#Physics Tutor in Bill Road

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Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center, IL

Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center, Illinois Building Development, USA Architecture Images

Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center in Chicago

Mar 8, 2021

Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center

Architecture: LMN Architects

Location: Chicago, IL, USA

LMN Architects in collaboration with Booth Hansen is pleased to celebrate the design and construction of the new Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center at the University of Illinois in Chicago. Located at a unique prominent site on campus, the structure celebrates the garden and elliptical form of the Harry W. Pearce Memorial Grove and establishes a new front door for technology in downtown Chicago.

The University of Illinois Chicago (UIC) is Chicago’s only public research university and one of the most diverse universities in the United States. The new 135,000 SFT Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center (CDRLC) at UIC will consolidate the currently fragmented Computer & Science Department in a new home and co-locate it with a large cluster of university-administered classrooms at the heart of the east campus. The building is designed to be a welcoming, inclusive, and inviting space for the diverse student body. The building will serve research needs with state-of-the-art facilities, accommodate the rapidly increasing undergraduate enrollment in computer science and become a new campus hub.

“Illinois is home to the best universities and research centers in the world and boasts a talented workforce that attracts companies from across the globe,” said Governor JB Pritzker. “This new learning center on the UIC campus, made possible through funding from our historic bipartisan Rebuild Illinois capital plan, will further cement the university’s place as a world-class institution that excels in preparing talented students for the careers of tomorrow.”

“This project is a top priority to meet the needs of students in our growing computer science program and helps to strengthen the high-tech boom in Chicago. We are grateful to Governor Pritzker for his support,” said UIC Chancellor Michael D. Amiridis.

“The new CDRLC represents the future of higher education at UIC and is intended to be a welcoming space to promote innovation, collaboration, and discovery. We placed an intentional emphasis on the public spaces, research labs and collaborative areas to enhance the experience that each student will have, and it has been a pleasure collaborating with LMN Architects and Booth Hansen,” said Peter Nelson, Dean, UIC College of Engineering. “Students at UIC will have a new building on campus where they can unleash their curiosity and enjoy a space that is focused on learning, research and teamwork.”

The CDRLC is the third recent academic building to be built on the east campus originally designed by Walter Netsch in 1965. The building will be delivered on an accelerated schedule to meet the demands of the department, doubling its capacity by 2023. It will create a hub for both engineering and computer science that includes research areas comprised of faculty offices, collaboration areas, dry lab and specialty lab; administrative and student affairs office spaces; collaborative teaching and learning spaces for undergraduate and graduate students; an undergraduate learning and community center; and a flexible events room; all stitched together by a five-story daylit atrium.

“Together with the department, University, and CBD, our team of LMN and Booth Hansen have designed the building to become a welcoming hub, a building that embraces the old and presents an iconic new presence along Taylor Street,” says LMN Partner Stephen Van Dyck, AIA. “Throughout the design process, we have been inspired by the convergences that this project represents. At the heart of it all is the convergence of UIC’s mission and the region’s growing tech prominence. For so many in the region, this new building will symbolize opportunity.”

Creating a contemporary addition to this iconic brutalist campus, the building is functional, flexible, and respectful of the context. Located at a unique, prominent site on campus, the structure celebrates the natural setting and organic form of the Memorial Grove and establishes a new front door for technology in Chicago.

Together with the existing lab building, the new CDRLC creates a dramatic public atrium for social interactions with visual and physical connections to all floors. The refined precast concrete and terra cotta façade of the building are inspired by Netsch’s late modern architecture and respond to the site conditions and the Memorial Grove.

“The creation of the Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center at UIC is the type of investment Illinois needs to give our students a competitive advantage in the digital age. I’m fortunate to have an incredible research facility like UIC in my district, and I look forward to seeing the output of this building once complete,” stated State Representative Lakesia Collins.

“The announcement of the new Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center at UIC is crucial in order for the university to keep producing the incredible talent that it does. This state-of-the-art facility will further enhance the research taking place at UIC, while also welcoming prospective students to a unique learning environment,” said State Senator Patricia Van Pelt. “I look forward to seeing this project completed in such an expedited timeframe, doubling the capacity of the Computer & Science Department in just two years,” added Van Pelt.

David Mann, Booth Hansen Principal, Comments: “The new building will be located adjacent to one of the original Netsch buildings, near other College of Engineering facilities and Memorial Grove. This unique site allows for an innovative design that is inspired by the context, materiality, and qualities of precast concrete material. The project breaks free from the rigid orthogonal character of the campus with a more organic connected form that reframes this edge of campus and the Grove.”

Building on UIC’s successes with geo-thermal energy resources, the project will include a substantial new geo-thermal farm in the Memorial Grove, and the building has been designed to achieve LEED Gold certification. Reflecting a complex organization of requirements, the building will prompt students to cross paths with one another and enhance intellectual exchange. The atrium will be porous and dynamic with connections to the campus and the community, honoring the past and looking to the future.

Booth Hansen has collaborated with many academic institutions in the Midwest over the last 40 years. Those colleges and universities include the University of Illinois Chicago, Northwestern University, University of Chicago, Columbia College, University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign, University of Wisconsin-Madison and the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.

LMN Architects is a leader in the design of higher education facilities across the United States. Other completed projects include the Bill & Melinda Gates Center for Computer Science & Engineering at the University of Washington; the Voxman Music Building at the University of Iowa in Iowa City; the Anteater Learning Pavilion at the University of California, Irvine; and the Huntsman School of Business Addition at Utah State University in Logan, Utah.

Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center in Chicago, Illinois – Building Information:

Design Architect: LMN Architects

Project Title: Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center

Client: University of Illinois Chicago Design Years: 2019-2020 Construction Years: 2021-2023

Major Building Materials: Precast Concrete, Terra cotta, glass, composite aluminum panel, and steel structure

Program: Computer Science building for undergraduate and graduate students, faculty, and staff with 15 Classrooms, 1 Auditorium, TA and Tutoring Space, Undergraduate Social Space, Administration and Advising Suites, Research Laboratories, Robotics Laboratory, Visualization Laboratory, Faculty Offices, Café and Multi-Purpose Event Space.

Site Area: 84,000 SFT (7,803.85 s.m.) Floor Area: 135,000 SFT (12,542 s.m.) Building Height: 87 FT. (26.5 m.). Number of Floors: 5 Cost of Construction: $115 million

Architect: LMN Architects

Project Team: John Aldredge Emily Ciaccio Michael Day Jennifer DuHamel, AIA Howard Howlett, Associate AIA Euiseok Jeong, AIA Susan Lowance, AIA Mark Nicol, AIA Charlotte Phillips Lisa Sato George Shaw, FAIA Lanting Su Stephen Van Dyck, AIA

Architect of Record: BOOTH HANSEN

Project Team: Laurence Booth, FAIA Scott Cyphers, AIA Chad Hanley, AIA Michael Jividen, AIA David Mann, AIA Kelly Pyle, AIA Landry Root, AIA Eric Runnfeldt, AIA Sarah Thompson, AIA

Civil Engineer: TERRA Engineering, Ltd

Structural Engineer: Magnusson Klemencic Associates Drucker Zajdel Structural Engineers

Landscape Architect: SITE Design Group, Ltd Lighting Design: Horton Lees Brogden Lighting Design MEP Engineer: Affiliated Engineers, Inc

Publication Drawings and Renderings: LMN Architects

Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center, IL images / information received 080321

Location: Chicago, IL, United States

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[littlemeowyoons]

Bonded

A/N- Extra sorry for the late update, I’m still in school and the new semester just got started. Hope you understand for the slow update. :(

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff(lots of them), a drop of angst, Single Dad! AU, College! AU, Introvert! Yoongi, Tutor! Y/n

Word Count:3.2k

Synopsis: Yoongi found a basket left in front of his dorm room one day, and turns out it was his daughter, left alone crying. Puzzled and scared was an understatement. When his 4 semesters roommate Jimin left for his hometown, he was left with the last straw of help, turning to his physics tutor a.k.a friend-that-I-only-know-name-but-have-no-interest-in-knowing-more; you.

Series: Masterlist l Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l 

                                 Pt 4: Lie Honestly

                                              °•. ✿ .•°

“Are you sure about this?”

“I’ve never been this sure ever since I made up my mind that blue looks good on you.”

“Come again?”

You let out a hearty chuckle, repositioning Inara on your lap when you feel her sliding down.

“Nevermind, don’t worry, just go attend your class, it’s starting!”

“I can’t stay calm if I’m not sure both of my girls are okay.”

“We’re okay. It’s just Inara’s getting her monthly shot and a checkup, they’re recording her weight and such. It’s gonna be fine, I assure you.”

“If you say so… just…call me if anything happens.”

“Will do Yoongs, now shoo”

You felt a tug on your arm so you lower down your hand that’s holding your phone, reaching to Inara’s level and she eyes the device with her doe eyes. Maybe hearing her father’s voice is what perks her interest in the first place. She pressed the speaker button-which surprises you the most-then started to mumble and throw in, again, incoherent group of words and soon you hear Yoongi laughing at the end of the line.

“See, even your daughter said we’re fine.”

“I think it’s more like ‘dad stop calling’.”

“Look, I know you’re worried but there’s honestly nothing to.”

“Thanks Y/n”

“No sweat.”

“No I mean…thanks for, like, everything you did.”

It was silence at the end of the line before Y/n spoke again, voice lower than before, “Does calculus had fried your mind into speaking nonsense? I think I’ll ask for an appointment for you too.”

Yoongi let out a hearty laugh louder than what he usually did, amused by your words, or rather smitten.” I have to go, take care you two and also, Inara…”

You lowered down the phone, not that it’s not lowered enough for Inara to hear, before Yoongi continue, “be nice to Y/n okay little one?”

Inara ignore Yoongi and continue to munch on her kitten squeaky toy.

“Spark is a little occupied Yoongi. Call later and maybe she’ll spare you a glance.”

After another laugh Yoongi bid his goodbye and ended the call. You found yourself smiling like a fool, or maybe you are, you thought.

“Min Inara”

“Come on spark, your turn.”

You walk up to counter and the nurse behind the table smiled politely, “Right this way Mrs Min”

She lead the way and you were more than grateful she did because you’ll be too shocked to function properly if you’re the one in front. Mrs Min? As in, the mother of Inara? As in…wife to…Yoongi? It sounds weird, but rather- this part scares you the most- sound neutral. Can you really see your future with Min Yoongi, being his wife, becoming a part of this family? No, no you shouldn’t put your hopes up, you thought.

 You’re part of this family because you want to, not that you were forced. You should’ve left after feeding Inara that day, that damn fucked up day. You should’ve left everything behind. Maybe Yoongi didn’t have the gut to kick you out, you heart spoke, you keep coming back to the dorm how can he, an introvert, find an excuse to not hurt your feeling by being direct? It’s not like he can just come up to you and say, ‘leave you’ve done your part’. Oh you wanted to, not being caught up in Yoongi’s mess, it was his to deal. But the thought of you leaving him struggling on his own didn’t sound right to you. Are you helping him as a friend? Or maybe, as a person who has a little bit of knowledge in this babysitting more than him? Or… is it that you didn’t want Inara to have the same fate as you, left alone without parental support at a young age, losing everything before even knowing you own it in the first place? You feel angry at yourself, you feel hurt, disappointed, sad.  

But most of all, you feel like a fool.

==

“That would be all, take care.”

“Thank you”, you bow politely to the doctor, flashing her your smile before exited the door with a drowsy Inara in hand.

You sit back in the waiting room, cradling the sleepy child back and forth.

“Tired huh?”

She replied, whining shortly, almost as if she understands you. You give her a soft peck on the head, and that’s all it takes for her to drift to dreamland. You were holding her close, when suddenly a hand rustles your hair lightly and a man crouched down to give Inara a small kiss on her forehead.

You smacked the man on his arm, “You scared me.”

Yoongi let out a deep chuckle, smile so wide you wonder if his cheek hurts, because somehow the deep of your stomach does. It was doing somersault of its own. Is he really happy to meet you? No, he’s here for his daughter, get it together Y/n.

“All done?”

You nod, “The doctor left some medicine though, and the bill” you reached into your handbag to pull out a purse, when Yoongi’s hand engulf yours.

“What are you doing?”, Yoongi eyes you deeply.

“Umm the bill-“

“I got this.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, but seeing him unbothered by it, you give up. Instead, you ushered Inara to him, “Here, hold her. I need to go to the restroom.”

Yoongi silently took her away and both of you swapped places, he sit in your seat and you walk away to the nearest toilet.

“Min Inara”

Upon hearing his daughter’s name being called, Yoongi walked up to the small window pane beside the counter, a huge sign read ‘pharmacy’ in blue and white writing sit at the top of it. The nurse spare him a good few seconds glance before getting back to click away some things on the computer.

“You must be Mr Min.”

“Ah yes that would be me”, He smiled politely, bowing a little while struggling to cradle a sleeping kid in his arm, “Is that medicine for my daughter?”

He eyes a few colourful tablets on the desk, already worrying how he gonna get his daughter to eat that. As much as his daughter is curious, he had to admit she was never a fan of sweet things, just like him.

“No no, it was for Mrs Min.”

“Mrs…Min?”

“Yes, your wife, the one who brought in your daughter this morning. Anyway, this is Folic acid tablets…”, the nurse showed him a  dozen red coloured pills in a sachet, “-for her red blood deficiency, two tablets a day after meal.”

She the push to him another sachet of tablets, this time in pale orange, “And this is vitamin C, three tablets a day after a meal.”

