#IN THIS HOUSE WE LOVE AND APPRECIATE CREDO

[synchronmurmurs]

Would you care to elaborate on your feelings about credo?? 🤔

Ahhh, I would love to!!

So I’ll get the boring stuff out of the way first, I love Credo as a boss fight. I understand DMC4 had a super troubled development, hence why it feels so disjointed, and ideas and the plot itself feel so half baked, but the effort put into Credo’s fight was well worth it, because he’s The Best One By Far for me. Very fun even across different characters - which was a problem throughout the game in general because everything was catering to Nero. Just all around excellent stuff. I would have LOVED to have fought him multiple times because he’s such a treat smdh…

But I also really really love Credo as a character because of what he means for Nero’s development. He has a lot of parallels to what I imagine Vergil would have been like if he was actually around to raise Nero - and piggybacking off that, I think Vergil and Credo would have gotten along swimmingly if they had the chance to meet. They’re both very serious, very stern, very strict and disciplined. But you know what Credo also gave to Nero that literally nobody else in Fortuna bothered to give? Familial love. And I feel like that’s suuuuuuper important to keep in mind because one of the core themes of this series is family. Looking after family, picking up after family, fulfilling a legacy, passing the torch, and even reconnecting!! Like we know that Nero was pretty universally hated in his childhood, but having someone in a position of power bring him into his own family (and probably lowkey threaten anybody who dared say anything about it) to raise and impart such important values is integral to the Nero we have now!!! Sure, he was a bit of a brat in DMC4, but even years on in DMC5, Nero is still mourning that loss to the point where his determination to never lose family again gives him his own DT.

Like aite, sure, Credo was swayed by the world that Sanctus falsely promised and gave up his own humanity to that end, but he came around because he knows how important it is to have and love your famalam!!! You can’t throw away whatever you deem as irrelevant for your own needs or to meet your own goals. There are things so much more important than that, things that he was even willing to entrust to Dante, the man who he’d deemed an enemy!!!!!! CREDO IS GREAT AND DESERVED BETTER!!!!!!!!!!

Also, here’s another parallel I just noticed as I went to look for this specific cap:

It’s no wonder Nero was so damn upset about being told to run. It meant he was about to lose someone again.

Anyways I think that about covers it? I may have missed or glossed over some points, but it’s like 8am for me rn, and I rolled out of bed so I could answer this ask lmfaodafjsjk. Maybe when I actually finish one whole playthrough of DMC4 again, I’ll have more to bring to the table, but in the meantime, thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to ramble about this fella!! ❤️🙏

[elisaenglish]

Art and Aliveness: Willa Cather on Attention and the Life of the Senses as the Key to Creativity

“Art is a matter of enjoyment through the five senses. Unless you can see the beauty all around you everywhere, and enjoy it, you can never comprehend art.”

“Her voice is deep, rich, and full of colour; she speaks with her whole body, like a singer... Whatever she does is done with every fibre,” a Nebraskan journalist observed on the pages of the Lincoln Star after meeting the brilliant and reclusive Willa Cather (December 7, 1873–April 24, 1947) while she was working on the novel that would soon win her the Pulitzer Prize, having already written the one that prompted F. Scott Fitzgerald to despair that The Great Gatsby is a failure by comparison.

Perhaps because they conversed while walking in the autumn sunshine — something Cather, who found her greatest happiness in nature, had requested — and perhaps because the interviewer was also a woman in an era when so few women’s words and thoughts and experiences appeared on the printed page, the conversation that unfurled, later published in Willa Cather in Person: Interviews, Speeches, and Letters (public library), remains the most candid and revealing glimpse of Cather’s creative credo, process, and philosophy of art — which is at bottom, always, a philosophy of life.

The two meandered beneath the fiery autumnal canopy near the home Cather shared with the love of her life, the conversation meandering accordingly in that natural synchrony between the foot and the mind, leaving the interlocutor to marvel:

“The longer Miss Cather talks, the more one is filled with the conviction that life is a fascinating business and one’s own experience more fascinating than one had ever suspected it of being. Some persons have this gift of infusing their own abundant vitality into the speaker.”

Cather had honed her own love of life — that essential wellspring of creative vitality — in childhood, roaming the wilderness on foot, on horseback, and in her parents’ farm wagon. As a young writer — not privileged, not straight, not resigned to the era’s conventional domestic destiny for a woman — she often worked until the small hours, ate no breakfast to save time and money, and learned to inhabit the world with the full-body presence that would soon give her novels their uncommonly transportive sensorial enchantment.

Contemplating the subject of creativity, Cather laments that nothing is more “fatal to the spirit of art” than the rise of what she aptly terms “superficial culture” — the commodification of art not as an instrument of aliveness but as a status symbol, pursued by rich ladies who “run about from one culture club to another studying Italian art out of a textbook and an encyclopedia and believing that they are learning something about it by memorising a string of facts.” To her, the young black boy on the porch improvising a Verdi opera on his fiddle by ear — with no formal knowledge of what he is playing and no theoretical rationale for why it is so stirring his soul — “has more real understanding of Italian art than these aesthetic creatures with a head and a larynx, and no organs that they get any use of, who reel you off the life of Leonardo da Vinci.”

The creative experience, Cather insists, is a matter of tuning into the inner feeling-tone strummed not by our cerebrations but by our creaturely relishment of the world.

Decades before poet and science historian Diane Ackerman rooted our creaturely and creative vitality in the delights of the senses, Cather echoes her contemporary Egon Schiele’s exhortation to “envy those who see beauty in everything in the world” and observes:

“Art is a matter of enjoyment through the five senses. Unless you can see the beauty all around you everywhere, and enjoy it, you can never comprehend art.”

A generation before the star teacher of Black Mountain College made her exquisite case for creativity as a way of being, arguing that art is made “with food, with children, with building blocks, with speech, with thoughts, with pigment, with an umbrella, or a wineglass, or a torch,” Cather adds:

“Aesthetic appreciation begins with the enjoyment of the morning bath. It should include all the activities of life... The farmer’s wife who raises a large family and cooks for them and makes their clothes and keeps house and on the side runs a truck garden and a chicken farm and a canning establishment, and thoroughly enjoys doing it all, and doing it well, contributes more to art than all the culture clubs. Often you find such a woman with all the appreciation of the beautiful bodies of her children, of the order and harmony of her kitchen, of the real creative joy of all her activities, which marks the great artist.”

Lest we forget, there are infinitely many kinds of beautiful lives.

In consonance with Rilke’s beautiful reflections on the reservoir of experiences required for creativity, Cather adds:

“Many people seem to think that art is a luxury to be imported and tacked on to life. Art springs out of the very stuff that life is made of. Most of our young authors start to write a story and make a few observations from nature to add local colour. The results are invariably false and hollow. Art must spring out of the fullness and the richness of life.”

Complement with James Baldwin on what it means to be an artist, then revisit Cather on the life-changing advice that made her a writer and her moving letter to her brother about making art through times of inner turmoil.

Source: Maria Popova, brainpickings.org (19th July 2021)

[skvaderarts]

Apocrypha Chapter Four: Benevolence

Masterlist can be found Here! Thanks!

Chapter Four: Benevolence

Note: I loved talking to everyone and reading your comments! Thanks for the support! I feel loved and appreciated. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and all the ones to come.

A gentle breeze picked up as the group rounded the corner and approached the front steps of the house. V opened the door and watched as the children filed into the house, immediately calling out to Kyrie to inform her that they were home as they took off their shoes and headed up stairs to their shared bedroom. They presumably intended to continue playing, a fact that V found exhausting to even comprehend considering the fact that they had spent several hours at the park. He'd chock it up to youthful vigor, but he hadn't had that kind of energy as a child and he also didn't feel like making himself feel that old so early in the day.

Kyrie approached from the living room, yawning as she stretched and adjusted her posture. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes before greeting the children and then turning her attention to V. Her usual smile was present although, at least to him, she seemed to be waking up from a nap and not entirely cognizant yet. She yawned again before speaking.

"I really appreciate you taking them to the park for me today," She said, beaming from her restful sleep," I hope they didn't cause too much trouble."

V shook his head, contemplating the idea of a nap of his own. Just looking at her made him more tired than he already was. Curling up with a good book in the arm chair that sat near the window in the living room and reading until he nodded off sounded like a tempting proposition. "They were very well behaved, all things considered," He said shooting a placid glance in the direction of the stairs," It was my pleasure."

"That and you certainly needed a nap, didn't you" He thought to himself as she headed into the kitchen. Kyrie turned the eye off on the stove and removed the teapot that sat atop of it, setting it down on the counter next to the refrigerator. Apparently she had been awake a little longer than he'd originally guessed.

"Would you like a cup?" She asked as she grabbed down the container that the tea was housed inside of. V nodded once in polite, wordless conformation, unwilling to pass up the opportunity to warm up a little. He was always slightly cold as a general rule. Kyrie took down a second cup and placed a flavored tea bag inside of each of them before douching them each with an appropriate amount of hot water and allowing them to steep. V made a mental note to purchase a kettle whenever he finally decided to venture out on his own.

Drinking tea with Kyrie was something he found himself doing quite often as of late, and he had gradually become accustomed to it. While they didn't really have anything to converse over while sipping their drinks, they each enjoyed taking a moment to simply savor the silence around them. Having three children around at all times could be never shredding at times, so any period of extended silence that they could procure was a welcome change of pace for everyone who lived there.

As the two of them fixed their respective drinks and began to drink them, V thanked her. He had come to appreciate how kind and considerate she was, always taking into account the comfort and happiness of those around her. Nero was exceptionally lucky to have someone like her in his life, and he was grateful to know her by extension. He hadn't experienced very many occasions in his life where he had met someone he could definitively say was genuinely concerned about those around them. But he could tell she felt that way about everyone she lived with. It was unfamiliar but refreshing for him to be surrounded by so many people who actually cared about him.

"If it's not too much trouble, can I ask you to do something for me, please?" She asked tentatively, seemingly unsure of how he would respond to the request.

V glanced up at Kyrie, giving her a curious look. He hoped he hadn't done something to upset her. She didn't seem upset, but assuming he'd something undesirable was his natural state until proven otherwise."Yes, of course."

"Would you be willing to come to the orphanage with me to meet the other children?" She seemed almost embarrassed to make such a request of him as if she was acutely aware that she was asking him to do something she knew he wouldn't normally do," Kyle, Carlo, and Julio seem to adore you, so I thought the other children might too!"

He was slightly surprised by what she'd just asked of him. While it wasn't an unreasonable request, he couldn't help but feel instantly uncomfortable at the prospect of going to an orphanage and interacting with children. It reminded him of things that he'd buried deep anc chosen to forget. He suppressed the urge to squirm in response to the visceral level of discomfort that he felt and nodded slowly, almost as if he were telling himself yes instead of her. This was the only thing she'd ever really asked of him. He could do that.

"... Yes...I could entertain the prospect. When did you have in mind?" It only occurred to him that he didn't really have any plans to speak of aside from taking a nap and catching up on one of the books he'd been reading. Well, rereading. He hoped Nico had found something worth wild during their excursion that day. He was woefully bored of the literature he had on hand. The selection was quite limited. At this point, he was willing to take just about anything he could get his hands on. A dictionary would suffice!

I was hoping we could go today, if that would be alright" She said cheerfully, " They are going to start making dinner in about an hour and I was going to go help them out like I normally do this time of week! They need all the help they can get with so many little mouths to feed!"

V choked on his drink.

-~-

All things considered, it seemed like Nero and Nico would be arriving back at home just in time for dinner. While sunset was still an hour or so off, the ferry would be making port shortly, and they would be home within the next little while. It had been a productive day as far as they were considered, so now it was time to enjoy a hot meal and take a well earned rest.

"I'm surprised the boat didn't sink from all these damn books, Nico." Nero said nonchalantly, earning him a prompt but playful middle finger from his mechanic companion. He took it with a grain of salt, already expecting that kind of response. They had each become accustomed to one another's sense of humor a while ago.

Nero glanced out over the water, catching a glimpse of their newly found relic in the back of the van. She'd been examining V's cane ever since they had left Redgrave City, so it was currently leaning against the wall over by Nico's work table. He wasn't sure what she hoped to discover, but he was willing to admit that he was becoming more curious as time passed. Did she think it possessed some sort of magical properties or something like that? While it wasn't out of the realm of possibility, he didn't really know if he thought that was the case or not.

"So what's the deal with the cane again? Is it cursed or somethin'?" Nero asked as he turned his attention to the front of the van again. They would be docking momentarily.

Nico glanced back before turning forward again and adjusting her position in the seat again. "Hell if I know! It's V's, so who knows. I found some weak demonic power comin' off of it, but I can't really tell where it came from. Hell, I can't even tell what kinda metal it's made out of!"

Nero laughed to himself, internally acknowledging that it must drive a former gunsmith up the walls to not be able to identify a type of metal. But that fact only made the cane more interesting to him. Where had he gotten a cane from that wasn't made out of a regular type of metal? Was it composed of some sort of experimental alloy or something? Heck, did it come from the underworld? Was it a devilarm?!

While the last option seemed unlikely, he couldn't rule it out completely. It made him feel slightly more comfortable about her request to study it just a little longer before returning it to its former owner. A day or two didn't seem like an unreasonable proposition, but no longer than that. At least that's what he hoped. From what he could tell, V actually did use it to get around. He tended to pick a spot and stay in it for prolonged periods of time compared to the level of mobility he had illustrated that he was capable of back in Redgrave City. That could be for a number of reasons to be fair, especially considering that he had only been back about eight days and was more than likely still recovering from their fight at Fortuna Castle and his original resurrection. And for all he knew V might just operate on low power in a domestic setting, reserving his energy for more pressing matters such as fighting demons. He didn't seem ill or anything, so maybe worrying over him was actually detrimental? Nero couldn't say, but he did find it difficult not to worry about him from time to time. He felt almost compelled to do so. Maybe it was the fact that he knew that they were brothers now, or maybe it was what hand happened to Credo a few years back. Perhaps it was because of his much weaker disposition, or a combination of all three. He couldn't say for sure. But he also had to acknowledge that it wasn't necessarily a bad thing either. Maybe he just cared about him.

Nero blushed slightly at the concept. Not very visibly, but he could feel his face grow perceptively warmer regardless. It was so strange to him. He'd never been able to really understand or coexist very well with quiet people growing up. Even as an adult they still had a special way of getting under his skin and making him uncomfortable as a general rule. Not knowing what someone was thinking made him uneasy, especially when they were as unreadable as V was. To this day, he still had a litany of questions he needed answered about his newfound sibling, but he wasn't sure where to start. No one liked being probed, and the last thing he wanted to do was to come off as invasive and totally insensitive. There was never a simple course of action when it came to V. Or was there? Was he overthinking this whole thing? Maybe just asking him to talk to him about these sorts of things would go over better than he thought. After all, never starting was a sure fire way to never get anywhere.

