mentor.
Why lunch?
Many times the mentor who has the skill, knowledge or experience that you are hoping to glean is a very busy person. You must be respectful of their time. This leads to several reason why lunch is a good to way meet with a mentor:
Food – almost everybody eats lunch, even busy people
Free – everybody like a free lunch
Time – lunch limits the meeting to about an hour; the mentor can feel comfortable knowing that this will not be a huge time investment
Safety – a lunch setting is public and safe
Equalizer – sitting across from someone at a lunch table is a neutral power position as opposed to the mentor sitting behind a desk
Distractions – a lunch setting removes both the mentor and mentee from work distractions
Cost Effective – lunch for two is many times less expensive than dinner or drinks
Psychological – you paid for lunch, they kinda owe you
It should be noted that even if your mentor doesn’t eat lunch, they typically will take a break during that time to workout, go for a jog or a take bike ride, etc. That said, before you try to keep up, consult with your physician before you start an exercise program.
How to meet a mentor
I am a firm believer that you bring the teacher to you when you are open and ready to learn; whether that teacher be a page in a book or a live person. I have already touched on business networking groups, however there are so many more opportunities to meet potential mentors. Places to find business mentors include:
Business networks
Colleagues
Senior management
Educational seminars (e.g. Brown Bag Lunches)
Trade association events
Conventions / Conferences
Small Business Development Centers (SBDC)
Service Corps of Retired Executives (SCORE)
Business training presentations (free or paid)
TIP – If you are at an presentation-type event, the speaker may not be the mentor for you… it may be the person sitting right next to you.
What if the prospective mentor says “no”?
OK, this is the normal dating fear. But to be honest with you, I have never been turned down by a potential mentor when I ask them to meet over lunch and tell them why. The “why” is important, they need to know that you value their knowledge/experience and that you would like to learn from it. Many times the mentor candidate will be very honored that you value their tenure and be happy to meet with you.
All you need to do is say, “Hey can I buy you lunch next week? I’d like to pick your brain about _________ and I have been told you are the expert.” And don’t forget, YOU can be someone else’s mentor. Pay it forward.
“You are all learners, doers, and teachers.” ~ Richard Bach
0 notes
Text
Remembering Betty
I don’t remember having ever met Betty. She was just always in my life. Like a sister, a slightly older sister. Friend, guide, teacher, social advisor. We grew up two doors away from each other, on Sundale Avenue, the south end of a one-block street-let running into the football field at Hawthorne High, a wonderful space to hang out away from parents, and a walk to school that made little kids long for the days we’d be old enough to just roll out of bed at 8:20 a.m. and be on time for an 8:30 class. We all got very good at climbing chain link and barbed wire fences barefoot when we were kids. At least the boys. The five of us, Cindi (my older sister), Mary, Lynn (my older brother), Betty and I (youngest of the 5), were all born within 6 years of each other. The fact that we lived in separate houses, of separate parents, never got in the way of our going in and out of each other’s lives and houses pretty much like they were our own, only occasionally being told off by a parent for not knocking. We were all, kids and parents, on a first name basis on Sundale. Only Alice Tinkham, next to the Kean’s on the other side, insisted on being called “Mrs.” even though her own three kids called her Alice. The downside of this casual freedom to come and go for me was the ever present risk of being told by Jean to sit down and watch the evening news with Baxter Ward on channel 5, or worse, be forced to listen to a Stravinsky symphony on an LP (“Wasn’t that just wonderful, Donnie?”), two things that would never, sadly, have happened to me at my house. I still tell everyone that Jean and Kirby were the two people in my world that could be counted on to try to force a little culture into our otherwise empty heads. When I graduated from Hawthorne High, Jean gave me a copy of Homer’s Odyssey and the Iliad, guessing that I’d only just begun a life of long journeys (I’d spent my junior and senior summers in Spain, Italy and Greece). It’s the only gift I ever received that has meaning 57 years after the fact (She gets me.) I still have both books.
When we were younger, I was often Betty’s companion when there was nobody else more interesting her own age to hang out with… my brother, Lynn, busy, working, her sister or my sister too cool to bother with us. She made sure I didn’t do anything to embarrass her (like wear white socks to school with wing tips – “Go home right now and change your socks!”) Over time, friendship emerged as the primary driver, though it was understood she was always in charge of our activities. She was a doer. We didn’t just ‘hang’. There was always a purpose, an event, an objective. She took me to see Ike and Tina Turner at the Cinnamon Cinder in Long Beach (I was 13/14, she 14/15 so she did all the driving), to a dance at Disneyland, or to a concert somewhere. I never complained, except the time we had dinner at a restaurant called Blue Bayou at Disneyland and something in the Bayou was bad. I ended up wrapped around a toilet at 3 a.m. at home, my mom accusing me of having been out drinking (maybe the one time I was actually innocent as charged).
But the thing I always remember when thinking of Betty is that Betty was there at every important moment in my life. When I was hospitalized at 14, in a coma for several days, from an intentional overdose of some medication of my mother’s, Betty was the person in the room when I opened my eyes. “There you are,” she said, in a soft voice. And though I had no idea who she was at that moment, I felt safe and was comforted. Betty was there again for me when I went with a group of friends to Disneyland, and one of the group tragically died when he, I and one other friend decided to jump in and out of the ride cars while it was moving through a dark chamber. The next day, as word spread, and I was wandering around the neighborhood dazed and alone, Betty pulled up next to me in her Merc. One look told her what she’d heard was true. All she said was, “Get in the car….” . Neither of my own parents was around or aware during those dark days for me when I blamed myself for Rick’s death. Then, when I was 16, Lynn, my brother died in a Tokyo hospital as a result of injuries suffered in Vietnam a week earlier. Betty was as devastated as anyone, but I remember her being my personal guardian angel then, too. These three incidents took place over just a 3 year stretch. We were tragically busy teens. We partied, we studied, we experimented with drugs – at least I did – and Betty made sure I didn’t do anything stupid. One night, we had fun posing Mary like a Raggedy Ann doll when she was passed out in a chair in their living room. I still have photographic proof if anyone’s interested. It’s funny how we used to get into trouble whenever our parents were out of town, but I can never remember where they were! Hippy days of pot, body paint, Jimmy Hendrix, beer hidden in buckets at the bottom of our pool, Santana, the Beach Boys, (Hawthorne born and bred), Griffith Park love-ins, the Beatles at the Hollywood Bowl (Livy Arias married George), Jim Morrison and the Doors at the Whiskey a-Go-Go (tried to get in at 16). We had no idea what we were living through or what we were doing.