Yoongi just watch in silence as the nurse packed in all the tablets away into a small bag. Did he hear her right? Why does his heart flutter this hard? And most of all he’s worried, Y/n had been suffering deficiency? She’s low on red blood cells….and he didn’t even know about it? What kind of friend is he? Maybe she just discovered it today, he hoped, maybe she didn’t tell because even she is clueless about it. But to think that she’s sick right under his nose, he feels awful. He had been too focus on his daughter, that he has forgotten about the one who had been taking care of Inara too.

“Yoons?”

Her voice caught him off guard, he let out a small gasp and quickly turn around.

“What’s wrong? Oh, you got the medicines already. Let’s go, let me take her. You come with a  car...right?”

He didn’t realise she had been talking to him for a while, he had been too lost in his own trance. When he felt a hand laying on his shoulder, only did he snap back to reality.

“Huh?”

“Are…you okay Yoons? You seem out of it. Did they told you something’s wrong with Inara?”

“Ah no no…no. What…were you saying just now?”

You were sceptical but you repeated your question, “You come here with a car right?”

“Ah yes, Jimin’s actually. Come on”

Yoongi lead the way out, barely glancing back, not until you’ve arrived at the car. Yoongi opened the door for you and you slipped in, not forgetting to cushion the back of Inara’s head with your hand as you enter. A few moments later, both of you were on the road in silent. You sense something is bothering Yoongi, at this rate he can’t hide anything from you anymore. You are aware of his small habits he does, like rubbing his thumb against the back of his forefinger, eyes can’t seem to stay on the same spot more than a few seconds, it had been too easy, he was like an open book to you. Now, if only you were brave enough to prompt him about it. The silence had been too thick if no one speaks, it’s gonna drown both of you, so Yoongi started, “Do you have class today?”

“Yoongi…it’s Saturday. Only you have class because your prof couldn’t make it next week.”

“Great, we’re gonna do some grocery.”

You were about to argue, that you had been a burden to him, you were sure you were nothing to him, considering that he ain’t sharing no shit with you, but you were cut off by a loud gurgle.

“Well, hello to you too spark. Look who’s here”

You picked her up to sit on your lap, facing the man beside you and as that her hands shot forward, smile present on her face you could see her gums and a few small bumps of white- she’s gonna grow her teeth soon!!

“Hey little one. Daddy want nothing in the world but to hold you right now, but daddy’s driving.”

“You know driving?”, you speak to her and her eyes shifted to you, those doe eyes that could spring smile onto your face in a record speed, there’s nothing more you love to see then that kid’s smile, that and Yoongi wearing all black from head to toe. You swear you were a sucker for those two.

You spelt out for her and spoke the words very slowly, watching in awe as her small mouth tried to mimick yours while pronouncing it. Her words after comes out in a jumble and sounds nothing like the word driving.

“We could work on that. Now since your father finished his class, we’ll go grocery shopping. You ready for your first grocery day spark?”

Inara let out a deep chuckle, funny, hers sounded just like Yoongi’s.

==

“Do we need bread?”

You turned to face Yoongi, who shook his head, “No we already have it, but we do need jam.”

“One jam of chocolate and peanut butter coming right up.”, you walked down the aisle and grab the jar before heading back to Yoongi, putting it in the trolley.

“It’s your favourite right?”, you glance up to Yoongi, smile still there.

“Yeah…how did you…”

“Know? Yoongi, you served us toasted bread with chocolate and peanut butter jam ONLY on every tutor hour. I started associated physics with chocolate and peanut butter jam.”

“Sorry”

“I’m just joking Yoons, relax.”, you reposition Inara in your arm, her weight is starting to get to you but you don’t want to pass it to Yoongi just yet, holding her gives you sanity rather than thinking 101 reasons why you shouldn’t do grocery shopping with Yoongi. It feels too domestic, and domestic is bad in this case, there shouldn’t be any feelings involved, Inara is your main priority so for now you wanted to believe your fast beating of heart is caused by the joy of holding Inara close.

“What else?”

“Cereal, and milk while we’re at it.”

“On it, the honey one or the wheat one?”

“Y/n, every cereal is made out of wheat”, he chuckled, amused by the girl in front of him.

“The honey one then. I was just making sure if there’s any cereal without-“

You words were cut off as you spaced out, eyes froze on something. Yoongi glance to the same direction but he failed to locate what had made you go speechless.

“Inara”, you squealed, “Look, banana crackers!”

You run (read as walk) to the shelf and pull out a yellow box, handing it to Inara.

“I promised banana crackers right? Here you go.”

Inara spare a glance to the box before hugging it tightly to herself, you nuzzled into her neck, planting a soft kiss along. Yoongi felt like he could melt right then and there, his two most favourite girls are having fun with each other. He feels warm all inside, it was like a dream of his own, Inara is his daughter and you are…his wife.  Yes, he would really want that.

==

“Something happened at the clinic right?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Miss Y/L/N”

“Then why did you-“, you turned around carefully, not wanting to disrupt Inara having her own euphoric moment nibbling on her banana cracker, to see a lot of plastics. Your eyes catch the faint image of spinach and beans. Right beside it is cow beef wrapped in its container. You glance back to Yoongi whom eyes set on the road ahead but you were sure he steals a glance at you just now.

“Are we having a welcome party or what…That’s a lot of foods. Foods for…”

It didn’t take long for your mind to piece the puzzle together, “So you do know!”

“Know what? I know nothing.”

“Yoongi…”

He froze in his seat, you rarely call him his real name, not until the words that’ll come out of your mouth will mean some serious business.

“You don’t have to”

“I want to”, he glance at you for mere moments before focusing back on the road.

“But this is too much.”

“No it’s not, this is only a quarter of it. I’m gonna make sure you eat all of those a lot, your body will be full of blood cells.”

“It doesn’t work that way Yoons.”

“I’m gonna make it work that way.”

You feel miserable, now Yoongi is tangled in your shit. You’re not surprised when the doctor diagnosed you with low red blood cells, you had been skipping breakfast for a while now, had lunch on some lucky days and dinner if you remembered. The stress of catching up with due dates and classes and unwritten assignments were getting to you. You should be the one taking care of yourself, not others, you’re not a kid anymore. You don’t want to be a burden your whole adult life, it’s enough that you did so your whole childhood life. No you have to fix that, need to, desperately.

“Up for another stop?”

==

“Any reason why we’re here?”, you eyed him suspiciously, just what else is he plotting?

“Do we need reason to enjoy a cup of coffee?”

“No but…”

You glance around, eyes only seeing a handful of people in the shop. You’ve never been to this particular shop, but you gotta admit they make good hot chocolate, you know you’ll be up in your seat soon to order another one.  But it’s not the fact that the café is almost empty except for some talking figures in the far corner of the shop, but rather it’s the small pounding in your head. It’s an early sign that you’ll get a headache soon which could lead to fever if you’re not rested enough. The doctor’s right, you thought. You had been stressing over so badly these past few weeks, food is not an option anymore to keep going but rather painkiller does. You know it’s bad but you can’t seem to avoid it. The only thing that pushes you is Inara, Yoongi and the constant reminder that this pain will pass.

You were deep in thoughts when you spot a fluffy figure making it’s way to you. You pull out your shirt’s ribbon out of Inara’s mouth and lower her down until her eyes spotted the figure walking on its four legs.

“Look Inara, what’s that?”, you cooed in a baby voice.

Little that you know, the man in front of you had his eyes wide open, start struck by the made up voice that you made which he think is fucking cute, he’s wheezing.

Inara eyed the magical creature (read as cat) snuggling in her open palm, and as that she clenches her hand into a tight fist and yank the domestical mammal tail nearer. You quickly pulled her hand away as the orange tabby cat backed away to another table, probably trauma after the encounter with the kid in a grey banana printed dress.

“Woah there tiger, no no. You don’t go around pulling cat’s hair.”

“And what about you, you shouldn’t go around shoving my daughter’s face to a cat”, Yoongi huffed, pushing his wrist lightly on his cheek, elbow on the table.

“Look Inara, there’s a grumpy cat, you can pull all the remaining hairs off him.”

“Don’t teach nonsense to my child, seriously…”

“Hush Yoongi, between both of us, I know better about children psychological development”

You eyed him sharply, then reached out into your bag, pulling out a cat-shaped rattle and wave it in front of Inara.

“Looook, what’s this?”

You’re more than happy when Inara’s eyes widen, hand sticking out to reach the baby rattle in your hand, then continue to shove it in her mouth. Her hand swinging the item, producing bell sound as there’s a tiny bell tied onto the cat’s neck.

“My daughter is much more intelligence than playing with a bell.”

“I’m trying to train her cognitive Min Yoongi, I would appreciate it if you keep your comments to yourself at the moment.”

“How do we even know it’s working?”

As then, Inara let out a loud laugh and continue to tossed the toy, which headed straight to Yoongi’s forehead. 

“Ouch!”

You know it’s rude to laugh at other’s misfortune, but oh you wish there was a reply button in life, you just got to watch Yoongi’s face another time!

“Inara! Bad girl,”, your words come out between short laughs, “pity, you should’ve aimed for the head”

“Y/n!”

A cherry laugh escaped your mouth as your eyes turned crescent from the way you had been smiling so wide. You find this situation very amusing.

“Ohh cut down some slack yoongs, at least now we know it’s working, we gotta work on her aim though.”

“Y/n…”

Yoongi just let you laugh some more, the frown on his face just now slowly morphing into a soft smile, but when you lean your figure forward, oh boy…mayday mayday code red, abort mission Min Yoongi!

You gently lay your palm onto his face, shining orbs scanning his face, “Nothing’s broken though,”, you chuckled, “You’re okay.”

But he’s not okay, at least the outraging heartbeat in his chest said so.

==

[maltedmilkchocolate]

How do other artists manage having personal social media, and ‘professional’ social media? Because I can’t understand it. 

Between Twitter, Tumblr, and Instagram. As well as maintaining a portfolio website, and if you’re a comic artist, hosting your comic. Then on top of that, maintaining a Patreon and/or a Ko-Fi. 

As a neurodivergent artist, I don’t have that level of energy. I have limited resources available to me, and somewhere amongst that, I also need to 1) Draw, and 2) Apply for jobs. 

Most of which require networking. So there needs to be time for that too. 

And between Twitter and Instagram whose algorithms are fucked six ways to sunday, you need to be pumping out a constant flow of art to maintain any chance of getting seen through social media (unless you have a pre-existing following).

I’m coming to the end of my Masters degree, and I need to start thinking about getting a job. But from all the webinars and panels we’ve been attending, a lot of art jobs are being picked up through 1) Social media, and 2) Who You Know (duh). 

Which means having to maintain EVERYTHING mentioned above to have a fighting chance in an industry now revolving around social media presence.

Which requires a HIGH amount of mental and even physical energy, which isn’t often achievable for folks who are neurodivergent, disabled, or on low incomes meaning they need to work day jobs to pay bills. 

Competition is far higher now, and there is a race or fight to get seen online. Or maybe you just get lucky and get seen by the right person at the right time.

But either way, maintaining all of the above is exhausting, when your ability to social media manage should not reflect your ability to create art. It’s intensive labour to micromanage ten different tasks, that all require a certain length of time that can be fairly extensive. 

Maybe I’m a bit salty because I’m about to graduate in the middle of a fucking pandemic and any semblance of guidance into getting that ‘aftercare’ the uni promised is probably going to be a train wreck. And maybe i’m a bit terrified that my job prospects are damn low because it’s solely reliant on how much energy I can pump into maintaining an online presence. 

But I’m frustrated at having an already competative career race, have its road shunted directly up a cliff in terms of demands to have a hope in hell of succeeding in. 

Anyway my tutor wanted our thoughts on starting up a company as a storyboard team ready to market, and well, faced with that question, having also been asked to take part in a conference panel, combined with only having three weeks to get my final deadline done, no university support, and the looming threat of job prospects on the horizon - I’m about to lose my whole ass mind.

[hayingsang]

What I read last year

Favourite book of 2019 – Robert Fitzgerald’s translation of The Aeneid. I wasn’t prepared for just how exciting this story was. Fantastic from start to end, even when you know what’s going to happen next. I also hugely enjoyed Emily Wilson’s translation of The Odyssey, not least for her excellent introduction and its highlighting of lots of stuff to watch out for (especially all those brutal killings when Odysseus finally makes it home), and Pat Barker’s retelling of the Iliad from the point of view of Briseis, the young woman seized by Achilles to be his bed slave after her city is sacked during the siege of Troy.

Most exciting book – Eve Babitz’s Slow Days, Fast Company, her 1977 account of life in early 1970s Los Angeles. Also perhaps the most “masterly” book I’ve read in a long time – in my experience, most writing involves the writer getting it out there, usually using techniques they’ve built up over time; through SDFC’s collection of tales I felt I was reading what Babitz had decided was most appropriate for her readers to know. Extraordinary control. Loved it.

I would pair that with Patti Smith’s Just Kids, about her and Robert Mapplethorpe making themselves into artists in the very late 1960s/early 1970s New York – which feels like the total opposite of Babitz, ie Smith telling it how it was. Not particularly caring for her music – I loathed Horses as a 16-year-old – I was surprised how much I enjoyed/learned from her account of her life after she left home, struggling first to get by, then to make art, all as part of what was clearly a very special relationship.

Lara Alcock’s Mathematics Rebooted was my biggest learning experience – a wonderful journey through the elements of mathematics, beginning each chapter with something basic then taking it up past the point where most non-mathematician readers would fall off to something beyond. Every chapter I both learned something and found out what there was yet to learn.