It was decided, then. He would ask him something simple when they got home. Something that he'd always wanted to know from the moment that he'd met him.

… What the fuck was his first name?

He seemed to always introduce himself as the same thing, but he was genuinely curious. The last time he'd brought it up, V had drawn a firm line in the sand with a succulent "no" and totally abandoned the subject. But no one named their kid a one letter name, did they? That seemed totally unlikely to him. He didn't really expect a different answer this time around, but he was just curious. It didn't seem like something he'd get upset about. If anything, he figured that there was some crazy reason behind it that he'd probably get a good laugh out of when V wasn't around to hear it.

"So ya gonna keep spacing out or are ya gonna come in the house? Cause I wanna eat dinner." Nico said, interrupting the deluge of scatterbrained thoughts that he'd been lost in for- had it really been that long? They were home already?! Wow. That had felt pretty quick… Then again, spacing out tended to alter one's perception of the passage of time. At least they were home now.

"I'm coming already. Don't worry about it." Nero said as he opened the side door and slipped out onto the ground. The concrete pavement welcomed his boots with a low thud, confirming that he was indeed in his own garage again. Yea, he definitely needed a nap or something. It was crazy how fast they had gotten here. Nero hoped that Kyrie hadn't killed anyone in the process. Her driving was pretty awful after all.

Nero crossed the space between the van and the garage door (what little there was) and headed towards the door. He turned the knob and pushed it open, stepping inside. Nico followed closely behind him, passing the white haired devil hunter and taking off her shoes before heading towards the stairs as soon as they got inside. Kyrie called out to greet them from another room, seemingly on the second floor of the house from what he could tell. He couldn't tell from the smell what Kyrie had been cooking, but he immediately felt more hungry that he had a few seconds before.

A cursory examination of the first floor yielded the result that he was alone now, so he shrugged out of his coat and boots and headed into the kitchen to grab something to drink. He grabbed the first thing that his hand landed on (a picture of water) and poured himself a glass before taking a peak at whatever was in the oven. He still couldn't really tell, although it seemed like a much smaller dish than usual. Kyrie must've volunteered to help make dinner at the orphanage again. They had probably eaten dinner with the children and then she had headed home to throw something for him, Nico, and V in the oven. How considerate of her.

He cursed himself for his total lack of cooking skills. He'd love to help her out more with those sorts of things, but he wasn't really sure how. Keeping the kids entertained so she could have a moment of peace was his specialty. She did enough as far as he and everyone else was concerned. Anything they could do to help her out they did, no questions asked.

Nero finished his glass of water and stepped into the living room, intent on closing the curtains. Since it would be dark soon, he figured that it might be a good idea. While no one in town was probably stupid enough to try and break in or anything of the sort, he didn't need prying eyes viewing what they were up to in their private lives. This was a gossip fueled town full of religious folks, after all. The last thing he wanted to do was provide them with something to work off of.

Upon closing the curtains, he turned around and did a silent double take. How long had V been sitting there asleep in the corner of the room? The part devil in question had dozed off on the far end of the couch nearest to him, seemingly exhausted from what he could tell. He always had this look to him that gave away his current energy levels, though Nero couldn't pinpoint what it was if he were asked to. He could just tell. He was willing to guess that the children had probably worn him out as per usual. Carlo had shown an almost magnetic attraction to him that they all found collectively endearing, V included though he never vocalized this opinion. The little child shadowed him around the house at all hours, captivated by whatever he was doing, even when he wasn't doing anything at all. It was honestly quite funny. And when he wasn't doing that, he was begging V to read one of his little toddler books to him, a request that he generally obliged, though he was probably ready to hide that book somewhere that it could never be found due to repetition alone.

The younger white haired devil hunter slipped out of the room silently, remembering that he hadn't let the garage down or locked the door. An easy mistake to make. He made his way over to the door, slipping out of it quietly as to not wake V. While he wasn't exactly a light sleeper, he still felt the need to try not to disturb him. No one liked to be roused from a restful slumber. Upon closing the door, he headed over to the metal folding door and pulled it downward, being mindful to do so slowly so as no to make unnecessary noise. It wouldn't make sense to creep out here and then loudly drop the door. Once the latch was secure, he stood up and locked it, content with his handiwork. The van was locked, but he gave it a quick once over just to be completely sure before heading back into the house and locking the door behind himself.

Nero stepped back into the kitchen and repressed the urge to curse to himself as he caught sight of V, now awake and standing in front of the fridge drinking a glass of water of his own. Whatever had been in the oven was now sitting on the counter in front of them, cooling off so that it could be eaten. Nero wasn't sure how V managed to do that so quickly since he'd only been gone for a few minutes at most, but it had happened nonetheless.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to look at whatever this dish was and not try to eat it, so Nero decided to give into temptation and do so, reaching up into the cabinet to try and locate a dish. V watched him do so, contently sipping his drink with a thoughtful look on his face. Nero located the plate and grabbed a fork, carefully plating up a small portion of the antre to taste. While the smell alone testified to it's edibility, he was still cautious whenever he tried something new. Thankfully, he wasn't a very picky eater.

"You know, I've only been home like ten minutes and you've already scared the shit out of me twice, V," Nero said casually as he fanned the now plated food in an effort to make it cool off quicker," I don't understand how you move around so quietly. It's kinda freaky."

V smirked at the statement, shrugging slightly in response. He wasn't really sure what to say to that statement. He was just light on his feet, he supposed. Either that or Nero was used to him walking with his cane. "My cane made most of the noise."

Nero nodded, considering his statement as he tasted the food. He slowly chewed the mouthful of food, finding it more to his liking that he would have originally assumed considering that fact that it seemed to be made entirely out of vegetables. While he wasn't a picky eater, he didn't normally gravitate towards these sorts of dishes. What the hell was this? It was delicious!

"Do you have any idea what this is," Nero asked as he gestured towards the pan of food with a slight tilt of his head," It's pretty fucking good! Never had this before."

V tilted his head downward slightly, glancing away from him in an attempt to not make eye contact. He looked almost embarrassed for whatever reason. Or at least that was how it seemed to the younger of the two. Nero gave him a curious look, his interest piqued by V's sudden and odd shift in behavior. Before he could inquire as to what the problem was, V responded.

"It's Ratatouille. I'm… glad you like it." He suddenly looked as though he had been asked to speak publicly in front of a large audience, looking anywhere but directly at Nero.

A look of shock and disbelief danced across his face as Nero processed the fact that Kyrie hadn't cooked this. It had never occurred to him that V might actually know how to cook. Had he accidentally eaten something he wasn't supposed to? V seemed to catch onto his surprised demeanor, feeling the need to elaborate despite his own discomfort.

"Everyone else has already eaten, so that is for the both of you," He said almost sheepishly," I... didn't think to make anything to go with it. I apolo-"

Nero waived his fork at him, gesturing for him to stop. Was he going to apologize after he had done him a favor? V was truly something else sometimes. "No, no, this is great! Don't even start! Nico isn't getting any of this."

V smirked again, almost smiling as Nero used a fresh fork to dish more of the food into his plate. Either he was adamant that he actually liked it, or he was putting on a very convincing act. V wasn't going to think too hard about it and simply take his word for it. As for Nico not getting any… he worried for his younger brother's well being if he wasn't kidding.

Before he could say anything else, a loud ringing noise reverberated off of the walls from down the hallway. They both instantly recognized the sound of the phone ringing and stepped towards it, awkwardly almost waking into one another but unsure as to who was actually going to answer it. Each time one of them tried to step forward, the other did so as well, leading to an uncoordinated dance that went nowhere. Finally Kyrie came from the other end of the hall and picked up the phone, saving them from themselves and they looked on in utter embarrassment. Nero tried to pretend he wasn't there as V sipped on the last of his drink, trying to hide his awkwardness behind the clear glass.

She smiled and nodded as she greeted the caller before turning towards the two of them. "Oh, it's your father! He'd like to talk to you both about something! Isn't that wonderful?"

For the second time that day, V choked on his drink.

-~-

Thank you all for taking the time to read the latest chapter! I'll be back soon with another entry! Thanks a bunch and I hope to see you again on Friday for the newest installment! Take care and stay safe!

[bigskydreaming]

LOL in all honesty though I’m way too amused by my own Jack Frost joke and its literally from a Bobby/Christian fanfic I wrote like, twelve years ago or something. It was right after Morrison introduced the idea of Christian in his run for purposes of Emma angst, and then they had that Emma solo, and I took that and ran with that fueled entirely by Rage and Spite, as I am wont to do. I now have no idea where said fanfic is, sadly. This was definitely way before Ao3. I think I only posted it on LJ, on an account where my friends list was like....entirely people from an entirely different fandom soooooo probably why that fic never really caught on. Whatever, I write fic more for myself anyway lmao.

It was pretty good though, think it would’ve held up well. The basic premise had to do with Dark Beast, the AU version of Hank from Age of Apocalypse. See, in the comics, when the few survivors of the Age of Apocalypse reality ended up in the 616 reality after it was destroyed, not all of them ended up in the present. Dark Beast, for example, ended up like twenty years in the past. And he didn’t have most of his memories, amnesia from trauma from the cross-dimensional travel or something. Which is when he met a then teenage Emma Frost, who’d just run away from home after everything that happened with her dad and Christian, and she ended up restoring Dark Beast’s memories with her telepathy, so they actually have history in the comics.

So I went with the idea of, okay what if you let Christian have agency in his trauma instead of giving it to Emma, who lbr, has PLENTY of story material on her own. So my premise was that it was Christian who ran away from home and ended up meeting Dark Beast and restoring his memories. And then Dark Beast, who has always been just as obsessed with creating the perfect mutant as Mr. Sinister is, if not more, because he’s like....equally obsessed with proving he’s better than Sinister....well instead of experimenting on the Morlocks, which is what he went on to do in the comics, he looks elsewhere. He never went after Scott or Jean, because he’s also a coward and Sinister scares him shitless, and DB knew damn well there was no such thing as a reality where Sinister hadn’t already called dibs on Scott and Jean’s genes. BUT, Dark Beast also knew from his own reality who all the other most powerful mutants would end up being....years before their powers even manifested in this reality. And since I’m me, of course I wrote it so that like, DB decided to focus on the other one of the 05 destined to grow up to be an omega mutant. 

And so he had Christian, who was young and easily manipulated because Love Me, I Need External Validation, My Last Name is Frost as In My Family’s Credo is What If We’re All Frosty All The Time....he had Christian use his telepathy to like, prompt Bobby into running away before the actual event that led to Xavier and Scott finding him and saving him and him joining the X-Men. Where Bobby of course ‘happened’ to bump into DB, who took him in along with his other young protege Christian, so he could like, secretly conduct experiments on Bobby blah blah you get it. 

But eventually Christian and Bobby fell in lurv and Christian was like what no, this is wrong, bad, not doing this anymore, so they run away together, and then it was basically just me writing them as a mutant Bonnie and Clyde who are gay and do crime together and say like, fuck all the adult mutants who try and manipulate them and other kids like them. Like Xavier, who eventually tried to get Bobby to join the X-Men and Bobby was like lol no, hard pass. Or the Hellfire Club, who eventually tried to recruit Christian except he was like lol no, hard pass. And then they were basically like this Chaotic Good power couple that just popped up here and there fucking shit up in a well-intentioned way that made half the X-Men grind their teeth and the other half snicker, and same with the Acolytes and other various groups. And there wasn’t really anything anyone could do about it because its canon that Bobby’s only real weakness is to psychics and having a world-class psychic as your boyfriend really kinda nips that weakness in the bud. Unless you come up against like, a cosmic-class psychic like Jean Grey, but lucky for them, she just thinks they’re adorable and tends to go whoops, missed them again every time they slip through the X-Men’s fingers.

And ultimately they decided their real mission in life was to rescue really young mutants whose powers manifested early and put them in danger, and make sure they get a chance to grow up without the various factions going ‘we’ll protect you, but only if you grow up to support our agenda and be One of us, shhhh, don’t fight it, just sign your life away on the dotted line, all the cool kids are doing it.’ And also me being me, and it being like 2004 ish? I think? Maybe 2005. Anyway. So my other preoccupation of the time was the Academy X kids so of course we’re talking like Julian and Josh and Cessily and the like, who were all like, adorable little ten year olds at this point in time, but also V. Beyond the Capacity of These Two Hapless Gays to Handle Without Help. Like, apparently omega powers and world-class telepathy do not actually qualify you to effectively parent a mob of young mutant menaces when you’re only 21-22 yourselves, who knew. So they ended up just showing up on the doorstep of one of Emma’s properties, mutant menace mob in tow, as she was the White Queen by now, and Christian greeting her facepalm moment with ‘Hey Ems, remember how you always wanted to be a teacher?’

And then there was this bit where Emma was something like “I’m a bit busy trying to take over the world, darling, try me again after my mid-life crisis.”

And Christian was all: “You can teach and take over the world at the same time, y’know, some of us are capable of this little thing called multi-tasking?”

And Bobby helpfully piped up: “I can pat my head and rub my stomach at the same time.”

Cue Emma’s wrinkled nose and accusing stare at her brother: “What on earth do you see in him?”

But Bobby just turned around and was like: “Umm, for starters, my ass is amazing. Have you not seen it? Here, touch it. Go ahead, you can squeeze it.”

Emma: .....

Christian, shrugging: “Well I mean, he’s not wrong.”

Emma: “If I agree to this idiotic plan of yours will you leave immediately and never come back?”

Bobby, stage whispering: “Tell her we still want holiday visits, so we can be the cool gay uncles who show up and spoil them rotten and thus they love us more than her. But don’t tell her that last part.”

Christian, dutifully: “We want to still come by for holidays so we can be the cool gay uncles who show up and spoil them rotten and thus they love us but no more than you, an equal amount only.”

Emma: “I’m standing right here you imbeciles.”

Bobby, still whispering: “Make sure that includes Easter. I’m pretty sure if I show up in a bunny costume I can make her head explode.”

Christian: “Just to be clear, that includes - “

Emma, a vein in her temple throbbing: “Just give me the children already.”

Bobby, gathering up the kids in a crowd around him, all noisy and giggling and clamoring for his attention: “Okay kids, so here’s the plan. From now on, you guys are gonna stay here in this big old house with Auntie Em!”

Emma, appalled: “Oh. My. God.”

Christian frowns: “Emma, please stop trying to fry my boyfriend’s brain. I’m not going to let you.”