Betty was active and engaged at school. I was actively disengaged except when I liked a subject, which wasn’t often. Betty was a budding journalist, and wrote me letters her entire life. I tried to keep up with her. My mom told me I was going to be a doctor. Nobody told me I had to study.
We often hung out with Jean and Kirby when we had nothing to do. We had fun with words on ‘martini night’ (for them, not for us!). Parody book titles, “Under the Bleachers,” by Seymour Butts, or “Life in the Streets,” by Ima Mary Hoar. We all knew that Kirby was close to his limit when he would flip his eyeglasses and wear them upside down, Jean giving him a look of feigned disapproval from her corner of the red leather sofa across the room, long thin legs crossed, cold beer on the table, unfiltered Pall Mall hanging from a lip. I loved Jean’s stories about being a Navy Wave in Hawaii during the attack on Pearl Harbor, or her tales of the San Francisco earthquake (some relative was there). It was, for us, like watching the history channel and a well-loved sitcom rolled into one. I loved the driftwood coffee table with handles carved into it used as ashtrays (just vacuum), and the antique secretary with the champagne glasses that had rainbows in the light, a black dial phone on the workspace (Osborne 6- 2618), the oriental rug that smelled bad and the old Underwood typewriter on the table in Kirby’s room where I occasionally would type up some homework. Everyone else in the neighborhood wanted new, modern things but the Kean’s were relentlessly traditional. In fact, one of the few ‘modern’ things I remember seeing in their house was the blue princess telephone in May and Betty’s room. And I remember their phone number from calling so often. Jean smoked in bed but the house never burned down. I’m pretty sure Jean came to visit me in my sleep the night she died. I was at work the next morning remembering my dream of her when Betty called to tell me she had passed away that night. I was in graduate school in Hawaii at the time so had been away from Sundale for at least ten years.
And there was the Kean lemon tree. One morning before school, when I was sneaking into their backyard to steal a lemon (I have no idea why), I was witness to Jean literally kicking Kirby out of the house via the back door, Kirby trying to keep his footing as he hurtled down the steps, holding his lunch bag and muttering, “Jesus Christ!”. I never even saw Jean, just Kirby sort of flying out the back door and the door slamming behind him. Unseen by Kirby, I turned and hurried back down the driveway.
Jean was the only mom that I knew of who could cook, really cook! Not that it was appreciated by all. Lamb (never in our house – too many army food memories for my dad.), wilted spinach salad (spinach made me gag), spinach soufflé, soft scrambled eggs (Kirby to Jean: The goddamned things look like snot!) Once I was invited to stay for dinner (meatloaf) and when I started to go for a third helping, Kirby jumped up from his seat, grabbed the platter from the table, and rushing into the kitchen yelled, “He’s going to eat the whole goddamned thing!” My dad never took lunch to work so I didn’t think about leftovers. But then my mom’s cooking wasn’t something you wanted to have to face again the next day.
Mary was not there with us very often in the evenings at the Kean’s and I assumed she was out with my sister and Charles, Billy Cusac or the Arias’s, the Hares or Kluxdal’s, the older kids. Maybe she was even a little embarrassed by her parents. But Betty positively embraced them! One afternoon, she ushered me into their bathroom to show me a particularly large bowel movement Kirby had left in the bowl for everyone to admire.
You could often find me at their house without Mary or Betty around. It was less depressing than my house. I remember thinking that I wished my parents were just slightly crazy like Jean and Kirby. Life was so much more interesting with a little crazy in it. Our house had too much drama. Kirby even once asked me to get him a joint because he wanted to try pot. Just like that. I was maybe 17? Jean was not amused. I don’t even remember if he smoked it when I was there, meaning nothing must have gone amiss. I just know that I loved Kirby for his bohemian outlook on life. Betty, I think, was proud of her dad’s career as a photographer. I once saw some beautiful photos he took of Vivien Leigh (Scarlett O’Hara) from “Gone With The Wind,” in costume for press packs.
I loved that in winter, you always knew when the Kean’s had a fire going because the entire neighborhood smelled like a cat box since the fireplace is where Nefertiti (Nefi) used to crap. I swear that cat was 100 when she finally died. Kirby was a twin! And they both, Kirby and David, sported white beards. Kirby’s David married his daughter-in-law’s widowed mother, or vis versa. Whatever, it was cool. Everybody loved David. It was like a clone come to visit before we knew what clones were. They lived in Glendale (30 miles away), which might as well have been Tibet in those days for as much as people would drive from Hawthorne to Glendale. But Clara – grandmother on Jean’s side? – maybe an aunt, was my favorite. She looked like somebody out of a 40s movie, frozen in time. Car, cloth overcoat, hair. But that was the whole family, except for the Princess Phone and Betty and Mary’s hair. As far as I was concerned Clara was from Bel Air.
I think I remember Mary and Betty’s Blue Princess phone because it was their lifeline to the outside world when they were holed up in their bedroom closet. I’d get the call: Hysterical voices: “Help!!!!” then rushing to their place thinking there was an intruder in the house, to find the two of them in their closet, only to discover the intruder was a moth. Jeff Campbell, or Gilbert Arias and I would have to go find it and kill it before they would come out of the closet. Or at least pretend we found and killed it. I think once Betty, though it could have been Mary, jumped out of her car (yes, she was driving her dad’s old Mercury) because there was a bee in it. This is the same woman who (I only heard this from Betty, I didn’t actually witness it), went after her sister with cast iron skillet in the kitchen and, another time stabbed her at the dinner table with a fork. I would have thought a bee or a moth wouldn’t have posed much of a problem at all. Betty was almost never at a loss for words, well, except maybe the one time she was in the car with Mary and some girlfriends driving down the street when she suddenly saw what must have been a very hot guy, and all she could do was point in his direction, and say, “Boy! Boy!”
