#Worked 12 hrs because we had a wine dinner

[the-cooler-king]

0-2 why is he so much better at this than I am

[wedreamedlove]

[FIC] tu es mon âme sœur

Rating: T Characters: Li Zeyan/Reader Word Count: 4753

Tags: Established Relationship. Fluff.

A/N: Can you believe it's already been another year? Happy birthday to the 32 year old!

Summary: Every smile, every glance, every breath is known down to the soul. You aren't sure whether you want this prank to succeed or fail, but the result ends up being unforgettable.

You stared at the unfamiliar reflection in the mirror. "This is a bad idea."

"You promised to attend my party," your friend, an old university classmate, reminded you as she sat in front of another dresser mirror beside you, getting finishing touches done on her by a professional makeup artist.

"I promised to attend your pre-wedding party, which I did, not this."

"Don't tell me you're not even the slightest bit curious about if Li Zeyan will fall for it?"

"......"

Much to your shame, she had you there. A little devil on your shoulder whispered that this was going to be a hilarious prank.

Sighing, you carefully propped your chin in your hand and recalled the whole series of events that led you to this moment of waiting for your friend to finish getting ready and join you and the rest of the bridesmaids and high-class escort women in the room.

It all started several months ago when you received a wedding invitation from this classmate. You were delighted to attend as her bridesmaid and, during the process of organizing everything, when she found out you would be in the country in January she decided to hold a pre-wedding party. Unfortunately, the only date that was convenient for everyone was January 12.

To be honest, it cut a little too close to Li Zeyan's birthday, January 13, for your liking but your friend promised to release you and Li Zeyan at the stroke of midnight and, since you and he had decided beforehand to have a low-key celebration this year, you ended up agreeing.

So, you and Li Zeyan attended what you thought would just be a pre-wedding dinner for your friend and her fiancé, except the dinner ended earlier than you expected and then you were dragged away by your friend to her bachelorette party while Li Zeyan had to go with the fiancé to his bachelor party.

That still would have been normal... until you found out that the bachelorette party was to sneak into the bachelor party as "escorts" under the guise of them being a present sent by the bride. In the words of your friend, this would be the last time her fiancé was allowed to freely eye another woman before he became hers.

But your friend thought it would be hilarious if she and the bridesmaids went in undercover with the real escorts. There was no fear of anything outrageous happening as the high-class escorts were only there for conversation and light flirting.

You weren't of the same mind as your friend though. You didn't even need to think for a second as to what Li Zeyan's expression would be once he saw the escorts. However, your friend pointed out how much fun it would be to pull one over Li Zeyan. Then, once he realized his mistake in treating you coldly, he would have to make it up to you.

This was what spurred on the little devil on your shoulder.

"Alright, ladies, are we ready?" Your friend clapped her hands when she finished admiring her disguise and thanked the makeup artist.

You glanced at the mirror again, still a bit startled to see the unfamiliar face that looked back at you. Your eyes were narrower with eyeliner, but they were framed with eyelashes thickened by delicately applied mascara and smoky eyeshadow. Contour brought out your cheekbones and lipstick made it look as if you had a heart-shaped pout. All of this combined with an intricate hairdo that exposed the line of your neck and a cocktail dress lent to you that likely costed 6 figures made you look like one of the women on the arms of the men at the business parties Li Zeyan attended.

As everyone started to head out, your friend reminded, "Don't forget, whoever can last the longest without being recognized will get a prize."

#

A staff member of the five star restaurant where the bachelor party was being held brought you, the bride, and the rest of the women to the private suite where the men were. The quality of the establishment showed when you couldn't hear any noise from behind the door even though you were just a few steps away.

Your friend gave one last mischievous look to everyone as the staff knocked on the door and received permission to enter.

"Gentlemen, a present from the bachelorette party."

The women streamed in despite the fiancé spluttering and attempting to refuse this service. Each bridesmaid was between two real escorts to reduce their chances of being discovered and you were no different, entering the room as the sixth person.

The first thing you noticed upon walking in was the number of empty wine bottles on the table. It was clear the men had been drinking for a while now and maybe their tipsy state would make it harder for them to recognize you and the bridesmaids.

The second thing you noticed was how everyone's position in the room seemed to be angled towards a certain point. The place where Li Zeyan sat on a sofa.

It was almost as if he was holding court in this room and, even when he sat there in silence and simply swirled the wine glass in his hand with a languid air, his presence drew the eye and commanded everyone's attention. In fact, this was shown when the fiancé—failing to extract himself from two escorts who seated themselves beside him to convince him to let them stay—looked towards Li Zeyan hesitantly.

"CEO Li, um..." He was caught between a rock and a hard place. He didn't want to anger his bride by rejecting her present but he also didn't want to anger Li Zeyan, one of the most powerful and influential men in the business world.

Li Zeyan, who didn't even spare a glance at the women when they came in and had been looking at his wine glass, raised his eyes.

You held your breath and fought against the urge to scoot behind another woman because any movement now would just stand out. Instead, you pasted on a nonchalant look that seemed to work since his eyes swept over you without pause.

Li Zeyan looked back at the fiancé. "Today is for you and your bride."

The fiancé's shoulders slumped with relief at the implied permission before he turned to accept the women and let them mingle with everyone else in the room. Soon, the party was back in full swing with some men and women going off to play billiards in the room, some forming groups to chat, and others still sat around drinking and discussing business.

Before arriving, your friend decided that everyone would first sit beside someone they didn't know to keep from being busted right at the beginning. Then, as the night wore on, people could increase their challenge by seeing how close they could get to someone who knew them.

So, at present, you sat beside a groomsman you were unfamiliar with in one of the chatting groups and maintained light conversation while splitting your attention to observe Li Zeyan's side.

He was discussing business with a smaller group of people, which included the fiancé. Or more like it was the rest of them talking and he would occasionally nod or say something in a few words.

Polite but indifferent.

This was what came to mind as you watched him. You were honest enough to admit to feeling a little jealous and possessive when you saw an escort make a beeline for Li Zeyan; however, he completely ignored her attempts to catch his attention. Rather, as time dragged on, you started to feel sympathetic for her and the sub-zero temperature and atmospheric pressure she must be experiencing.

But then your eyes widened when you saw her lean over, clearly intending to place a hand on Li Zeyan's thigh, to top off his wine glass. His eyes cut over to her the moment she shifted though and you saw the escort flinch back, nearly spilling the bottle. Li Zeyan's lips moved as he said something to her that made her face pale before she quickly got up to leave. Curiosity nibbled at you and you decided to take this opportunity to excuse yourself from your group to cross the room, heading for the empty space beside Li Zeyan.

Your friend caught your eye when you started moving and raised her eyebrows, impressed at the risk you were already taking. She seemed to take your actions as a challenge and also got up to make her way to her fiancé's side.

When you arrived at Li Zeyan's seat, he glanced at you before returning his gaze back to the others in conversation. He looked neither welcoming nor disapproving when you sat down which left you wondering if he recognized you or not. You weren't sure how you felt about that. Disappointed? Relieved?

You listened to the men talk and it was only during a lull in their conversation that Li Zeyan moved his eyes over to you again.

"You're much quieter than the other woman."

Those were his first words to you in your disguise. Did he scare off the previous escort by calling her noisy and showing his displeasure? You amused yourself with these thoughts before replying in a demure voice, "CEO Li seems to appreciate silence."

"Oh?" Interest flickered through his eyes. "What other impression do you have of me?"

You stilled when he subtly turned towards you and the force of his attention landed on you. He was reclined against the back of the sofa, one arm resting on its back while his left hand elegantly held his wine glass. But the relaxed appearance of his body couldn't disperse the cold sharpness in his eyes. It was like he was measuring your reaction and you had never seen Li Zeyan look at you with such impersonal eyes before, as if you were nothing but a trifling amusement.

"Go on, I won't be angry." He seemed to take your lack of response for a fear of reprisal.

You hedged, unsure still if you wanted him to recognize you or not, "... You don't speak much but, when you do, it's direct and to the point, so you seem to value words and efficacy. You're also very knowledgeable about business, but perhaps that's to be expected of the CEO of Huarui."

"Hm."

He didn't confirm or disagree with any of your words. Instead, you could see that he was about to return to conversing with the other men and, for some reason not wanting his attention to leave, you blurted out, "And me?"

Li Zeyan paused and raised an eyebrow.

"What impression do you have of me?"

"You wish to know?" He asked.

"It's only fair after I told you mine, right?"

The weight of his gaze was heavy and you wondered if this was going to be what busted you. Did that sound too much like something you would say? You searched his eyes for any sign of recognition but you couldn't read anything from them.

Suddenly, he raised his glass and tilted his head back, draining all the wine in one go. You watched on as the expanse of his throat was revealed before your eyes, Adam's apple bobbing, before he lowered the empty glass and tilted it in your direction, a silent demand for you to fill it up. Because he drank all the wine at once, remnants of the liquid clung to his mouth and you had to rip your eyes off of those moist lips.

Lowering your head, you grabbed a wine bottle from the table to fill his glass but, just as you started to pour, you heard movement beside you and then a hot breath landed on your ear.

"I find you to be inexplicable."

Your hand jerked and you would have spilled the wine if Li Zeyan hadn't reached out and caught your wrist, seeming to have predicted your reaction. The heat of his palm scorched your skin and you had no idea when he even sat up straight and leaned over to whisper to you.

When you remained frozen in his hold, he finished topping off his own glass before he released you and turned his attention back to the other men, as if nothing had happened. When the others saw that Li Zeyan was finished with you, they enthusiastically engaged him in business talks again.

You didn't know what to feel. Did he do that because he recognized you? But that didn't seem to be the case. If he knew it was you then would he have turned away so quickly? But if he didn't know it was you, then...

You looked at a clock on the wall. There was still an hour to go before midnight.

Conversations ebbed and flowed around you and yet, as you sat there, you were abruptly struck by a sense of loneliness. You couldn't bring yourself to be interested in anything that was being discussed and, even though you were beside Li Zeyan like normal, it couldn't be any more different.

Your mood dropped.

The times you attended business parties with him, no matter how boring the conversation was, you could always find something to do. Sometimes, you would hold onto his hand underneath a table and play with his fingers. Sometimes, he would lean over to supplement what was being talked about or he would tell you what he heard about the people in attendance, knowing you enjoyed those things. He always had a way of partaking in business while being attentive to you.

But that wasn't the case here.