And then the kids swarmed through the door past her into the hallway and there were the sounds of stuff breaking, distracting her for a bit before she like, glared at Bobby and was all: “This is all your doing!”

Bobby, hurt: “Only mostly! Chris and I are a team. A united front. It was a 60/40 split.”

Christian: “Well....”

Bobby: “Okay, 70/30.”

Christian: “You said you were going out to get some waffles to make breakfast in the morning and you came home with waffles, ice cream, and Julian on your shoulders.”

Bobby: “He followed me home!”

Christian: “That’s not how he tells it.”

Bobby, whirling on the ten year old Julian Keller who’s playing a Gameboy and looking entirely unconcerned: “You little traitor.”

Julian flipped him off.

Bobby, scandalized: “He did NOT learn that from me.”

Julian, still not looking up from his game: “Yes I did.”

And that was when Christian started dragging his boyfriend back to their car, before Bobby can get into an actual fight with a ten year old, yelling back over his shoulder at Emma: “Okay, great, thanks so much for doing this, let us know if you need us to bring anything when we come back in a few days with the second batch.”

Emma, distracted and trying to do a headcount: “Yes, fine, be gone already. ...Wait. What second batch? DRAAAAAAAKE!!”

But it was too late as the car is halfway to her big mansion gates by then, Bobby cackling: “Hey, we should totally get a dog. Like a little foofy one.”

Christian, knowing better than to ask but asking anyway: “And why is that?”

Bobby: “Bet you anything I can get her to say “I’ll get you and your little dog too!’”

Christian: “I’d appreciate it for both our sakes if you never do or say anything to suggest to my sister you’ve ever compared her to the Wicked Witch of the West. I mean, not that she’d protest on moral grounds, but she takes her color schemes very seriously. And you do know you don’t actually have to provoke her quite so much...”

Bobby: “Mmmm....agree to disagree. It’s the principle of the matter.”

Christian: “What principle? What matter?”

That was the gist of that scene anyway. Dialogue’s probably different, but you get it.

Ugh, I probably have the whole thing sitting in an old email account somewhere because that’s always been my main way of backing stuff up, is emailing it to myself. Problem is, I think I had a specific fandom email account back then and I don’t know what it is anymore lol. 

[theimpossiblescheme]

“But I believe in beauty and I hate war--why do I have to die?”

I’ve gone on about the old 1970s sci-fi series “The Fantastic Journey” a little bit before on this blog, and it should come as a surprise to no one that my favorite character is Roddy McDowall’s Jonathan Willaway.  But it has more to do with the genuinely clever writing around the character than with the actor (although he does help a great deal).  As campy and far-fetched as the show can be sometimes, all of its best and most memorable moments go toward helping a man who was once a greedy loner with no respect for the sanctity of life along the path of redemption until he eventually becomes a sort of reluctant hero or at least a wild card with more of a noble side than he cares to admit.  And you can see his progression with each episode he’s in--join me under the cut for details!

“Beyond the Mountain”: Jonathan Willaway the Somewhat Tragic Villain who builds a home for himself off of slave labor just to prevent going crazy from isolation, tries to force a woman to marry him solely for the sake of having another human around, and is forced to watch his home painfully crash and burn under the weight of his own pride.

(Even while he’s very much the bad guy, we still get glimpses of the humanity underneath.  He does love, or at least tries to convince himself that he loves, the androids he’s built to basically be his servants and “family”.  He notes that seeing one of them, whom he’s come to consider like a son to him, without his central processing unit is like seeing him dead and starts to have second thoughts about punishing his disobedience.  It’s the archetype of the “kind” slaveowner who takes up the “White Man’s Burden” and thinks he’s doing a service to mankind by doing so.  And when he watches his home be abruptly reclaimed by the ones he’s wronged, he’s left a numb, broken man with nowhere to go and not even the energy to properly cry. When we see him again at the end, it’s no coincidence that he’s wearing black—Jonathan’s essentially in mourning for his entire life since reaching the island.  What he did was unequivocally wrong, and he knows it now… but it was all he had.)

“Children of the Gods”: Jonathan Willaway the Bitchy Primadonna who still doesn’t quite appreciate what the main characters are risking in bringing him along, but reveals some hidden depths by helping someone similarly misguided and much younger realize his mistakes and try to better himself.

(This episode is especially notable since it’s the first time we see that, while Jonathan is inevitably going to butt heads with any adult he comes across just for the sake of keeping his pride, he gets along surprisingly well with kids, despite his own protests to the contrary.  Scott is the first of the main cast who’s willing to be alone with him.  And while Jonathan’s invariably still either rude or dismissive to the adults in the party, when he’s talking to Ace and trying to talk him out of essentially making a bunch of other kids into child soldiers, listen to his voice during key moments.  It’s soft and measured, and there’s actual compassion in it.  Jonathan recognizes someone else who’s about to royally screw up his life and urges him not to.)

“A Dream of Conquest”: Jonathan the Willing Double Agent who actually helps of his own volition this time, gets a front row seat to the sort of cruelty he’s been trying to leave behind him, and gets smacked in the face with just how much he needs to come through for his new friends after all they’ve done for him.

(Here, Jonathan really gets a cold dose of just what kind of man he might have become if he’d stayed home—every second he’s in the company of this warlike dictator who treats his own people like cattle, you can tell that he hates it.  He actually says in the episode that he hates war and everyone who engages in it, but he’s now embroiled in someone else’s war for the sake of getting him and the main cast out of the battle zone with a whole skin.  And going along with the charade visibly erodes the others’ trust in Jonathan, which scares him to death because they’re now all he has.  He might be always “seeking better”, but he doesn’t have to look very far for it; without even realizing what it truly means, he’s willing to put his life on the line for the people he’s just now starting to consider friends.)

“An Act of Love”: Jonathan the…Friend?  Yeah, the Friend who’s actually starting to be integrated properly into the group and is now trusted to be able to save lives rather than risk them.

(Here, Jonathan doesn’t have quite as much to do, but it’s starting to become evident how much he’s actually become a part of the main cast rather than a glorified guest star.  He’s realizing that he actually cares about these people—he wants to see them happy and safe from danger, and he really feels Varian’s absence when it becomes less and less certain that he’ll stay with them.  And note how Fred, the conscientious doctor who was Jonathan’s most vocal enemy before now, puts him in charge of talking a woman out of letting herself be killed.)

“Funhouse”: Jonathan the Slave, having his new psychological scars taken advantage of by someone much more powerful and reduced to little more than a puppet his friends have to forcibly cut the strings of before it kills him.

(The Possession Episode ™ of any TV show, particularly when it’s played for horror instead of humor, can always be a little hard to watch because you’re basically watching a character have their mind and body violated by someone who, a lot of the time, is a complete stranger.  But I’m hard-pressed to think of an instance where it felt more like a man being sexually assaulted.  Jonathan is watched from afar and called “vulnerable”, but “perfect” right before he’s taken over, and it’s abundantly clear that it’s a painful and humiliating thing for him to go through, even as he struggles to take back control.  When it’s over, he admits that he can’t remember much of what happened, but what he does remember he’d rather forget.  This is the second time Jonathan’s put through the meat grinder now that he’s actively trying to be a better man, and it won’t be the last.)

“Turnabout”: Jonathan the Exploited, forced into action by a new, broken society that lets him watch his friends be tortured if he refuses to put his own life on the line and help fix it.

(This time, Jonathan doesn’t willingly volunteer to help this community reform from the inside—he’s shanghaied into it.  Either he puts himself at great personal risk by repairing a computer that’s taken a turn for the Hal 9000, or he gets to watch his friends slowly and painfully die with nothing he can do about it.  The scene where he’s shut in the opposite jail cell of Varian and Scott as they gradually succumb to poison is actually pretty harrowing, especially when he sees that Varian is doing everything he can to reduce Scott’s suffering—remember that these two were the first to truly accept Jonathan as part of their company.  Even when their captors change their minds and let them go, Jonathan isn’t so quick to forgive, saying that it isn’t the lack of compassion that truly bothers him, but the lack of justice since neither he, nor Varian and Scott did anything to deserve their punishment.)

“Riddles”: Jonathan the Frightened, faced with another near-death experience and the fear that no one is coming to save him, all the while actually being more concerned for his friends than his own safety.

(I did say that “Funhouse” wouldn’t be the last time Jonathan gets put through the meat grinder.  This time he’s not only nearly frozen to death trying to help the company find an artifact that could help them get home, but also shoved face to face with his own fear of enclosed spaces where no one can hear him yelling for help. He’d be forgiven for thinking that he’d be trapped there forever and actually says that he thought they’d never be able to find him.  But all the while, it’s not his own wellbeing Jonathan puts at the forefront.  He quickly regains his bearings both times and goes on as if nothing ever happened, ready to move on to whatever lies ahead for him and the company.  And again, his concern for Scott rears its head—notice the terror on his face when he’s told that Scott is also alone somewhere in this godforsaken house.)

“The Innocent Prey”: Jonathan the Neutral No Longer, first tempted to leave a city in need after finding what they need from it, then moved into staying and helping once he knows just how much it means to his friends.

(This episode can pretty much be a microcosm of Jonathan’s character arc throughout the series so far—first motivated primarily by selfishness, then softened into actual empathy once he realizes how much pain will remain if they walk away and do nothing.  His earlier credo that “it takes a thief to catch a thief” gets an ironic callback when he describes those kinds of people here as being bloodthirsty, cruel, and fundamentally untrustworthy.  And not for nothing, but the one who ends up appealing pretty thoroughly to his better nature?  Fred, who once hated Jonathan and still bickers with him incessantly.  In fact, Jonathan ends up preventing Fred from doing anything rash out of blind emotion and helps him to uncover the truth about a murder.)

What really makes this evolution effective is that, like all the great character arcs, Jonathan isn’t magically a new person on the other side.  He’s not perfect, and he’s never going to be—he’s still proud, impatient, sarcastic, cynical, a bit vain, sometimes thoughtless, and willing to tread a more morally grey zone than the others are.  But underneath all the obvious flaws is a more selfless, self-aware, and compassionate man than he was at the start, a man who sees the people around him as actual people rather than utilities and, when he sees his own faults in others, tries to help them overcome.  It’s honestly kind of inspiring to see, even for a campy ‘70s show. In the spirit of Jonathan always having a pithy quote to share in each episode, Marcus Aurelius once said, “Waste no more time arguing what a good man should be.  Be one.”  And he does just that.

[aion-rsa]

Seinfeld: The Most Important Lessons from a Show About Nothing

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Netflix will stream the entire 180-episode library of a TV classic starting October 1, 2021. Seinfeld is as beloved and influential series as I Love Lucy, The Honeymooners, M*A*S*H, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, and The Simpsons. But why? It doesn’t make us feel better about ourselves and we never come out smarter. Creators Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David never produced a “very special” episode, or tugged at the heart strings. Even its most tear-jerking moment, the loss of George Costanza’s (Jason Alexander) fiancée to cheap postage stamp glue, was merely a setup to a killer punchline. But it did teach a lesson. Don’t skimp on wedding invitations, it could be fatal.

Seinfeld operated on a “no hugging, no learning” edict from its very inception. David commanded no emotional or intellectual growth would be tolerated. Michael Richards’ Cosmo Kramer only really got close to people when wearing the Kavorka jacket. Elaine, played by the now most-awarded actress in TV history, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, would never think of taking dance class.

In spite of itself, Seinfeld did promote coping skills. Kramer could afford to live in an Upper West Side apartment with no visible means of support. George’s father Frank Costanza, played by Jerry Stiller, grew to appreciate Serenity Now on demand. The wise writers of the show knew there was a fine line between Zen and nihilism. After the series finale, Jerry, Elaine, George, and Kramer have years to ponder life’s lessons.

Here is some of the knowledge the Seinfeld characters have going in:

5 – Return your library books

Jerry Seinfeld, the actor, comedian and creator of the show which bears his name, grew up knowing “reading is fundamental.” His show broke rules of television, and his character ran afoul of a library cop investigating an overdue copy of Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer. It was last spotted when Jerry took it out in 1971. But for a guy who started a show with a no-learning credo, it’s not a big thing. 

“Maybe we can live without libraries, people like you and me,” library investigations officer Lt. Bookman (Philip Baker Hall) warns the successful comedian. “Sure, we’re too old to change the world, but what about that kid, sitting down, opening a book, right now, in a branch at the local library and finding drawings of pee-pees and wee-wees on the Cat in the Hat and the Five Chinese Brothers?” That child would probably end up like Mr. Heyman, the teacher who got fired for giving Costanza a wedgie.

4 – Wait after swimming

Do women know about shrinkage? Anyone who didn’t, learned about it from George in “The Hamptons,” from season 5. The human body was designed to operate best in its natural temperature of 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. When a man goes swimming in cold water, the blood rushes to warm the vital parts, like the brain and heart, leaving appendages to shrink “like a frightened turtle.” No one knows why it happens. It just does. George is right to think Jerry’s girlfriend got short-changed when she accidentally walks in on him changing out of his swimsuit. Elaine doesn’t even know how men walk around with those things.

3 – Don’t trust mailmen

There is a reason United States postal workers “go crazy and come back with a gun and shoot everybody.” Speaking as one of the brethren, Newman (Wayne Knight) says it’s “because the mail never stops. It just keeps coming and coming and coming, there’s never a let-up. It’s relentless. Every day it piles up more and more and more, and you gotta get it out but the more you get it out the more it keeps coming in. And then the bar code reader breaks and it’s Publisher’s Clearing House day.” 

Jerry Seinfeld’s nemesis calls in sick when the weatherman predicts showers, even though it is first on the list of the “neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow” mailman oath. Oh, and forget everything you think you know about zip codes, “they’re meaningless.”  

2 – Do the opposite

“Hi, my name is George. I’m unemployed, and I live with my parents.” With a pickup line like that, what could possibly go wrong? It lowers the bar so much, it is irresistible, and there is nowhere to go but up. When Costanza tries out his bad luck opening he’s a flailing real estate agent with little to no prospects. 

“My life is the complete opposite of everything I want it to be,” he says. But realizes “If every instinct you have is wrong, then the opposite would have to be right.” And George Costanza vows, for the rest of his life, to go against any normal instinct he feels. By the end of the episode he is working as the Travelling Secretary of the New York Yankees.

1 – Keep reservations

“You better give me the insurance because I’m going to beat the hell out of this thing,” Jerry tells a rental car agent in the season 3 episode “The Alternate Side.” He is absolutely justified, even though auto insurance on a rental is a rip-off, according to The Good Place. The first rule to comedy is timing, and the first rule to making a reservation is keeping it. Look how well it worked out for the gang when trying to get seated in “The Chinese Restaurant.” 