Speaking of romance, there was a signer named John from somewhere southeast of us, Orange County (Cerritos? Tustin?), I think. Betty had a huge crush on him and used to make me go with her to his shows whenever/wherever he was singing. I didn’t mind. He was beautiful.
But then life changed. Betty graduated. Got a job or went to school. My mom remarried and moved to Hawaii and I spent my senior year of HS living in our house alone. Well, part of the time Teri Kluxdal was there with her African American boyfriend – probably the only black man in Hawthorne at the time. But I had refused to not finish HS in Hawthorne. My mom couldn’t believe I’d pass on Hawaii to stay in “…this shithole of a town.” One day, when I was playing Led Zeppelin (could have been The Doors) very loudly on my stereo, the phone rang. It was Jean, telling me to turn down the music. I turned it down. Two minutes later, there was a knock on my door. It was Kirby. He was angry and told me to turn the goddamned music back up, that my house was my castle and that I could do whatever I wanted! I was fine, he insisted. I turned it back up.
So then I graduated and moved to Hawaii. We wrote to each other, Betty and I. She’s one of the reasons I’ve always been a letter writer. She wrote more than I did. I loved her letters. I don’t remember if she ever came to see me while I was living in Hawaii. If she did, it would have been after I had moved back, married, from Hong Kong to Honolulu for grad school. While I was an undergrad, I would always come back to LA and work for the summers and see Betty regularly then. I remember hanging out at her apartment in Redondo Beach. Carroll King’s Tapestry album was playing constantly (1971?). One of her neighbors - a college student in the building – had just been circumcised and his roommates had put a hotdog skin and some tomato juice in a jar and gave it to him. Told him the doctor said he could keep it. It was a fun summer.
But we were all headed out on our separate roads. Mary found John. Betty married Tom. I moved even further away. Thank goodness for Betty reaching out to me and to everyone who moved away. She kept us up-to-date on who was where, what they were doing and who was married, had a baby, passed away. So much I would never have known about had it not been for her. She will always be with me, and no doubt, with others who, like me loved her and kept our shared memories dusted off for regular replay. Never thought of it till now, but we were friends for 67 years. Holy crap I’m old.
Don Matteson
28 August 2019
0 notes
Text
May 22, 2019: Columns
It ain't bragging...
By KEN WELBORN
Record Publisher
Last week was interesting to say the least.
I received a call from a young lady named Hope who is a Media-Journalism student at UNC-Chapel Hill. Hope was in town with several other students doing a project to interview 15 different people/businesses for a film/internet class. She was given my name by Deb Beckel at the Wilkes County Library, and I am surely thankful that Deb did so.
I will be doing a lot more on the young lady when the project has been finalized and can be accessed for all to see, but today I want to share just a bit of what went on. Among the questions about The Record and about my apartment, The Mayflower, was what was my favorite thing in the entire place—if I had to pick just one.
"I suppose you mean besides me?" I answered, then followed with, "The stick." I further explained that I had "...the neatest stick since the one Moses tossed down in front of pharaoh."
There is no picture with this piece because it wouldn't really help a bit. What I am after is for folks to ask me about it when they stop by, because sometimes I don't think to bring it out—either I am fogged up or get sidetracked by something, but, when I remember, I do truly love to tell the story of the stick.
All this brings me to an amazing visitor I had late Monday. A young man named Noah came by and introduced himself as one of the 15 students in town to do the interviews I mentioned earlier, noting that he was fortunate enough to get to do the piece on Perry Lowe Orchards. He then went on to say that, while they were all editing and working on their individual film pieces, he was taken by my statement about the "...the neatest stick" and said he had to see it before he left town on Tuesday.
Well, I gave him the entire two-dollar version of the story of how I came into possession of the stick, and, in due time, he had the opportunity to see for himself what the big deal was all about.
The stick was, of course, as advertised and he was completely blown away. He asked me a bunch of questions about its origin and what not, some of which I knew the answers to, but the "How did they do that?" question remains unanswered—at least by me.
After a bit, Noah began to look around and it turns out that he is a true history buff, and was amazingly aware of many of the time frames and circumstances of many of the things I have on display. He was, as I like to say, easily the best part of my day,
In due time (about an hour and half) he shook my hand and left. I immediately went to the back office to tell our Editor, Jerry Lankford, about the amazing kid I had just been talking with. After about two minuites, I heard the bell on the front door of the office. When I walked out front to see who had come in, it was Noah again—with another of the group of UNC students who was in town for the project.
"Mr. Welborn," he began, "This is Chris; he did the story on Ken Crouse, the mushroom guy; and you have to tell him about "the stick." The three of us had a wonderful time together until I absolutely had to leave for my Rotary meeting.
I love to do "show and tell" about the stick, and I am especially pleased when someone comes through the door with a friend or relative asking that they get to hear about it as well.
Now, before some of you, who are skeptics about everything, think that this is some kind of scam, and that perhaps the line "...the neatest stick since the one Moses tossed down in front of pharaoh" is a bit much, or even just not so, I quote now from the sage philosopher Jay Hanna "Dizzy" Dean, 1910-1974. Dean, in addition to being the aforementioned sage philosopher, was a professional baseball player and later a television announcer of baseball games. While he is not quoted nearly as often as Yogi Berra, he is attributed a couple of lines which fit perfectly when it comes to me—and my claims about the stick.
It goes like this: "It ain't bragging if it's the truth." And, its related quote, "It ain't bragging if you can do it."
Well said, Dizzy.
Come see me—and call my bluff.
All you need is love (Or, the ripple effect)
By HEATHER DEAN
Record Reporter
Random acts of kindness, I find, are not usually that random at all.
We are kind because we know it is the right thing to do. We don’t have to hold the door open for someone, pause to let another person wiggle their car in front of us in 5 o’clock rush hour traffic, or say please and thank you. Yet, most of us do automatically, even when upset at a situation, because that’s good manners.