As in 2018, I read four books in Chinese. Actually, two in “standard” Chinese and two in Cantonese. The Cantonese ones were a treat – a translation of The Little Prince and 香港語文: ���陳蕾士嘅秘密, a collection of 20 Chinese essays and one Chinese poem translated into Cantonese. Who says it’s not a language of its own? Not the four writers who did the translations. The two others, a collection of essays from the early to mid 2000s by Chan Koonchung and a book-format edition of Being Hong Kong about various Hong Kong things (City Hall at 50, some food stuff, some Cantonese opera stuff, etc) were also worthwhile. Neither quite merit being translated into English, but both give a flavour of the things that exercise people in Hong Kong (or Chan’s case, of the things which exercised them in the early 2000s – a much more gentle set of concerns than those that bother them now).

Among the novels, Manjushree Thapa’s The Tutor of History was a standout. Set in the 1990s Nepal, it pulled off an astonishing feat of describing from scratch a society which most of us will never know. Sheila Heti’s Motherhood, a meditation mostly about whether to have a child or not, was also excellent in catching the feel of a person at a very specific and important juncture of her life.

Timothy Morton was an important discovery, especially Humankind. He tackles the question of what does it mean to be living now – in the Anthropocene, at a time when human beings are destroying many other living things and doing huge damage to much non-living stuff and comes up with some new answers – that maybe we have to take ourselves both more seriously and see ourselves as of rather less importance than we might like to think, especially when it comes to all those other living and non-things and stuff. Kind of practical in a bizarre way.

Walter Scheidel’s The Great Leveler and Francis Fukuyama’s Political Order and Political Decay are two tremendous overviews of where our societies have come from. Scheidel’s argument that throughout history, peace and economic growth have always led to ever-widening inequality poses a big challenge to the world. Fukuyama’s suggestion, continuing from The Origins of Political Order, that countries should build institutions before adding democracy points to another conclusion that merits serious thought.

Twyla Tharp’s The Creative Habit was my motivational book of the year. I would imagine it would be useful for anyone who has to come up with ideas and carry them through to completion.

Finally, Adele Faber & Elaine Mazlish’s Siblings Without Rivalry is a terrific book about what to do when your children say they want each other to die. Like the one other great book about raising children I’ve read – Ross Gree’s The Explosive Child – it’s not about what you should get your children to do, it’s about what you should do. Gree’s single greatest point – one I think I took to heart – is that when there’s one angry person in the room, try not to make it two. Faber & Mazlish’s is don’t try to solve the problem yourself, just try and get those children to say (or even better write down) what’s bothering them about their brother/sister. Once that’s out in the open, they may even figure out what to do about it themselves. We tried it and – trust me – it worked.

The complete list

JR McNeill & Peter Engelke, The Great Acceleration

Frank Pieke, Knowing China

Daniel Pink, A Whole New Mind

Susan Cain, Quiet

Ray Dalio, Principles

Lara Alcock, Mathematics Rebooted

Rebecca Solnit, A Field Guide to Getting Lost

Leo Goodstadt, A City Mismanaged

Timothy Morton, Being Ecological

Pat Barker, The Ghost Road

Martin Rees, Our Final Hour

Tyler Cowen, Stubborn Attachments

Timothy Morton, The Ecological Thought

Manjushree Thapa, The Tutor of History

John McPhee, Draft No. 4

Adele Faber & Elaine Mazlish, Siblings Without Rivalry

Dante, The Divine Comedy

Lionel Shriver, We Need to Talk About Kevin

Joyce Carol Oates, Carthage

Zadie Smith, White Teeth

Xi Xi, My City

Eve Babitz, Slow Days, Fast Company

Various, Being HK

Nigel Collett, A Death in Hong Kong

Xi Xi, A Girl Like Me

Virgil, The Aeneid

James Scott, Against the Grain

Karl Popper, All Life Is Problem Solving

Ursula Le Guin, The Tombs of Atuan

Ursula Le Guin, No Time to Spare

Twyla Tharp, The Creative Habit

Franklin Foer, World Without Mind

Ursula Le Guin, The Left Hand of Darkness

Confucius/Simon Leys, The Analects of Confucius

Sheila Heti, Motherhood

Bill Burnett & Dave Evans, Designing Your Life

Ian Stewart, Nature’s Numbers

Mike Michalowicz, Clockwork

Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch

Matthew Walker, Why We Sleep

Rebecca Solnit, Hope in the Dark

Philip K Dick, Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said

Peter Adamson, Classical Philosophy

Machiavelli, The Prince

Mary Clarke & Clement Crisp, How to Enjoy Ballet

Cas Mudde & Cristóbal Rovira Kaltwasser, Populism

Charles Lindblom, The Market System

AL Kennedy, Looking for the Possible Dance

Mario Vargas Llosa, The Bad Girl

Shen Fu, Six Records of a Floating Life

Han Kang, The Vegetarian

Mikel Dunham, Buddha’s Warriors

Yoko Ogawa, Hotel Iris

Elaine Feinstein, It Goes With the Territory

Homer/Emily Wilson, The Odyssey

Richard McGregor, Xi Jinping: The Backlash

Shiona Airlie, Scottish Mandarin

Jeannette Ng, Under the Pendulum Sky

Otessa Moshfegh, My Year of Rest and Relaxation

陳冠中, 我這一代香港人

Muriel Spark, Reality and Dreams

Muriel Spark, The Driver’s Seat

Mary Beard, Women and Power

Lauren Groff, Fates and Furies

Carlo Rovelli, Seven Brief Lessons on Physics

Anne Carson, The Beauty of the Husband

Francis Fukuyama, Political Order and Political Decay

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, 小王子 (The Little Prince in Cantonese)

Pat Barker, The Silence of the Girls

Joan Didion, The Last Thing He Wanted

Walter Scheidel, The Great Leveler

Shoshana Zuboff, The Age of Surveillance Capitalism

Hannah Arendt, Eichmann in Jerusalem

Svetlana Alexievich, The Unwomanly Face of War

Marguerite Duras, Blue Eyes, Black Hair

Karl Polanyi, The Great Transformation

Chuang Tsu, The Book of Chuang Tsu

Cathleen Schine, The Weissmans of Westport

Patti Smith, Just Kids

Timothy Morton, Humankind

Various, 香港語文: 聽陳蕾士嘅秘密

Edna O’Brien, Time and Tide

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Baby Daddy - Chapter 9

You can read it here on AO3 or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

“Did you hear about this?” Dad asks, shaking out the newspaper as Stiles makes breakfast.

“What?” Stiles asks. “Also, who even reads newspapers anymore? Don’t you have a phone like regular people?”

Dad ignores that. “The Hales are back in town. They’re rebuilding the house.”

“Oh.” Stiles feels a jolt. Right. The Hales. Who he has somehow forgotten to mention to his dad that he knows. And that he is also playing an integral part in producing a new one. Those Hales. “Um, yeah. I knew they were back in town. I didn’t know about the house though.”

Dad peers at him over the frames of his reading glasses. “You knew they were back in town?”

“Yeah. My friend Laura? From the diner? It’s Laura Hale.”

His Dad frowns. “You didn’t mention this when I told you I was checking out the Hale file again.”

“What’s to mention?” Stiles asks, smacking the side of the coffee maker to get it to start working. They really need to get a new one of those at some point. “It’s not like we sit around and talk about that time most of her family got incinerated.”

“I guess not,” Dad says. “It’s just the three of them left, isn’t it?”

Three and a bit, Stiles thinks, and feels his face flooding with warmth.

“I think so? Laura doesn’t talk about her family much, and I don’t really blame her.” He gives the coffee maker another smack. “I met her brother last night though.”

Her incredibly hot and weird brother. And Stiles didn’t exactly meet him, did he? He stood there while the guy glared at him and then turned around and ran like Stiles was the devil or something. Definitely hot, but definitely weird. And Laura was weird as well. Whatever Hale family weirdness Stiles had stepped into there, he has no idea, only that there was sudden tension in the air thick enough to choke on. It had felt like Stiles had wandered on stage in the middle of some dramatic moment but nobody had given him a script. Definitely some heavy stuff going on, and it had been awkward as hell, but Stiles figures he’s already jerked off into a jar for Laura Hale, and whatever was going on last night can’t even come close to that, right? What’s a little more awkwardness thrown in?

“Those poor kids,” Dad says, and Stiles feels an odd moment of disconnect thinking of Laura and Derek that way, but of course they were only teenagers back then and that's how Dad remembers them. Laura must’ve been barely eighteen.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, and thinks of Derek Hale. It’s probably unfair to think of him as weird, right? He works nights, which explains his zombification—Stiles once saw his dad get back from a night shift, carefully peel an orange, toss the segments in the trash and then just stare at the peel in his hand like he was knew something had gone wrong but couldn’t quite figure it out. Sleep deprivation is a bitch. And is it any surprise that Derek’s not a Chatty Cathy? The Hales have been through hell. It’s probably a miracle any of them are functioning at all.

Stiles isn’t sure he would be, in their shoes.

Dad sets the newspaper aside and rolls his shoulders. “How’s the Jeep running?”

Stiles gives him a genuine smile. “Really good. It starts like clockwork every time!”

“Well, that’s what a starter motor does, son,” Dad says.

“My old one didn’t.”

Dad huffs out a laugh. “The tutoring is still going well, then?”

“Yeah. It’s doing better than I thought.” Stiles is getting stupidly good at lying about this. And while it works for little things like groceries and the electric bill and the Jeep’s starter motor, he’s not sure yet how he’s going to explain that the hospital bill has been paid. He’s hoping to intercept all the mail until he figures out a way around it. “And it’s awesome to have the Jeep on the road again.”

“I’ll bet it is,” Dad says with a fond smile. “So, how about we celebrate that by going for a drive?”

“Um.” Stiles blinks, and shrugs. “Sure. Where are we going?”

He figures out halfway there, and tells himself he probably should have known.

***

Once upon a time, the private road that snaked through the Preserve ended at a three-storey house with a wraparound porch, bay windows, and a Dutch gable. Stiles has seen the photographs. Now there’s nothing left except the front façade of the house, charred and blackened, and the towering chimney that leans at an ominous angle.

Stiles pulls the Jeep up behind what looks like a contractor’s truck, and goes around to help Dad out the passenger side. They do an awkward little dance while Dad gets his crutches situated, and then they approach the remains of the house.

The contractor turns out to be a surveyor, and some guy that dad knows from town.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be a big job,” he says. “Gonna have to shore up the cellar and all the tunnels before we even bring in the bulldozers to clear the site.”

“Never did figure out what those tunnels were about,” Dad says, gazing at the charred remains of the house.

The surveyor shrugs. “A leftover from bootlegging days, maybe? A bunch of old families made their money that way around here. This once place up in Elk Creek, I had the lady try to tell me it was from the Underground Railroad.” He shakes his head. “In California? In a house built in the twenties? Place was still full of empty whisky barrels.”

Dad laughs at that.

Stiles looks at the house, and at the lay of the land, and tries to remember where the three tunnels came out. He’s seen the plans, and they make no sense. How would a narrow tunnel that connects the house basement to a root cellar be of any use to bootleggers? And the other two didn't lead anywhere at all except few hundred feet into the Preserve.

Dad and the surveyor chat for a few more minutes, and then the surveyor leaves to go back into town.

Dad leans on his crutches and stares at the house, like he’s waiting for it to tell him all its secrets.

Stiles stands with him.

“You just…” Dad exhales heavily. “When your house is burning down, you don’t lock yourself in the fucking cellar.”

“Okay, but the fire investigator said it was an electrical fault, right?” Stiles asks. “I don’t know, maybe they were having a slumber party down there or something?”

“It was a regular concrete cellar, Stiles,” Dad says. “It was storage space. There were no bedrooms down there. Not even a couch and a TV. So what the hell were eight people doing down there that night? It doesn’t make any sense, unless…”

Stiles feels a prickling of unease down his spine. “Unless what?”

“Unless it wasn’t just the fire they were trying to get away from,” Dad says, his expression hard. “Unless there was some reason they couldn’t run out the front door, so they tried for the tunnels instead.”

Stiles shivers. “Like what reason?”

Dad gazes around the Preserve. “I don’t know, kid. I really don’t know.”

“You think someone targeted them,” Stiles says, and the realisation is like being doused in cold water. “You think they couldn’t use the doors because whoever set the fire was waiting to pick them off as they came outside. So they tried the tunnels, except they were blocked off somehow too.”

Dad smiles grimly. “Crazy theory, right?”

“Yeah!” Stiles rubs his forehead. “I mean, it’s insane, but it’s also the only thing that fits.”

He understands now why his dad wanted to come out here. It’s been eight years since the fire. There’s no physical evidence left out here. But sometimes it’s important to look at a crime scene to get a sense of the distances, the spaces, even the way the light falls. And sometimes it’s an important reminder that it’s real, that it didn’t just happen on paper and in photographs, and that actual people died here.

Stiles watches as Dad leans heavily on his crutches and looks around the clearing. There’s an old sorrow in his gaze, the weight of what the place is, what it had been once, and of the night itself. Stiles remembers the morning that Dad came home smelling of smoke and ash. He remembers the way his hands shook when washed them in the sink, over and over again, even though they were already clean.

He’s never asked what his dad saw that night, but he knows it was bad.

This isn’t just a puzzle to his dad. This is about his duty to the Hales who lost their lives that night, and the Hales who didn’t.

And, even if Dad doesn’t know it yet, to a tiny Hale who has yet to be born.

***

On the way back to town, down that twisting road through the trees, they pass a black SUV with heavily tinted windows.

It could be a contractor. It could be a sightseer from town. It could be anyone for any reason, but Stiles sees that his dad notes the licence plate number down.

***

Stiles’s stomach tells him that it’s lunchtime when they get home. He pulls the Jeep into the driveway, parking beside the cruiser already there. Deputy Jordan Parrish is leaning on the side of it, and he lifts a hand in greeting.

“Hey, it’s your work son!” Stiles says, waving back at Parrish.

Dad gives him a look. “Where the hell do you even come up with this stuff?”