That rule also applies to car rentals, so Jerry is fully within his rights to break the credo of the show and explain the laws of perpetual motion. “You know how to take the reservation,” he schools the agent. “You just don’t know how to hold the reservation. And that’s really the most important part of the reservation: the holding. Anybody can just take them.” That’s how he got booked on The Tonight Show.

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0 – Nothing

If we learned anything from all our years watching Seinfeld, it is that we’ve learned nothing. Not a thing. Legend has it, the show was pitched to the networks like that, and this was corroborated in “The Pitch.” “So, we go into NBC, we tell them we’ve got an idea for a show about nothing,” Jerry asks George for clarification. In reality, the whole show-about-nothing pitch was made up by the press. But Seinfeld knew enough to play into that.

He learned it on Seinfeld.

Seinfeld will be available to stream on Netflix starting October 1, 2021.

The post Seinfeld: The Most Important Lessons from a Show About Nothing appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[scienceblogtumbler]

Science Book Roundup, Social Distancing Edition

When I posted my last science book roundup, few of us knew what was about to come. We had heard about a novel coronavirus and an outbreak of a new disease called COVID-19 in China, but only those well-versed in epidemiology or the history of previous pandemics expected to see so much of the economy shut down as we practice a previously unknown form of interaction called social distancing. Perhaps as a result, I have only heard from a handful of publicists with requests for reviews, and I offer four of them for my readers’ consideration. They have a common thread, namely that they deal with organisms, human, terrestrial, and otherwise.

We will get to those books shortly, but first “a word from our sponsor.” My usual caveat: For my Roundups, I don’t read all of the books in detail, but they are published by reputable publishers and written by credible authors. I browse them enough to recommend who might want to pick them up from a library or bookstore shelf.

My usual request: Because freelance book review opportunities have almost disappeared, I now rely on Amazon referral fees to cover the cost of maintaining my online presence. If you are inclined to buy any of these books from Amazon, please use the links here so I can get a small referral fee. Another way to thank me is to click my portal to Amazon for whatever shopping you plan to do. I get reports of what people buy but not who is buying, so I will not be able to say thanks. But please know that I am grateful.

Did you catch that “otherwise” in the opening paragraph? If you know my science books for young readers, then you probably are aware of my strong interest in planetary science, including Astrobiology, the science of life on other worlds. Astrobiology takes many forms, but probably the one that generates most interest among general readers is SETI, the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence. In a galaxy as vast as our Milky Way, it seems highly unlikely that Earth is the only planet on which intelligent beings, capable of sending signals outside of their world, have evolved. And if that is the case, why have we never detected a signal from any one of them?

The short answer seems to be that with hundreds of billions of stars to choose from, we simply have not sampled enough to find any of a handful of needle-in-a-haystack worlds. Perhaps, some SETI researchers suggest, we should deliberately send out a message and see if anyone answers. That is the starting point for British author Keith Cooper in

The Contact Paradox: Challenging Our Assumptions in the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence. The back cover describes the book this way: “(T)he act of transmitting raises troubling questions about the process of contact…. Cooper looks at how far SETI has come since its modest beginnings by speaking to the leading names in the field and beyond. SETI forces us to confront our nature in a way that we seldom have before–where did we come from, where are we going, and who are we in the cosmic context of things? The book considers the assumptions that we make in our search for extraterrestrial life, and explains how those assumptions can teach us about ourselves.”

Moving from the far reaches of the galaxy to the innermost element of human life, University of Cambridge and Caltech biology and bioengineering professor Magdalena Zernicka-Goetz joins noted British science writer Roger Highfield to explore

The Dance of Life: The New Science of How A Single Cell Becomes a Human Being.

The publisher describes the book as “A renowned biologist’s cutting-edge and unconventional examination of human reproduction and embryo research.” It also includes an account of Zernicka-Goetz’s own pregnancy, in which a sample test of placental cells showed a possible genetic abnormality. She continued the pregnancy to term and delivered a perfectly healthy baby boy. The experience led her research in a different direction, including an understanding of the ways embryos can, in some cases, repair their own defects, which could revolutionize our understanding of pregnancy and give new promise to in vitro fertilization.

The publicity copy notes the following: “Scientists have long struggled to make pregnancy easier, safer, and more successful. In The Dance of Life, developmental and stem-cell biologist Magdalena Zernicka-Goetz takes us to the front lines of efforts to understand the creation of a human life. She has spent two decades unraveling the mysteries of development, as a simple fertilized egg becomes a complex human being of forty trillion cells. Zernicka-Goetz’s work is both incredibly practical and astonishingly vast: her groundbreaking experiments with mouse, human, and artificial embryo models give hope to how more women can sustain viable pregnancies. Set at the intersection of science’s greatest powers and humanity’s greatest concern, The Dance of Life is a revelatory account of the future of fertility–and life itself.”

In a different look at human evolution, British science writer and broadcaster Gaia Vince goes beyond biology to other forces that drove our development to become the dominant species on Earth. It is not merely evolution, but

Transcendence: How Humans Evolved Through Fire, Language, Beauty, and Time. The dust jacket copy describes what sets this book apart: “Although prevailing theory holds that a recent cognitive revolution transformed humans, Vince argues that we are the product of a unique coevolution of our genes, environment, and culture. Beginning hundreds of thousands of years ago, with four key drivers–fire, language, beauty, and time–it set our species on a new path, unleashing a compounding process that propelled us from the Stone Age to the Space Age and continues to transform us today. Provocative and poetic,… it asks: Now that we have remade our world, what are we doing to ourselves?”

The final book in our roundup is certainly the most unusual. The paperback original

The Gyroscope of Life: Understanding Balances (and Imbalances) in Nature by David Parrish, an Appalachian naturalist and 50-year practitioner. The back cover notes call it “A love song to the field of biology [that] will stretch the minds of readers–scientists and nonscientists alike.”

Its main theme is this: “Culturally, we tend to simplify challenging concepts by thinking of them as binary systems: life/death, female/male. But what if these concepts are more complex than mere opposites…. While sharing his personal experiences with religion, science, battling illness, and more, Parrish explores a series of unconventional topics such as a biologists credo, Mother Nature’s House Rules, the foolishness of conflicts between science and religion, ritualistic funerary cannibalism, a biological critique of ‘The Big Bang Theory’ theme song, pseudo-copulation of insects with flowers, and the Faustian bargain that agriculture and plant domestication represent.”

If you think that describes a bit of a hodge-podge, you are probably right. That doesn’t make it a bad book, but you need to be the right kind of reader to enjoy it. The sections I sampled seemed disjointed with interesting tidbits scattered throughout. Are all those diversions necessary? If you are the type of reader who enjoys discovering information that way, then this is a book for you. Just be prepared to be jolted by “too much information” at times, such as the author’s choice to open the chapter called “Male or Female?” by describing himself as “castrate” (for valid medical readers). For me, it seemed to distract rather than inform or serve as a thread to tie up the chapter. You may respond differently, or as some people say, your mileage may vary.

I’ll close with a wish for your good health as we all face a historic pandemic. I can’t predict when I will have another roundup to offer. If I’m lucky, some publicists will return to their offices, read this blog, and decide to offer me science books to share with you in the next few months.

Blogger and reviewer Fred Bortz is the author of numerous science books for young readers.

A request from the blogger: Please let me know you appreciated this posting by adding a comment or sending an email with your thoughts to drfredb@att.net . Many thanks!

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[sasha-rochester]

Violence Bred by Violence

Co-written with the wonderful @safestsephiroth​, he did most of the good stuff. Warnings: Strong, violent themes ahead.   Gerrith Gaffgarion sat alone in one of his myriad safehouses, the room lit by a single candle and the cigar he was puffing away at. When the door opened, he knew who it was even before his eyes had adjusted to the light. “Ragnald.” The go-between had followed Gerrith from Ala Mhigo. Cruel as he was, callous as he was, violent as he was, Gerrith had always valued loyalty, and that left Ragnald almost the only person in Eorzea Gerrith could have viewed as the closest thing he understood a friend to be. Ragnald’s hair had greyed with age, but his eyes were every bit as sharp as they’d been decades ago. That was one reason Gerrith liked keeping him around - it was a smug reminder that they’d lived to be old where all the fools and the ‘heroes’ and the ‘valiant’ and the ‘just’ had died. It was the strong, the shrewd, the clever and the bold that lived. It was an important credo for Gerrith, and keeping living proof on hand was that much more reassurance. “Gerrith. The money’s cleared. The targets are there.” Gerrith took another deep breath and nodded. “Anything else you’ve got for me?” “I did more digging, like you asked. The Rochester manor proper is in the same district as your targets. And the layout of the house she gave you is almost completely perfect.” “What’d she get wrong?” “The hedges have grown taller since she was last there, it would seem, and the guards’ schedule is slightly different. They’ve also redecorated. One of the staff told us Edward keeps a gun in every room of the house, and that he checks them every day when he wakes up.” Gerrith took this information in, committed it to memory, his eyes moving rapidly as he added this to his mental map of the place. “And the maid?” “She took the carrot over the stick.” “That’s another thing to fix, then.” “Well worth the trouble, though.” “It is.” Gerrith tapped his cigar on the ashtray. “You impressed upon the client’s agent how important it is that no one affiliated with her be anywhere near the property?” “I did. Didn’t need to threaten him, either.” “That’s good. Depending on how she handles this, we may end up getting more work from her in the future. You told him I don’t do prison breaks?” “Yes. He understood my meaning.” “Perfect.” Gerrith picked up the dossiers on the Castille couple one last time. “Midlanders. I love fighting midlanders. They don’t look at you like any other race does. A miqo’te accepts you’re taller than them, they’re used to it. A lalafell, well, we all look the same from up here. Roegadyn and Elezen, to them the size difference isn’t that big, but our appearance means they recognize us as different. But the midlanders. Oh, the midlanders. They don’t see us as highlanders, they see us as tall midlanders, and they get so scared. Beautiful thing to see, Ragnald.” “Aye.”“ While I’m in there, run the usual interference.” “The Brass Blades are going to be more concerned with many other things across town until they get an anonymous call.” “Good. And the wait staff?” “We know where they live. Any who aren’t there at the time will be easy to track down.” “Good. We can’t have any of them surviving to breathe a word about who did this.” With that, Gerrith stood up, and looked through his sword collection. The Castilles would outfit their guards with the absolute best weaponry possible, but they also wouldn’t want them to be too terribly heavily armored. The blood sword would be sufficient, and the lighter blade would be more useful in the manor’s corridors.

“Let’s go, Ragnar.”

The tick-tock of the grandfather clock echoed throughout the library. Edith flipped through a book upon her lap, breaking the silence: “It feels lonely, you know.”  Edward didn’t even lift his gaze from his work, carefully examining the numbers in what looked like an accounting book. “Hm?” “Without Alex around… Or even Nathaniel.” “I’m surprised you’re not mentioning Sebastian for once.” The small hyuran woman frowned, “... I miss him too, but there’s nothing we can do about that.” “We can get justice. I’ve made arrangements to submit our investigation to the blades next week, it has been delayed for far too long.” Edith paused, falling silent for a minute as she tightly clutched her book, “... Do you really think she did it? I’m not even sure our evidence-” “That’s for the blades to determine, and frankly, we need that closure, Edith. If she isn’t behind it, who is?” “Some thief, I don’t know, a criminal… He was slaughtered in the pearl lane like a pig. It’s not uncommon. That she’d be behind something like that-- It just seems…” “Unlikely? Doubtful.” “She was a child when he died.“ The man shook his head, picking up a quill to write something down upon the pages before him, “She was nineteen. That’s no child, Edith.” “... And Alexander’s obsession with her is concerning- It’s all he writes or talks about. I’m just worried that we have the wrong person. I’m just worried that we hurt someone who sincerely doesn’t deserve it. After all she’s been through- “ Edward interrupted her train of thought, “You don’t find it suspicious?” “Pardon?” “What she went through. Father dying from sickness, mother being murdered in a coup she miraculously survived, second husband mysteriously vanishing after that was done, you don’t find it suspicious?”