One of the things I despise most is a person yelling at wait staff, or loudly complaining because their food is taking too long, then not leaving a tip. I saw that specific scenario go down more than a few times last Sunday, as places were jam packed for Mother’s Day. Of all the days to be short-tempered, this was not it. I mean, what do you expect? You can’t take Mother out on any other day, except a commercialized holiday that you are expected to go on, and then take the long wait times out on the one person that has no control over the situation? (And by the way, is only making $2.13 an hour- the minimum wage for wait staff.) The absolute lack of kindness and love I saw on Sunday after the special Mother’s Day church services was completely revolting. But I digress…
Point being, I suppose, that we could all use a little more love and kindness in our lives. My favorite part of social media, is watching the videos of good-deed-doers, from the children feeding the homeless in a cape, to those saving animals. And while love doesn’t always make everything better, especially for those of us who have lost it, you never know whose perspective you’re going to change, in the ripple of kindness that you make, not so randomly. “No act of kindness, however small, is wasted” says Aesop.
So, there I was, in the madness of the early Monday morning post-kid-school-drop-off-pre-office-clock-in fast food line. It’s still a few days prior to pay day, so I had to keep my order within the $5 budget I had allotted myself, so that I would still have $5 for lunch. (Welcome to adult life folks. Paycheck to paycheck, that’s how we roll around here.) My total was $4.89. (Phew) As I drove up to the window, still in a pre-coffee daze, I was told the lady in front of me had paid for mine. I looked up, and she was watching me from her rearview. I smiled and waved, and she returned both.
Now, here’s the thing- I could have simply drove on at that point and enjoyed free breakfast. After all, it was her kind deed, not mine. I hadn’t planned on being nice to anyone, especially before coffee, so why would I be vested in an act of kindness not perpetuated by me? I could have chalked it up to providence that she happened to help a stranger in a tight spot, just when I needed it…
And this, my friends, is where our society at large has fallen through the cracks of humanity. I’m sure those reading this have a dozen people in your head right now that would have just taken the free gravy biscuit and run. And if you are one of those people, I hope you learn from this and do better.
But here’s what happened.
A wee bit panicked because I only had allotted $5 for myself, I asked how much the person’s was behind me; I was completely ready to hand her my entire $10 and skip lunch if only to keep the kindness going for one more person.
The attendant responded “$3.75.” I happily handed her my $5. She smiled and said “Bless you. You don’t know how many times this happens, and no one pays it forward. People are so selfish these days. It’s so sad.”
As I drove forward, I glanced in my rearview mirror too see the gentleman behind me have the same surprised look on his face, wave and smile at me, then hand the attendant money for the person behind him.
Monetary crisis averted, karma points earned, and breakfast was had by all, and then some.
Keep the ripple of kindness going, if only for
One.
More.
Person.
Israel: It’s more than you think!
By EARL COX
Special to The Record
Those of you who read this column each week probably think I know a great deal about Israel. I thought so, too, until this past weekend. While spending quality time recently with my friend, Israeli Mayor Benny Kashriel from Ma’ale Adumim in Israel, I learned that the Israeli people are fulfilling their God-given mandate of being a light unto the nations.
Out of only eight million people living in Israel, a country in the size of New Jersey which just celebrated its 70th birthday, Israel has more Nobel Prizes per capita than the United States, France and Germany. It has more laureates, in real numbers, than India, Spain and China. How does such a small country whose population accounts for only 0.11 percent of the world’s population become such a laureate heavyweight? By investing in their children and making certain they receive a quality education. But education in Israel is far more than just memorizing facts and learning historical dates.
Mayor Kashriel shared with me some very interesting facts about the system of education in his city. For starters, children begin learning English in the third grade. This prepares them to successfully engage in the world at large. In public schools, children are taught religion. From this foundation, moral character is nurtured. Children are taught to respect themselves and others which means misbehavior in the classroom is the exception while in America it seems to have become the norm.
Beginning in elementary school, children are taught about cyber space and other scientific technologies. But education is not just for the children. The school system in Ma’ale Adumim also includes the parents. Each month there are classes for the parents designed to teach them how to help their children succeed and how to help them stay out of trouble. Teaching nutrition is also a priority. In Mayor Kashriel’s city, children are not permitted to have soda or other sugary drinks in their thermos jugs. They are permitted only water. In addition, those who bring their lunches are not permitted to have fatty lunch meats such as salami, pepperoni and so on. They are encouraged to eat fresh fruits and vegetables, fish, nuts, seeds and cheese. In Israel, there is no problem with childhood obesity or childhood diabetes. Yes, it does exist but it is not an epidemic. Not by a long shot.
When children reach high school, they are required to perform community service on a regular basis by working at the kindergarten, the senior center, the fire department, the hospital, and so on. This instills in them the idea of giving back to society and once they enter the workforce, this idea stays with them and becomes a way of life.
As is the way in Israel, children are taught to respect all life and to love their neighbors as they love themselves. Doesn’t this have a familiar ring to it? Contrast how and what Israeli children are taught with the education Palestinian children are receiving. Israelis teach love and community service while the Palestinians teach hate and destruction. Yes, Israel IS more than we think and to God be the glory!
Honoring Women in Service
By CARL WHITE
Life in the Carolinas
It’s been a great week in production. For several months we have been working on a special we have titled “Honoring Women in Service.” Several of the women that are included in our interviews were attending the American Legion World Series in Shelby.
Upon realizing that there was a gathering that included so many of these incredible women we booked the historic Bankers House in Shelby as a venue for the interviews. Before long we had fully scheduled three days.
I have conducted a lot of interviews over the years, and I remember many of them. However, I am confident that I will not forget the significance of the interviews with these women who have served our nation.
Denise Rohan served in the US Army and had the distinction of being the first female National Commander of the American Legion (2017-2018). The American Legion was founded March 15, 1919, and is the largest veteran’s organization in the United States with more than two million members.
Patricia A. Harris, a US Army Persian Gulf Combat veteran. She was the first female commander at North Carolina’s American Legion Post 157, and she became the first female department commander in North Carolina (2013-2014).
It was during her campaign to become the department commander that she discovered the beauty and charm of her own state. The time was right, and while it was a close race, she did become the first female and the first African American to be elected as N.C. department commander. While her WWII veteran father did not live to see that day, her mother who is now in her late 90’s did.