“Oh, please. You love him. It’s adorable.” Stiles climbs out of the Jeep and heads around to the passenger side to help Dad out, only to find Parrish already there. “Hey, dude.”

“Hey, Stiles. How’s college?”

“Not bad. How’s fighting crime in the vast metropolis of Beacon Hills?”

Parrish makes a so-so gesture with his hand. “I gave out two fines for jay walking last week.”

“Good for you! Jay walkers, man. A scourge on decent society!” He gets ahead of Dad and Parrish so he can get the front door. “Are you staying for lunch, Jordan?”

“Uh, I guess? If I’m not intruding?”

“As if. Dad likes you more than me! I’m making sandwiches.”

“Sounds great.”

Stiles leaves Parrish to get Dad settled in the living room, and heads into the kitchen to rustle up some sandwiches and coffee. He decides on some basic turkey and mayo, with extra lettuce and bean sprouts on Dad’s. When he takes them into the living room, it’s to catch the tail end of Jordan giving Dad the weekly recap of what’s been going on down at the station: current investigations, crime stats, and the continuing saga of the scrub jays that have built a nest overlooking the parking lot and now try to attack anyone walking from the station to their cruiser.

“They’re birds, Parrish,” Dad says, rolling his eyes. “I can’t believe they’re holding the entire station hostage like that.”

“I called the park ranger’s office to see what we should do,” Parrish says. “He laughed at me.”

“Because they’re birds,” Dad repeats, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Anyhow, Stiles and I went out to the old Hale house this morning to take a look around. We saw an SUV on the way back. Can I get you to run the plate for me?”

“Sure thing, Sheriff,” Parrish says, and takes the piece of notepaper Dad hands him. “I can do it now if you want?”

“Eat your lunch first."

Parrish nods, and tucks the paper into his shirt pocket. “The Hales were pretty well known, weren’t they?”

Parrish hasn’t been in Beacon Hills for long enough to remember the Hales, or the house, back when they were whole.

“They were an old family,” Dad says. “Well liked.”

Stiles exchanges a look with him. If they were so well liked, then why the hell was someone targeting them?

“Do you think that now they’re back in town, there’s going to be trouble?” Parrish asks frankly, and this is why Dad likes him. Parrish gets straight to the point, just like Dad.

“I think that’s a possibility we ought to consider,” Dad says. “I think there’s more to the fire than what you’ll find in those files, that’s for sure.”

“You think it was arson,” Parrish says, raising his eyebrows.

“I think it was murder,” Dad tells him. “The fire investigator was adamant it was an electrical fault, but when your house is burning down around you, you don’t shelter in the goddamn basement. You don’t try and get out that way either, not when you’ve got perfectly good doors and windows on the ground floor. Damned if anyone could tell me why they’d do that.”

Stiles feels a rush of excitement. “Dad!”

“Hmm?”

“Dad, eight years ago nobody could tell you, because Laura and Derek weren’t there, right?”

“Right.”

“But Peter Hale was,” Stiles says. “He was in the house. And didn’t the paper say he was the one that applied for the planning permission? He’s awake now, so why not ask him?”

Dad blinks at him for a moment. “Shit, kid. Why the hell didn’t I think of that?”

Stiles knows.

For eight years his dad has gone around and around in circles with the Hale fire, and he’s so used to treading those same paths that he didn’t even realise that something new had shaken loose that might change the entire picture. Hasn’t Dad always said that the thing any old case needs most of all is a fresh set of eyes? Someone to look at things in a different way? And Stiles has always been good for that.

“You’re friends with Laura, you said?” Dad claps him on the shoulder. “Can you get me her uncle’s number?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “I can do that.”

Because Laura is his friend, and he wants to keep her safe.

Her, and the newest Hale that she’s trying to bring into the world.

***

Parrish heads out to his cruiser after lunch and Stiles trails along with him. He watches as he inputs the licence plate into the cruiser’s onboard computer.

“Who the hell is Gerard Argent?” Parrish asks, and writes the information down for Dad. Argent has an Arizona address.

Stiles shrugs and takes the notepaper back. “No idea, man. Probably some lost tourist.”

“Probably,” Parrish agrees.

[theadmiringbog]

It was at these moments that he found college most enjoyable: he was in a warm room, and the next day he would have three meals and eat as much as he wanted, and in between he would go to classes, and no one would try to hurt him or make him do anything he didn’t want to do. Somewhere nearby were his roommates—his friends—and he had survived another day without divulging any of his secrets, and placed another day between the person he once was and the person he was now. It seemed, always, an accomplishment worthy of sleep, and so he did, closing his eyes and readying himself for another day in the world.

--

But it is a singular love, because it is a love whose foundation is not physical attraction, or pleasure, or intellect, but fear. You have never known fear until you have a child, and maybe that is what tricks us into thinking that it is more magnificent, because the fear itself is more magnificent. Every day, your first thought is not “I love him” but “How is he?” The world, overnight, rearranges itself into an obstacle course of terrors.                

--

The skills I gave him were not skills he needed after all. I wish I had nudged him in a direction where his mind could have been as supple as it was, where he wouldn’t have had to harness himself to a dull way of thinking. I felt I had taken someone who once knew how to draw a dog and turned him into someone who instead knew only how to draw shapes. I am guilty of many things when it comes to him. But sometimes, illogically, I feel guiltiest for this. I opened the van door, I invited him inside. And while I didn’t drive off the road, I instead drove him somewhere bleak and cold and colorless, and left him standing there, where, back where I had collected him, the landscape shimmered with color, the sky fizzed with fireworks, and he stood openmouthed in wonder.                

--

It was impossible to explain to the healthy the logic of the sick.              

--

it feels as if he and Rhodes (and he and almost every one of his contemporaries at the firm) are living parallel versions of adulthood. Their world is governed by children, little despots whose needs—school and camp and activities and tutors—dictate every decision, and will for the next ten, fifteen, eighteen years. Having children has provided their adulthood with an instant and nonnegotiable sense of purpose and direction: they decide the length and location of that year’s vacation; they determine if there will be any leftover money, and if so, how it might be spent; they give shape to a day, a week, a year, a life. Children are a kind of cartography, and all one has to do is obey the map they present to you on the day they are born.             

...

His friends have no children, and in their absence, the world sprawls before them, almost stifling in its possibilities. Without them, one’s status as an adult is never secure; a childless adult creates adulthood for himself, and as exhilarating as it often is, it is also a state of perpetual insecurity, of perpetual doubt. Or it is to some people—certainly it is to Malcolm, who recently reviewed with him a list he’d made in favor of and against having children with Sophie, much as he had when he was deciding whether to marry Sophie in the first place, four years ago.                

--

Sometimes I felt that there was something physical connecting us, a long rope that stretched between Boston and Portland: when she tugged on her end, I felt it on mine. Wherever she went, wherever I went, there it would be, that shining twined string that stretched and pulled but never broke, our every movement reminding us of what we would never have again.                

--

And yet he sometimes wondered if he could ever love anyone as much as he loved Jude. It was the fact of him, of course, but also the utter comfort of life with him, of having someone who had known him for so long and who could be relied upon to always take him as exactly who he was on that particular day. His work, his very life, was one of disguises and charades. Everything about him and his context was constantly changing: his hair, his body, where he would sleep that night. He often felt he was made of something liquid, something that was being continually poured from bright-colored bottle to bright-colored bottle, with a little being lost or left behind with each transfer. But his friendship with Jude made him feel that there was something real and immutable about who he was, that despite his life of guises, there was something elemental about him, something that Jude saw even when he could not, as if Jude’s very witness of him made him real.                

--

In graduate school he’d had a teacher who had told him that the best actors are the most boring people. A strong sense of self was detrimental, because an actor had to let the self disappear; he had to let himself be subsumed by a character. 

“If you want to be a personality, be a pop star,” his teacher had said.                

--

He saw how determined he was, he saw how brave he was being. And this reminded him that he, too, had to keep trying. Both of them were uncertain; both of them were trying as much as they could; both of them would doubt themselves, would progress and recede. But they would both keep trying, because they trusted the other, and because the other person was the only other person who would ever be worth such hardships, such difficulties, such insecurities and exposure.                

--

They all—Malcolm with his houses, Willem with his girlfriends, JB with his paints, he with his razors—sought comfort, something that was theirs alone, something to hold off the terrifying largeness, the impossibility, of the world, of the relentlessness of its minutes, its hours, its days. 

--

Rosen Pritchard had always been important to him, but after Caleb it had become essential. In his life at the firm, he was assessed only by the business he secured, by the work he did: there, he had no past, he had no deficiencies. His life there began with where he had gone to law school and what he had done there; it ended with each day’s accomplishments, with each year’s tallies of billable hours, with each new client he could attract. At Rosen Pritchard, there was no room for Brother Luke, or Caleb, or Dr. Traylor, or the monastery, or the home; they were irrelevant, they were extraneous details, they had nothing to do with the person he had created for himself. There, he wasn’t someone who cowered in the bathroom, cutting himself, but instead a series of numbers: one number to signify how much money he brought in, and another for the number of hours he billed; a third representing how many people he oversaw, a fourth for how much he rewarded them. It was something he had never been able to explain to his friends, who marveled at and pitied him for how much he worked; he could never tell them that it was at that office, surrounded by work and people he knew they found almost stultifyingly dull, that he felt at his most human, his most dignified and invulnerable.                

--

Relationships never provide you with everything. They provide you with some things. You take all the things you want from a person—sexual chemistry, let’s say, or good conversation, or financial support, or intellectual compatibility, or niceness, or loyalty—and you get to pick three of those things. Three—that’s it. Maybe four, if you’re very lucky. The rest you have to look for elsewhere. It’s only in the movies that you find someone who gives you all of those things.                

--

Here, in his hands, is Lispenard Street: their apartment, with its odd proportions and slapdash second bedroom; its narrow hallways and miniature kitchen.

[stonerhumortrain]

Film Title:

"Undesirable Mockeries"

A Film Project

A Film To Protect Nicholas

I need to see if they want to kill him.

They are not attracted to me.

I'm a better actress than you. I rather time myself doing math tests.

By Hannah

I'll show my real face. Loser.

Death Threats Are Illegal

This Film Is About Murder

This Film might be set in New York, U.S.A. 

Ask for permission.

By 

Hannah

My novel idea. Ask for permission.

Plot:

Ellis, who is gay and abused for being a genius at a college preparatory high school, has a weird sister named Moxie, who is a drug addict who won many writing awards in high school. 

She ran away from home a lot, as a teenager. She got into trouble for stealing alcohol from the same aged students at her Catholic college preparatory high school who asked her to be their Physics class tutor. That was years ago. They want to be female feminist engineers. They flunked their finals. Their parents yelled at his sister and blamed her. That's why she stole their alcohol and sold it to poor girls at a nearby ghetto who party and do drugs. She also stole those rich girls' designer clothes from their closets and gave them for free to those ghetto girls. She takes photos of them and gives those photos to the mean girls she tutored in envelopes before she runs away again to do drugs at hipster and hippie music concerts.

 People bully her for being different. They harass her a lot. Classmates bully her for posting poetry and her art work of animals that she secretly tortures on her blogs (Ask). She is mentally ill. She pretended to enroll at a local community College and ran away with her drug dealer older boyfriend to Portland, Oregon to start a new life on the first day of school. Road trip. She made money by helping him deal Ecstasy pills to N.Y.U. students. A person overdosed and died. He was mean gay boy who bullied Ellis. That boy threatened publicly out Ellis on the Internet after after he saw him kiss his own boyfriend (Ask). Her older brother questions her. 

She was accepted into UC Berkeley, but she declined because her parents refused to pay for her tuition because of the rehab patient bills. She wants to be a writer. Her older brother yells at her for being "Immature." He joined the Army years ago. (My siblings are all nice to me. I prefer kind treatment.)

She was an overachiever with a mean streak. She liked to torture animals and intimidate girls who tried to act like boys. She would pretend to be a Wiccan (Ask) and make them cut their palms and hold hands as part of the sisterhood. Then, she would pour wine on their hands, hit their heads with baseball bats (Ask) and run away with her friends in a car. She threw rocks at their faces. Ask for permission.

She'd injure them and manipulate them to hurt themselves, like running on top of hot coal at a beach party as a dare (ask) or get punched by a homeless man for telling him to "Grow up." They always try to impress older men.

She sneaks out at night to party a lot. She fights and argues with her parents for being addicted to party drugs. She has to miss her high school graduation to be admitted into a rehabilitation center for self-harm and drug abuse. She uses a variety of addictive drugs. She argues with her younger gay brother a lot. He tells her to stop abusing herself. She won't listen. He tells her, "Be responsible." He offers to drive her to admit herself to rehab and a mental hospital (ask).

She gives him her drug money as tests. He tells her not to bribe him. He tells on her. That is drug money. Drug dealing is illegal. He threatens to call the Police on her for dealing Ecstasy pills that killed an obese girl who is attracted to her father. His sister slipped dry heroin into her Chocolate milkshake. She stalks her blog. She died before eating five cheeseburgers that she ordered to eat by herself in her apartment that her father bought for her after graduating from high school. Her father buys her food, a lot. Incest is illegal. Her father gets arrested by the police after that. They caught them together. His wife, her mother, read their text messages and emails. 

MOXIE: "I did that girl a favor."

MOXIE: "You're a conformist! I'll never be like you. Don't talk to me at all. I'll use all of you."

Platonic people are nice to me. What is the opposite? Good enough. 

Moxie disappears for years. She is over 18. Now, she is 20 years old. 

During Ellis' 18th year as a senior in high school, he feels sorry for his older sister who ran away. She was bullied and abused. 