Edith fell silent again, chewing on her lower lip, “I just want my children to be safe-” “Your children?” “... Yes. My children. I still hate you for it Edward. I will never forgive you for your betrayal, but I still raised those boys as my own. At least Alexander, anyway. The other always seemd so indifferent to me…” “Well, at least that’s an improvement from our last conversation.” _________________________ It was midnight when Gerrith reached the manor. He enjoyed doing his work in the daylight when possible, because it made seeing would-be escapees easier, but the nature of this job meant darkness would be necessary. The rich made for witnesses that were difficult to silence. Some assassins would have taken this caution a step further. They’d have attempted to sneak through the manor, slip in unnoticed, avoid the guards, and either poison the Castilles or slit their throats before slipping back out again. If that was what Sasha Rochester had wanted, she hadn’t done her research. Which wasn’t Gerrith’s problem. He decided to test the manor’s defences by grabbing the gate’s bars and ripping it open. The fact it was somewhat challenging to do so was a good sign - plenty of people are content to hide behind a sturdy gate and walls and think this protects them. He stepped through the breach, drew his sword and started humming a tune as he approached, a red aura starting to emanate from his body. Oh come, ye wayward brothers, “Halt!” One of the guards yelled. A giant roegadyn. Upon seeing Gerrith, and recognizing who he was, the guard immediately raised a rifle. “Stop right there!” “What’s the point of hiring a Roegadyn,” Gerrith asked, “If you’re just going to give him a gun?” He continued stepping forwards, calmly. “You know who I am, don’t you?” “I said stop!” “Gerrith Gaffgarion. I’m here for your boss. You can’t kill me. Give it up.” A finger to a trigger, a quick pull...and nothing. “What…?” Gerrith reached the door to the manor, reached the guard who was now pulling the trigger repeatedly, unable to understand how a gun he personally inspected every night could be broken. “As I said. You can’t kill me.” The Roegadyn started to move, which meant he’d started to think, which meant he’d become a threat again. Gerrith grabbed the man by the shoulder and plunged the sword upwards, beneath the breastplate, under the ribs, out through the neck. He felt the man’s aether - his soul - get sucked into the blade, and through it into Gerrith. One down. _____________________________ Bereft of hearth and home, the sound of a loud crash on the lower floor caused Edith to jump. “Did you hear that?” Edward hardly looked up from the accounting book ”Hm? Probably one of the servants knocking over vases again--They seem to have a talent for that. ”“That’s not it. That did not sound like a vase.” “Maybe it wasn’t a vase, maybe it was several vases,” Edward stated this with a stupid smile upon his lips, clearly amused at himself. Edith scoffed, “Gods, Edward.” She stood up from her seat as her husband began to chuckle lowly. “I’m going to check what it is.” __________________________ “Wyssbenn?” A voice from inside, another man. This one hyuran, Gerrith recognized. And then Wyssbenn’s body was hurled through the door, which was now little more than scattered shards of wood carpeting the floor. The foyer was massive, here, the walls lined with paintings and tapestries and inlaid with gold and silver, the floors carpeted in the finest fabrics. The marble stairs to the second story were completely covered in ornate etchings. It was beautiful, to some. To Gerrith, it was pointless. “Oh, was that its name? Wyssben?” He asked, a thin smile beneath his bristling mustache. “I can never tell what the barnacle bastards’ names are. How do you keep them straight?” There were two guards, this time, at the base of the stairs, and two more on the upper balcony. All had rifles, and this time they had swords at their waists, too. This amused Gerrith. They looked at the body, looked at Gerrith, raised the rifles and… Click. “I love this newfound reliance on guns. It makes you people so easy to deal with.” He extended his arm, grit his teeth - beneath yon burning star there lies - and a blast of malevolent energy exploded from his palm, smearing one of the two balcony guards across the wall. The other started to flee, to try to raise some sort of alarm, when a second blast took both his legs off. Gerrith took a half second to appreciate the screaming as the other two guards approached him. They swung their swords, he grit his teeth, clenched his grip on the blood sword more tightly and cleaved their blades in half with the now brightly glowing weapon. The first guard caught the sword through the neck - A haven for the bold - which, with a quick twist, decapitated him. The rush of devouring another life lent Gerrith the speed and power to move with the speed of a blur, striking the next man twice before he’d hit the ground in three pieces. Raise up your hands and voices, He yanked the switch to the side of what was once a door, dropping the security gate over the entrance and a similar gate over every window and exit in the house. Except the panic room and the escape tunnel, of course. As a test, Gerrith punched into the adjacent keypad - such expensive defenses these rich Ul’dahn bastards had! - the code that the Castilles knew to be correct. Nothing happened, of course. “Ragnar,” Gerrith said to no one in particular. “You’re worth every coin I pay you.” ________________________________________ Edith was about to open the door towards the hallway before the first scream caused her to freeze on her step with a shudder crawling down her spine. It was now that Edward finally looked up, “Shit.” Edith’s eyes widened with every scream that followed the first, “W-we need to leave.” The midlander set down the quill and immediately made his way towards a specific bookcase the back of the library, “Good thing this house was designed for situations like this.” He pushed the spine of one of the many tomes, causing a “click” to be heard, hearing that “click” as a sign of entrance, he pulled back the faux-bookcase and slid it to the side, revealing an intricately decorated, thick, metal door. “Edith, the key…” The woman quickly made her way across the room, plucking the keys from her husband’s desk before quietly handing them over. With a relieved smile, Edward inserted the key inside the lock of the door, but when he tried to turn it, it didn’t. “W-wait..” He removed the key, flipped it, and inserted it again, attaining the same results. “It’s not---” Edward pushed, “It’s not working!” Edith’s eyes widened in panic, “W-what do you mean it’s not working!?” “The lock… The key isn’t the right one.” “Edward, that’s the godsdamned key, I know it’s the key! I checked it a week ago and left it on your desk! Are you sure you’re doing it right!?” _________________________ Gerrith moved methodically, sweeping through each room of the manor. He wanted Edith and Edward scared, and the longer it took them to see him the more terrified they’d be. After the fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth guards, he saw no more as he went through the ground floor. But of course he wouldn’t have. They were defending their charges in their rooms. Strength in numbers, of course. But what he did find were the butler and both maids, sitting calmly in the kitchen. “So this is what he was talking about,” one of the maids said. She was an auri woman who was eating an apple. “Good to meet you, I suppose. Are they dead yet?” “No,” Gerrith said. “Well, get on it.” “It was twenty million gil, wasn’t it?” Gerrith asked.“Each, yes.” “And you fouled every single round in every single gun in the manse?” “Obviously. You haven’t been shot yet, have you?” “And you’re positive their escape routes are locked down.” “Yup. I changed the codes and the locks myself. Honestly it’s surprising these rich Eorzeans can even chew their own food.” “I see.” Gerrith looked between the three. “How much would you say your lives are worth?” The butler looked up at Gerrith. Realization dawned on his face before the maids understood. He reached under the table, but before he could get the gun he’d kept safe, Gerrith was already there, clearing the room in a single leap and cleaving the butler in half lengthwise. He had cut down the other maid, the one who hadn’t spoken, before she could so much as scream. But the last maid, the collaborator, had plenty of time to scream. Gerrith grabbed her by the throat, lifted her off the ground. “Wait! Wait! I know the codes, you can’t, you can’t kill me!” Gerrith grinned at her. Let fill your hearts with pride His grip slowly tightened, more and more, as the auri’s eyes started to bug out of her face. “The gates aren’t going to stop me. They’re just to make sure there are no survivors.” The maid tried to choke something out, but whatever it was didn’t matter to Gerrith. With a quick flick of the wrist, a motion he’d done countless times before, he snapped the woman’s neck and threw her down. His soul soared. He had learned half a lifetime ago how to control the darkness that gave him these powers in the first place, but that didn’t mean he never felt it rise within him. Even now, it longed to take over. The first floor now cleared, he returned to the foyer. “Castille, I’m here for you, not your wife!” he called up. “You can save her or she can die with you. I don’t care which.” Edward tossed the key aside before turning to his wife, “Listen, we don’t have time to look for the correct key, find a place to hide and I’ll take care of it.” “What about the guards? It’s their job to shoot intruders down.” Edward stopped as soon as she spoke the word ‘shoot’, he slowly turned to look at her, “Shoot? I didn’t hear any shots.” “But they were fighting, you heard their screams!” Edward paused again as the realizaiton dawned on him, carefully pulling out a small revolver from his pocket, The woman’s words turned into panicked whispers- “What are you doing, are you insane!? They’ll hear us!” He didn’t listen. He pulled the trigger, causing Edith to instinctively flinch. Click Nothing. He opened the bullet chamber of the revolver, causing him to frown. Edith furrowed her brows, “No bullets?” “Worse.” He turned the revolver to show the full chamber, “Someone tampered with the ammunition.” His eyes locked on Edith’s, “Hide.” The woman nodded, whispering “Be careful” as she made her way towards what looked like a storage room closet near his desk. Gerrith stomped up the stairs, making all the racket he could. Taking his time. Savoring the moment. Savoring the fear. With each step, he marched closer to the study. The panic room would be there, but they wouldn’t have been able to get in. It was, however, Edward’s easiest to defend room, and therefore where he would choose to hide. His wife would be hiding elsewhere, naturally. Hiding together just lowered their chances of survival. Edward was a smart man, and the beautiful part of smart men is there are only so many smart solutions to these sorts of situations. “Edward,” Gerrith called. “Nine more guards, Edward. Got ‘em all with you?” “Open the door and find out,” Edward replied. “You can still leave, whoever you are. The second you come in here you’ll be so full of holes they’ll be able to-” The door opened slightly, and immediately all nine guards opened fire in a panic, Edward having broken open a secret, hidden stash of ammunition. Above the churning waters we The gunfire was so loud in the relatively small space that all were immediately deafened, but Edward, paying rapt attention, felt a vibration in the floor. A body had just hit the ground. Perfect. Whoever had hired this mercenary, he was going to see them on trial and Twelve willing they’d die as well for this. It was probably the Rochester daughter, now that he thought of it. She’d always struck him as- The wall next to the door blew open as Gerrith Gaffgarion smashed through it and the thin layer of steel reinforcement like it were tissue paper, sword sheathed at his waist, grabbing the first guard he saw with his bare hands. Stand strong and unified He lifted the midlander off the ground by the throat and swung the man one-handed into the Roegadyn next to him. The roegadyn stumbled with the loud CRACK of the midlander’s neck, and as gunfire filled the room again Gerrith used the roegadyn as a shield, drew his sword and began cutting rapidly, swiftly, precisely through the rest of the guards. It wasn’t ten seconds before they were all little more than fleshy ribbons around him, and he drew their aether together into a barrier around him as Edward Castille fired for his face, bullets evaporating before they could hit Gerrith. We blessed few, born from blood,With tired hands do toil “Oh, Edward,” Gerrith said to the man who couldn’t hear him anyway over the tinnitis. He calmly walked towards the stocky midlander. Too many men let themselves go with age, and Gerrith noted Edward had lived long enough for the process to barely begin. “You were right to think I was lying. Your wife will die regardless. But you just made it so, so much worse for her.” Reading Gerrith’s lips, Edward’s face fell. He tried to yell something for his wife, but both Gerrith’s hands were on his skull, thumbs over Edward’s nose, slowly increasing in pressure. Instead of a yell, there was a scream as Edward’s nose crunched into his head, and the screaming rose until suddenly stopping. Seconds later there was a fleshy pop, and the body of Edward Castille fell back to the ground. Gerrith ripped a tapestry off the wall and wiped his gantleted hands with it, then counted the bodies to be absolutely sure. Sure enough, that was twenty-one total. Which only left Edith. He took his gauntlet off, planted the envelope in the drawer of Edward’s desk, and began the search. Edith was shaking, keeping her palms over her mouth as tears streamed down her cheeks. The sound alone was enough for her to know what had happened, and she wasn’t about to accept the same fate as her husband. She curled herself into a position to make herself smaller, keeping still as a statue on the top shelf of the storage room, a dark cloak covering almost the entirety of her body and face. The torturous echoes of her thoughts bounced around her head: “I can’t… Not like this. Slaughtered like a pig, like my husband, like my son!” “... Like my husband…” The door of the closet creaked as it eased open, her mind now becoming blank as she held her breath in fear. “... Like my son.” “Peek-a-boo.”  Gerrith reached up into the closet, grabbed the struggling Edith Castille by her wrists and ripped her down to the floor. She tried to scramble away, but he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back to her feet.

“LET ME GO, PLEASE!” “Edith, you should thank your husband.” “GET AWAY FROM ME! DON’T TALK ABOUT EDWARD!” To shape this rugged land of ours, and build a home for all. “Edward left one last gift for you. Because of him, you get to leave the manor.” “I don’t believe you!” “No, no, it’s true. I’ll even let you go if you shut up.” Her breaths were rattling, her entire body shaking, but when he let her hair go she didn’t fall, merely stumbling backwards, away from him. Gerrith looked directly into her eyes, saw the basest human fear, and his heart soared. “How can I leave? The windows are locked. How did you even get in? The codes don’t work, the-” “Shut up, Edith.” Gerrith casually raised a hand towards the closest window, fired another blast of dark, hateful energy and blew the security bars right off it. Edith looked up at him, not quite understanding, until he grabbed her by the wrist and shoved her her out the window, dangling her out the side. She screamed again. “So sad, Edith,” Gerrith said. “All you had to do was shut up.” He leaped out the window, his feet landing firmly on Edith Castille’s knees. His weight combined with the impact shattered them, what was left of the bones piercing outward through the skin, bits of her shins falling out onto the back garden. She was sobbing, she was struggling, and Gerrith dragged her over to the decorative fountain. He took his time, singing aloud this time, his hatred of his “homeland” powering him with every word: “‘Beyond the silent watchmen, upon the great loch's shore,’”He forced the screaming woman’s head under the water, her arms flailing wildly, trying desperately to stop him. “‘Now stands a mighty citadel, our rock forevermore.’” As he felt her start to fade, he pulled her back up, relished the terror, relished the anguish. This was what he did this work for. This was what he lived for. Not the money, not the infamy, not the whores or the cigars or the weapons, this moment.“ ‘To ye who help our brothers, shrink not from Rhalgr’s flame,’” She was sputtering, coughing, choking, gasping for air. “‘But those who scorn their fellow man, shall surely share his pain.’ Hear that, Edith? You sit here in your little manse, look down on the people outside your fancy gates.” He saw plenty of the water on her face, now, was tears. So much more satisfying than any brothel. “‘Though storms of blood approach ye, Hells open, Heavens weep,’” It was several more times that Gerrith shoved her under, each time yanking her out before she could drown. It was slow. It was agonizing. It was magnificent. When he sensed she could barely take it any longer, felt the life starting to fade, he changed it up: rather than hold her under the water, he gripped the back of her skull tighter and slowly, rhythmically lifted her head out and then smashed it into the bowl of the fountain, repeating the motion every few seconds until the fountain’s waters were stained red and the twitching had stopped. Gerrith picked the body up by the leg, hurled it across the yard and walked out through the same gate he’d torn open. He made his way to the agreed upon meeting place with Ragnar, where he changed into a fresh set of armor. As he walked back to his safehouse, content with a job done, he muttered the final line: “‘No goodly soul need ever fear, the measure of His Reach.’” What a crock of shite.

[gadgetsrevv]

Inter Milan host Juventus in Derby d’Italia, but whose side is Conte on?

Antonio Conte admits that facing Juventus, the team he captained and coached, will be “emotional.” How could it be any other way after 17 years in black and white? But when the Derby d’Italia kicks off on Sunday (stream live on ESPN+, 2:45 p.m. ET), the Inter coach claims the moment will pass and his old club will become “just another opponent.”

In the away dugout, Maurizio Sarri cannot boast the same connection. He’d have to have been living under a rock, though, to fail to appreciate the significance of this game to both sets of supporters. The Tuscan is spot on when he says “Juve-Inter isn’t a game like the others” but the anticipation for this one is even higher than usual.

Inter have made a perfect start to the season in Serie A, taking maximum points from the opening six games for the first time since 1966 — a season that ended in heartbreak. Juventus, still undefeated, are only two points back and chasing. Both are playing well, and while the game comes in early in the season, Sarri, and particularly Conte, have had time to impose themselves on their teams.

It is the closest Juventus and Inter have been to each other heading into a Derby d’Italia since December 2017, the last time the Nerazzurri were alone at the top of the table. Unlike then, there is a confidence and conviction that they can go the distance this season. Conte’s reputation as a serial winner, the best Inter summer transfer window in years and the radical nature of Juventus’ makeover under Sarri, have led to a feeling that the playing field is more level than in recent years. Unlike Rudi Garcia’s Roma and Sarri’s Napoli, who emerged as surprise contenders, Conte winning the league would match expectation and the standards he sets himself.

– Horncastle: Serie A’s surprise stars so far – Robson: Inter’s hopes might rest on the shoulders of Lukaku

Inter’s start has only reinforced the conviction that Sarri will be given little margin for error in his first season at Juventus. In England, Conte figured things out quicker than Pep Guardiola at City, Jose Mourinho at Manchester United and Jurgen Klopp at Liverpool. By the time they got settled in their new jobs, his Chelsea side were already out of sight.

As such, the onus is on Sarri, still yet to win a major league title, to show he can not only keep Juventus at the top but validate the club’s decision to repudiate its own mantra — a credo Conte and Massimiliano Allegri lived by.