Worse, as you watched Li Zeyan and the men talk, you noticed he would occasionally furrow his brows. It was extremely subtle but, knowing him as you did, you could see the fatigue settling on him. Guilt welled up in you. What began with him accompanying you to your classmate's pre-wedding party ended up with him being separated from you and having to be polite to the bridegroom when he had no relationship with him. Everyone in this room treated him like a benefit they had to win over.

The bride's prank and this whole situation lost all of its appeal for you. You just wanted to head home with Li Zeyan and relax. But you couldn't grab him and drag him out of here without revealing your identity if he didn't recognize you. However, if you revealed your identity then it would ruin your classmate's bachelorette party.

Standing up amidst the turmoil of your emotions, you didn't know what excuse you used before you walked through the suite to the attached balcony that was out of sight of the main room.

The fresh air of the night swept away the smothering atmosphere of the room behind you and you placed your bare forearms on the metal balcony railing, letting the chill seep into your body and shock you into soberness.

You must have gotten lost in your thoughts, staring out at the lights of the city, because the next thing you knew you felt the heavy weight of a jacket being draped on you. Just as you startled, a familiar scent of sandalwood enveloped you and a warm body pressed against your back, wrapping its arm around your waist.

"Idiot, you'll catch a cold if you stand out here like this."

"Idiots don't catch colds," you retorted automatically, only to hear an exasperated sigh.

But then your brain caught up to your mouth and you whirl around in the loose embrace, looking up to see Li Zeyan watching you.

"Zeyan!? Wait, you recognize me?"

"How could I not?"

"When?!"

"From the start," he answered dryly.

"But if you recognized me, then how come you acted like... like that?" You made a vague hand gesture to the room behind him to encompass everything.

His breaths stirred your hair. "You didn't reveal yourself, so I assumed it was some sort of ridiculous game either you or your classmate came up with."

Okay, you couldn't blame him for including you since you did get convinced at the start. What amazed you was how willing he was to play along. But, thinking about it more, maybe it wasn't amazing because his consideration for you always appeared in these small ways.

You burrowed yourself into his chest, hugging him and feeling his arms come up around you in return. "Thank you."

Soaking in his warmth and the sound of his steady heartbeat, you were content to simply enjoy his silent presence. But then a thought occurred to you and you shifted to prop your chin against his chest, looking up at the bottom of his jaw.

"How did you recognize me?"

"I have eyes."

You glared at him and drew back to poke him in the waist, "Not an answer! Give me details."

"Behave," Li Zeyan said lowly as he grabbed your mischievous hand and laced his fingers with yours to prevent you from using it. He sighed underneath your expectant eyes though and answered, "Only you would demand me to answer your questions. Like now."

So you did give yourself away when you asked him for his impression of you. Or more like that confirmed his suspicions.

"Your perfume gave you away as well."

"My perfume?" You echoed, only to remember you had put on a rose fragrance which Li Zeyan had gifted you. "When did you... oh."

You stopped yourself from asking the obvious question of when he smelled your perfume. It was clearly when he asked you to fill up his wine and leaned over to whisper to you. So, he was definitely bullying you there!

As if he saw the beginning of an angry pout on your face, Li Zeyan moved the topic past that. "You were also looking at the clock."

"I only looked once or twice. How did you see that when you weren't paying attention to me?"

He gave you a look you had long ago deciphered to mean that your intelligence was dropping drastically right now in his eyes.

"Okay, okay, nothing escapes your attention. And? What else?"

Li Zeyan raised an eyebrow, amused. "What makes you think there's more?"

"Hmph, just like you know me, I know you too!"

"Dummy, is this something to be that proud of?" Even though his voice was exasperated, there was a shadow of a smile on his lips and his hands were extremely gentle when he raised them to cup your face. His thumbs brushed along your cheekbones, right below your eyes. "And... you're the only one who has these eyes. You look at me as if I'm someone who can tire and get hurt."

"Because you can," you protested quietly.

You didn't know when the distance between you two shrank, but you could feel his breaths on your face and the city lights behind you shone in his eyes, making it look as if someone spilled stars into a grey-blue sea. Unlike before, when you couldn't read anything from him, his eyes seemed to glimmer with tenderness now. You were close enough to see yourself reflected and you knew, with absolute certainty, that in this moment he was seeing nothing but you.

His voice was low. "Also... your eyes are clear. You don't want anything from me."

"Not true," you managed to say through a mouth that had gone dry.

"Oh?"

The darkness may have hid the redness of your cheeks from his eyes, but he probably felt your rising temperature beneath his hands. "I want... a kiss."

You thought you heard a murmured "idiot" carried in a huff of laughter but you couldn't be sure because it was soon drowned out by the sound of a distant bell tower ringing in midnight and your pounding heart when his lips pressed against yours.

The kiss was gentle. Infinitely gentle.

His hands held your face more firmly, angling your head so he could feel you that much deeper with his mouth.

He kissed you again and again.

You were breathless by the time he drew back. He swiped his thumb against your lower lip, a frown momentarily surfacing on his face. "Don't wear so much lipstick next time. It's not good to ingest this amount."

Before you could point out with a laugh that Li Zeyan had some on his lips too, he pulled out a handkerchief from his jacket on you and wiped the thumb he used before scrubbing at your lips. You grabbed his hand, scrunching up your nose at his actions. "Hurts."

He stopped immediately at your words but, after seeing the playful look in your eyes, he rolled his eyes. However, he still bent down and kissed you.

When he drew back, you grabbed the handkerchief from him and wiped his lips for him. He startled at first but quickly realized what you were doing and kept his head lowered to let you reach him easier. You heard the distant sound of the bell tower again as you did this and, this time, you had enough presence of mind to realize what it meant.

"Happy birthday, Zeyan!"

"Mm."

Li Zeyan caught you as you dove into his chest again to hug him. The earlier gloom you had been feeling at the party was completely gone now and you were just filled with contentment in this moment. But the thought of the party suddenly reminded you of something.

"Ah!"

"What is it now?" He asked, exasperated.

"It's midnight, meaning we can go home!"

There didn't seem to be a change in his mood or tone at your words. Instead, he asked, "Is that what you want to do?"

You nodded in reply. Your classmate had more than enough fun tonight and she already promised you beforehand to let you and Li Zeyan go at midnight, so you didn't feel like staying here any longer.

His arms tensed around you for a minute, as if reluctant to release you, before he nodded and escorted you back into the room.

Li Zeyan kept you on his arm when the two of you returned, disregarding everyone's astonished eyes, and walked directly over to the bridegroom to give his congratulations and farewells. You exchanged looks with your classmate, who was beside her fiancé, to let her know you were going now. However, just as you and Li Zeyan were prepared to leave, the fiancé stopped you both.

"CEO Li, wait! I-I'm afraid you can't go just y-yet..." the bridegroom repeatedly threw glances at you and stuttered as Li Zeyan's eyes grew colder, "I-I should let my fiancée know you're leaving early. S-she would want to thank you for your attendance..."

The man hemmed and hawed and, for a second, you were utterly confused as to why he was insistent on stopping Li Zeyan from leaving until you realized he was under the impression that Li Zeyan was heading home with an escort woman.

Li Zeyan seemed to realize this at the same time you did and his eyes warmed a fraction at the courage and decency of the other man. "CEO Kang, rest assured, I am leaving with the right woman. In regard to your business proposal, you can submit it to Huarui's relevant departments and I will consider it. However, I would recommend you get your eyes examined if you cannot even recognize your own bride beside you."

Before the bridegroom could react with anything more than a stunned silence, Li Zeyan left the room with you.

You were still laughing when you and Li Zeyan were outside the restaurant, waiting for the parking valet to bring his car around. There was a soft smile on the corner of his lips as he watched you laugh against him.

"Was it that funny?"

Your intermittent giggles were his answer but then you asked, "Do I really look different?"

Li Zeyan accepted his keys from the valet, when they arrived, and unlocked the doors to his car before he glanced at you. "No."

"Not even a little prettier?" Now you just felt bad for the professional makeup artist who spent so long on your disguise.

He withdrew his arm out of your hand to pull open and hold the door for you. "I prefer you to look and wear whatever makes you most comfortable."

Inwardly, you blessed the night again for hiding the faint heat on your cheeks. You were just about to get into the car when a thought occurred and you glanced up at him, lips twitching. "I just had this thought, but what if a reporter gets a picture of you taking home an unknown woman? What a scandal."

Li Zeyan leaned down, supporting himself with a hand on the roof of the car while the other continued to hold the door, trapping you between him and the car. His voice was filled with arrogance, "Who dares?"

"Okay, okay, Big Bad CEO, take me home," you giggled and pecked him on the lips before getting into the car.

#

You were dragged out of your sleep the next morning by your phone vibrating like crazy on the side table. Squirming around the bare arm draped loosely across your waist, you blindly reached out and felt around the table before finally grabbing a hold of your phone and bringing it to your bleary eyes.

The culprit that was blowing up your phone was a group chat. You tapped in and saw there were messages of some friends trying to comfort you, some vowing to avenge you, some insulting Li Zeyan, and some calling for everyone to remain calm and not jump to conclusions.

You stared, bemused, until you finally tapped out a question.

"?"

There was a pause in the scrolling chat before it exploded even more violently. Finally, someone had the mind to link an article to you, all the while urging you to keep calm and stating there must be a reasonable explanation behind this.

You opened the article, read the headline, and looked at the picture.

Then you laughed. Hard.

The arm around your waist pulled you back into a bare chest and Li Zeyan kissed your ear lazily. His husky voice rumbled against your back, "What are you so noisy for in the morning?"

Still shaking with your laughs, you turned around and splayed your hand on his chest, widening your eyes for exaggeration. "Tsk, CEO Li, you sure have some guts to have a dalliance outside and then come home at night to climb into our bed."

The beat of his heart remained steady underneath your hand and his body was relaxed, but you could see the beginnings of a confused furrow appearing between his brows and so you handed him your phone.

His eyes, which had been soft with drowsiness, sharpened as he took in the article that was displayed. The stony look on his face only increased as he backed out of that page and saw the messages in your group chat. Even the pressure around him seemed to drop by two degrees. Finally, he opened your contacts and dialed his assistant, Wei Qian.

"Hello?" Wei Qian clearly sounded confused to receive a call from you in the morning.

"Wei Qian," you heard Wei Qian snap to attention upon hearing his boss' low and deadly voice, "I expect the PR and Legal Department to deal with everything before I arrive at the office today."

He ended the call like that and returned your phone to you before pinching the bridge of his nose. You put your phone back on the side table and laughed some more until he pulled you on top of him and squeezed you against him.