Ellis tries to apologize and find her. He offers to pay for her rehab bills, if she still does drugs with her friends. He wants her to get better. He can't find her. His boyfriend and him are training to join the Police Academy. He is in the closet to his own family. His parents are Catholics.

One night, someone breaks into the family's house. It's Moxie wearing a white dress covered in blood. She joined a murder Cult. To be initiated into the murder Cult, she has to murder her own parents as offerings to the Cult leader. She was living on a hippie commune where they all smoke Marijuana and do drugs. They murder people for initiation rituals. It's about dominance. She's holding a knife. Her friends have guns, illegally. They follow her.

Her parents are sleeping in their rooms. They put sleeping pills in their dinner. They swapped the fried chicken while their car trunk was open, earlier. Her brother got home with his secret boyfriend.

She doesn't kill them. A murder Cult leader from a different Cult kidnaps Moxie and her younger brother.

At the abandoned warehouse, they get tortured. Ellis runs away to a nearby college campus. Frat guys turn down helping him. Ask. One older man is attracted to him. A fat guy keeps insulting him. 

Moxie dies trying to save her brother, Ellis.

Ellis runs away after they shoot her to death.

Ellis contacts the Police and asks to save his older sister, if there is still time.

Moxie dies on an ambulance bed after apologizing to her younger brother. "I'm not inmortal. Run away." Are her last words.

Ellis and his boyfriend join the Police. They kill murder cults for a living.

Ellis creates a community recreation center and names it after Moxie.

The End.

Homophobia is illegal.

Judge yourselves.

Don't stare at me.

[ackbang]

special delivery to my reibert secret santa: @freckledskittles! they asked for college reibert, where annie has two stupid friends that would be perfect for each other and sets them up on a blind date. and wow, if that ain’t my shit too?? this is my first time writing reibert, and in pure isayama fashion, i do nothing but talk about reiner for 2k words. please enjoy, and happy holidays, my dear. <3

mocha latte

Reiner Braun grew up in the small town of Liberio. It was a town nestled within the foothills of the Virginian Adirondacks; the kind of town that the residents lovingly called a village because there was not much there to make it anything more. Once a popular railway town, it fell into being a town of stagnant quiet that rolled along much like the early morning mists in the valleys. The town square was measured in feet and comprised of one general store, a post office that closed at noon, and a library with three rows of books, all that sat along the only road that left in and out of town.

Life was quiet, and Reiner didn’t know it could be anything more than summer nights filled with the sounds of crickets and jars of lightning bugs. He didn’t know the difference of life outside of three feet of snow and neighbors that lived almost a mile away. He didn’t know about a life that didn’t involve a community, where everybody knew everybody else, where restless mothers with sweating brows caused by heated stoves chatted for hours on phones that still had cords. Where murmurs of the boy without a dad and a mother without a crucifix around her neck was the type of boy you were best to stay away from.

Reiner had been to the city once. He was so small then that he had barely remembered much else besides how tall the buildings had been around him. Like giants, he told his mother, his hand squeezing hers. She smiled down at him and nodded. Told him stories about Greek myths and the great beasts that formed the world. They were called titans, she said. Reiner begged her for more--she had so much control over the knowledge of his world, she might as well had been a god to him at that moment. They spent the rest of the day at the art museum, reading thousand year old stories on old terracotta pots. She bought him a book on mythology that sat with a worn spine on his bookshelf.

The kids turned to teenagers, and Reiner began to fill out his shirts with muscle as his voice grew deeper. He did manual labor throughout the year--chopping wood, shoveling driveways, landscaping. He saved his money and bought books. He saved money because he wasn’t going to be like them. He was going to be different. So many of them were stuck in the foothills, their feet sinking into the soil like old trees, building families before even having a chance to grow themselves. The friends he had were in his books. They were in the mythologies.

His mother brought him to the closest town that had a Wal-Mart to pick up a nice pair of clothing for his high school graduation. She took him to the Waffle House and let him get the All-Star Special. “For my All-Star,” she said, an affectionate grin on her face as she sipped at her light coffee. Reiner was the first one in the family to go to college, and was the only one in his class of forty to leave the state for school.

She was proud.

She was so proud and she said it to him so many times as she helped him move his things into his dorm room. “Eight hours.” She kissed his cheek. “I’m only eight hours away. If you need anything at all, I’ll come get you.” She nodded as she looked into his eyes. Six inches shorter than him, and she still looked so tall--for so long she had been his entire world.

He kissed her cheek back and nodded. “I know, ma. You’re just a phone call away.”

Reiner had no idea. He had no idea how watching her pull out of the parking lot would grip something around his heart so strongly it made him ill. Eight hours felt like an ocean at times. It had only been a few days and he couldn’t bring himself to eat anything at all.

His roommate Connie threw a pack of pop-tart at his face the morning before their first class. “You need to eat something, dude.” The pack fell onto the keyboard of the laptop in his lap.

Reiner ran a hand down his face and blinked a few times. He’d been staring at the schedule of his classes for the past hour, only thinking of how in a couple of weeks, the grass would start frosting in the morning back home. “I will… I will.” He picked up the pack and tore it open, taking a mouthful of both pastries and chewing, crumbs falling from the corner of his lips and landing in the crevices of his keys.

“You play any sports?”

Reiner looked over at Connie. He shrugged. “We didn’t have any sports teams back home.”

Connie laughed. His laughter was always loud but genuine. “What the fuck kinda backwoods place do you come from?”

“Liberio.”

“Where?”

Reiner laughed in response, shoving another mouth full of pastry into his mouth. After he swallowed, he continued. “Yeah. I’ve never played anything outside of touch football.”

“Man, you’d be a beast. You got arms for days.” Connie flexed his muscles and laughed again. Reiner smiled. “There’s open try-outs next week. We should go together.”

Reiner looked back down at his schedule. He had no idea how intense his semester was going to be. He was on course to be a physical therapist eventually--but this semester was full of prerequisites like math and English. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try. It’s not like I’ll ever make it.”

A week later he was Sina University’s football team’s defensive tackle.

Being social didn’t come easy, but people tended to like him. He liked his teammates, and he found himself at parties and tasted cheap beer that never seemed to get him drunk. He kissed his first girl, a short little blonde quiet thing that attached better to the corners of rooms than to people. He followed her outside onto the green lawns that didn’t frost and tried to take her hand. “Let me walk you home,” he said.

He didn’t remember hitting the ground, but it happened and the wind was knocked out of him. He coughed the air back into as she stared down at him. In the night, her eyes looked pale like the moon, and her personality as interesting as a twig. She said her name was Annie, and they became best friends.

Reiner managed well through his first semester. He made good grades while balancing his newly acquired social life. The pain of homesickness was distant at times, but when he went back for winter break, he sat in a pile of snow that made it hard for him to breathe. When he went back inside the house, he watched the steam curl off of his mug of coffee until it ceased. His throat hurt as if he had been talking, and perhaps he had because his mother was smiling bigger than he had ever seen her smile.

“I’m so proud of you, Reiner.”

Reiner finished out his first year on the Dean’s List, and he hugged Connie good bye as they packed up his dorm room to go back home for the summer. “Hopefully we’ll be roomies again, yeah?” Connie stepped back and raised his fist for a fist bump.

Reiner accepted with a nod. “Totally.” He dragged Connie back into a hug before closing the dorm room door behind him.

Summer was lonely, and he found that he missed school like how he missed home. Annie came to visit for a week, and they went hiking and camped at the peak of a mountain in order to watch the sunrise. “This is beautiful.” She said.

“It’s home.” Reiner said softly. He looked down at Annie and he had seen so many movies that plotted like this. He was supposed to reach out and hold her hand. They were supposed to kiss. In this special moment, overlooking the most important place to him, he was supposed to react.

Annie matched his gaze, her eyebrows downcasting. The golden sun caught her pale skin and outlined her in neon. Reiner supposed she was beautiful in all her unique features, but he didn’t feel anything. “What are you looking at?” She said stiffly.

Reiner looked forward, and the sun crept up the sky so immeasurably, it seemed to be stuck in time. “Nothing.” He said.

The next semester started, and Connie was once again his roommate. He juggled through practice and games and studying and classes, and somehow having regular hang-outs with Annie. He told her about the blonde cheerleader that always looked at him. “I think she really likes me.” He said, biting into a mediocre school burger.

“Nope.”

“What?” Reiner covered his mouth with a napkin when he realized he was losing pieces of food from his gaping mouth.

“She’s gay.” Annie said, matter of factly.

“No way.” Reiner swallowed. He’d never really known anybody that was gay. “She doesn’t look like she would be.”

“What, does she have to wear a sign around her neck or something?” Annie rolled her eyes and dropped her fork next to her salad. “Listen. I know somebody you should try out.”

“I’m fine.” Reiner sighed. It’s not that he didn’t want to experiment with relationships. Despite being an outcast for so long, college turned him into somebody new. He’d become the big brother to his team, even helped tutor some of them when they needed it. He already had too many social obligations as it was. “I don’t have time for a girlfriend.”

“Just trust me. They’re a mega nerd like you and your weird… Mythology obsession.”

Reiner raised an eyebrow and nodded. With a gentle laugh, he took a gulp of his water before nodding again. “Fine.”

Annie setup the date at the school coffee shop. She had a few instructions: wear the red letterman jacket, get there at 2PM, and don’t try to be a gentleman and take the bill. “Most importantly,” she said, “Be yourself.”

And it was at that time that Reiner forgot how it was even like to be himself. Back home, he had been a recluse. He kept himself busy with carrying logs and sleeping under the stars. He had worlds inside his head with monsters that made storms with their breaths and created mountains with their bodies. At school, he found himself to be whatever people needed him to be. He sat at the metal table picking at a callous on his palm, feeling more homesick than he did when his mother first left him here--a whole ocean away.

He tapped his phone awake. 2:13. His eyes wandered across the cafe, to the entrance, then back at his phone. 2:13. He sighed and hung his head.

Eren and Jean had called him their big brother. Armin helped him drill down the difference between sins and cosines. Connie stayed up late with him watching movies from the early nineties that Reiner had never seen. His friends were part of who he was now, but is that all he was?

2:18. He paused and stared at the tall man sitting at the window--skin that matched the color of his mother’s coffee, hair deep as mocha. Reiner looked back down at his hand and picked at a scab on his index finger.

He was about legends and giants and worlds so large and vast that they couldn’t contain his size. He was going to be greater than anything that came out of that small little town.

2:25. Reiner gasped a little when the tall man matched eyes with him. His eyes were sad, his brow withered in worry, and they darted away as soon as they met. Reiner shook his head, agitated that he had been stood up by this mystery girl, and rose from his seat. The legs of his chair screeched on the concrete floor, and his shoes squeaked as he passed a few tables and stopped in front of the tall man.

“Hey.” Reiner said. He didn’t have to tilt his head too far down to look into the sitting man’s face. He turned his attention to the man’s coffee cup, and saw it to be empty, a dark pool of mocha remaining at the bottom of the mug.

The man startled so abruptly that his chair wailed under him. “H-hey.”

“Looks like my date stood me up.” Reiner said, pulling the chair opposite out and taking a seat. “You look like you could use some company.” Reiner landed his elbow on the table and extended his hand. “Name’s Reiner.”

The man looked at the hand as if it were a cobra, the soft sheen of sweat at his forehead shining under the large lamp above the table. He raised his hand and connected firmly with Reiner’s and shook it once. His palms were sweaty, and it made Reiner smile. “Bertholdt.”

Reiner took back his hand and folded his arms across his chest. “What are you doing here lookin’ so glum?”

Bertholdt shrugged.

Reiner hummed. He looked Bertholdt up and down, studied the size of his nose, the color of his eyes, and found himself focussing oddly on the length of his neck and how the tendon tensed every time he swallowed. The white polo collar that popped out from under the teal sweater set him apart from the jocks he had grown accustomed to hanging out with. He was one pair of glasses away from being a nerd.

“There’s an exhibit going on at the art museum about Irish folklore.”

Bertholdt searched Reiner’s face and a smile cheated across his lips. It reminded Reiner of home somehow. “That sounds nice.”

“Wanna go?” They stared at each other for a few more moments before Reiner added, “I mean, I left today open for a date, and now I’m bored so…” Reiner shook his head, slapping a hand to his forehead. “N-not that it’s a date. Jesus.”

Bertholdt relaxed into his seat and laughed. It reminded Reiner of summer nights with jars full of lightning bugs. “That sounds fun.” He lifted his hand up and fingered the curve of the coffee mug handle. “But I’ve already been to it.” He smiled, and it looked strained but eager to remain on his lips. “How about we go to the natural history museum instead?”

Reiner smiled big, his teeth showing. He thought of books with worn spines, and wondered if Bertholdt had any of his own. “Sure.” He nearly spit it out, the excitement thrumming in his chest. “That sounds great.”

[gilliansanderson]

If Ever There Is Tomorrow; Chapter 1

An AU in which Mulder and Scully meet three times over the course of their lives; told in a series of vignettes.

Tagging @today-in-fic and fulfilling my @fictober promise. I also wanted to dedicate this one to all the lovely, talented people who helped me out during the @fic-files write-in, because without their support and feedback I probably would not have had the courage to put this out there.

1. As Time Goes By

Spring, 1993

The end of the 20th century is only the beginning. Change hits the nineties at a breakneck speed; Hair is getting bigger, technology is getting smaller, colors are getting brighter while the climate begins to suffer, but in the midst of a new era, some old skeletons are about to be unearthed. The third time they meet is the least bloody, yet opens more wounds. It comes, like the times before, suddenly and without warning.

Well, that’s not entirely true. Mulder had been given plenty of warning when Skinner had informed him he was being assigned a partner; A scientist who was to, no doubt, disprove his work and report back to the kind of men he was fighting. To keep him in line and keep him from going overboard. This hadn’t come as a surprise, he always knew the closer he got to the truth, the more curveballs they would throw his way. What made him almost fall out of his chair was the name, Dana Scully.