Winning is no longer the only thing that counts to Juventus. How you win does, too. A draw this weekend will be easier for Conte to spin as progress given the ground his new club have had to make up on Juve since they last won something in 2011. It would also keep Inter top. Conte will go for the jugular though, which brings us to the main peculiarity and source of greatest curiosity around this game.

Whose side are you on?

At the launch of Inter’s new third kit last month, supporters sang a familiar song. “Chi non salta Juventino e! e!” Who doesn’t jump is a Juventus fan. All eyes were on Conte. His feet did not leave the ground.

Memories of his reaction when the Juventus side he captained beat Inter to the title on the final day of the 2001-02 season die hard. “There’s little to say, other than we’re loving it,” he said. “This is for the bitterness we felt in Perugia [in 2000] and there’s someone who was in Perugia that day who is watching.” That someone was an Inter legend in the making, Marco Materazzi, who admonished Conte for a lack of class and suggested Juventus use their winnings to buy him a toupee.

Conte has set old allegiances aside. He is a professional, and caused some consternation as coach of Juventus when he said he’d have no problem whatsoever working for Inter one day in the future. He likes to say he becomes the No. 1 fan of whoever he works for (Lecce born, we shouldn’t forget he coached Bari) and the coolness between Juve and Conte since he left helps a little too.

The 50-year-old has always loomed as the biggest threat to his old club. His decision to suddenly resign in 2014 when preseason had already started, limiting Juventus’ time and choice to line up a successor threatened to compromise everything. That it all worked out well in the end under Allegri did not change that, and the frostiness has still not completely thawed.

Now he is charged with taking a sledgehammer to the house that he built with Beppe Marotta, the former Juventus chief executive who was ousted in a reshuffle a year ago and is now heading up Inter’s recruitment. Pavel Nedved, Juve vice president, raised eyebrows last December when he said of Marotta: “He’s a pro, but maybe he never was a Juventus fan.”

The matchup of Maurizio Sarri and Antonio Conte is one of the most intriguing elements of this weekend’s Derby d’Italia.

If you can’t beat ’em …

The sight of Sarri chewing on a cigarette filter as he stalks the Juventus technical area is every bit as odd as seeing Conte on the Inter bench. When linked with them in 2017, Sarri said: “I’ve called my lawyer to see if there are grounds for legal action.”

After encouraging his Napoli players to “storm the palace” and overthrow the establishment, Sarri now works for them. It’s as if Che Guevara married into a royal family.

Pupil against master

Pushed out by Juventus last year, Marotta is now in competition with his prodigy Fabio Paratici, who, credited with signing Cristiano Ronaldo, was promoted in his place.

The pair worked together for 15 years and the split has not been without tension. Paratici’s revelation that he wanted to “cause complete chaos” by giving the impression Juventus intended to sign Mauro Icardi — “obviously not my real objective” — was uncalled for and “out of place” in Marotta’s opinion.

Juventus were perceived to be making life hard for Inter over the summer: first by trading Leonardo Spinazzola for Luca Pellegrini, which meant Roma were no longer under financial fair play pressure to sell Edin Dzeko to the Nerazzurri, then by the sudden and inexplicable attempt to hijack their €80m move for Manchester United striker Romelu Lukaku.

When the window closed, it felt like the master (Marotta) had taught his pupil (Paratici) a lesson. Juventus may have bought well, but that’s only half the job. Marotta not only signed Lukaku, Stefano Sensi, Nicolo Barella and Diego Godin, he managed to offload Icardi, Radja Nainggolan and Ivan Perisic. Selling did not go as well for Paratici, who tried and failed to move on Paulo Dybala and Mario Mandzukic among others, leaving Juventus and Sarri with a big squad to keep happy and a balance sheet redder than they perhaps would have liked.

And the academy award for best director goes to …

Juventus and Inter use deep-lying playmakers in the best tradition of the regista role. Miralem Pjanic has made headlines for scoring from outside the area in back-to-back games, but his evolution in front of the defence continues apace under Sarri.

Juventus’ new coach wants him to have 150 touches a game and his passing is more incisive than under Allegri, who wanted the Bosnian to get the ball out wide. Now Pjanic has more angles to play with and more teammates taking up narrow positions between the lines up ahead.

Conte, meanwhile, has benefited from the work predecessor Luciano Spalletti did in the past 18 months in converting Marcelo Brozovic to a similar role. The 26-year-old has matured and is more careful on the ball, but the safety net of three centre-backs behind the Croatian has also encouraged him to be more daring. Sensi’s arrival means Brozovic has someone as good in possession to take some of the attention away from him, not to mention a reference point to play to between the lines.

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Rambo and Sensi-bility

Aaron Ramsey missed a lot of preseason recovering from the injury he suffered in Arsenal’s Europa League quarterfinal against Napoli in April. Sarri’s tendency to pick an XI and stick with it didn’t bode well for a new signing who wasn’t fit for the start of the campaign. But Ramsey has not only scored a debut goal and carved out a place for himself in the team, he has persuaded Sarri to experiment with him as a No. 10 in a 4-3-1-2, the implementation of which has coincided with Juventus playing better football, scoring more goals and conceding fewer.

His impact has not been as great as Sensi’s for Inter, though, with the 24-year-old emerging as a star of the best midfield the club has had since the Treble in 2010.

Rom vs. Ron

Weirdly, they could have been playing together against Inter on Sunday. Lukaku scored on his debut and has three goals in six games, including a fine header in the Milan derby, without playing particularly well. A limited preseason, a bad back and now an issue with his quad have held back the overall performances of the Belgian striker. Inter need him to recover in time given Alexis Sanchez is suspended.

Ronaldo, on the other hand, has found the net nine times in nine games for club and country this season. He has scored in every Juventus home game and set up gilt-edged chances for Ramsey and Sami Khedira that weren’t taken against SPAL. It helps that Gonzalo Higuain and Dybala, the assist man for his past two goals, are creating chances for him.

Still Ronaldo has cut a frustrated figure at times, as was the case in Florence and before his goal last weekend. When Juventus’ passing game hasn’t functioned, he’s looked isolated. When it has worked, he hasn’t always been a participant; the team can get caught in the moment of some of Sarri’s mesmeric passing patterns going wherever the game takes them, which isn’t always to him.

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[gethealthy18-blog]

How To Stop Buying Stuff

New Post has been published on https://healingawerness.com/news/how-to-stop-buying-stuff/

How To Stop Buying Stuff

One of the reasons I’ve found myself retreating from the wellness space is because of the intense pressure for consumerism. I don’t claim to be a minimalist (and probably never will be) but I’ve found myself experiencing product burnout and a sense of overwhelm around how much stuff we “need” to be buying. I still talk about products I love on here (especially clean beauty) but my hope is that you never read The Healthy Maven thinking you need to go out and buy all.the.things. This applies beyond just the wellness space – there is way too much pressure to own stuff. To have cute new outfits, the ultimate yoga mat, the perfectly curated gallery wall. You can’t spend more than 5 minutes on Instagram without feeling like you don’t have enough. Someone has more refined style, a cuter house or is better prepared for the apocalypse than you are.

When I started The Healthy Maven the idea of getting free stuff sent to me seemed like the most exciting concept. As ungrateful as this may sound, I now dread getting PR packages sent to me – most of which I never know are coming. It’s kind of scary to think how you end up on press lists and get sent products you neither expect nor want. I’m deeply aware of how jaded this sounds but one of the greatest blessings of this journey has been learning that more stuff doesn’t bring more happiness. 7 years ago I would have disagreed with this but thankfully I’ve learned a few things along the way.

When we moved last month it really got me thinking about stuff and why we buy things in the first place. On my 5th run to Goodwill I knew it had to be deeper than my Amazon wishlist. I wanted to share some questions and reflections that might be helpful to run through before making a purchase. No matter how big or how small, I think we can all be a little more mindful about what we’re purchasing.

Why Are You Buying?

Generally we don’t buy things we don’t want but we will buy things we don’t need. The secret to marketing is making people feel like they need things – even if they don’t! So let’s chat why we *think* we need things:

Emotional Buying – we don’t just buy things – we buy how we think something will make us feel. We think that sweater dress will make us feel cooler or coveted. We think that yoga outfit will help us feel a deeper sense of belonging in the yoga community. All purchasing decisions are emotional. Even when you choose to not spend money on something – it’s emotional. Same goes for buying used – people vehemently agree or disagree with it. There’s no way around it- buying is emotional.

Psychological Buying – There was a time, not so long ago when most people couldn’t afford to buy stuff. Materialism was a luxury afforded to very few people. Having the freedom to buy feels like a form of exerting some power. In a world that can feel powerless – buying can feel good (see – all comes back to emotions!). There is also the idea that we buy because we fear what we may lose. I grew up in a culture where there was a deep lack mentality and the undercurrent that things could be taken away at any moment (many Jews can relate to this). Purchasing may happen from this place of fear as well.

6 Steps to Buy Less

So now that we have a better understanding of why we buy, let’s talk about how to buy less.

1. Check in with your spending habits. It all starts with being aware, right? You might be mindlessly spending more than you realize or on things you don’t even realize. Take note on what you’re spending. Do you feel comfortable with what you’re seeing? This is everything from late night browsing to subscriptions you’ve forgotten about. Last year I read I Will Teach You To Be Rich and one of the best lessons was to spend less money on the things you don’t want to simply by becoming aware of what those spending habits are. Excel is your best friend. Get on it!

2. Keep your eyes on the prize. One of the most helpful things for me when reigning in spending is making a goal and sticking to it. What is the one thing you want more than every other thing? Do you want to get out of credit card debt? Do you want to buy a house? Do you want to have kids? What is the big dream that trumps everything else? Keep your mind on that dream whenever you’re tempted to spend your money elsewhere. Ask yourself – is it really worth it? This doesn’t mean not spending any money at all. I appreciate my morning latte walks and find great joy from them – in the grand scheme of things they will not set me back from my bigger goal – but if I’m also buying new clothing, redecorating my bedroom and buying 10 different shades of concealer I may want to reframe my spending.

3. Where are you emotionally when you want to buy? Filling a void? Want that emotional rush? The rest of these steps will make sure you’re in a good headspace when making a purchase but it doesn’t hurt to do another check-in to make sure you’re not filling a different need by shopping. Get to the root issue!

4. Plan! It’s okay (and necessary) to buy things. I’m not saying you should try to go this whole year (or even month) without buying anything… I just think we allll make too many impulsive purchases. Make a plan – do you know you’ll need to make big furniture purchases this year? Have you looked through your wardrobe and know you want to get a few staple pieces this year? Make a plan for purchases so when you buy, it feels well thought out.

5. Pick your battles. Like I said, we’re really good at turning our wants into needs. When it feels like something you need, it’s easier to justify the purchase if you feel like you need it rather than just want it. Now, I’m all for treating yourself occasionally but the key word is *occasionally*. Some of you may disagree with me on this, but if the occasional thing doesn’t work for you then stick to buying the things that consistently bring you joy and don’t engage with the rest. I’m a green beauty lover. I buy way more than I need BUT I rarely buy clothing or home decor. If you know you love shoes, buy your shoes and enjoy them! If you have a thing for glass figurines – go for it. From supplements, to powders, to essential oils and literally everything in between -we all have our passions and obsessions. Accept yours and ignore the rest. Unless of course you have way too many obsessions – then it’s time to look at your emotional and psychological spending.

6. Quit Sales Culture. This particularly true of fashion but many industries thrive on sales culture. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m down for a good sale BUT start to pay attention to how sales run. There are certain things I love and know will only be on sale once a year. Since I know I love them and want to stock up I will buy during this sale (I’m looking at you Credo Beauty!) but for the love of god, Madewell and Nordstrom will have another sale 2 weeks from now. Calm down. Don’t just buy because something is on sale. This is psychological buying from a lack mentality. My 15 year old self would have been shocked to find out uggs could be bought on sale all year long. Anything is possible!

Are we in this together? Can we commit to each other (and ourselves) to become a little more conscious when it comes to our spending habits in 2020?

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[nellie-elizabeth]

Arrow: You Have Saved This City (7x22)

I do not feel satisfied with this episode. I don't even feel kind of okay with it. I think it was bad. And I'm bummed out about that.

Cons:

Let's start with... well, honestly I don't even really know where to start. The thing is, nothing about this season, or this particular conflict with the Ninth Circle, feels bigger or more scary than any of the other threats we've faced over the years. So the idea that this time, Felicity and Oliver are going to go live in a safe house "until the situation has resolved itself," just doesn't make any narrative sense. Dante was a weak villain all season. The Ninth Circle has no particularly compelling attributes. And Emiko?

So... she just dies? She was firmly anti-Oliver all season, and nothing Oliver did could change her mind. Then, at the last second, she is sort of redeemed. How? Well, the Ninth Circle turns on her, and she and Oliver end up fighting together against them. She dies in the fight. This is so narratively unsatisfying. It didn't feel like Emiko had actually made a choice to be a good person. It felt like her bad guy buddies had decided they were done with her, so she basically had no other option. There was so much buildup with this character, and then in the end she dies, warning Oliver as she does that the Ninth Circle will be coming after Felicity and the baby. But why? If the Ninth Circle has cut ties with Emiko, why would they continue her specific vendetta to hurt Oliver? And Rene. Rene had so much of a vested interest in Emiko, and that just went nowhere.

Laurel and Curtis both turned up so that the whole gang could be back together, but it felt super pointless and lackluster. Curtis and Felicity had a cute moment where Curtis tells her he's about to propose to his boyfriend... but Curtis and Rene didn't even talk to each other, and I did not understand how Curtis was helpful at all in the mission. Felicity was still in the bunker as Overwatch, and Curtis didn't suit up, so he was just kind of... there. Same thing with Laurel. What did she contribute that Dinah wasn't already doing?

Ben Turner is so not a character in my mind that I actually didn't remember who he was when he first turned up. I guess he's Connor's father? So... okay then? What a weird person to include here at the end.

And then we've got the flash-forwards. Still no answer as to what exactly happened to several important missing people in the twenty year interim. Thea? Diggle? Can we assume dead? I don't know how to feel about that. All season, I thought we were going to get to a point where we discovered that the flash-forwards were a splinter universe or something. I thought the goal was going to be to prevent this horrible dark future where Rene turns evil, Felicity and Mia are isolated, Felicity and Oliver never get custody of William, and Oliver never gets to raise his daughter. But now, it appears that... yeah. That's what happens.

Here's another thing - this show tries to manipulate you into watching the rest of the shows in the shared universe. Apparently Oliver made some deal to protect the multi-verse, but as someone who only watches Arrow and doesn't bother with Flash or any of the cross-over events, I had no idea that was a thing. So, the supposed end of Oliver's arc on this show is dependent on something that happened on a totally different show, with a conflict that has nothing to do with what we've been concerned with all season. How lame!