Carol Barker is a retired Air Force combat veteran who has a history of taking care of others. Her stories are profoundly moving, and she speaks openly about the complications of war that she witnessed and experienced. She served as the American Legion North Carolina department commander 2017-2018. Her willingness to talk candidly about living with PTSD and other issues faced by women and men in service will surely inspire hope for many.
Queen Williams served in the U.S. Airforce. Her story is one of inspiration. It would be a path opened by her hard work and dedication in the ROTC. At first, she was going to enlist, however for some reason she did not qualify. The ROTC did have a place for her, and as it turned out, it was the perfect fit for her to excel. She would go on to have a successful military career, and upon retirement, she would return to the ROTC to instruct and inspire others.
These are but of a few of the inspiring women we have interviewed, and I can already tell you that the richness of the stories is profound. We have talked with women who are now part of American history. The primary objective of this programming is to honor Women in Service and allow their voices to be heard.
We seldom have enough broadcast minutes to share every point. We were however honored to receive a 2019 Telly award for our “Honoring Women in Service” special. A lot of effort and creativity went into the project but it was the stories of these brave and humble women that carried the show.
May we all remain grateful for those who serve our nation.
You can email Carl at Carl@lifeinthecarolinas.com Carl White is the executive producer and host of the award winning syndicated TV show Carl White’s Life In the Carolinas. The weekly show is now in its seventh year of syndication and can be seen in the Charlotte viewing market on WJZY Fox 46 Saturdays at noon. For more on the show visit www.lifeinthecarolinas.com You can also catch episodes of Life In The Carolinas on Amazon Prime
0 notes
Text
Between Prophet Yusuf and Khalid ibn Al-Waleed
New Post has been published on http://www.truth-seeker.info/oasis-of-faith/between-prophet-yusuf-and-khalid-ibn-al-waleed/
Between Prophet Yusuf and Khalid ibn Al-Waleed
By Dr. Ali Al-Halawani
`Umar ibn Al-Khattab (may Allah be pleased with him) narrated that Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon him) said, “The reward of deeds depends upon intentions, and every person will get his reward according to what he has intended. So, [for] whoever emigrated for Allah and His Messenger, his emigration was for Allah and His Messenger. And [as for] whoever emigrated for worldly benefits or for a woman to marry, his emigration was for what he had emigrated for” (Al-Bukhari and Muslim).
I have read the above hadith several times before, and each time I read it, many things come across my mind concerning my own intention when I carry out several duties — be they related to my profession or my social or academic life. However, in the last time I was reading this hadith, Prophet Yusuf (Joseph —peace be upon him) and Prophet Muhammad’s Companion Khalid ibn Al-Waleed (may Allah be pleased with him) were present in both my heart and mind. I remembered them, along with two deeds they had performed. I tried to understand these two deeds in light of this hadith.
Before addressing these two deeds, which stirred something in my bosom, let’s first take a look at the general meaning of the hadith, as well as the connotations and interpretations of the majority of Muslim scholars regarding it.
Interpretation of the Hadith
Based on this hadith, Muslim scholars are of the unanimous opinion that the real basis of a deed is the intention of the doer, and that everyone will eventually be rewarded or punished according to his or her intention. Truly, the intention is founded in the heart, which means that people have to first make up their mind before they proceed to make a deed.
The bottom line in this hadith is that sincerity is a must for every deed. In other words, with every righteous deed, a believer should seek only the pleasure of Almighty Allah. If a deed is intended for any other purpose beside the pleasure of Allah, the whole of that deed will definitely be rejected by the Almighty Creator. Indeed, Allah is the One and Only God, with Whom no partner should ever be associated.
The heart of a real Muslim should be purged of the lust for all worldly things, which destroy the righteous deeds. Among these are hypocrisy, lying, ostentation, and greed, all of which are ignoble attributes that should be avoided.
Along with sincerity in doing a deed, there is another condition that should be met in order for a deed to be accepted by Almighty Allah: righteousness. This means that a deed should be done sincerely for Allah’s sake and according to what He has legislated and prescribed. In the Noble Qur’an, Almighty Allah says,
“And [for] whoever hopes for the meeting with his Lord, let him do righteous work, and make none sharer of the worship due unto his Lord.” (Al-Kahf 18:110)
From the foregoing, one concludes that deeds derive their worth from the sincere intention lying in the doer’s heart and from their compliance with the Shari`ah. Such deeds shall be accepted and rewarded by Almighty Allah, either in this present life, in the hereafter, or in both — in the way He, the Almighty, wills.
However, if a deed is intended for some of the perishable vanities of this world, it will eventually prove worthless and thus be rejected by the Almighty Creator, Who may punish its perpetrator in this life, as well as in the hereafter.
It is also worth mentioning that if deeds are done without one harboring a specific intention or purpose in one’s heart, they will go in vain and be nothing but a waste of effort, time, and money.
Deeds Based on Sincerity
Given the above, one should also note that there are some deeds that may appear to be devoid of sincerity while they are actually not. For example, a person may declare him- or herself qualified for a particular duty or leading position. People may view such a person as one who seeks power and prestige, whereas he or she may be asking for the responsibility only because there is no one else who can properly afford to perform the task or shoulder its burden. The following two examples can help clarify this point.
Prophet Yusuf
The first example is about Prophet Yusuf (peace be upon him). After his innocence had been declared and he had been released from prison, the king of Egypt ordered that he should be brought to him, intending to make him one of his close aides. When the king spoke to Yusuf and further recognized his virtues, great ability, brilliance, good conduct, and perfect manners, he said to him “Verily, this day, you are with us high in rank and fully trusted” (Yusuf 12:54). Thereupon, Prophet Yusuf said, “Set me over the storehouses of the land; I am a skilled custodian” (Yusuf 12:55).
Commentators on the Qur’an say that Prophet Yusuf praised himself. They maintain that this is allowed when one’s abilities are unknown and when there is a need to do so. He said that he was an honest guardian who had both wisdom and deep knowledge about the task he had asked to be entrusted with.