"Think that's funny, do you?" He growled before giving you a punishing kiss.

"Who was it who said no one would dare write a scandal about you?" You breathlessly reminded him after he released you.

Li Zeyan exhaled long and hard before he shifted you off of him and sat up. "I'll see you at Souvenir tonight."

Despite his grumpy words and mood, he kissed you lightly on the lips, lingering, and then got out of bed to head to the bathroom to get ready. You flopped back onto the pillows and sheets that smelled of him and snickered at the memory of the article that had mistaken you last night as another woman that Li Zeyan was having an affair with.

[iraniq]

Birthdays be like...

# Thomas Andrew Felton:

/the scene happens in England/

- you woke up early to prepare breakfast

- barely slept the night from excitement

- half way through someome kissed your ear

- "woke up 2h ago to walk Willow, saw all, but thanks for trying"

- "go away, it's a surprise"

- "let me help in then, love!"

- "you can't help in your birthday surprise"

- "watch me"

- ends up helping in his birthday surprise.

- you singing 'ophelia'song to him, incapable to replace it with Tom and still spunds good

- he made thousand videos and pics of you stumbling with the song

- no pancake hit the floor!

- still officially forbidden of giving Willow secret not dog food

- talking about Willow, she came fast when she heard voices

- ending up making dog friendly pancake

- flipping it right on her face /was already cooled/

- Tom got it all on video

- "look now, oh hi Willow, catch"

- "did you just flipped the pancake to fall on her face?"

- before you can say yes, there was no physical memory of the pancake

- watching cartoons on the couch

- "looks like someone is sleepy"

- "nooooo"

- "well if you hadn't stayed till 2 in the morning last night..."

- "was excited for your birthday"

- "and you said it like thousand times"

- "i am excited for birthdays, and yours is a special one"

- forhead kissed

- he muttes something that endes with 'love', but tight hugs and stroking hair, is one way ticket to dreamland

- bonus: Willow is a warm pillow on your lap

- afternoon long walks

- laughter

- singing on the streets

- silly pics

- pillow fight at home

- Willow stole yet another one

- "Willow's pillow fortress is getying bigger"

- "because you can't say no to your child, and instead taking them from her, you keep on buying new ones"

- fancy, low key filthy sexy looking dress for dinner

- a comedy movie no one watched...

- ... because pillow war revange

- and somewome had to keep an eye on popcorn

- food thief detected

- sloberly kisses and yet another pillow missing

- "just jump in the pool with the dress, love"

- drying hairs in the midle of the night

- matching pajamas

- Willow at board

- "your child just stole my sock"

- "she is your child now too..." - halj asleep deep british voice

- "ok, then, our child, just stole my sock"

- more forhead kissed and love mumbles

- snuggles

- "will meet you im dreamland"

# Erich Blunt:

*Ok we have all seen the tik tok - "take your clothes off" and how the girl spits her drink, and we all reacted like that*

- after midnifgt visit at the big house

- you have a special 'multipass' key card

- wake him up at 12:02 with *coughs* love

- everywhere

- i mean everywhere

- possible

- in the house

- then maybe at 5 o'clock in the company

- the boss chair, that's unfortunately a super normal one, because he refused to have fancy cabibet

- in the virtual relity room

- junk food at the sunrise on a super random place

- naps in the big, too fancy for naps, bed

- mid afternoon flight to a dessert rave party

- yes... plain checked

- matching outfits at the party

- the looks he gives you

- yes... at some random spots in the crowd

- his poker face is out of this world

- stargazing and hand holding

- tents at feativals are not soun proof...

- both umable to human the next day, dozzing off in the plane

# Julian Albert Desmond:

- a workoholic, scientist, perfectionist... with a metahuman bad experience inside his head... He could tell by the air in the room, something was off...

- a surprise was way beyond imaginable

- imagine everybody's faces when you casualy dropped at the station, introducing yourself

- "she is a spy" - Cisco said

- "Julian mentioned he had a girldriend...but i thought it was just for the excuse" - Barry said

- "nope, alive and in the flesh"

- you announced his upcoming birthday in a week and asked for help

- they were all instantly in

- same day, Barry got 'late'

- the captain gave them a case in the far abandoned aide of town, Caitlin was in the car with him, non stop talking, how Ciaco and HR are unbarable. Iris and Barry...

- he wasn't paying attention at this point

- the building looked suapicious

- they entered, only to see the whole Team Flash, including Dr. Wells and Jessie, holding a cake, with this so familiar red sugar you have been buying lately

- he knew your surprise will pop up eventually

- you knew he was late after work, no more metahumans hate, but you nevwr poked the subject

- "no one told her" - Barry reasured

- "she is overworking today, and instructed us, quoting 'get his ass the cake, or i will end you!', she is scary for a librarian" - Iris noted

- "she certanly is"

- all laugh

- "candles blowing in abandoned and possibly dangeroys area, great"

- all laughing again

- *insert Julian's sarcastic remarcs*

- "people skills, Julian"

- A fot Ain't even trying at this point

- afterwork party at the park

- Julian being soft

- Caitlin being low key jealous

- romantic dances under the stars

- you wearing a long mid transparent nightgown and his "explorer hat"

- *insert adult content here*

# Logan Maine:

*AU where they woke up the passangers a week before artiving at Thea, notjing hit the ship*

/haven't yet finished the tv series, so some info might not be true/

- after Mia, Logan didn't plan on having friends, or being close to someone

- not that he planned to befrend Mia...

- aftee several days of you being sweet carring and maybe a bit rude, and an epileptic episode later, he was tolerating you

- maybe more than toleraring, but he wasn't gonna admit it

- he was astonishing cook to start with

- you tried making cake, when you found out

- failed!

- but the unhealthy ammount of chocolate syrop on it, fixed it

- him dipping fries in the chocilate...

- *Logan what?!*

- walking around the 'garden'

- him pushing you towards the spraying water

- trying to name the plants only to end up with: "if it's not weed..." - he laughed

- "you are failing at being horrible"

- "trying to be, but that smile of yours isn't helping"

- marker writing on the station windows, connecting stars in odd shapes

- sneaking on others

- "is Baum a perv, or just a perv"

- "Shun and Lana are totally a thing"

- low key stealing extra pills for his epilepsy

- who'll suspect the cool sweet kid's teacher

- stealing food from your supervisor's cabim, after you went asking her, what Logan liked, so you can make a romantic dinner

- she didn't gave you much info, but the odd plastic half liquid sweets you stole definwtly tasted good

- "the A woman stealing? Your crush on me is ruining your good name"

- "maybe i am tired of a good name"

- "don't tell me you go to another planet to be a criminal"

- "lools like i might have the best teacher"

- "only om small crimes, like stealing a pretty girl's heart"

- his odd winks

- that smirk

- kisses in the dark

- he "found" some extra blankets

- 2 burritos on a way after midnight open space gazing

- Shun may have cought you drawing the odd funny shapes, but told no one - you were holding hands, giggling drawing one ovee another, was way too cute to tell on

# Draco Lucius Malfoy:

/Around 6th-ish year maybe.../

- how you pick a present for someone who has everything, literally everuthing

- bargins with Pansy for info

- Theo gives it all free

- Blaize asked for unknown favor

- no one actually gave you smth to work with

- Draco was bitter

- even the good fight with Potter didn't lift his spirit

- nor the -10 points

- you even owled Narcisaa, but nothing

- difficult problems require simple solution

- his favourire clothes of yours

- your Gucci pefulme on his scarf

- this beyond ordenary way you bite off from his green apple

- the thing with the shy eyes and devil smile you love pulling on him

- touching his hair

- scratching his hands with your long nails gives him the good chills

- changing in that gorgeous emerald green dress he bought you for the Christmas ball

- pinky hand holding

- getting cold, so he can give you his coat

- him and his long coat

- messy pearl hair

- stolen kissed under his tree

- brushing your nose in his cheek

- teasing each other

- in your own bubble in aftwenoon class

- again -10 points... each

- professor Lupin felt the pain of ceperating the lovely sight you were, so he can continue his lesson

- party at the boy's bedroom

- eating the cake his mom send you, instead of dinner

- whole friends group having pure childish fun, sharing silly stories

- levitating around in pretend swim manner

- cake

- *coughs* wine *cougs*

- late night walk to the astronomy tower

- him showing you the stars

- the Dragon again, because you can never place it right

- him knowing you pretend not to know, so he can have an excuse to give you silly shoulder kisses

- you tip toeing to reach him

- passionate kisses under the stars

______________

@diyunho @lovermrjokerr @darthjokerisyourfather @littlebeautifly

Whoever enjoys it as well 😛

[365-money-diary]

DAYS 43-49

DAY FORTY-THREE

7:30 AM - Up a little early so I can close on my house. The process is pretty easy and I feel safe about it and such. We do it on the front porch with 6 foot folding table.

8:30 AM - I need to re-caulk the side door trim before I can start painting so I do that while I make my chemex. This is fun (not) because I don’t own a caulk gun. 

10:30 AM - Eat a plant yogurt

12:00 PM - Snack on chips and salsa – damn the salsa I made is so good this time. Also make salad for lunch. I’m set up in the kitchen today which is clearly a bad scene because I keep going to the pantry for more snacks. Relocate to the bedroom.

2:00 PM - I really should get my barre class out of the way today. I have a 4PM happy hour and I know I won’t want to work out after that, so I do a 10 minute low impact ride and then start class.

4:00 PM - I get done with most of the class and hop on zoom. Make refried beans in the instant pot for dinner while we chat.

5:00 PM - Finish the zoom and knock out the last 10 minutes of barre. I don’t like to split the classes up like that but oh well. 

6:00 PM - Finish making the beans as well as rice and jackfruit for burritos. K isn’t hungry so I watch an episode of The Challenge before making the burritos.

7:30 PM - Ok these are really good. Dang! I don’t want to drink tonight so I open a La Croix and try to hydrate.

DAY FORTY-THREE TOTAL: $0

DAY FORTY-FOUR

8:00 AM - I’m awake and I feel really good. K is still pretty conked out and I get the idea to go to Cartel. I haven’t been in a few months because cases were super high but now seems like a good opportunity. This is the one thing I do behind K’s back. It’s contactless and it’s super safe so I don’t really consider it to be a risk but I know he isn’t ready to drink things directly out of containers they’re served in on the same day you buy them so let’s just leave this between us. Buy a hot oat milk latte and tip $10. $17.57 

10:00 AM - Make a chemex so K doesn’t suspect anything. Hang with him on the couch for a bit and then start moving around the furniture in the kitchen to start taping.