And what a dissatisfying end for Oliver and Felicity. Oliver's whole arc has been about family and legacy, and now, even if Oliver and Felicity find each other again, we know Oliver is going to die, and we know that Ollie didn't ever get to raise his children. That's... that's way too depressing. The narrative should have given him more than that, honestly.

The flash-forward had an end to the conflict just as lack-luster as the one with the Ninth Circle. Connor helps save the day, Mia is a bad-ass and helps blow up the wall, Felicity learns to trust that her kids can protect themselves... and it looks like the Glades and Star City are reunited once more, as the wall separating them gets blown up. Dinah, Rene, Felicity, and Roy are going to take the fall for what happened, to allow the kids - Mia, William, Connor, and Zoe, to take over and continue on the Canaries, etc. That's... great? I guess? But the future is still an apocalyptic shit-show, which undermines Oliver's whole "save this city" credo, doesn't it? Frustrating.

Pros:

The only things about this finale that I truly loved were the performances. The power of emotions coming from Oliver, John, and Felicity in particular was so spectacular that I didn't really mind that the scenarios underpinning these moments were annoying and lackluster.

We all knew this would be Felicity's last episode as a regular cast member, but the realization that it would be Oliver's as well hit me slowly, and definitely made me feel some feelings. Oliver's speech to Felicity as they said goodbye, the way he was choking back his tears... unf. Stephen Amell did such a great job. Also, even though it was short lived, the montage of Felicity and Oliver being together, a happy little family with Mia, making plans to get William back... that was all very sweet and gave us a chance to appreciate the power of their love.

We get a great moment towards the end where Team Arrow all puts their arms around each other and contemplates the future. Oliver's legacy is his team. That's a cute idea. But after that, we get just the Original Team Arrow - Felicity, John, and Oliver. It's adorable. It's weepy. It's sentimental. And despite all of my frustrations with this finale, I did feel the power of that. I hope we can see them all together one last time in Season Eight, but if this is the final send-off, at least they lingered on it, and made me feel the power of all that history.

So. Yeah. That's all I can say at this point. I feel bad, I wanted to like this more. All season I've been saying that I was worried about a satisfying resolution to all of this stuff, and unfortunately I don't feel like we really got it here. There were just too many things that felt lackluster and disappointing, and that's a real bummer for such an important season finale. I feel like Season Eight this fall will be more like an epilogue than anything else. I'll be tuning in for sure, but I'm not much looking forward to it.

5/10

[homepictures]

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[theconservativebrief]

Right now, on the website for Edible Arrangements, you can purchase a bouquet of cut fruit featuring cartoon-style flowers cut from pineapple with bulbous cantaloupe centers, with leafy moons of honeydew and fat strawberry roses, dotted with sprigs of shiny red grapes.

You can buy many arrangements like this one, in various configurations, depending on your budget and edible needs. Sometimes, the pineapple is shaped like a star and not a daisy. Sometimes, there are orange wedges. Some arrangements have fruits dipped in chocolate. The “Peace & Doves Bouquet” depends upon a small flock of pineapple birds in white chocolate coats.

They cost between $24.99, for a petite-sized FruitFlowers® Bouquet, and go up to $1,999, for an Incredible Edibles® Chocolate Spectacular, which is less an “arrangement” than an edible shrub.

In the two decades since the company was founded, it has become an icon and a punchline. It is the ultimate gift for gift’s sake, a category of objects that exist exclusively to be presented to someone else. It is not that nobody wants an Edible Arrangement; it is just that wanting (or not wanting) an Edible Arrangement — a present that exists at the intersection of frivolity and groceries — has very little to do with getting one.

There are no rules, of course, preventing you from buying yourself a chocolate-covered pineapple bouquet, but there are customs. An Edible Arrangement is like a MacArthur Fellowship; you cannot nominate yourself.

Tariq Farid opened the first Edible Arrangements store in 1999 in East Haven, Connecticut. He had been working in the floral industry, so he knew about flowers, and he was also aware that there were people making bouquets out of fruit and so he started selling those, too, in a corner of his flower shop. He didn’t invent the concept, he tells me. It’s just that now, if you picture a fruit bouquet, it’s probably one of his.

“I’ve always done things according to what customers think,” he says, which is good, because customers loved his arrangements that were edible; as of early 2018, annual revenue topped $500 million.

The banks he was trying to get loans from did not. In Connecticut magazine, he described these initial meetings: “I looked like I was on some type of drug like speed or something. I’m going, ‘THIS IS GONNA BE BIG,’ and they’re like, ‘It’s fruit, in a basket.’”

This, in fact, was the whole point. It is fruit. It is in a basket (or a vase). But people did not understand. He would show them the brochure in his pocket — as the company was starting, he always carried a brochure in his pocket — and explain, and they would tell him how cool it was, and then confess that they’d thought it had something to do with edible underwear.

This confusion did not last long. According to Farid, “every customer that came in loved it and wanted to know how they could order more.” The first major fruit-flower holiday they were open, Easter 1999, they had “about 28 orders. It was amazing, the type of response we had.” And it would be easier to dismiss this as entrepreneurial puffery if the brand did not — despite various troubles — currently have 1,200 stores in 11 countries worldwide.

People think Edible Arrangements are very expensive, Farid says, but that’s wrong. “Our most popular arrangement is $25. We wanted to make it an everyday option, and that’s what we did.”

Thanks to an army of specialized fruit-cutting machinery — the company holds a staggering number of patents for devices relating to the slicing of melons — you can impulsively swing by an Edible storefront and have one arranged on the spot, in “7 or 8 minutes.” It can be a planned gift, or an impulse gift, or a gift you give when you can’t think of a different gift, or for when you forgot you needed one.

If you are presented with an Edible Arrangement, Farid really wants you to say “wow.” To feel “wow.” To taste “wow.” The company is in the “wow” business: Up until about two years ago, Farid says, the mission statement was “to WOW you.” (It has since changed to the more community-minded “to fill the world with goodness,” although “wow” remains a top priority.)

“I mean, we’re a gifting company. That’s why you send a gift. You give a gift to wow someone, to make their day.”

“I mean, we’re a gifting company. That’s why you send a gift. You give a gift to wow someone, to make their day,” Farid explains. It is not just a gift, but a symbol of a gift. “I am a gift!” announces an Edible Arrangement. Its primary job is to exist.

The Edible Arrangement beautiful giftiness is also what makes it a joke. There is an Onion headline: Continued Existence Of Edible Arrangements Disproves Central Tenets Of Capitalism. “According to experts,” the article reads, the company has “defied all modern economic models, expanding continuously for the past decade despite its complete lack of any discernible consumer appeal.”

But to economist Joel Waldfogel, author of Scroogenomics, a credo against the inefficiency of holiday gift-giving, gifts are rarely logical propositions. A good gift is something you wouldn’t buy for yourself, I propose, which is an unoriginal insight, but also what I think.

From an economic perspective, though, it’s the opposite. “What’s efficient is to give somebody something they would have purchased for themselves, or cash,” Waldfogel says. “But that’s not really gift-like.”

And in most situations that require a gift, “cash is not acceptable,” except in very specific circumstances: your grandmother might give you cash, but you are probably not writing a birthday check to your boss. But an Edible Arrangement is perfect for when cash would be both ideal and colossally inappropriate.

And so it makes sense that some number of arrangements are corporate gifts, bestowed upon one company by another, because it’s Christmas and they appreciate your business. In November and December, peak corporate gifting season, this constitutes about 11 percent of the business.

“It’s a great item to send to an office where everybody can enjoy it,” Farid points out, for the same reason a more classical fruit basket is a great gift to send to an office: “If you send chocolate or candy, maybe some people will say, ‘I can’t eat sugar.’ If you send fruit, everybody will dig into it.” What he does not say is that an Edible Arrangement is blissfully impersonal; it is the color ecru in gift form.

The primary target customer, however, has always been not a corporation, but “a mom,” Farid says. “Or that 25- to 40-year-old female demographic — skewed female, because a lot of times the decisions get made by the lady of the house, except for Valentine’s Day and possibly Mother’s Day.” And even then, sometimes it is the 25- to 40-year-old woman demographic telling her husband, “Hey, don’t forget mom, it’s her birthday, let’s get her something,” he says.

But how intimate can a present between lovers be, if it is equally appropriate as a gift between corporate law firms?

Mother’s Day is the biggest Edible occasion — there are late presents, and early ones — but the single busiest Edible day is Valentine’s Day, because “it’s all about love.” It is similar to other gifts given for these holidays — a bouquet of actual floral flowers, for example — but, Farid notes, the value proposition is higher, because cut fruit is beautiful but also food. In the great schism between “things” and “experiences,” a fruit bouquet is both: You gaze at it, but then you eat it.

But how intimate can a present between lovers be if it is equally appropriate as a gift between corporate law firms? As one former Edible Arrangements employee recalled to Munchies, they are also big with men trying to hit on women they mostly do not know.

“They’d write notes like, ‘Saw you at the club the other day, you told me where you worked…’” and then it would be up to him to wander through a Macy’s with a vase of floral melon balls looking for a woman based on vague physical characteristics and no last name. Except that the men aren’t wrong. “Everyone,” he concluded, “is so thrilled to get these weird topiaries of fruit.”

And yet it is easy to be dismissive of Edible Arrangements. Unlike fruit-gifting competitor Harry and David, purveyor of gold-wrapped pears, or the perfect $125 melons sold at Sembikiya, Tokyo’s most famous luxury fruit market, Edible Arrangements has always identified as working class.

“When we started, we were mostly in blue-collar towns,” says Farid. “And our stores did the best in those towns.” He attributes this to the healthy selection of lower-priced options, and a belief that “blue-collar people tended to celebrate a lot more.”

His own father, after bringing the family over from Pakistan, worked as a machinist, so he understands. “We know we have to take care of those customers who are celebrating but have limited resources.”

Is it so wrong to give a gift that exists to be given? Is it a bug that you need know nothing about your recipient to present them with an Edible Arrangement, or is it — perhaps — a feature?

It is rarely a misstep. “The worst thing that can happen is you’ll moderately enjoy it and then it’s gone,” Waldfogel tells me. “It’s not some kind of permanent burden, like the ugly picture that hangs on the wall that you’re expected to have on the wall every time the giver comes visiting.”

Waldfogel has no public stance on Edible Arrangements, but he will say that there is “something special about it … I suspect for most people, it’s not a usual thing to consume.” And in that way, yes, “it has some of the criteria that you might associate with a ‘perfect gift.’”

But the problem with gifts is that they are occasional; even in the age of extreme self-care, people are mostly not buying chocolate-dipped fruit trees for themselves. “Where we’re going towards now is we have a lot of treats,” Farid says: chocolate-dipped fruit chunks, fruit smoothies, “donuts,” which are actually chocolate-covered Granny Smith apple rounds. “Our ideal customer is the person who treats themselves. The ‘gifted giver,’ we call them.” The company, he says, has evolved “from gifting into a treat business.”

Does this mean that we aren’t giving so much anymore, I ask? Not at all, Farid assures me. We’re probably giving even more now, if anything. “You can send a little emoji and make someone’s day.” Sometimes, his kids send him a heart; he loves that. It’s a gift in itself.

“What people give has changed,” he continues. “People want to be a lot more sensible.” But the basic impulse to give? No, that hasn’t changed. It’s just that there’s a new recipient now. It is us, gifting ourselves the gift of being gifted.

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Original Source -> What is the meaning of an Edible Arrangement?

via The Conservative Brief

[lenaglittleus]

The Camp Wellness Recap Part #1

As I sit here in my cozy Camp Wellness sweatshirt that still has the light scent of camp fire (don’t worry – I’ve washed it!) I huge smile comes onto my face thinking about this past weekend. It’s been a little over a week since Camp Wellness ended and I’m still processing the magic that happened. I don’t know the last time I felt so aligned in my passion and so energized by this community.

Don’t get me wrong, I love The Healthy Maven and the tribe we’ve built over here, but Camp Wellness currently and will continue to hold a special place in my heart. It was and is the most challenging/exciting/rewarding endeavour I have ever embarked on. So while I can sit here and write this post and share a tenth of the pictures we captured that weekend, only those who were there will know that magic that unfolded. I’m keeping many of those smalls moments to myself (and our campers!) but I did want to fill you in on the weekend and share a bit more about what really went down at Camp Wellness.

Oh and FYI this is part #1 as part #2 is coming in podcast form on Wednesday so stay tuned!

Let me rewind to early 2017. I sat at a yoga retreat I was attending and the teacher asked us what shifts we’d like to see in our lives. I wrote down three things:

1. Enoughness

2. Flow

3. Connection

I wanted to stand tall in myself and embrace that I am enough. I wanted to live more in the flow instead of feeling like I was grasping at the wind. I wanted connection. Connection to those in my life, but especially, connection to you.

I wrote down these exact words (I’m looking at my journal now!): A retreat. It’s all about connectedness. Not for many but for those who seek connection too. 18 months after that seed was planted the retreat is finally happening. Not for many but for those who need it.

Camp Wellness tested my ability to go with the flow. It’s also forced me to come face-to-face with my own enoughness. Am I enough to lead this retreat? Am I capable of leading the sessions? Am I smart enough, strong enough, wise enough? Walking into the retreat, I couldn’t say that sense of enoughness was 100% there, what I did know was that the seed I planted was cultivated and harvested and I was feeling damn proud of myself.

Every single yoga flow, every single family style meal and every single session felt so right. I was so aligned in my passion of connecting women and supporting them on their wellness journey. It was one giant exhale mixed with next level excitement.

Instead of walking you through a day by day recap (which I’m doing on the podcast and on the Camp Wellness Instagram), I wanted to focus on the overall highlights and standout moments for me.

Yoga + Wellness Practices – The original intention for this retreat was for it to be a safe space for women to experience different wellness practices. I wanted yoga, sound healing, reiki, etc. to be involved and even though we shifted gears to focus more on Women in Wellness, they still were! Our yoga classes grounded us and bonded us in movement, the sound healing was the perfect way to end Day 1, and we had a camper step in for a reiki healing session on Saturday. There was laughter, tears… literally all the feels.

Hike + Visualization Meditation – A fan favorite from the weekend was when we hiked through the Hendy Woods State Park. We hiked to a clearing where I led everyone through a guided visualization where we visualized our dream life, without boundaries. Where were we? What were we doing? Who were we with? Sitting together in a an open field was the perfect place for this meditation. Our hike back to camp was silent, which was eye opening for a lot of us. We thought more about our surroundings, our movements, the sounds and the smells rather than being distracted by each other or music/podcasts. I highly encourage all of YOU to do a silent walk or hike!