In modern terminology, Prophet Yusuf asked the king to appoint him as minister of finance so that he would be responsible for the harvest storehouses, in which the Egyptians would collect produce for the years of drought that, he told them, would come. He wanted to be the guard, so that he could dispense the harvest in the wisest, best, and most beneficial way. The king accepted Yusuf’s application for the job, for he was eager to draw Yusuf close to him, to honor him, and to benefit from his outstanding skills and integrity.
Khalid ibn Al-Waleed
The second example is derived from the experience of Khalid ibn Al-Waleed (may Allah be pleased with him) during the Battle of Yarmouk. At that time, the Muslim army was split into four groups: one under `Amr ibn Al-`Aas in Palestine, one under Shurahbil ibn Hasnah in Jordan, one under Yazeed ibn Abu Sufyan in the Damascus-Caesarea region, and the last one under Abu `Ubaydah ibn Al-Jarrah at Emesa (modern-day Hims or Homs, Syria). As the Muslim forces were geographically divided, Emperor Heraclius, leader of the Byzantines, sought to exploit this situation and planned to attack. He did not wish to engage in a single pitched battle, but, rather to employ the central position and fight the Muslim army “in detail” before they could concentrate all their forces.
Meanwhile, Khalid, who was then in Iraq, was sent as reinforcement to the Muslim army. He caught up with the Muslim army in five days. Having seen the whole situation, he addressed the leaders of the four Muslim armies, commanding them to unite. He cautioned them against the consequences of breaking up and keeping the status quo. Consequently, the separate groups of the army united and rearranged their ranks in the face of their enemy. In his very impressive speech to the united Muslim army, Khalid — after praising Allah — said,
Indeed, this is one of Allah’s days in which neither boasting nor aggression will be acceptable. Devote your struggle to Allah and seek only His pleasure with your effort. Definitely, this day will have consequences: If we force them [the enemy] to retreat to their headquarters, we will eventually win the day. But, were it the other way round, we would never defeat them in the future. Therefore, let’s lead the army by turns. Let one of us be the leader for today, another for tomorrow, and a third for the day after, and so on, until the turn befalls all of us. Let me be your leader for today.
The whole army accepted the scheme and appointed Khalid as their leader on that very day! The focus here is on a certain point in this speech: It is Khalid’s calling upon the Muslim army to accept him as their leader on the first day. Usually, when someone formulates a plan in which he is going to play a role in terms of alternate leadership, they — as a sign of modesty — propose that they come last after all the others have taken their turns. However, what happened here was the opposite. Certainly, there was a valid reason behind this: It is the fact that everyone knew about the exceptional military skills of Khalid, known as the Unsheathed Sword of Allah. Throughout his whole military life, he had never been defeated, even in a single battle.
Conclusion
Prophet Yusuf and Khalid ibn Al-Waleed asked for authority and wanted to shoulder a responsibility. However, they did so only to improve a situation and ward off harm, at a time when there was no one else who could afford this in an appropriate manner. In Hollywood terms, they tried to save the world, and they actually saved it. Prophet Yusuf saved Egypt from a devastating famine. Khalid saved the Muslim army from a massive defeat at the hands of the Byzantines. Their request for authority was by no means an indication of bad intention or something that casts doubt on their sincerity.
Let’s learn from Prophet Yusuf and from Khalid how to exert ourselves in doing what is good. Let’s learn when to step forward for leadership when the need arises, while maintaining our sincerity. Let each one of us try to be a Yusuf in civil work and a Khalid in action!
———-
Dr. Ali Al-Halawani is Assistant Professor of Linguistics and Translation, Kulliyyah of Languages and Management (KLM), International Islamic University Malaysia (IIUM), Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. He was Assistant Professor and worked for a number of international universities in Malaysia and Egypt such as Al-Madinah International University, Shah Alam, Malaysia (Mediu) and Misr University for Science & Technology (MUST), Egypt; Former Editor-in-Chief of the Electronic Da`wah Committee (EDC), Kuwait; Former Deputy Chief Editor and Managing Editor of the Living Shari`ah Department, www.islamOnline.net; Member of the International Union of Muslim Scholars (IUMS); and member of the World Association of Arab Translators & Linguists (Wata). He has recently started to self-publish his articles and new books, which are available on Amazon and Kindle. He is a published writer, translator and researcher. You can reach him at alihalawani72@hotmail.com.
#Between Prophet Yusuf and Khalid ibn Al-Waleed#companion#Faith#Featured#Islam#leadership#praise oneself#responsibility#sincerity
0 notes
Text
5 Things to Stop Doing in Your 20s
ShareTweet
Your 20s are an amazing time of life. That’s why it pains me to see that many flounder in the deep end. Frankly, many of us are doing things they shouldn’t.
The truth is that the foundation you build in your 20s will shape the rest of your life. Studies back this up: 80 percent of life’s most defining moments happen before the age 35, researchers have found. Here are five things you should stop doing:
1.) STOP LOOKING FOR EVERYONE’S APPROVAL.
Some call you part of the “Me Me Me Generation.” Truthfully, many 20-somethings are plagued with the need for constant approval. Everyone around you doesn’t have to approve of you. Sure, validation makes you feel good. But when this becomes your end goal, you arbitrarily change yourself in order to please everyone. Some people will like you. Some will dislike you. Keep doing what you were called to do.
Your self-worth is not based on your social media “likes.”
Take a breather. It’s OK if you didn’t break 100 likes. Double or triple digit “likes” do not make you enough. You are more than a social media profile.
Don’t allow people to tell you that you’re not capable because you’re young.
1 Timothy 4:12 said it best: “Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity.” One classic example: William Wilberforce. At the age of 21 and while still a student, Wilberforce was elected a Member of Parliament.
Don’t allow others to determine your future.
Don’t let others tell you what you can or can’t do especially when it comes to accomplishing your biggest dreams. Shoot for the stars. Don’t sell yourself short. The people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, usually end up changing it. Think Steve Jobs!
Don’t play the comparison game.
Oscar Wilde was right: “Be yourself, everyone else is taken.” Stop comparing your behind-the-scenes with someone else’s highlight reel. You are handcrafted and custom-made by a perfect Creator.
2.) STOP SETTLING FOR THE EASY WAY—IT WON’T TAKE YOU WHERE YOU WANT.
Don’t be lazy.