11:30 AM - Take a break to cook breakfast - tofu/egg tacos with field roast sausage.

12:15 PM - Back to taping. It takes forev, but I think I did a good job.

3:45 PM - First coat done. Watch an episode of The challenge before I apply the second.

5:30 PM - Done with the second. Watch more of the challenge.

7:00 PM - Dinner tonight is pozole. I take my time making it and drink a glass of wine while I cook.

8:00 PM - Dang this is so delicious.

DAY FORTY-FOUR TOTAL: $17.57

DAY FORTY-FIVE

9:00 AM - Woah I am SO SORE. What the hell? My quads. Make a chemex and work on putting the kitchen back together, but I run out of time and have to meet with S and her BF on zoom. K joins me and it’s a really good time. 

11:15 PM - Ok back to tape removal. 

12:15 PM - Done! / Looks good! Make more tofu tacos for breakfast.

2:00 PM - My boss is applying for citizenship in the US and she asked me to help build her a website. I have totally spaced it over the past two weeks and get cracking on it today. Make some good progress and send her what I have.

4:00 PM - Watch some episodes of The Challenge. For whatever reason this feels like the first time I’ve actually relaxed this weekend and I am here for it.

6:00 PM - We drive to a bar I DJ at on the reg during non-pandemic times to do a pick up of their Valentine’s Day special. Neither K or I are big V Day fans and we feel like this is good enough to “celebrate.” We get two veggie dogs, fries and a bottle of wine to take home. J (my friend who owns the bar) runs my card for $31ish and I tip $20. K insists he pays and he venmos me $50. $1.89

7:00 PM - I haven’t had fries in like… a year. And these ones are really delicious! The wine is good too. Spend the rest of the evening catching up on my blog. I haven’t felt very motivated to work on it this month.

8:00 PM - Get a charge from Amazon… S is buying movies again. Make a venmo request for $16 and she fulfills it. $0.19

DAY FORTY-FIVE TOTAL: $2.08

DAY FORTY-SIX

8:30 AM - WOW I am still sore WTF. Make a chemex and notice my tea kettle has a rust spot. Damnit. At this point, I would rather just buy an electric kettle with a gooseneck spout to get rid of both of my kettles, but I’m trying to stick to my budget this month. I’ve been covering K’s groceries throughout the pandemic and he owes me around $2k at this point. Because of this, I’ve kind of cut back on clothing and other frivolous purchases until he starts to pay me back so I can still save money every month. But rust is rust and I don’t want to get sick. Buy a Stagg EKG kettle with a nice wood handle. $160.62

10:00 AM - plant yogurt, a clementine and Pure Barre weekly charge. $15

12:00 PM - It’s salad time but I’m kind of out of tempeh and am a little burnt out on the miso Asian vibe anyways. Toss together some greens, bell pepper, onion, carrots, snap peas, cucumber, and a frozen Quorn spicy chicken patty and top it with cashew ranch. It’s honestly really good. 

4:00 PM - Call M to wish him a happy bday. Tell him either next Sunday or the Sunday after that we will do a lunch thing together in his backyard to celebrate. Drink a nuun while we chat.

5:15 PM - I do a pure barre workout but make the mistake of doing it on my work computer at the post-workday slacks are coming in hot this AM. My body’s HR doesn’t really pick up but I still feel proud of myself for pushing thru the soreness.

7:00 PM - K and I eat big burritos for dinner with jackfruit, beans, rice, lettuce, tofutti sour cream, cheeze, and jalapenos with chips and salsa. They’re so good and I am sad that we’re out of tortilla chips and salsa now.

8:00 PM - Since dinner was kinda big and I had fries yesterday, I spend the evening hydrating instead of drinking wine. K and I watch a 4 part docuseries on Elisa Lam & the Cecil Hotel. At some point he goes off to work on some stuff and I wrap up this website I’m building for my boss who is working on getting her green card.

DAY FORTY-SIX TOTAL: $175.62

DAY FORTY-SEVEN

9:00 AM - Make a chemex. Finish the site and send it to my boss who approves. Hopefully I don’t have to actually post it for her. I hate dealing with hosting and such. 

10:00 AM - I don’t really want yogurt today and find a small portion of tofu scramble leftover from Sunday. Heat that up and top with truffle hot sauce.

12:00 PM - Kill the rest of the salad ingredients today by making the same dish as yesterday but with peas instead of red bell peppers. Review the site I made for my boss. She sends me a $100 amazon gift card! How sweet.

5:00 PM - Get sucked in a meeting and am not able to leave until 5:30. I’m not interested in exercising this late so I zone out on the couch for a bit and snack on some gf pretzels. Start a new season of The Challenge. Drink a glass of wine.

7:00 PM - Heat up leftover pozole for dinner. Eat with K while we “watch” a hockey game. 

8:30 PM - Pour another glass of wine and chat on the phone with Q. I end up feeling super antsy halfway through our conversation and decide to take a walk. I do a nice loop down to the lake and back to my house. Next time we decide that we will walk together.

10:30 PM - I check my phone after our conversation to see 100 slack messages from various team members. Looks like there is something going on which will affect the report I have to give tomorrow. Read thru, ask some questions and feel good about what I have to change.

DAY FORTY-SEVEN TOTAL: $0

DAY FORTY-EIGHT

8:15 AM - Up a little early today so I can adjust my report. Make a chemex while I pull numbers.

9:30 AM - Present the info. It’s good stuff! My boss is out of town so I think today should be pretty chill. Get a note from my bank that the wire of leftover funds from the mortgage stuff has been transferred to my checking totaling $1250.39. 

12:00 PM - Make broccoli fried rice for lunch. Things turn chaotic for the rest of the day and by the time I know it, it’s 4:00 PM

4:15 PM - Decide to cut out early today and take a live barre class. 20 minutes in (10 minutes before 5), I get a message from my teammate asking to hop on zoom. She has computer issues so I’m actually able to finish the class before she’s ready. 

7:00 PM - Finally done working. Rinse off and make pasta for dinner. Drink 3 glasses of wine. 

9:30 PM - K and I play Mario Kart for a while before turning in.

DAY FORTY-EIGHT TOTAL: $0

DAY FORTY-NINE

8:30 AM - Today has to be more chill than yesterday… It just has to be. Make a chemex. See that my hair dresser is selling shirts for her shop. Venmo her. $25

12:00 PM - Prep chicken seitan shreds. Broccoli fried rice for lunch with seltzer. 

1:30 PM - Finish making the seitan, eat an apple, gf pretzels and carrots. I realize I forgot to eat breakfast this AM. Ugh.

5:00 PM - My butt is super sore from yesterday but I do my barre workout anyways. It’s so nice to not be interrupted. My cal burn is low but I don’t even care. It’s just nice to move.

6:00 PM - Rinse off and prep dinner. We make buffalo chicken sandwiches with roasted potatoes. They turn out pretty good and I’m excited to eat them over the next few days.

8:00 PM - Drink a glass of wine. I google if I can have more since I’m getting the COVID vaccine tomorrow and it seems like one is ok but maybe not more so I decide against it.

DAY FORTY-NINE TOTAL: $25

[helenmaybewriting]

On Academic Precarity as Ongoing Anxiety

I’ve been given reason to think about making academic precarity visible lately. I’m applying for a big early-career grant but am outside the eligible period. I am fortunate that there is a way to seek an ‘exemption’ to the rules and ask to account for a period of time that meets certain requirements as a ‘career interruption’. For some this is children or carer responsibilities, for others it is illness. For some it is working in other sectors or not working for various reasons. For me, I am claiming a period in my life post-PhD where I worked sessionally in teaching roles at multiple universities and did not hold a research position. I need to collect and tabulate proof for this period. It must be made visible in very particular ways: a neat table that outlines the reason for career interruption, the time that can be claimed, the relevant dates. I’m asked to contain this messy, precarious, anxious time of my life in a neat grid.

The bureaucratic demands seem simple: account for it, tally it up. And don’t get me wrong; I’m grateful there is a way to recognise this interruption, disruption, abruption. However, I’ve encountered so many confused faces in trying to progress the process, as if accounting for sessional work is an aberration they’ve never come across. Sessional staff teach anywhere from 40 to 70 percent of students at Australian universities, yet my requests seemed alien to many.  

I have persisted in my accounting, feeling the anxiety of precarity rise again in my chest. Someone said to me it was nothing to be ashamed of. I replied: I’m not ashamed of it, I am exhausted by it.  

How long was the period of time from the award of my doctorate to getting an ongoing job? Already this request narrows the scope, as if precarity starts from award and not submission or before. I was already precarious when I finally wore the floppy hat. Yet here, the form asks for an accounting for this time—from award to ongoing job—in days, weeks and months. But my body remembers it as the blur of ill-defined time characterised by sounds that hiss and sigh in my memory: sessional, scramble, stress, yes and yes and yes and yes again because it is the week before semester and I don’t have enough hours to pay rent yet. Struggle, survival, collapse are words that hiss and sigh also. What is the FTE of a period that is experienced and remembered as the always-just-audible hum of the anxiety of precarity? Account for it. Give it form.

This is the period of my endless agreeability, of ‘yes I can take just the 8am and the 4pm tutorial that day’. The period of learning to be a chameleon, of ‘yes I can teach IR/development studies/anthropology of gender/sports sociology/peace studies/global governance’. The period of befriending the public transport app that helped me trace crazed patterns between universities and learning the locations of the best cafés where I could grab lunch as I swapped discipline hats and institutional languages so my students would believe my claimed authority.

This is the period of snatched time to try and write between tutorials while I could use an institution’s library access, because publication was the only way out of this but my schedule left no real time to do it. The period that included the semester with 280 essays to mark, of phone calls with incredulous university IT because I couldn’t remember which institutional password I needed to get in to this particular one of my seven email addresses, of making dinner plans with friends and asking if we could go to the cheap delicious Asian place where I could eat a whole meal rather than the nice restaurant where I’d eat an entrée as if I wasn’t actually hungry. This is the period of my always-availability accompanied by always-exhaustion; of recognising myself in articles about stress and burnout that I would read on the train between cramming in prep for the next tutorial. This is the period of my endless professional flexibility even as the stress of the precarity fixed the muscles in my shoulders in to (still) untangle-able knots.  This is the period of “non-research employment not concurrent with research employment”. Account for it. Note it down.