Deep Dive Intensive – Saturday afternoon we went through a series of exercises to help us identify our passions paired with practical advice for moving forward from our in-house branding expert, Emily Hines. What I loved about these sessions is that they work for everyone whether you are looking to pursue a career in wellness or simply have a passion for health and want to see how the pieces fit for you in your personal life. Our group was a mix of people who work in wellness and others who do not. The variety was perfect and showed us all that wellness looks so different on everyone.

Closing ceremony crystal flow + tarot cards – If you know me personally you know how much I enjoy crystals and tarot. Do I put the weight of all of my life’s questions into them? Certainly not but they help you tap into your intuition and allow you to answer questions for yourselves rather than seeking them externally. Everyone in our group brought a “gift” to close the weekend and whether it was a poem or a commitment to help us all keep in touch, everyone offered something that was equally valued.

To my  “Healthy Mavens” –  THANK YOU. I’m still feeling deeply emotional thinking about your openness, your vulnerability, your eagerness to connect. You made the first Camp Wellness better than I could have imagined. So much love for each and every one of you!

Huge thanks to the following brands that made Camp Wellness possible! We are incredibly grateful.

Credo Beauty | Saje Wellness | Bare Snacks | Beekeeper’s Naturals | Yerba Buena Tea Company | Outdoor Voices | Health-Ade Kombucha | 5 Minute Journal | Norm’s Farms | Lunar Abundance | Willness Co | Curie Deodorant | Mother Dirt …and many others!

Lastly, to Tanya and Bettina (I feel like I’m giving an awards speech!) – My love and appreciation for you truly cannot be put into words but I’ll do my best. T- thank you for being my better/more organized other half. You’re way too cool for me and I have no idea how I got so lucky having you on my team. B- I couldn’t have asked for a more talented human to capture this experience. Your friendship means the world. And Jess! Thank you for stepping in when I needed you to and being a happy camper 🙂

Photos by Bettina Bogar

Interested in attending our next retreat? Sign-up here to get on the list for our 2019 Camp Wellness Retreat!

The post The Camp Wellness Recap Part #1 appeared first on The Healthy Maven.

from News About Health https://www.thehealthymaven.com/2018/11/the-camp-wellness-recap-part-1.html

[steffancockrell]

The Camp Wellness Recap Part #1

As I sit here in my cozy Camp Wellness sweatshirt that still has the light scent of camp fire (don't worry – I've washed it!) I huge smile comes onto my face thinking about this past weekend. It's been a little over a week since Camp Wellness ended and I'm still processing the magic that happened. I don't know the last time I felt so aligned in my passion and so energized by this community.

Don't get me wrong, I love The Healthy Maven and the tribe we've built over here, but Camp Wellness currently and will continue to hold a special place in my heart. It was and is the most challenging/exciting/rewarding endeavour I have ever embarked on. So while I can sit here and write this post and share a tenth of the pictures we captured that weekend, only those who were there will know that magic that unfolded. I'm keeping many of those smalls moments to myself (and our campers!) but I did want to fill you in on the weekend and share a bit more about what really went down at Camp Wellness.

Oh and FYI this is part #1 as part #2 is coming in podcast form on Wednesday so stay tuned!

Let me rewind to early 2017. I sat at a yoga retreat I was attending and the teacher asked us what shifts we'd like to see in our lives. I wrote down three things:

1. Enoughness

2. Flow

3. Connection

I wanted to stand tall in myself and embrace that I am enough. I wanted to live more in the flow instead of feeling like I was grasping at the wind. I wanted connection. Connection to those in my life, but especially, connection to you.

I wrote down these exact words (I'm looking at my journal now!): A retreat. It's all about connectedness. Not for many but for those who seek connection too. 18 months after that seed was planted the retreat is finally happening. Not for many but for those who need it.

Camp Wellness tested my ability to go with the flow. It's also forced me to come face-to-face with my own enoughness. Am I enough to lead this retreat? Am I capable of leading the sessions? Am I smart enough, strong enough, wise enough? Walking into the retreat, I couldn't say that sense of enoughness was 100% there, what I did know was that the seed I planted was cultivated and harvested and I was feeling damn proud of myself.

Every single yoga flow, every single family style meal and every single session felt so right. I was so aligned in my passion of connecting women and supporting them on their wellness journey. It was one giant exhale mixed with next level excitement.

Instead of walking you through a day by day recap (which I'm doing on the podcast and on the Camp Wellness Instagram), I wanted to focus on the overall highlights and standout moments for me.

Yoga + Wellness Practices – The original intention for this retreat was for it to be a safe space for women to experience different wellness practices. I wanted yoga, sound healing, reiki, etc. to be involved and even though we shifted gears to focus more on Women in Wellness, they still were! Our yoga classes grounded us and bonded us in movement, the sound healing was the perfect way to end Day 1, and we had a camper step in for a reiki healing session on Saturday. There was laughter, tears… literally all the feels.

Hike + Visualization Meditation – A fan favorite from the weekend was when we hiked through the Hendy Woods State Park. We hiked to a clearing where I led everyone through a guided visualization where we visualized our dream life, without boundaries. Where were we? What were we doing? Who were we with? Sitting together in a an open field was the perfect place for this meditation. Our hike back to camp was silent, which was eye opening for a lot of us. We thought more about our surroundings, our movements, the sounds and the smells rather than being distracted by each other or music/podcasts. I highly encourage all of YOU to do a silent walk or hike!

Deep Dive Intensive – Saturday afternoon we went through a series of exercises to help us identify our passions paired with practical advice for moving forward from our in-house branding expert, Emily Hines. What I loved about these sessions is that they work for everyone whether you are looking to pursue a career in wellness or simply have a passion for health and want to see how the pieces fit for you in your personal life. Our group was a mix of people who work in wellness and others who do not. The variety was perfect and showed us all that wellness looks so different on everyone.

Closing ceremony crystal flow + tarot cards – If you know me personally you know how much I enjoy crystals and tarot. Do I put the weight of all of my life's questions into them? Certainly not but they help you tap into your intuition and allow you to answer questions for yourselves rather than seeking them externally. Everyone in our group brought a “gift” to close the weekend and whether it was a poem or a commitment to help us all keep in touch, everyone offered something that was equally valued.

To my  “Healthy Mavens” –  THANK YOU. I'm still feeling deeply emotional thinking about your openness, your vulnerability, your eagerness to connect. You made the first Camp Wellness better than I could have imagined. So much love for each and every one of you!

Huge thanks to the following brands that made Camp Wellness possible! We are incredibly grateful.

Credo Beauty | Saje Wellness | Bare Snacks | Beekeeper's Naturals | Yerba Buena Tea Company | Outdoor Voices | Health-Ade Kombucha | 5 Minute Journal | Norm's Farms | Lunar Abundance | Willness Co | Curie Deodorant | Mother Dirt …and many others!

Lastly, to Tanya and Bettina (I feel like I'm giving an awards speech!) – My love and appreciation for you truly cannot be put into words but I'll do my best. T- thank you for being my better/more organized other half. You're way too cool for me and I have no idea how I got so lucky having you on my team. B- I couldn't have asked for a more talented human to capture this experience. Your friendship means the world. And Jess! Thank you for stepping in when I needed you to and being a happy camper

[aaluminiumas]

The Exact Directions

        I should give up. I have to give up until it goes too far. I’m fed up with the Culper Ring, with espionage, with Brewster, Tallmadge, Washington – each and everyone involved. I cannot bear this bevy of ravening hounds chasing me. This war, implacable as it is, has already taken too much from me – it has bereaved me of my hick life, my everyday chores, my family, my Dad. I do not want to lose anything else – and I know better than to complain about the status quo. I already have a plan in my head – and after it’s carried out, I’m done. As I have said, I lost my father, and we didn’t vanquish. I had lost Anna even earlier – and yet didn’t receive a tad of safety I deserve. Despite her constant presence in the camp, side by side with Tallmadge, she didn’t do anything to indemnify me. Am I a whipping boy for the whole Continental Army?

        I heave a sigh, stroll nonchalantly across the hall nodding to the guests with an expression that I hope passes for interest. The festive dinner the Arnolds have arranged is truly captivating, I can’t but acknowledge that: the sheer grandeur of it is breathtaking, all the bigwigs are here and discussing Mrs. Arnold, General Washington and arduous schemes they’ve been speculating on for a certain amount of time. Hell with Washington, Howe, André and whoever else they bring up – all the names are supposed to strike a chord but not to cause contrition. They are mentioned just to tune the mood, to start the party.

        “Oh, you must be Abraham Woodhull,” comes a creaky voice, “Magistrate’s son!”

        “Exactly,” I offer a reverent smile. “And you are..?”

        He replies something, introduces me to his wife, to her friends, to their circle of acquaintances which will have erased by tomorrow. Where the hell Townsend? I’m sure he should be here. Ha has to be. Unfortunately, I’ve been taken away from my vantage point – this stout man talking to Arnold is thwarting the passage, so I cannot see a thing. Where’s he? Damn. I haven’t heard from him, and this concerns me a lot. What if something has befallen him?

        And then I catch a glimpse of his austere attire – his virtuously dark, inconspicuous garb. Maybe that’s what makes him such a good spy? He sends me a gander – and I forthwith intercept it, although his imperturbable, indistinguishable face stays as cool as always. He’s staid, and this trait gives him invincibility – he will not knuckle under anyone’s demands. He doesn’t show any sign he’s recognized me; furthermore, he’s normally neutral, nodding politely to everyone he is familiar with – to the whole hall full abrim with bigwigs used to loitering and lolling in his so-called coffeehouse.

        In a couple of moments, someone gives me a note – I seize it hurriedly, unfold it. Even if people spot me reading it, they’ll surely take it for a love letter from a lady.

        “Private Woodhull,” Colonel Cooke’s strident yet still orotund voice pierces my ears. He plows his way through the jostling people. “Glad you’ve come, boy.”

        “Couldn’t but accept the invitation,” here I smile again, wider than usual – I’m fed up with bandying pleasantries. I have to be in the opposite corner of the house, not to do the talking with another grandee. “Glad to see you here, too, Colonel. How’s the party going?”

        “Splendid,” he cackles and wrinkles his face, sipping exquisite wine. “It’s beyond my mind how Arnold’s managed to arrange such a soiree. Between us, he’s a little stiff. Stiff, pathetic and full of pathos – these are the components of his credo.”

        “Mrs. Arnold is sure to have helped him here. She definitely knows the ropes.”

        “She does!” he laughs in his squeakiest tone, obviously pleased. “I wager, you wouldn’t mind a wife like that! I’ll see to it personally, Woodhull. You’re already in the army, so the question of your promotion is just a matter of time, if you get me here. Women adore men in uniform – let alone despicable poons who spread their slits wide by meeting some regulars!”

        “I’m a married man, Colonel,” I chortle, although his blatant humor nettles me. “I’m afraid, harems aren’t allowed here.” I make a move.

        “That’s what I call inequity!” he guffaws louder, his voice rides up a notch. “Those wogs found the approach that worked wonders, didn’t they? No compliment to them, though.” he belches and scratches his turkey neck. “Anyway, when your ball and chain isn’t around, you can let yourself loose. Remember this advice, son. This saves marriages!”

        He’s certain he’s taking an image of a sage who has just outwitted me. I feverishly seek any excuse to leave him here on his own devices.

        “Oh. What a disaster,” he suddenly adds, putting his hand on the stomach. “My guts are in the mood to play a song or two. Don’t think I’m planning to get rid of you, Woodhull,” he creaks, “but this is the matter of high importance. Bubbling bowels aren’t the best when you have so many delicacies on the table – even if the table belongs to such a mess as Arnold.”

        “Of course, Colonel.”

        He swaggers to the servant, but before reaching this point, he turns around – he does have a ton more things to say. And I have to hear him out – and hope for his entrails to haul him to the latrine as fast as possible.

           “You are late,” Townsend states dryly with evident exasperation in his tone. His face as lurid as ever, especially in the dimly lit cubbyhole, his dark eyes shimmering with an emotion I cannot discern – and they are replete with confidence.

        “Colonel Cooke,” I explain hastily, “he’s buttonholed me in the hall.”

        He doesn’t say a word about it – just glares at me.

        “What?” I get inflamed immediately. “What should’ve I done? I couldn’t tell him to wait until I finish my spy chores!” I hiss at him, but it still doesn’t affect him in the slightest.

        “So listen,” he starts hesitantly, seesawing, “it’ll be quick.”

        I hear him out – his dry facts, the dry facts they appreciate so much, Culper Jr. they adore. But this is not enough: Townsend lacks the tads that can develop the operation Caleb mentioned once. They’re doing something.

        “Is that all?”

        “That is.”

        “Didn’t they say anything about future movements deeper in the country?”

        “No.”

        “You sure?”

        “I am.”

        “Townsend, this is not enough.”

        His visage hasn’t altered a tad, but I feel him tense. He is calm and collected, his movements – or rather lack of them – composed, but I can fathom his change of heart.

        “Then what would be?”

        That, honestly, strikes me dumb. I am not certain as to what should be said, what I can make seem important. I’m flummoxed and perplexed.

        “What would be enough?” he repeats, tapping at every word, his gloomy brown eyes penetrating me. “You don’t know, do you?”

        He suddenly draws closer, and it feels unsettling. “Woodhull,” he growls in the lowest tone possible, although his voice is never loud enough to be perfectly heard, “Private Woodhull,” he corrects himself, his tone morphing into ominous hissing, “next time provide me with the exact directions.” He whispers and stares deeply into my eyes for a while longer.

        And then it happened – something I cannot forget or explain. He grabbed me with his sinewy hands, squeezed me, and kissed me right in the lips. This sufficiently passionate kiss was the manifestation of his well-concealed temper I have never spotted before. I am not aware of the reason what cause such wave of feelings inside me, but I clutch his wrists in my fingers and return the kiss. It rives my vision of normalcy, but I for some obscure reason… I don’t care.

        I just stick my nails into his cassock, into his flesh and devour his hidden fervor, the flame I have never bumped into. Is that what’s stowed away inside that severe robe?

        “Exact directions, Woodhull,” he reminds, panting and moving away from me. “That’s the crucial thing I need while working for you, or Washington.”

        With this, not saying anything else, Townsend leaves me in this nook. I come up to the surface – to see Colonel Cooke telling another dirty joke.

        “Harlots are expensive,” he guffaws with a short cough, “but there’s a way to finagle a few pounds out of her, or, say, screw the hoe over!.. Once I had to do the trick…”

        I don’t get the rest – now I have to muster all the exact directions to give them to Townsend – and to meet him again.