A name he couldn’t claim had never crossed his mind.

Dana Scully haunted him like an intrusive thought or the vague memory of a strange fever dream. She reminded him of a time he would much rather forget, yet the feeling lingered; the possibility that maybe one day, their paths might cross again. When he’d heard that she’d enlisted he found himself needlessly frequenting Quantico in the hope and the dread of catching a flash of ginger hair. Her thesis was printed and dog-eared the moment it was published; because challenging one of the greatest minds the world has ever known was something so quintessentially Dana Scully, and he was ever the masochist.

His hopes were not high; he didn’t expect her to accept this assignment, and he certainly didn’t suppose she would darken his basement door that very same day, but suddenly, here she is, smiling down on him from the high road.

“Agent Mulder,” she says quietly, with an air of disbelief, “I’ve been assigned to work with you,”

They shake hands like strangers, his fingers burn at her touch; the sensation lingers even after her hand falls away. She had always run as warm as her complexion, His summer girl had become fall. Her hair is darker, neatly tamed. She teeters precariously on heels that give her precious extra inches, that demand he looks her in the eye. Her ill-fitting tweed suit hangs awkwardly on her slender frame; the whole ensemble reminds him of a child playing make-believe. Hidden is her rebellious heart under sensible attire and a polite smile; the heart he knows he broke, and one he refuses to break again.

So he puts down his slides and puts up his guard.

“Isn’t it nice to be so highly regarded? So who’d you tick off to get stuck with this detail, Scully?”

For a moment she’s stunned, then the next she recovers, “Actually, I’m looking forward to working with you,” she tells him.

He responds with a bitter smile, “Oh really? I was under the impression that you were sent to spy on me.”

A fire sparks behind her eyes, she looks as if she was about to retort before he cuts her off. “I’m surprised you didn’t object to your placement, Scully, what with our tempestuous history,”

She hesitates, he hates that she hesitates, hates that he makes her hesitate. “I can’t say I wasn’t caught off guard,” she admits, “Though I knew it was a possibility we would run into each other when I started working at the Bureau…”

“Yes, this is interesting happenstance isn’t it, Doctor?” She tenses, Mulder stands and brushes past her in order to miss her patented Scully glare.

“If you’re suggesting that you played any part in any decision concerning my career…”

“I’m not suggesting anything, I just always supposed you’d be headed towards a Nobel prize by now, yet here you are wasting your talents in the basement with me,”

Scully blinks and tilts her pointed chin, “You think I’m wasting my talents here, Mulder?”

“It’s just that in most of my work, the laws of physics rarely seem to apply,” he shrugs and hits the lights. In the unearthly glow of his projector, Scully looks like a ghost.

He shows her the dead kids, barely older than they had been, once upon a time. He tells her his theories, she rebukes them with a smirk, slowly the ice begins to thaw and a familiar feeling begins to take root.

Then she leaves, and the basement feels darker and emptier than it ever had before. So Scully was back in his life and maybe, plausibly, this time she would stay. Mulder locks the office door behind him that evening and whistles the whole way home.

Fall, 1978

September in Connecticut, 1978 is record-breaking. The air as thick and hot as soup, her stiff collared shirt clings to her skin and dampens at the base of her neck. She wipes away the sweat beading on her forehead with the end of her ugly striped green tie and ignores the disapproving look her mother gives her.

Dana had always marvelled at how the air was always different in every new place they landed, she secretly ranked them from the icy unforgiving winds of the Scottish moors to the serene and exotic air of Japan. Greenwich so far was not doing too well on this list, however, it looked like she was going to have to get used to it. She had long since gotten used to the routine of neatly packing up her life in matching suitcases and burying a lunchbox in the backyard.

Melissa left a trail of broken hearts behind them like push pins in a map. Her sister had always been better at making friends, she claimed it had something to do with her aura, Dana wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, only that hers was probably broken. Usually, by the time she had started warming to people, her father would sit the four of them on the couch and tell them it was time to start saying goodbyes, so Dana eventually stopped trying to find people to say goodbye to.

She had her friends, they were called Mom, Ahab, Missy and Charlie. Sometimes Bill, when he wasn’t being a pain in the A Double-S. They were all she really needed. When she was very young, she even had an imaginary friend called Lucy, who took the form of a red squirrel. Lucy would curl up behind her hair and whispered secrets in her ear. Dana liked the fact that nobody else could see her, that she was hers and hers alone.

Sometimes she would pen a letter to the boy who had forgotten her, only to burn it in the bathtub with her mother’s lighter.

But still, her Mom always tried. She heard her arguing sometimes with her father that it wasn’t good for them, that kids needed stability. It looked like this year she had finally won the war and a house was bought, not rented.

She shifts uncomfortably as her bare thighs stick to the Principals rigid leather seats. The Principal in question was a tall British woman with large teeth, a sensible mousey bob and a collection of motivational animal posters. Dana catches the eye of a mournful kitten hanging from a curtain, encouraging her to Hang In There! and somehow feels even less optimistic.

“Now Diana, a little birdy told me that you’re especially talented at Science is that right, dear?” She smiles in a condescending way that makes Scully bristle. Bill snickers to her right, Missy kicks him in the shin on her behalf.

“It’s Dana, Ms Paterson,” Her mother corrects her patiently.

“Oh, my apologies, Dana.”

Dana represses the urge to roll her eyes, instead, begins to fiddle with the brand new chain around her neck. Naturally she was the last of the three to be enrolled, but unfortunately for her, also the one the school was most interested in.

“As I was saying, it seems you are just the model student, and if you don’t mind the extra work, we might be able to sign you up to the tutoring scheme, we have a nice young man who is in need of a little extra help in physics,”

Maggie nods encouragingly at her, clearly ecstatic at the prospect of her troubled young daughter making a friend. Dana tries feebly to muster her mothers’ enthusiasm,

“Sure, Miss, sounds… neat,”

“Wonderful,” she croons, “I hope you don’t mind, but I already took the pleasure of asking Fox to come by the office, so you could get to know each other,”

Dana’s hand stilled at the base of her throat, she felt her mother stiffen beside her, and her siblings’ squabbles fall silent. No. It couldn’t be that uncommon a name. “Fox?” she falters.

“Yes, quite an odd name isn’t it? He’s truly lovely boy, very very bright, unfortunately, he had to be held back a year…” Ms Paterson yammers on, but Dana had long since stopped hearing her words, as a minute later he appeared.

He was taller and lanky, the skin on his cheeks textured and he was in dire need of a haircut, but he was undoubtedly the same wide-eyed boy who had been her first real friend. And with wide eyes, he stares at her from the doorway, as if he couldn’t believe them himself.

“Scully?”

Framed by a halo of light from the hall, the image of him becomes blurred by the tears which spring to her eyes. Her chair falls backwards with a heavy thud as shoots to her feet. She mutters an apology to the baffled headmistress before she hurries from the room.

“Scully,” Mulder pleads, catching her hand as she darts past and clutches it tight. Electricity floods her veins. She looks into those familiar hazel eyes and pauses only a moment before she pulls her hand away and runs.

Summer, 1969

The summer of ‘69 is worthy of its song. Rock and Roll is at its peak, a man walks on the moon, and somewhere in New England, a lonely little boy meets a lonely little girl.

With a startled wail and a resounding thump, she falls out of a tree into his yard and into his life.

The day until that moment had been dull and unremarkable. Having escaped captivity and found refuge in his favourite spot, under a tall oak tree overlooking the tranquil sea; Fox William Mulder, seven and three quarters, jumps with a start and stares at the heap of limbs and hand me downs, as it groans then starts to giggle.

“Are you okay?” he asks, as his initial shock subsides.

“Yeah, yeah,” it says, “I’m fine,”

Dana Katherine Scully, six and a half, sits up to brush off the worst of the debris but lets out a sharp gasp as a lightning bolt of pain shoots through her wrist. However, being the tough cookie she was having grown up playing rough with William Scully Jr, the sprain was not enough to make her cry.

“You don’t look okay, you’re bleeding,” Mulder observes. She touches a hand to her mouth which sure enough, comes away red. Between them on the crisply trimmed grass lies a pearly white tooth. The ruffled girl picks it up and studies it curiously, tonguing the fresh gap in her gums, then tucks it into the pocket of her overalls.

“I guess you’re gonna see the tooth fairy,” he lisps, gesturing to his own missing front teeth. Her freckles dance as she wrinkles her nose.

“The tooth fairy isn’t real,” she replies, spitting scarlet on the ground and wiping her mouth on her arm, staining her skin like war paint.

“Is too, and so is Santa Claus,”

He offers a hand to help her to her feet, which she takes with a bloody, gap-toothed grin. This girl was brand new, he knew every fresh face in this small seaside town, and not one of them had ever smiled at him like that before. She’s all skinned elbows and scabby knees. She looks like she was spat out by the sun, with a fiery rat’s nest of auburn hair and a mischievous gleam in her bright blue eyes. He feels like Isaac Newton, hit on the head with the discovery of the century.

“You’re not from around here are you?” he asks.

She shakes her head, “No, we just moved here this week. My Dad’s gone to sea, I was trying to see his boat from up there when I slipped,” She replies, gesturing to the web of twisted branches above their heads.

“He’s a pirate?” he jokes; she quirks a little brow.

“No. He’s a Captain,”

“Captain Hook?”

Fox Mulder is still at the age where girls are kind of gross, but the sincerity with which this pretty tomboy laughs makes his ears turn red regardless. She was like a breath of fresh air after spending the whole day trapped inside a stuffy room, which incidentally he had.

“Fox,” he blurts at her, suddenly losing his cool.

“What did you call me?” she replies hotly, her un-injured hand flying self-consciously to her mussed red hair.

“No! my name is – “

“Fox!” They jump at the booming disembodied voice calling from the house a few meters away, “What in the hell are you doing?”

“Crap,” he mutters. Scully can’t help but flinch at the use of the word which would have cost her her dessert. “I’m supposed to be grounded, I think I’d better go,”

She tries not to be disappointed, but finds herself reluctant to say goodbye to this curious boy with a strange sense of humor, who believes in myths and fairy tales; but he makes no move to leave, equally unwilling to say goodbye to the girl who dresses like a boy and smells like the sea, who climbs trees and doesn’t cry when she falls. They eye each other hesitantly until finally, she breaks the silence.

“Your name is Fox?” she asks.

He makes a face, “Yeah, but I hate it. I like my last name better. It’s Mulder,”

“Mulder,” she tries it on her tongue and decides she likes the taste. She straightens her back and offers her hand like she’s seen adults do a thousand times before. “Ok. Nice to meet you, Mulder, my name’s Dana, but I guess you can call me Scully,”

“Scully,” he beams and takes her tiny, dirty hand in his. They shake in childish ignorance to how their stars had just aligned.

[rhyvrtho]

So, I've realized that in order to thrive here I have to do something that I wish I didn't have to. I have to change my voice. I've become too relaxed, fortunately but unfortunately, at this stage in my transition, too fortunately but unfortunately mostly only surrounding myself with other queer and trans folks with whom it doesn't matter.

But I've come to realize that my only way to financially survive in this cultural climate is to "go stealth", as they say, unfortunately, and that means I need a habitual voice that passes for female, at all times. I've become so lax in affecting 'a natural female voice' that now when I do, my voice goes hoarse after just an hour or so. I used to raise the pitch of my voice a lot. Now I scarcely do.

I'm not reaching my potential, and I've realized how very afraid I've become of succeeding in life, and a lot of that has to do with increasingly self-segregating as a queer and trans person here in the South, and in China the last couple years before I left.

I'm about to print some business cards and make a much more comprehensive effort to get some solid tutoring going.

If you have any friends with kids learning (or you yourself are learning or want to learn) Chinese or French (or basic Spanish or German even) in school, and they want tutoring for that, send them my way please.  I am not "American mobile" though -- I do not own a car. Public libraries, coffee shops, your home in Charleston, or online via Skype or Messenger for at-distance learners!

Languages are where I am most experienced in teaching, including English language arts, though sciences are also a solid check in my list. I can no longer offer tutoring services for a mere $15~20/hour, however. I'm worth more than that. My experience is worth more than that. I could be making $30~$60 per hour instead of having to pull all these bill balancing acts every month, or working for people in jobs that have nothing to do with my wealth of past professional experience, having lived and taught in China for 6 years and France for 1 year. I also would love to launch a China tour guide service for queer and trans people who want to visit Mainland China or Taiwan but are unsure how to navigate. This service would necessitate flying me to and from the destination with you, all my expenses on the ground covered, plus the actual fee for my touring and translation services, which naturally would be rad af ^_^

I'm happy I walked away from my 'decent paying job' recently because of the toxic environment in which my work ethic was being maddeningly taken advantage of with little return except superficial material comfort. The emotional labor there was a borderline abusive relationship with my employer, when you're essentially forced to manage disturbingly unreliable employees but you're not paid like a manager. I'm worth so much more.

But now I can't even sleep well every night because financially I'm facing a rough road ahead if I don't land something solid asap.

So, I will be changing my voice, indefinitely. Please help me not feel like a phony or a sellout for doing so. I would also appreciate any *objective critiques* using an objective ear, not a trans/queer-positive ear. Queer & (nonbinary) trans folks don't care or judge what your voice sounds like, but I'm saying that I'm requesting to be JUDGED, critiqued, and guided without filters.  I have little choice but to essentially go stealth as a trans woman out in the world, which also means a few other changes I have to make because really I'm just so nonbinary and genderqueer, androgynous sometimes even.