The neoliberal academy, that runs on this sessional labour, works in subtle and overt ways to erase it too. Sessional academics are expendable, replaceable, not ‘real’ staff, despite the institution’s dependence on their work. This year I’ve had to chase down five universities to get them to write letters outlining the periods I worked for them and confirming my work was teaching-only—confirming explicitly that they gave me no support for research during my employment. This is my ‘evidence’, codifying on various letterheads my experience of uncertain, sporadic labour. While several universities have been very helpful and quick, making this process a little smoother, others have not. Not through maliciousness, but through the grinding, churning practices of bureaucracy and the inefficiencies of systems not set up to serve people like me.

One university couldn’t find evidence of my working for them in 2013, telling me it was ‘such a long time ago’. One university only allowed me to request a HR job logged in to their intra-net, the woman on the phone for general enquiries when I called to explain the problem kept suggesting I use my current username. Several universities wrote letters detailing the 12 to 18-month period I apparently worked for them, the period in which I learned only now I remained in their system in some manner (even though my login access was cut off precisely at the end of semester). I’ve now had to supplement these letters with contracts I’ve kept to demonstrate it was only 13 weeks of hourly-work, not a year-long sessional contract. In my neat table, a list of ‘no’s fill a column titled “was the employment research related”. Account for it. Make it present.

I am not sure I will ever not feel a residual anxiety, lodged in my throat, from this time. But having to tabulate it, to fit it in to neat boxes, to repeatedly note it was “non-research related employment not concurrent with research employment”, to calculate a patchwork of start and finish dates, to accumulate evidence of the precarity, has meant I can hear that hum again and taste the stress as bitterness on my tongue. The sounds, tastes, feelings can’t be accounted for in a 200 word ‘justification statement’ in this neat document, but I try and articulate the difficulty while sounding professional and capable; further contortions.

In this process of accounting, I’ve been asked to ‘remove duplicates’ in my record because, I am told, I can’t claim the same period twice. I’ve had to again make visible the hum and bitterness, by the act of explaining once again that I wasn’t trying to claim multiple jobs as separate time periods, but rather to give a full account of my employment as requested which included working multiple jobs, simultaneously. I can feel the act of putting it in to words working to bring the blurred time in to focus in hard edges and anxious spikes in my chest. This work did overlap, but it was not duplicates; this work was a complete list of my employment, yet still barely covered my half of our living expenses. Account for it. Point it out.

That period also holds bright memories. Memories of the yeasty smell of zaatar-top pizzas from our local shops in Melbourne, and the sweet taste of carafes of wine and gossip shared with one of my dearest girlfriends; of warm rooms in winter full of boardgames and laughter, and cut grass in lazy summer afternoons sprawled with friends across a backyard. It also forged friendships across shared experiences: the Friday morning early-career writing group that was a refuge and a delight, of peers who didn’t know they were mentors but for whom I will always be grateful, and unlooked-for generosity in offering office space or other necessities when someone had slightly more security than others.

Precarity and anxiety are not totalising but they are overwhelming. I am not shamed by them, but they are exhausting.

I feel, in writing it down that I am being required to make claims for legitimacy, to assert that I belong here. Precarity and anxiety run the risk of becoming the background hum and the overlooked bitter taste. The tactics of universities trick us in to thinking we are alone with this, but although the details may vary, the story is the same for many.

In writing this, I recognise that my form and experience of precarity is its own thing; that other people’s experiences will differ. I have a supportive partner. I don’t have children. My partner, however, started doing a PhD the year I finished mine. We had moved away from my established potential-employment networks for him to take up his PhD. My precarity was made more difficult through particular health challenges, and other personal circumstances. I write here from my own experience. I write with acknowledgement of my relative privileged position of having an ongoing job now, when so many clever driven precarious peers do not. I write with anxiety and trepidation about sharing these experiences. I write in apprehension that someone will tell me my experience isn’t as bad as I feel it to have been, that other people have it worse, that this is a rite of passage for all academics, that I should get over it. My anxiety about sharing proves the point about needing to share. The invisibility of this work, and how we write it into or out of our narratives, works to indivdiualise our experiences and isolate us.

I think in accounting for my interruption, my period of “non-research related employment not concurrent with research employment”, moving from the blur to the boxes forced me to describe the reality of that period, and that has been deeply discomforting. But writing this reflection, and naming the precarity and its attendant feelings, is a way of making visible these structures. It is a way of acknowledging that my survival of that period fundamentally depended on the support of others. I don’t have magical solutions, but after this rollercoaster of paperwork and bureaucracy count me in for the barricades if anyone is up for a revolution. Until then, know that while the institutions may not care—about precarity, burnout, stress, enduring anxiety—I do, and if you have a story similar to mine know I see you and I’m so glad you’re here. Account for it. Hold it to account.

[goodlawdmaude]

Colombia and Peru 2019

3/7 SAN FRANCISCO --> BOGOTA

3/7-3/8

J and I ubered from ASF to airport, got through security, grabbed a drink at the terminal, then waited at our gate to board. Alarmingly, we heard our names over the intercom, but we just had to show our passports at the desk - no problem. A flight attendant on our flight got sick, so the flight needed 9 volunteers to get off the plane. This delayed us, but we eventually got off the ground. Slept some on the flight, had to go through customs in Mexico City, then through security to our gate. It was around 6am and light outside. Jarod resolved to start the day, but I wanted to sleep more. I slept for 30 great minutes on the flight, then watched Bohemian Rhapsody. The third person in our aisle was sketchy: late, on the phone (free WhatsApp), and importing a lot (per his customs form). We got through customs pretty quickly, then grabbed a taxi and made it to our hostel around 3pm. We rested briefly, then went out for lunch—arepas, chaufa arroz con pollo, and a special combo with seafood and rice in a divine yellow sauce. Jarod was starting to feel the full effect of his cold, but we went for a brief walk anyway through the center of town and the Museo de Botero. Lots of street vendors with various crafts and snacks, some alpacas, police with dogs with muzzles, cobblestone roads, sanitation workers in blue jumpsuits, green mountains in the background. While driving, we saw stark constrasts between shoddy roadside structures and the grand skyscrapers just behind them. Roads were paved and nice. We walked back, buying water at a nearby market, then took naps, showered, and went to sleep very early (8pm). On two instances, we were awoken by rowdiness in the hostel. Overall, slept 11(!!) hours.

3/9 BOGOTA-->MEDELLIN

3/9 Bogota-->Medellin

After our long sleep, we ate breakfast (eggs, fruit, bread, homemade jam, pancakes, lots of fruit) at the hostel, then asked reception to call a taxi for us. We made it to the airport and ultimately made it to the gate smoothly (despite one snafu: struggling to follow arrows to find el bano). Flight was super quick, it was hot when we landed, and we grabbed a taxi from a line outside. The ride to El Poblado was pretty green and undeveloped. It reminded me of driving in Costa Rica (narrow, windy roads), but the roads were paved and in better shape. We tried to drop our bags at the airbnb but couldn’t. We grabbed lunch at El Florez a couple doors down—very yummy healthy food. We tried the airbnb again to no avail. We walked around to take in the town. It was very green, hot and trendy - peppered with new-looking bars, restaurants, and shops. Dying of heat, we stopped for lemonades at a restaurant by the airbnb then went to get our key. We got in and hung for a bit--the airbnb was plenty spacious but nothing super fancy. We grabbed a drink at El Jenun(??)--J built his own gin and tonic while i had a fancy cocktail. We walked for a while--through some slightly seedier roads--to a gypsy/fox-themed pizza place for dinner. Grabbed a beer at Medellin beer company and J accidentally ordered a pitcher. Waitresses were scantily clad and hot; there was an old weird white dude who knew them all far too well. We came home, showered, and went to bed around 11pm.

3/10

After sleeping in until 9am, I straightened my hair (big deal) and then we went to El Pergamino for coffee and breakfast. I had a milky delicious chai latte and eggs with tomato and pesto roasted in a little crepe brûlée pan. The coffee shop was super trendy and cute. From there we walked to the Poblado Metro station and found our way onto the metro. It was very hot and pretty crowded but a really nice system. We got off to transfer to a gondola which took us over a poorer area--tin roofs, lots of graffiti, kids and dogs running everywhere. Then we got on a second gondola which took us over a final stretch of town and over a few miles of forest. The view was unbelievable. We were squished in with a Spanish family of 6 who were talking about how hot it was here and elsewhere. We got off and started exploring El Parque Arvi. It took us a while to realize we couldn’t hike the trails without a guide, and we couldn’t get a guide without booking online. We walked around and down the road where there were lots of street vendors and a couple restaurants. We got overpriced mangos. We headed back and went to grab lunch before seeing the botanical garden. There was mostly fast food. We got two empanadas to go and sat by the main area of vendors and performers in front of the garden. We went in, admires the flora, saw some iguanas, then headed out. We intended to walk to Cerro el Volador, but then the area we were walking through got a little sketchy and we turned around. We went to Explora Park--walked through the aquarium, reptile exhibits, and a room dedicated to the mind. By the time we were ready to leave, it was pouring. We ran to a taxi, had some confusion with the address, but made it back. We rebounded out for dinner (kebab house - mediocre) nearby, then got dessert across the street and wine and waters at exxito 