Everyone knows being lazy has negative consequences. But why you do you keep being lazy? No one has become successful by being lazy. Take ownership. Take initiative. Put in the hard work. Show up early.
Work in pursuit of your calling, not just money.
Don’t fall into the trap of the American Dream. Most people end up becoming a slave to money. Rather, embrace your vocational calling and become the best at what you are called to do. Money will likely follow.
Leave your comfort zone.
Show me someone who never leaves their comfort zone and I’ll show you someone immersed in mediocrity. Nothing great happens in the comfort zone. It’s where dreams go to die. Stretch yourself. Experiment and explore. The more you engage in calculated risks, the more you’ll learn about yourself and how to succeed.
Don’t play victim.
Have you ever said this to yourself? “I honestly am the victim in this situation!” Being a victim is the viewpoint that something is being done to you. Being responsible is not about whether or not you were victimized but your outlook on the situation. You can choose to take the responsible point of view. This will create the incredible liberty for you to move forward in your life and create boundless opportunities.
3.) STOP THINKING THE LIFE YOU WANT WILL COME WITHOUT INTENTIONALITY.
Don’t be passive.
Passivity won’t get you anywhere. Don’t let life just happen to you. Be intentional, not accidental. Go get it. If you don’t stand for something, you’ll eventually fall for anything.
Talk less about improving your life and actually do more.
Talk is cheap. A mentor told me, “What you do speaks so loudly, I can’t hear what you say.” Your choices, not your talk, will determine your destination. Write a list. Prioritize everything you need to get done to reach your vision. Hold yourself accountable. Push yourself. Be a doer.
Procrastinate less.
When you have to make a choice and don’t make it, that in itself is a choice. Stop procrastinating.
Be less busy.
Yes, having too much to do can be a form of passivity. Being busy is easy. In the 21st century, it’s a badge of honor. But being busy doesn’t translate into high productivity. In a world that’s deluged with to-dos, focus on working smarter, not harder. Focus on your stop-doing list instead. This will help you focus on what matters most. Here are a few books that will help you.
4.) STOP EXPECTING HEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS TO JUST HAPPEN.
Do away with casual dating.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not against dating, but if you have zero intention of marrying the person you’re dating, you probably should stop dating. You may stay in a relationship because you’re scared to be alone and pray things will somehow get better as life goes on. Face it: Dating with no vision is a recipe of failure.
Leave toxic people alone.
Motivational speaker Jim Rohn famously said that you are the average of the five people you spend the most time with. Cut the cord and let those toxic people go. It’s not easy to walk away from these relationships, but that is part of the process of adulting.
Don’t gossip about others.
This isn’t Mean Girls, we’re not in high school anymore. Look for the best in others and talk about that.
Allow yourself the potential to feel pain.
Suffering is part of life. Sure, no one wants to constantly be in a state of suffering. But if you’re not in pain, you’re probably not growing. A mentor once told me that growth equals change, change equals loss, loss equals pain, so therefore, growth equals pain. If you’re scared to take the risk, you’re most likely not going to grow. Embrace the pain.
5.) STOP EXPECTING YOUR IDEAL FUTURE TO HAPPEN WITHOUT WORK.
Accept that you don’t know everything.
You don’t. Just because you watched 17 YouTube clips on one topic doesn’t make you an expert. I know this is a harsh reality because I also experienced it. Instead, submit yourself under a leader worth following. Grind it out. This might take a year, five years or 10 years. Sooner or later, you’ll be an expert.
Dream bigger.
Mark Batterson said, “If your dream doesn’t scare you, it’s too small.” As you grow up, the realities of life will convince you otherwise. Safe will never get you to awesome. Your 20s are the time to explore and experiment. Go big or go home.
ShareTweet
Read more: http://ift.tt/2eR9nA9
from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2xjIfVM via Viral News HQ
0 notes
Text
AJPW Champion Carnival 2017 Night 2, April 18, 2017
This year’s Champion Carnival got off to a good start, so it’s up to the wrestlers in Night 2 to keep the momentum going.
A block: KAI vs. Ryouji Sai
KAI picked up a surprise victory over Zeus on Night 1, while Ryouji Sai makes his debut in this year’s Champion Carnival. Compared to Night 1′s opener, this felt listless. Sai and KAI aren’t the most exciting wrestlers in the world, but this felt longer than the 9 minutes that it actually lasted. Sai worked to control KAI’s right leg, and they told that story for the entire match. KAI hits the Meteor Impact to win the match to almost no reaction from the crowd. This match did not engage me.
B block: Daichi Hashimoto vs. The Bodyguard
The Bodyguard had a good match with Kengo Mashimo on Night that was slightly marred by the finish, in which he used the heavily damaged leg to hit a head kick to pin Mashimo. Hashimoto had a fun sprint with Naoya Nomura on Night 1, and he played to his strengths here by trying to wear the Bodyguard down with stiff strikes. The Bodyguard survived the Shining Wizard, but he fell to the brainbuster, which sets up a tag team title challenge later with Hideyoshi Kamitani against The Big Guns. As a match, this was fine, but it never got much further than that level.
B block: Kengo Mashimo vs. Takao Omori
Mashimo suffered a disappointing loss to the Bodyguard on Night One, while Omori makes his Champion Carnival debut here. Last year, Mashimo made waves with his thirty-minute draw against Kento Miyahara, and I can see what he and Omori were trying to do here with another thirty-minute draw. Mashimo works well from a position of control because he can show all the different ways that he can assert control, from trapping Omori’s arms in the guardrail to trapping his arms between his legs on the mat. However, this match also felt listless and too long, even though Omori tried his best to be the face in peril. Mashimo has Omori’s armed trapped in an armbreaker when time runs out. Mashimo asks for and gets a handshake, but he then kicks Omori’s hand and damaged arm because Mashimo is nothing if not an absolute asshole. This was fine, but it was too long.
A block: Joe Doering vs. Zeus
Doering towered over Sekimoto, so it’s not surprising that he made Zeus look tiny by comparison. Where Zeus could usually rely on his power advantage to defeat his opponent, he would have to use a different strategy to fight Doering. Zeus showed off with an outside-in brainbuster on Doering on the apron, when he did push-ups to drag himself to the bottom rope when Doering trapped him in the Boston crab, and again when he hits the jackhammer to finish the match. It was a good match, but it never reached the heights of the good matches from Night 1.