Thanks for your support as I permanently change my habitual voice. I have all the techniques down btw. It's just a matter of habituation and establishing that physical muscle memory so that it becomes second nature. I used to pretty much be there, but then I stopped caring and let my voice drop again.  Trans men, you're lucky in at least that aspect that your voice gets changed *for* you with testosterone. Trans women aren't so fortunate there with estradiol. But hey, I know we have some transition advantages too ^_^  Green grass green grass.

PM me on here for serious inquiries about my tutoring or touring services.

[cheapestvirtualoffice-blog]

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[niconiconoided-blog]

big attention grabbing title please help me out y’alls

EDIT: thanks to a few generous souls we should have enough to get my car taken care of now!! leaving the links and all up as every bit will help in the weeks while the car is being repaired and i’m still trying to land a job.  BIG thank you to those who have donated and reblogged!! <3

im sure some of you saw me or ry talking about it but uh, my car needs some pretty major repairwork done, and what we thought would be $70 worth of repairs is coming closer to $500, which we don’t just have sitting around at the moment

we had to go out to get a prescription during some big rains and flooding in our area, and the dirt roads around our house tore up the undercarriage and we went the wrong angle and speed into a ditch and it tore the oil filter out and busted the radiator. 

for anyone who doesn’t know us we’re both trans, gay, very mentally ill and affected by various physical health problems as well

tl;dr: we need help to repair my car, or else i’ll be basically trapped at home and we’ll be struggling with bills. i have some skills and am willing to negotiate some work in exchange, but would appreciate any help including reblogs

my paypal is at turbosaturns@gmail.com, any bit helps

we live out on dirt roads past the city limits, and chronic pain hinders my ability to hike the ~8 or so miles(significantly on large inclines, declines, and otherwise unven dirt roads) to the nearest businesses, so i’m reliant on rys family for transportation, and of course this isn’t sustainable

on top of that, just a few days before the car was damaged, i had to quit my job 2 hours away for health reasons(mainly related to my mental health), so even if i could travel anywhere on my own at the moment, i’m not pulling in any income, and between the job market in this area and my surname(hispanic last name going to local businesses in a higher end, predominately white city) i’m already having a difficult time landing a new job, let alone with difficulties attending interviews and getting to work.

because of missed work and my bills, i have been unable to keep a savings, and currently have less than $100 to my name.  i have a sizeable chunk of what was my regular monthly income due each month to credit card bills, though mostly towards my car payment and insurance, which goes directly to my unforgiving mother.  due to this i’m also unable to start any sort of therapy or medication, as i was hoping to do by now and which very severely impacts my ability to obtains and hold a stable job

If you want any more details about things such as our financial situation, health situation, living situation, etc please message me and i will try to clear up as much as i can. please feel free to message me if you would like to either be paid back(which i cant guarantee any time soon, though i will do my best to work something out) or if you would like work done in exchange.

my skills primarily revolve around computers and language skills.  i am willing to give advice and guide with HTML, CSS, and certain aspects of javascript, php, and perl.  I’m willing to create things such as custom about pages or themes for private websites.  I’m also willing to do small scale translation from or to japanese, including help with ordering online from japanese websites such as amazon japan.

I can also tutor beginner or lower intermediate level japanese, and am open to other academic services such as helping with self study plans, writing or proofreading papers in english or simple japanese, or english language exchange. 

i can also do things such as promo you, or feature a link of your choice on my website, which will(hopefully soon) include some translations again.

please contact me before sending anything if you wish to have any services in exchange, otherwise i can not guarantee my end or repayment.

thank you again to anyone who may help

[maritzaerwin]

14 Nontraditional Teaching Jobs Outside the Typical Classroom

Teaching in a traditional classroom setting can be exhausting. There’s the physical exhaustion of staying up late grading papers, the emotional drain of guiding an (often too large) group of emotionally needy students, and the mental strain of gathering and coordinating curriculum all year long.

No wonder over 44% of new public and private educators leave teaching within 5 years of starting their careers. If you’re feeling overwhelmed by teaching in the classroom, though, you don’t need to bail on your profession to find relief. There are so many other options for an educator to consider outside of the daily classroom grind.

Preparing for a Career Shift

While there are numerous options for an ambitious educator besides the typical K-12 classroom teaching structure, that doesn’t mean you can simply apply to a new job and assume everything will pan out without any bumps in the road.

That’s why it’s important to prepare yourself for the career shift that lies ahead. Sure, you’ll still be in the educational field, but corporate training, freelance writing, and even online tutoring require dramatic shifts in nearly every aspect of your professional life. With that in mind, here are a few thoughts to help you begin to prepare for the changes ahead:

a) Set Yourself Up for Success

Sometimes it’s the little things in life that matter the most. While you may be used to having free rein in your classroom, many of the jobs listed above require dramatic changes in your work environment. That’s why it’s helpful to pause, consider your potential new professional future, and then take some time to set the stage for success.

For instance, if you’re considering a work-from-home option, you may be looking forward to the sudden absence of 20 children taking up your social faculties on a daily basis. It may sound like a relief at first, but the change may be more jarring than you think. Make sure to create a stress-free environment in your home where you can acclimate to the shift without new stressors making you anxious, like extra classroom clutter you brought home with you.

b) Shift Your Mindset

Next up, make sure to give yourself time to shift your mindset from a classroom environment. Consider your own personal goals, what you want to accomplish, and how you’re going to go about doing so in your new job. Then, take time to develop good habits, like meditation, prayer, and morning routines, that will help you shift into your new career without too many ruffled feathers.

c) Assess Your Skill Set

Last and certainly not least, take some time to assess your skills before you begin applying for jobs. Consider things like:

Interpersonal skills.

Problem-solving.

Presentation and communication skills.

Counseling capabilities.

Project management.

Writing, editing, and researching.

Understanding your own skillset will go a long way in helping you hone in on what option — or options — is the best for this next step in your career.

Image Source: Pexels.com

Teaching Jobs Outside of the Classroom

Below is an extensive list of career opportunities outside of the classroom. Some are alternatives in brick-and-mortar schools, while others offer opportunities to take your skills into other industries.

1) Advocate for Your Colleagues

When you taught, were you a part of your district’s teacher’s union? The National Education Association operates offices throughout the country and is the country’s largest employee organization. Members of the NEA advocate for educational progress, but they also work to protect the rights of students via the development of educators.

If you have a history of participating in political demonstrations or protests, take that passion and put it to use by lobbying for the NEA. Nonprofits like the NEA are always looking for experienced volunteers and employees to be their advocates and lobbyists for change.

2) Community Educator

Do you want to give back to your community in another meaningful way, but you want to continue to educate rather than make overt political statements? Community education is a perfect way to do this, and it comes in many forms. You can join the staff of your local YMCA or Boys and Girls Club creating and administering programs for both adults and children.

Are you an educator in a part of the country with high recidivism rates? You can contribute to lowering these rates by working in prisons and jails to offer educational opportunities. Studies show that the more education someone leaves incarceration with, the less likely he or she is to re-offend. If you offer Master’s level training, you can contribute to an effectively 0% recidivism rate.

3) Climb the Ladder

If you’re feeling trapped by the classroom, one simple solution is to head on up. Look for administrative positions within your school system or even another. From helping to coordinate curriculum right on up to a principal position, there are plenty of career alternatives likely within the four walls of your educational institution.

4) Take Your Passions Overseas

If you love teaching but you need something fresh and new, try taking your educating chops overseas. For instance, many countries are looking for English teachers, and if you speak it as your first language and have a degree to back things up, you’ll be more likely to land a foreign position if you choose to submit an international application.

5) Consider Tutoring

The developing role of teachers in the modern world has shifted educators’ collective priorities. With search engines, eLearning, and the Internet of Things available to provide ever-increasing quantities of facts and figures, students no longer always require a human teacher to give them data.

However, students still need teachers to guide and inform them on how to process that data. Often that takes the form of one-on-one instruction. Tutoring fits this bill perfectly, naturally making it an excellent alternative to a traditional classroom career.

6) Become a Corporate Trainer

If you’re looking for a break from working with younger students, you can look for opportunities to transition your career into a more professional setting. Consider looking for educational positions within corporate workspaces. These can be full-time for a larger company or as a contractor for smaller businesses that can’t afford to bring a trainer on staff.

Today’s larger companies are taking employee training and development very seriously — a 2018 survey by LinkedIn found that 94% of employees would have remained with an organization longer if more had been invested by the company in their careers. To that end, corporations are investing in a new C-suite officer: the Chief Learning Officer. Your experience as a classroom educator can be leveraged to build and manage learning and development programs for personnel in a variety of industries.

Corporate education can take multiple forms other than providing instruction for employees. For instance, writing coaches are commonly hired by companies in order to fill skills-gaps in their recently graduated employees who lack simple business writing capabilities. Corporate education can also manifest in the form of teaching clients about a company’s products. For example, often reps will be sent abroad to teach B2B customers how to use a company’s software.

7) Administer Tests

End-of-the-year testing can be complicated, and many states have strict requirements on who can administer them. Consider setting yourself up to oversee academic tests such as the SAT, MCAT, and ACT tests. While the specific process to become certified may vary by state, as a bona fide teacher, you likely already have the difficult part of the qualifications out of the way.

8) Join an Educational Publication

One way to stay in the educational world without the need to step foot in a classroom is by joining a publication. There are numerous publications focused on education, and landing a position as a writer or editor can allow you to express your educational prowess from a new angle.

You can use platforms like these to branch out from the restrictive methods and curricula of a particular school. You can dive into topics like educational techniques, the Heuristic Method of Learning, homeschooling versus public schooling, or the strengths of classical education.

9) Sell Curriculum

Many educational companies attend conventions to sell their materials. You may have even attended one of these as a teacher for your school. Try flipping the script and working on the other side of those vendor booths. Look for a curriculum company you believe in and apply to work the vendor halls for them.

Teaching Jobs From Home

In the internet age, every industry is increasingly growing more remote in nature — and the educational sector is no exception. Below are a variety of partial or entirely remote and freelance positions that can enable you to educate from home and — dare we say it — even while dressed in your pajamas at times.

10) Take Your Tutoring Online

Becoming an online tutor is a great way to marry your passion to educate with that common desire to, well, not leave your house at 6 am every morning. There are many sites, like Kaplan Test Prep and Tutor.com that connect tutors with students all over the world. Best of all, when you tutor, you can do it on your own schedule. And you can do it after you’ve retired from the classroom if you want to.

11) Explore eLearning

If you love teaching a class, but you abhor the brick-and-mortar setting, consider getting a position at an eLearning company. There are many companies that offer online teaching jobs, and this can provide a nice change of pace without dramatically altering your career path.

It can also be an excellent way to tap into some of the trending teaching options that mix traditional and technological methods, such as blended learning and encouraging students to collaborate online with the oversight of an educator.

12) Develop Curriculum

You’ve taught curriculum for years. Maybe it’s time to take that experience and create a curriculum yourself. Depending on your focus, experience, and expertise, you can help curriculum publishers on the backend — such as developing the software that makes an eLearning program tick — or you can even look for opportunities to research and create the material itself.

13) Create Crafts for Teachers Pay Teachers

If you’re feeling adventurous, you may want to take the whole “creative curriculum” idea to the next level. Use your classroom experience to begin developing your own projects, crafts, and unit studies to sell on Teachers Pay Teachers. The crowdsourced site is filled with countless success stories of educators that found new levels of success by sharing their own creativity with struggling fellow teachers.

14) Look for an Educational Blog

Finally, consider looking for an educational blog that speaks your language and is popular enough to pay its staff. You can apply for a writing, editing, content managing, or even a graphic design position and vent your educational opinions to the blogosphere. If you can find several sites that are hiring, you can even cobble together a successful freelance career, and leave your classroom behind for good.

If you can’t find an existing educational blog that speaks to you, start your own. How do you think those blogs got started? Edutopia offers a host of tips and tricks for creating your own educational blog, including a 30-day challenge to jumpstart your creativity. If you want to do it on your own, just hop onto a free web hosting site and get started. In 2020, it’s easy to set up your own site and start writing away on your favorite teaching subjects.

Educating Outside of the Classroom

From a school principal to running a booth at an education convention, tutoring online, or selling your own products on Teachers Pay Teachers, there are numerous ways to shift your focus from a traditional classroom to a more unique educational career.

However, it’s essential that you don’t make a change of this nature without carefully considering your situation first. Hastily making a life-altering career shift simply because you’re bored or overwhelmed can lead to headaches in the future. Take the time to assess your skills and goals and then make a wise decision. It may sound cliche, but as a modern educator, the world really is your oyster. You just need to decide what you truly are passionate about and then intentionally pursue it.

The post 14 Nontraditional Teaching Jobs Outside the Typical Classroom appeared first on CareerMetis.com.

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[myplusminus]

A message to my friends.

Today is my birthday and that marks 35 years of life, and 35 years of struggling with bipolar.

I posted a sort of desperate status not too long ago when I was in a bit of a state, and I realised that many of you don’t even know what’s going on with me – a few friends have suggested I write this to help people understand.  I’d also like to dispel some of the myths and stigma surrounding bipolar.

 HISTORY:

Bipolar can be genetic and it does run in my family.  Unfortunately my grandfather had it too.  He was a very conservative man who would be very unconservative when he was manic – sleeping with woman he shouldn’t (he was with my Grandmother) and doing drugs which he disagreed with otherwise amongst other things.  I also have 2 cousins with bipolar.

 TYPE:

There are a few different types of bipolar.  I have “bipolar 1” which is considered the most serious form of bipolar, described as:

 “Bipolar 1 is “classic” or “textbook” manic-depressive illness, with serious and damaging episodes of both mania and depression. In a severe manic episode a person can lose all touch with reality. Left untreated a manic episode can last anywhere from a few days to several years.”