3/11

Woke up *early* 720 to get ready for our free walking tour through Real City Tours. Jarod made breakfast (scrambled eggs and an arepa) while I got dressed. We left a few minutes later than hoped, but hustled down Calle 10 to the poblado metro station and made it with time to spare to meet our guide. He wore a hat and a red shirt and directed our flock of 23 gringo ducklings onto the metro (which Jarod and I had already mastered the previous day), and we took it three stops north to Alpujarra. We got off, regrouped, and headed off to start the tour. It began with a roughly 20min history of Medellin. Julio told us how a big alcohol tax led the entrepreneurial locals to find smuggling routes to bring it into Colombia and how coffee grew well in its fertile soil and was a major export that bolstered the economy. He talked about the rise of cocaine and Pablo Escobar--how he and those over 30 remembered the terror and the violence and danger, but that younger people thought he was good because he “gave houses to poor people.” He talked about how the metro system showed the people that things could be better, and Medellin started its resurrection. We saw the old train station, the main government offices, the plaza of light (which used to be a crime hotspot but is now beautiful, adjacent to a library and the center of education). We walked through El Hueco, taking in the vendors and street scene to a church, empanada (with orange juice), and the Botero museum and plaza. We learned of the Belgian architect who had left his project because of all the shit-talking of the local people; the Paisas said they would finish it themselves... and did so very abruptly without following his complex blueprints. At this point, 4 members of our tour got lost. We walked to the metro stop from whose stairway a grenade had been tossed into a crowd; Julio explained Colombians’ short term memory as a necessity of resilience--and that one grenade wasn’t so bad compared to the volcano that killed 20k the next day. We walked down Junin street (a popular date night spot) and to a plaza where Botero has two bird statues- one that was partially destroyed by dynamite detonated during a concert; the other new to represent triumphing over that evil. There were cool murals of African American faces--allegedly the first freed slave in Colombia who ran away and beat up everyone that came to catch him. This plaza--especially the birds--was really powerful. A strong symbol of all that Medellin went through and rose above. After the tour, we grabbed lunch in the palace in El Hueco (creamed corn soup, salad, pork, rice and juice for roughly $5). We took the metro home and did a Nike workout and I thought I would die. We showered, hung out, then went to El Chagra for a 6-course tasting menu (we actually went for a drink, but were surprised by and obligated to do the tasting). All the dishes were focused on Amazon themes and resources- specifically the giant fish, Arapaima. The first course was a smoking drink that tasted spicy and cinnamony--a bit like fireball. The second was a delicious soup that was creamy and cheesy with yucca crumbs. The third was a potato/fish ball eaten with our hands and dipped in a spicy fruit sauce. The fourth was fish and chaufa rice. The fifth was sausage with fruit preserves and cherry tomato. The sixth was dessert--a brownie-like thing and a fruity ice cream. The whole meal ran 300COP (with cocktails which had a dazzling presentation of liquid smoke and a sandbox.. and tip). Before the final course, a man dressed as an indigenous Amazonian came to our table chanting and we didn’t know what to do. He spoke some dialect and then Spanish and offered us to use his pastes to paint on ourselves. We respectfully declined and he moved on. We went to a restaurant down the street for a drink. Jarod got a shot of gin *sin huelo* loll. The restaurant was upscale with several birthdays happening. They gave us hand towels which they made expand amazingly by pouring hot water on them. We went home to bed.

3/12 MEDELLIN-->LIMA

3/12

We woke up around 730 and did a Nike work out at home. Jarod made breakfast of eggs and arepas, then our taxi came and took us to the airport. When we got there, we couldn’t check in at the kiosk--it said we were on standby. We waited in line and the woman seemed to have some issues, but eventually gave us our boarding passes. We got through security, grabbed El Pergamino coffee/chai, and waited at the gate. Jarod got us sandwiches, fruit, and a chocolate donut thing to eat. We were sitting apart during the 3h flight :(. I read the whole time. We were fed on the airplane and I ate the meal despite being full. We got through customs easily and got a taxi to our airbnb in Miraflores (45min away... And during rush hr). We got keys from our concierge and went out for dinner. We had to wait a bit, but the food was delicious. Jarod are a risotto in squids ink with seafood. I had a pumpkin soup with shrimp, corn, and yucca. I was so full afterward and felt kinda sick but not too bad. Being in Miraflores felt like being in Santa Monica--it was an upscale beachside community with a nice mall. We went to bed HOT and I woke up once with an upset stomach, though it wasn’t too bad.

3/13

7 YEARS!! We set alarms around 730am but didn’t get out of bed until 830 or so. We headed out for a work out- running through several beautiful green parks on the coastline, then plopping in the shade for a circuit. After the workout, we went to a beachside cafe and ordered a coffee and a nutella/banana crepe to share. We stopped at home, rinsed my sunscreeny body, then headed to the mall, Larcomar. We popped into a cafe for parfaits and quiche, then went to the bike rental stand upstairs and got two bikes for one hour. After we paid but before we left, the bike attendant crashed/fell off his bike nearby. The irony was overwhelming. We biked along the beautiful coast, to the Bridge of Sighs, then back up a city street of Barranco. The Barranco main square was beautiful, with statues and beautiful plants peppered throughout the plaza. We rode back, returned our bikes to the attendant who was squirting Purell on his scraped knee, and went home. We did laundry, showered, and got ready for our walking food tour. (Snacked on plaintain chips and beers from the market downstairs while we waited.) A driver with an unexplained passenger picked us up around 520pm. He was very kind and gave us two (hot) bottles of water. We drove through traffic into the historical center, where we met our guide Ximena. We walked to a churro place that had a long line, Ximena scurried to the front, then returned with two churros--one with caramel (apparently an ancient sweet in Lima) or a sweet cream. They were scalding hot. We took them to a nearby monastery, with a gated plaza full of pigeons. Ximena told us that the plaza used to be a common place to sell goods that the pigeons and vultures were brought by the Spanish, and that it was still an important place of worship although only 20ish ppl were a part of the monastery (friars?). We went inside and saw into catacombs full of skulls and big bones. There were no cemeteries, so if one had the money, one would pay to be buried in that sacred space. From there, we went to the center of literature (which used to be a big train station, but now only one train goes and it runs maybe 2x/month). Across the street was the oldest bar in Lima. We went in and ate ham sandwiches with onion (pan con chicharron con sarza) and purple juice (chicha morrada - corn juice with cloves and cinnamon). From there we walked to the main plaza. Xime told us about the history of the buildings--the bell towers of the old church had been destroyed by earthquakes and rebuilt... the (some politician’s) mansion had been burned down (by ppl who wanted to scare him, but accidentally destroyed it) and rebuilt. It was a beautiful square full of light and life. From there, we walked to a nearby coffee shop where we talked with the brewer of Peru Uno, Oliver. He let us taste two of his beers--a Belgian trippel and an homage to Peru with chamomile and other local herbs/spices. With the beer we had fried bites called tequenos. Oliver was half Peruvian and have Belgian and very focused on sustainable business practices. He was super friendly and cool. From there, we walked a way to find a stop full of people--vendors with their carts as well as big mats on the ground for gambling and big circles around storytellers or dancers. We are mazamorra morada with rice pudding and another sweet rice that was brown from the sweetener. We then had the healing herbal drink emoliente and anticuchos. At each vendor, xime explained the prep in depth, asking the vendor details in Spanish then relaying the answers to us in English. From there we walked to an old bar for “supte artists” where we had papas a la huancaina, yucca rellena (my fave), and chilcano de pisco. People around us were getting TURNT--an old asian man could barely walk, a guy and girl had 8 beers (large) between them, 3 men had 14, and a table of three had a whole fifth of pisco (45% alcohol). Quite full, we struggled through our food. I finished my share, but J did not finish his! We then met our ride (after Xima first approached the wrong car), dropped Xime off, and made it home. During the tour, Xime said the most protested issue in Peru was gender ideology. We went to bed around 11.

3/14

We woke up around 730. I was feeling sicker than I had, but we set off for a workout anyway. We ran for 20min and did a 30min Nike training. We were dripping with sweat. We then headed down our street for breakfast. Jarod’s came with papaya juice and coffee and he got a water--so much liquid to go with his double decker grilled cheese (basically lol). We walked to Kennedy Park which was beautiful with lots of flowers and cats. We went to a supermarket nearby and bought waters, nuts, plaintain chips, and yogurt. We walked back to our place and chilled for a while. We snacked on yogurt and plantain chips during the afternoon, showered, took a nap, and enjoyed the beautiful patio of our airbnb. We watched a little bit of Coach Carter hehe. Then around 6 we set off for dinner at the ancient ruins Huelca Pucllana. It was a long walk during rush hour, but we made it (slightly sweaty) and were seated immediately (in the room not immediately adjacent to the ruins). We got Topeka? Appetizer—4 from the menu for two people--some delicious bread, and our meals (salmon and risotto for me; tuna and veggies and rice for J). We had pisco sours which were strong and delicious. We admired the ruins for a few minutes before walking back down a central strip of park-like walkway. We made it to park Kennedy and stopped for picarones-fried pumpkin and sweet potato dough. I thought we would get one donut, but we got 6, drizzled in syrup. We carried these home, smacked on a few, and packed up. We went to bed by 10pm in prep for our early travel day the next morning.

3/15 LIMA-->CUSCO

3/15

We woke up around 430 and started getting ready. We snacked on leftover picarone and banana, then went to head downstairs at 515. We were stopped by the man next door (Gerard?) who said he owned the building and worked at Cheesecake Factory in gheridelli square in SF and owned a house in Oakland. We talked for a few minutes and gave him the key (a relief to me; I was worried the doorman might not be there for a hand off). The doorman was there and called a taxi for us--though it took a while, our driver spoke some English and warned us (in spanish) about being robbed at gunpoint in Cusco. I slept during some of the ride and was very groggy when we arrived. We got through security and onto our plane smoothly. I slept against the window the entire flight, but felt super weird--and anxious about altitude sickness--when we arrived. We got off and found our way to a crowd of desperate taxi drivers, all in our face asking if we wanted to ride with them. We said no gracias to them all, then realized we did need one. Jarod was haggling with one guy for a 15s ride but he wouldn’t budge; another driver jumped in and said he would take us for 15s. We rode through more modern Cusco into the more ancient part where we were staying. We arrived at our hostel around 10 and sipped coca tea in the lobby while they prepared our room for us. (Very early but convenient!) our room was beautiful and spacious Jarod lay on the alpaca blanket at the foot of our king bed so as not to get it dirty. We hung for a bit, then went down the street for lunch, back home for the bathroom, then out again to the main plaza. A very friendly man outside a different restaurant said “ah hello guys, we have been waiting for you come on in.” We told him we had already eaten and pressed onward, making our way through people pushing massages, trinkets, and art prints at us. The main plaza was beautiful. Green and surrounded by old churches and hills. We went around the shops at the edge--with lots of aggressive vendors and high end alpaca clothing shops. We stopped to buy sunglasses, then went to the Inka museum. We learned about the pre-inkan people who used basic tools and made basic ceramics and relied heavily on llamas and alpacas. The Incas themselves didn’t develop until ~1100 AD (news to me). They too made lots of ceramics and basic tools as well as little sculptures of animals and foods to sacrifice to the gods. The section on Spanish conquest was unclear because all the signs were in Spanish. It seems they put into power lots of Incan leaders who were pro-Spain and then screwed them over. When we were finishing up, it started pouring rain. We waited briefly for it to let up, then hurried home in the rain. We were struggling to breathe pretty often (>11k feet). At home, we got snuggly and took a nap. We found a dinner spot and went there around 5pm lol. Jarod ate alpaca for the first time. The place was empty and the chef was very sweet and cute and fed us aguaymanto which were delicious. The food was really excellent. We did have some comedy with the light above us--she turned it off to set the mood, then a young girl Came in later and turned it on above us without saying anything... we turned it back off, then the chef asked if we wanted it or not. On the way out, she asked for a tripadvisor review which i will happily write. We went to scope out prices of (fake) alpaca products and desserts. We went to a few stores and saw small “alpaca” blankets ranging from 40s--35s. We will go back to buy one or two before we leave. We bought a brownie and slice of chocolate cake nearby, then took it back to our room to feast on in our king bed. We watched some Simpsons in spanish, then read for a while. We went to go to sleep around 10, but I couldn’t sleep. Felt like I didn’t sleep all night--was up thinking. Maybe too much coca tea (inulin is stimulatory).