There was nothing offensively bad on Night 2, but nothing even reached the heights of KAI vs.Zeus, much less Lee vs. Miyahara.
#AJPW#all japan pro wrestling#pro wrestling#Wrestling#puroresu#kai#ryouji sai#daichi hashimoto#the bodyguard#kengo mashimo#Takao Omori#joe doering#Zeus#champion carnival#champion carnival 2017
0 notes
Text
5 Things to Stop Doing in Your 20s
ShareTweet
Your 20s are an amazing time of life. That’s why it pains me to see that many flounder in the deep end. Frankly, many of us are doing things they shouldn’t.
The truth is that the foundation you build in your 20s will shape the rest of your life. Studies back this up: 80 percent of life’s most defining moments happen before the age 35, researchers have found. Here are five things you should stop doing:
1.) STOP LOOKING FOR EVERYONE’S APPROVAL.
Some call you part of the “Me Me Me Generation.” Truthfully, many 20-somethings are plagued with the need for constant approval. Everyone around you doesn’t have to approve of you. Sure, validation makes you feel good. But when this becomes your end goal, you arbitrarily change yourself in order to please everyone. Some people will like you. Some will dislike you. Keep doing what you were called to do.
Your self-worth is not based on your social media “likes.”
Take a breather. It’s OK if you didn’t break 100 likes. Double or triple digit “likes” do not make you enough. You are more than a social media profile.
Don’t allow people to tell you that you’re not capable because you’re young.
1 Timothy 4:12 said it best: “Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity.” One classic example: William Wilberforce. At the age of 21 and while still a student, Wilberforce was elected a Member of Parliament.
Don’t allow others to determine your future.
Don’t let others tell you what you can or can’t do especially when it comes to accomplishing your biggest dreams. Shoot for the stars. Don’t sell yourself short. The people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, usually end up changing it. Think Steve Jobs!
Don’t play the comparison game.
Oscar Wilde was right: “Be yourself, everyone else is taken.” Stop comparing your behind-the-scenes with someone else’s highlight reel. You are handcrafted and custom-made by a perfect Creator.
2.) STOP SETTLING FOR THE EASY WAY—IT WON’T TAKE YOU WHERE YOU WANT.
Don’t be lazy.
Everyone knows being lazy has negative consequences. But why you do you keep being lazy? No one has become successful by being lazy. Take ownership. Take initiative. Put in the hard work. Show up early.
Work in pursuit of your calling, not just money.
Don’t fall into the trap of the American Dream. Most people end up becoming a slave to money. Rather, embrace your vocational calling and become the best at what you are called to do. Money will likely follow.
Leave your comfort zone.
Show me someone who never leaves their comfort zone and I’ll show you someone immersed in mediocrity. Nothing great happens in the comfort zone. It’s where dreams go to die. Stretch yourself. Experiment and explore. The more you engage in calculated risks, the more you’ll learn about yourself and how to succeed.
Don’t play victim.
Have you ever said this to yourself? “I honestly am the victim in this situation!” Being a victim is the viewpoint that something is being done to you. Being responsible is not about whether or not you were victimized but your outlook on the situation. You can choose to take the responsible point of view. This will create the incredible liberty for you to move forward in your life and create boundless opportunities.
3.) STOP THINKING THE LIFE YOU WANT WILL COME WITHOUT INTENTIONALITY.
Don’t be passive.
Passivity won’t get you anywhere. Don’t let life just happen to you. Be intentional, not accidental. Go get it. If you don’t stand for something, you’ll eventually fall for anything.
Talk less about improving your life and actually do more.
Talk is cheap. A mentor told me, “What you do speaks so loudly, I can’t hear what you say.” Your choices, not your talk, will determine your destination. Write a list. Prioritize everything you need to get done to reach your vision. Hold yourself accountable. Push yourself. Be a doer.
Procrastinate less.
When you have to make a choice and don’t make it, that in itself is a choice. Stop procrastinating.
Be less busy.
Yes, having too much to do can be a form of passivity. Being busy is easy. In the 21st century, it’s a badge of honor. But being busy doesn’t translate into high productivity. In a world that’s deluged with to-dos, focus on working smarter, not harder. Focus on your stop-doing list instead. This will help you focus on what matters most. Here are a few books that will help you.
4.) STOP EXPECTING HEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS TO JUST HAPPEN.
Do away with casual dating.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not against dating, but if you have zero intention of marrying the person you’re dating, you probably should stop dating. You may stay in a relationship because you’re scared to be alone and pray things will somehow get better as life goes on. Face it: Dating with no vision is a recipe of failure.
Leave toxic people alone.
Motivational speaker Jim Rohn famously said that you are the average of the five people you spend the most time with. Cut the cord and let those toxic people go. It’s not easy to walk away from these relationships, but that is part of the process of adulting.
Don’t gossip about others.
This isn’t Mean Girls, we’re not in high school anymore. Look for the best in others and talk about that.
Allow yourself the potential to feel pain.
Suffering is part of life. Sure, no one wants to constantly be in a state of suffering. But if you’re not in pain, you’re probably not growing. A mentor once told me that growth equals change, change equals loss, loss equals pain, so therefore, growth equals pain. If you’re scared to take the risk, you’re most likely not going to grow. Embrace the pain.
5.) STOP EXPECTING YOUR IDEAL FUTURE TO HAPPEN WITHOUT WORK.
Accept that you don’t know everything.
You don’t. Just because you watched 17 YouTube clips on one topic doesn’t make you an expert. I know this is a harsh reality because I also experienced it. Instead, submit yourself under a leader worth following. Grind it out. This might take a year, five years or 10 years. Sooner or later, you’ll be an expert.
Dream bigger.
Mark Batterson said, “If your dream doesn’t scare you, it’s too small.” As you grow up, the realities of life will convince you otherwise. Safe will never get you to awesome. Your 20s are the time to explore and experiment. Go big or go home.
ShareTweet
Read more: http://ift.tt/2eR9nA9
from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2xjIfVM via Viral News HQ
0 notes