 Although it is sometimes true, unlike the public perception of bipolar, I am not wildly cycling through moods.  For me it has been more slow-burning.  I can be depressed for 3 months to 2 years and at one point I was on and off manic for a period of about 3 years.  There are also many different types of moods such as “dysphoric mania” and “mixed” etc. but for the sake of simplicity I’ll just stick to depression and mania.

 I’ll start with MANIA:

 The public perception is that this is a great feeling, almost like a drug, like ecstasy.  I have experienced this kind of mania and it can be great.  Everything and everybody is fascinating, it’s great for socialising (most people love to talk about themselves and I will be full of questions), my brain seems to be working very fast, creativity is on overdrive and I could stay up for days studying.

The downside to this state is your inhibitions, morals and self-control melt away. I am a deeply moral person and rate my self-worth on my ability to be honour these morals.

When I am manic, I will happily barrel on through destroying everything I have made. I will buy all sorts of strange things off the internet spending all my money, tell my boss exactly what I think of them, sleep with people I shouldn’t, say incredibly thoughtless things to people I care about, destroy projects I have been working on for months etc.  

I can also be really annoying.  I remember repeatedly sending this picture of a dog (this one https://www.vexels.com/editables/preview/137533/dog-meme-generator#/) to one of my colleagues via instant messenger, then I emailed it, then I taped pictures of it to his chair/phone/desk etc. For some reason I thought this was hilarious and I didn’t seem to be able to stop.  I really pissed that guy off.

The more textbook “crazy” things I did that people like to lap up about us crazies is things like believing I was going to be abducted by aliens (I was 14, and fuck you Whitley Streiber) and having a full blown panic attack when a helicopter flew over our house, believing I could control traffic and that one time I went to China to start a business.

Now the DEPRESSION:

Eventually the mania wears off and I am left picking up the pieces of my damaged relationships, job, my belongings and I’m still receiving weird shit in the mail.

The gravity of what I have done fully hits me.  I go to work trying to be as invisible as possible, I could be absolutely blanked by previous friends, my boss is pissed at me.  I have to apologise to my family for the gazillionth time, I have no money for bills/food and I just want to curl up into a ball under a blanket somewhere and never come out.

I can get into really dark places.  The worst things my brain can imagine will present themselves in my head and I am helpless to stop them.  It maliciously discovers the things that are the most upsetting to me.  Dark, horrifying images, any bad thing I ever done and feel guilty about, reminding me on a very deep level what an awful, despicable person I am. The events are played over and over and over. I don’t feel like people properly appreciate the horror of this, I’ve described it there in a few sentences but I experience it for hours at a time, on and off for days to months.  As I said, this can go on for years.  I just go through the motions and do nothing but work, eat and sleep.  I stay away from socialising or any situation that could possibly go wrong - in case I screw something up there and have another thing to replay in my head.   And I’m still getting weird shit in the mail.

I am lucky enough to have an amazing tight family unit that loves me and either understand or just try to understand what I am going through.  They offer their support every time.  I will have picked up all the pieces and be starting to get better when it will happen again.  

The thing that cuts me the deepest in these episodes is how I am upsetting those close to me.  I just can’t handle that.  I feel so selfish.  Round in circles.  Pick up pieces, guilt and shame, start again, get better and round again.  It would be OK if this had happened once, or maybe a few times, but this has been going on the 35 years now.  Seeing what I am doing to my family absolutely kills me.  

RAGE:

Disclaimer – I have never physically hurt or wanted to hurt anyone other than myself. Apart from Jamie McPhee when we were 11 – he called me “jellybean” (a brilliant play on Billie-Jean) so I casually punched him square in the forehead as we filed out of class.  Anyway I’m not the psychotic murdery sort of bipolar and I’m not entirely sure if bipolar even causes that or if it’s something to do with the person.  What I do know is that I experience “dysphoric mania” which is like a really charged up, agitated feeling where I am irritated by nearly everything.  I basically act like an entitled child and slam doors and shout at everyone for daring to exist in my vicinity.  My family know I will blow up, insult everyone, take myself off for a few hours and usually come back and apologise.  Luckily I don’t experience this too much – these days I’m more aware of when I’m feeling like this and know to isolate myself with a book.

 OTHER SYMPTOMS:

And that’s just the main things.  Bipolar has a few other little tricks up its sleeve that you might not know about. Here’s some other things I’ve experienced:

-          CONCENTRATION: I find it very hard to concentrate.  I remember coming down with a low time once. I had been going to uni every day feeling fine and generally excited, as I had on this course.  Then one day I just couldn’t concentrate.  The tutors words were coming out and I was desperately trying to take them in.  Words on the board even seemed to be in an unrecognisable language.  If people asked me questions I’d have to ask them to repeat their question and even then I couldn’t really get it (at my worst). This is very embarrassing.

 -          MEMORY: My memory is terrible.  I have forgotten entire year long relationships before.  “Strangers” have added me on Facebook and when I’ve asked who they are they’re offended because we had been workplace friends for a year etc.  My psychiatrist says this is because during an episode, particularly mania, the brain is too busy doing other things to record memory.  I know who my friends are and a rough skim over of what we’ve done together but generally if you did deeper you’ll realise I don’t remember a lot of the things we did together.  I also forget my training and education, which is just great for my career.  I deal with that by taking excessive notes and setting plenty of reminders.

 -          SHAKING: I was once admitted to hospital after not being able to sleep for days and uncontrollably shaking my legs and sweating for the last day or so.  Naturally the hospital decided I was just a druggo trying to get a hit so they kept me in a corner of a hospital for a day, sent a psychiatrist in to ask me some invasive questions then sent me home still shaking and unable to sleep.  The scariest thing for me was realising that the professionals actually really don’t care.  I have had similar experiences since and not one of them has been good or even OK.

 -          AUDIO/VISUAL HALLUCINATIONS: I mostly experience sound (not voices talking to me). It seems to be little bits of sound that I’ve heard before mixed in with what I’m actually hearing at the time.  I’m used to it so I mostly just ignore it, the only problem is sometimes I ignore what I’m actually hearing too.  I also experience visual hallucinations.  Not huge and obvious ones but just generally seeing things in a darker light.  I once saw a child walking down the road with a hooded figure who looked creepy - grabbing them roughly and forcing them down the road, I was close to jumping out of the car to save this kid when the hooded figure turned out to be his Mum.  I’ve seen people step in front of the car as we’re driving and absolutely screamed only too look back and see they were still safely on the side of the road.  It seems to be just anything to terrify me when I’m in a dark mood.

 MEDICATION

Ah yes. Like anybody would think, I thought once I had my diagnosis I would now get the drugs I needed and all of this silly messiness would be over.  Not true at all.  The truth is that there is no cure for bipolar and all psychiatrists can do is try you out on medication after medication until they find one that works (pro-tip, the psychiatrists don’t know how to help you either).  Obviously it depends on your biology so this could carry on for some time if not forever. Lithium has helped curb my mania at least but nothing has stopped the depression.  With every medication change (yes, we are still guinea pigging away at 35) I am sent on a rollercoaster of emotions.  I also had one that made me chain-smoke for 6 months or so and, more recently, one that helped me give up altogether with no struggle (that’s the best one yet). Another was your typical zombie drug – it did cure all my symptoms, because I couldn’t get out of bed for 3 months, yay! And I was gobbling food like they were brains so I was a fat zombie. However unlike many people with bipolar, I have always taken my medication.

OTHER THINGS I’VE TRIED:

Meditation, Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, psychologists, counsellors, social workers, giving up drinking and more recently smoking (yay!), breathing exercises, eating healthy, exercising, self-help books etc.

WHATS HELPED?

Animals, family, social workers. You guys. Bipolar forums and other people with bipolar/depression/anxiety.

 WHAT CAN YOU DO TO HELP?

-          Write to me and say hi every now and then

-          Sometimes I just need a cosy spot and a blanket and 3 days of doing very little to calm my head

-          Don’t be upset when I read your message and don’t write back to you.  I try to get there eventually, and I appreciate all the kind messages, I just struggle to respond sometimes

-          Accept that I’ll drop out of contact for periods

-          If you know my family, support them too

-          Don’t get upset when I cancel meeting up.  My senses get overloaded in town and I really have to be in a good space to choose to spend time there.  I often agree when I’m feeling good then get really anxious when it gets closer to the time (they don’t call me Billie McCancelCancel for nothing!). I’d much rather you came over and we took the dogs for a walk with a flask of coffee.

Really you have all been so wonderful.  Nobody said they “know how I feel” and you all just offered your time to chat if I needed it.  That’s all I need.  Thank you so much.

I’d love to sign off saying things are better and I’ll keep my chin up etc. But they’re not really that great.  With each episode my brain gets worse.  It sounds like I could get Alzheimers and I’m seriously not surprised with the way my brain acts lately.  Its not all bad, I still laugh a lot and can be absolutely fine for periods.  However I have attempted suicide 3 times – the most recent being a few weeks ago.  It’s an ongoing thing.  If you managed to make it this far then thanks for reading, I hope you understand better now.

[sabbatha09-blog]

How to Earn Money by Online Tutoring Jobs?

In the event that you are among the ones who need to acquire cash yet are reluctant or don't have any desire to contribute cash online before beginning to profit online here are only couple of such approaches to profit on the web. On the off chance that you would prefer not to put in your well deserved cash then you should be prepared to invest your energy and push to begin acquiring cash on the web. 

In the event that you are prepared to go, English Tutor Jobs you can discover about the straightforward approaches to profit on the web, select the one with which you feel great and begin your online excursion.

Blogging

If you appreciate composing then is for you. In the event that you want to compose better on different points however you haven't composed or you have composed yet you never considered distributing it, then you can attempt this. No extra specialized abilities are required to blog. Yes, you certainly ought to be able to compose well. On the off chance that you compose great guests who see your blog will increment in the number. By making huge tailing you can draw in promoters. By advancing results of others you can procure commissions.

Business Writing

If you don't have much time to keep up a blog, however you need to proceed with your leisure activity of composing, then you can compose on other individuals online journals and sites. You can likewise compose on free blog locales Helium, Squidoo and HubPages that impart publicizing income to the blog proprietors. Composing ebooks is another great alternative. Ebooks don't require any venture to begin. There is no cost of printing and transporting. On the off chance that you have a decent charge on dialect you can fill in as a duplicate editorial manager, for this website admins can pay you a nice looking sum.

E-Tution

There is a great deal of interest for coaches and is expanding quickly. So in the event that you have the will to instruct others, then e-educating can end up being a cash making ticket for you. For this you ought to have skill in the related subject and you ought to have sufficient energy to work 3-4 Hours consistently. Guide vista, e-mentor, shrewd considering, and tutor.com are few locales where you can get enrolled. On the off chance that you can make a decent picture as a mentor, then you can likewise compose an online course. School and college understudy pay to visit great online courses. For this you ought to have Specialization required for the courses you educate and you ought to have few extra hours seven days

Outsourcing For Professionals

Freelancing is an incredible choice for Professionals, for the individuals who are very much aware of their specific exchange and know how to fulfill there client. There are a few outsourcing and venture outsourcing destinations that help the organizations to get their venture finished. Independent venture offers, thoughts and proposition are given to look over and purchase what ever purchaser believes is suitable. Elance kind of sites offer different administrations like composition, programming planning, information section while RentaCoder concentrates on programming related ventures.

GPT Programs

GPT implies get paid to locales. It is turning out to be extremely mainstream among the high schoolers. You can information exchange at free sites and can procure cash for perusing messages, taking overviews, Writing pamphlets, joining locales, advancing destinations, posting on web journals and playing internet diversions. This is for the individuals who don't have any extraordinary ability yet are keen on profiting. Online studies are simple. Select a privilege paid overviews site and answer surveys. There is assortment of subjects from shopping to legislative issues regardless of the possibility that they don't need to do anything with your life, it can give you take cash.

Photograph Selling

If you cherish photography or you are having kinship with camera then you can win cash web based working at home. Here are many individuals who can be keen on your photograph accumulation. These days photographs taken by you can connect with individuals effortlessly, and can profit. Numerous photograph accumulation organizations like FotoLia, DreamsTime and ShutterStock tend to offer cash in return for photographs.

Examining For Others

If you can't compose, can't configuration, English Tutor Jobs then don't stress. On the off chance that you have faith in diligent work and can settle couple of hours seven days then you can make a straightforward research showing with regards to for the individuals who don't have room schedule-wise. You can scan for an open door in those associations which do financing for research and lead online examinations.

Support And Service

You can offer help and administration to website admins for dealing with their everyday errand. There is a gigantic interest for website admin bolster benefits and is expanding each day. However, for this you ought to have a decent information of coding. Web content administration framework otherwise known as CMS Drupal or Joomla can be utilized to take offers. It would be vastly improved on the off chance that you offer administrations identified with Joomla or Drupal in the wake of getting your own particular site distributed along these lines you can demonstrate your site to customers.

Interpretation

It is the procedure of transformation of information starting with one medium then onto the next. In medicinal translation is to compose oral proclamations made by therapeutic specialists or specialists. It incorporates history and physical reports, clinical notes, specialist notes, reports, letters, mental tips and so forth. Restorative interpretation is a profession that should effortlessly be possible from home. Organizations contracting medicinal transcriptionists to telecommute generally require understanding or potentially accreditation.

Virtual Assistant

Small organizations require enormous run their association yet individuals don't keep full time representatives. You can do this work on the web. From a virtual associate it is normal that they ought to handle their work capably like customary secretary or collaborator.

Like reserving travel spot. Overseeing records and bill for costs caused. You can do this work from home. You can converse with the customer on the web or by means of telephone. Your forte will rely on the quantity of customers you make.

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