3/16

We woke to our alarms around 630, but didn’t get out of bed cuz I felt like I hadn’t slept. Finally got up around 9 and got breakfast at our hotel, which was delicious-especially the cornbread. We chilled in our room and prepped for the day, then ventured out. First, we went to San Pedro market. The streets outside were overflowing with vendors selling hard boiled quail eggs and slices of various fruits. Inside the main market place was literally everything. There was a hot food area, a line of juice vendors, butchers bakers, herb-sellers, woven goods vendors, and more. On the far side, we walked down a street lined with shops selling whole chickens (their naked bodies and weird feet displayed prominently). We then found a second, less touristy market place with more hot food, some dye stands, and even a haircut shop. We walked back and stopped for tamales, but didn’t have small enough bills so the woman sent us away. We found our way back to the plaza des armes and sat down for lunch--Jarod got pizza and I got chicken. From there, we started walking (steeply up) to Sacsayhuaman. We found a nice church with a fabulous viewpoint, then continued along the road to the main gate. There was a guard who said the ticket office was closed and we had to buy tickets in the plaza des armes. We were not motivated enough to walk there and back (still constantly out of breath from the altitude), and it was starting to sprinkle, so we headed home. We hung around home until we had to go to our pre-trek meeting. There were two people missing at the start--who came in 20minutes late absolutely breathless. The guide went over the plan for the next couple days. Everyone was young and seemed outdoorsy and ready. This trio of Australians had bought a lot of the recommended items on the packing list. I felt anxious and a little intimidated. We went to inkazuela for dinner, where we are delicious stews and fresh baked bread. A group of maybe 20 annoying Americans came and sat down and were so loud as we were paying. Embarrassing. We went home and packed and tried to go to bed early because we were waking up at 330 for a 4am pick up to start the drive to start the hike for Salkantay!!

3/17 BEGIN SALKANTAY 

3/17 - Day 1 Salkantay 

We woke up at 330, finalized our packing, and waited in the lobby briefly before our guide, Erick, arrived to pick us up on foot. He lived nearby our hotel in San Blas. We waited with him for the van, which didn’t seem to be where it was supposed to be. We got everyone picked up (including 3 bonus ppl who were doing a separate one-day trip. They were Thai but our guide Erick had told us they were Chinese lol.) We drove for about 2h on a windy bumpy road, I tried to sleep, but it was fitfull. When we stopped for breakfast I felt like actual shit and was worried I was getting altitude sickness. Jarod didn’t feel well either. I looked at the trekking route and realized we wouldn’t be much higher than Cusco, and this relieved me. We had a big breakfast (eggs, bread, fruit and yogurt, juice, coca tea), and sat by ourselves while the rest of the group bonded. We both started to feel better with the food and fresh air. We got back in the vans and drove another hour before getting off, sunscreening up, officially doing intros with our hiking group, and hitting the trail. Jarod and I were at the front with the other Americans, Chris and Alex from Buffalo, New York. The Australians, Emma, Ben, and Nick, were in the middle, with the Austrians, Anna and Patrick at the end. The start of the hike required some elevation climb, but then it evened out and we walked along an aqueduct in the mountainside for the majority of the trek. I accidentally called Emma Anna when asking her to take a photo. We made it to camp around 12? We were assigned Sky camps, which were tiny but beautiful glass comes with little twin beds in them after a 3-4ft doorway. I read and fell asleep for 7min before it was time for lunch). Lunch was a huge feast--the food was good but a bit cold. We then rested for half an hour and then hiked up to the lake. It was a relatively short hike, but quite steep. I was very out of breath, but led the charge alongside Chris. Anna and Patrick were lagging so far behind, Erick told us to go ahead and then wait at the half way point. Chris and Jarod and I led, waited for the group, then went on some more. The field we were walking through was full of cows and horses grazing, flanked by giant hills on either side. We walked up and over the top and found ourselves at a stunning blue lake. It was breathtaking, with streams from a snowy mountain running into an aquamarine reservoir. We took some photos, then climbed up a ridge along the side, from which we could see the lake as well as the grassy valley we came up through. It started to rain and we saw a beautiful rainbow in the valley but also needed to hurry back down. Everyone put on our ponchos and took a picture. I got my walking sticks for the way down, and they helped on the muddy parts but made me very slow. Jarod and I lagged behind the group as we all charged down the hill. We made it back, met as a team for tea time at 530, then dinner at 630. They had given us snacks, but we didn’t really need them because we were fed so often and so well. (I still ate my cookies earlier.. because they were delicious hehe). We got ready for bed after dinner around 8. I had a swig if Nick’s pisco before bed, then crawled into my sleeping bag and tried (but struggled) to sleep. I got up at 1am because Jarod was getting up. I hissed after him that I wanted to come to the bathroom, but he didn’t hear me. When I stepped outside, he was standing there. (He has walked toward the bathroom and been startled by a cow and come back loll). After that, I had a very hard time sleeping.

3/18 - Day 2 Salkantay

Started to climb, through some grassy fields, up the “Gringo killer” and to Salkantay summit, where it started raining. Emma had to breathe from an oxygen tank at the top (she had had severe altitude sickness in previous visits), and the Austrian couple took horses to the top to save their legs. On the far side of the summit, our trek got truly miserable. Steep decline. Soaked head to toe. I remember thinking, “Wow, we paid to do this.” We got to our midway lunch spot, where I tried to dry my socks, and we commiserated with our group. Thankfully, the rain let up, and the rest of the hike descended into warmer, more tropical forests. For tea time, they made us a freaking cake. We paid to use a shower and went into our little thatched-roof huts, a tiny space with one large bed. I had a dream that I had no feet (likely brought on by the extreme pain I felt in all of my joints!).

3/19 -  Day 3 Salkantay

Started the trek with Erick painting our faces with berries. By this time, felt VERY bonded with the group. The hiking this day was much tamer, flatter roads, less extreme climbs/drops, and a fun little cart that we rode across a river. We stopped by a coffee plantation and had lunch there. We took a van some stretch of the drive to end up at the trailhead to Machu Picchu. We went out with our group for dinner, and I felt excited but also sad to be so close to the end of our time with them. 

3/20 - Day 4 Salkantay (Machu Picchu!!)

Got up to start the trek to Machu Picchu around 5am(?). It was pitch black, and we CHARGED up the mountain, often annoyed that the people in front of us were not immediately letting us pass them. By the time we arrived at the gate, there were maybe 20 people in line, and we were drenched in sweat but also STOKED to be there. It was pretty chilly and very misty, so we had a few minutes of great visibility, but lots of fog other than that. Erick gave us a tour and some history, then (VERY SADLY) left us. Our group was a little devastated. We explored on our own a little, then headed back down as droves and droves of tourists poured in. We took a bus back and ate lunch (and many beers/pisco sours) at a small cafe while waiting for our train back. We eventually got on a train, which took us to a bus, which took us back to Cusco. We had booked a nicer room so that we could soak up the luxury after some very tough days on the trail. We met the Australians and the Austrians for drinks, and ended up staying up pretty late playing games and chatting with them in a Cusco bar.

3/21 CUSCO-->BOGOTA

3/21

We were awoken at 8 by a mysterious knock. I had some stomach trouble, then came back to bed. We got up at 845 to get breakfast. We ate the hotel breakfast, then went to our room to pack. I was feeling very sad to be leaving, nostalgic for our time on the trail. We packed, left our bags at the front, and went to go buy some “alpaca” blankets. We got two bracelets for J, three small paintings, and two alpaca blankets. The lady told us they were 50s even though we had been to the store before and been told 40, and had seen them elsewhere for 35. Jarod got her down to 40 and we left with them. By now I was hungry and emotional and tired, so I started to tear up over indecision with where to eat. We sat at a cafe and had 11s sandwiches. We went back to the hotel and had them call a cab. We arrived at the airport and checked in, then strangely waited in a room before being allowed through security (not many intl flights out of cusco... seems to require its own protocol). We made it to our gate and onto the plane. I was happy to be sitting next to Jarod (he was K and I was E... but for whatever reason those two are adjacent...) we had steak and vino tinto on the flight ;). We took a taxi home - a man lifted our bags into the trunk then asked for a tip. When we got there, our hosts were nowhere to be found and it was pouring rain. A property manager came out and started talking at us in Spanish very quickly--I think saying that our hosts hadn’t told her anything. She somewhat angrily escorted us outside, and I thought we were going to have to wait there. She then showed us how to work all the locks on the door, then let us inside. We got wine and cheese at the grocery store and snacked on those for dinner

3/22

We woke up around 8 with plans to eat breakfast at home then head to la candelaria for a bike tour at 1030. All appliances rebelled against us. The eggs stuck to the bottom of the pan, and the eggs that didn’t stick barely cooked. I tried to put laundry in but the timer never went down; it just perpetually washed. The toaster oven was a mystery of its own. Regardless, we eventually dined on eggs and arepas, and Jarod got the washer to switch to rinse then dry. We called an uber and got dropped off by the bike shop. We waited in a plaza and chatted with some other travelers. We embarked as a large group and found our way to a plaza with a statue of Simon Bolivar... talked about journalism... then split into two groups and departed. We biked to “the time square of Bogota” and talked about Germans convincing Colombians to drink beer instead of chicha... saw street art and discussed the battle between more/less formal forms... we biked through a neighborhood of mixed architecture and talked about the identity crisis in bogota... we rode to a park and snacked on fruits, then admired a giant map of bogota before riding past more street art (Jarod got a flat as usual), and to a big memorial for those killed in the civil war- tears streaming down the side of a building into a pool of water. We went to a coffee shop and talked some with our guide, Mateo. He talked about working in social services in London and suggested those services weren’t helpful. He showed impatience with others’ inability to learn english. We talked about the education system a bit then started our coffee tour. We biked down a more colorful street--with gov-commissioned art on all the walls. We rode through the red light district to a market for fruit tasting. We then ran across the street and learned how to play Tejo. It was really absurd and fun even though I was bad at it. Then we went back to the bike shop and paid. We got what was supposed to be a light lunch of ajiaco and a tamale to share - it was heavy. We walked to the main plaza and Gabriel Garcia Marques cultural center. We tried to stand outside our lunch spot to get WiFi to order an uber. Instead we went to a cafe and bought banana bread to get  their code. We went home, hung out, then headed to el chato for dinner. The host asked if we had a reservation, which we had a hard time understanding. Eventually we were sat at the bar. We got cocktails, the best order of chips and guacamole ever, lamb (Jarod), and fish with mushrooms (me). When we finished dinner, we went to the grocery store to buy more coconut cookies and then we headed home. We went to bed around 11.

3/23

We were slow to start in the morning. We made breakfast and did some research on Monserrate before calling an uber to go there. The uber got lost in a nearby national park and asked several ppl for directions but apparently few of them were helpful. We finally made it to the trail head and hiked the (very tough) ascent of 2000m. It took us about 50min; we arrived around 12. The view was beautiful but there were lots of ppl- even a mass going on. There were lots of stands for foods and trinkets. On the way down we got queso fresco con fruta. We then walked all the way home, zagging through la candelaria, stopping for bunuelos and empanadas, and then by the park for fruit and carrot cake. There were countless street vendors with hot dogs, coconuts, fruits, cell phone minutes, dried food, etc. We got home, napped and snacked, then showered. We went to Bogota Brewing Company around the corner. The waitress talked to us a lot very quickly and we were totally lost. She then brought us four drinks to try -- we were worried we needed to say something about them but didn’t even really know what they were. We ordered beers and a pizza and reflected on the trip and plans for going home. We went to the store for more coconut cookies, then home. We sat and ate for a little, then packed up and went to bed around 10.

3/24 BOGOTA-->SAN FRANCISCO

3/24

345am wake up - was awoken a little early by drunks in the street. Got ready and Jarod called an uber. Rode to the airport, got through immigration and security, wanted crepes and waffles but couldn’t find them. Had to go to the desk to check in (after hearing our names over the speaker). Alarms were going off while we waited... no one seemed to care.

[mangokiwitropicalswirl]

Paging Dr. Scully, chp 5: Ice

Paging Dr. Scully 1: Squeeze / 2: Jersey Devil / 3: Shadows / 4. Ghost in the Machine

“Dad, do you think I’m becoming detached?” Scully leans back in the dining room chair, fingering the stem of her wineglass. “Emotionally stunted? Immune to feeling?”

“Oh Dana, what would make you say that?” William Sr. replies in a soothing tone. “You were always my soft-hearted girl.”

“I don’t know, Dad.” Scully looks to the distance, then down into her glass. “I saw a friend lose somebody close to him in the ER this week. And I barely cried. It all seemed so rote, so normal. And then I saw him tear up, and I realized I’m giving more attention to all the notations in my charts than the people in the rooms.”

William Sr. nods and places an arm on her shoulder. “You are a good doctor, Dana. You always want to fix people, to make everything better.” He pauses until she looks up at him. “But you can’t fix everything. Some things are out of your control.”

Scully swallows, a lump forming in her throat. Her response is a choked whisper. “I just worry I’m becoming so cold. I don’t want to close off my heart from my work, you know.”

Maggie has stopped clearing away the dishes away and is listening in. “You just sound burned out, dear,” she offers.

“That’s such a cliche, mom,” Scully rolls her eyes and sits up a bit straighter, taking a sip of wine to help steady her voice. “If I’m burned out, then all doctors everywhere are always burned out.”

“I mean it,” Maggie presses further. “When was the last time you stopped working and took a vacation? First, you graduate college early and you start straight into med school. Then you choose emergency medicine as your speciality and dive into your residency without so much as a week off between getting your coat and your first clinical rotation. You’ve been going non-stop since you were 17, dear. I’d say you might be dealing with burnout.”

“Now now, Maggie,” William Sr. chides her lightly, “You know Dana thrives on achievement.”

“It’s true, dad,” Scully adds with a sigh. “I do.”

Even so, hearing her mother give the details of the last 12 years of her life like that, she is suddenly exhausted. “But… but mom might be right.”

She looks back and forth at her mother and father and the remnants of the first after-church dinner they’ve managed to schedule in months. She has never felt like she had more stress than the average person, but when looked at objectively, it’s a wonder she hasn’t collapsed from the pressure.

“What do you think I should do?” She looks at her father, the stalwart Navy captain, as if he should be the one to chart a course for her. The idea that any kind of stress would be too much for her is vaguely embarrassing in light of his rigorous standards. But he is, after all, her dad.

“I can’t answer that for you,” he shakes his head. “But in my opinion, it’s nothing a little more sleep can’t cure.”

“Mom?” Scully knows her mother will see things a bit differently.

“I think you might want to ask about a brief leave of absence, a sabbatical,” Maggie suggests, “I mean, when was the last time you even had time to go out on a date?”

Scully sighs. So often with her mother, it always comes back to her love life. Or lack thereof. Now doesn’t seem to be the time to get into that subject, even if for once, Scully thinks she might have something to share. But now’s not the time to delve into that.

“Honestly mom, dating is the least of my concerns right now…” she trails off wearily, too tired to mount her usual defenses.

“I’m just saying,” Maggie interjects. “These things don’t just happen. It’s not like the right guy is just going to stumble into your ER.”

Scully does her best to hide a smile as she stands up from the table and begins gathering her things to go. In fact, back at home there’s a message on her answering machine from a guy that she met in her ER. A message she’s probably played a half dozen times over the course of the last few days.

She had finally listened to it the night Mulder’s friend Jerry had died, once she made her way back to her apartment for the first time in days. She had stumbled her way to the couch and barely pulled off her shoes before passing out. When she woke in a puddle of drool, the blinking red light on the console table was the first thing she saw. She had leaned up on her elbows and slapped “play,” trying not to hold her breath as the machine ticked through a couple robo-sales calls and a reminder from her mother that they were due to have lunch after church the next Sunday. Then, his voice filled her apartment, on a message dated from Monday night.

“What’s up Doc? I’m guessing you’re probably on shift at the hospital now. I’ve been thinking about ways to get myself injured so I’d have a reason to see you, but I got a weird case this morning. I’ll have to tell ya about it – what do you know about artificial intelligence? Because it looks like our robot overlords might be arriving sooner than scheduled. Anyway, I’ll be kinda busy this week with this case, but I wanted to call and say thanks for making the drive up to Philly. You were right about the bell – it’s a big bell with a big crack, but at least we didn’t have to wait in any long lines. I don’t think I’d mind waiting in a long line with you anyway though. I know you have my number. Call me when you get a chance.”

The smile that had started when she heard the first words of his message only brightens the longer it goes on. She can hear the grin in his own voice as he pauses at the end of the message before hanging up.

She hasn’t known how to call back, though, after their interchange at the hospital. She has wanted to give him space, and she knows that he’s probably confused that she hasn’t responded. It’s just all kinds of awkward, so what exactly is she going to tell her parents? Nothing, yet.

“Thank you for dinner, mom. It was wonderful as usual.” Scully hugs her mother and clears away a side dish and some glasses on her way through the kitchen.

“Things will be alright, Dana,” William Sr. stands and places an arm on her hand as they stall by the door. “You have a good head on your shoulders.”

“Thanks Dad.” Scully squeezes his forearm, smiling faintly. “Thanks for the advice.”

In the car on the way home, she decides she has two things to do. First, she needs to call Mulder back, awkwardness be damned. And second, she needs to schedule a meeting with hospital HR and find out about leaves of absence.

Her stomach lurches wildly as the little plane dips and dives through a cloudbank. She hates small planes. She’s not much of a fan of big ones either, but small ones are infinitely worse. She pulls the white fur hood of her puffy jacket closer around her face to try and block the view of the towering peaks looming a little too close through the windows.

She glances at Mulder in the seat beside her. He’s looking at her with an expression somewhere between “I’m so sorry,” and “please don’t kill me.” He reaches over and laces his fingers overtop her right hand that is gripping the armrest. He squeezes.  “Almost there.” He tries to make it sound like a promise, but she hears the hesitation in his voice.

It’s moments like this that it hits her that she barely knows this man, but here she is, quivering in a tiny prop plane, on their way to God-knows-where for who-knows-why. But she is on a sabbatical and she’s going to Alaska with a man she just met. Her face and her fingers are freezing, but this is the warmest she’s felt in years.

[upthenorthmountain]

Something Just Like This - Chapter Four

Previous Chapters

Chapter Four

“The problem with you, Kristoff,” his friend Sven had once said, “Is that you think about things too much. The time to ask a woman out is as soon as you realise you like her, not after you've spent weeks pining over her from afar. Just ask and be done with it.”

That had been years ago - pre-Leanne - but Kristoff could hear Sven’s voice in his head when Anna had complained about having no one to go out with on her birthday. What’re you waiting for, a written invitation?

Why had he kissed her? Okay, yes, she'd kissed him first, but he could easily have played that off as a joke; smiled, said thanks, changed the subject. He wasn’t normally so impulsive. Maybe part of his brain just felt he deserved something nice, something simple. A friend, but sometimes we kiss.

“You need to get back on that horse,” Sven had said more recently.

“That doesn’t sound very flattering to - well, anyone,” Kristoff had replied.

“You know what I mean. Please don’t spend ten years moping about, waiting for the love of your life. Because then when she does appear you’ll be too scared to talk to her. Get some practice in. I mean, still find a nice girl you like and be nice to her, but aim more at the level of - we’ve had a nice dinner and now we’ll have a kiss and a cuddle on the sofa. Start there, work your way back up.”

“Nice girls don't exactly grow on trees.”

But, what did you know.

-----

“Are you ready for this weekend?” was the first thing Anna said to Kristoff when she saw him on the way to work that Friday.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“I’ve never done anything like this before!”

“Really? They do it every year here.”

“Team-building things at my old places were all conferences and seminars and boring things like that. Oh, one time we did a firewalk.”

“What’s that?”

“You know! Where you walk on hot coals.”

“Why?”

“To prove, you know. You can do anything you put your mind to.”

“Did you do it?”

“Of course! It was fine. It was only a few steps.”

“Huh. Well, thank you for making me feel better about a scavenger hunt and a barbecue, even if we do have to sleep in wooden sheds afterwards.”

Anna laughed. “It’ll be fun! And they’re cabins.”

“I slept there last year. They’re definitely sheds.”

“Do we get one each?”

“Oh, no. There’s one for boys and one for girls. Bunkbeds.”

“I’ve been informed,” Anna said, “That it’s - and I quote - ‘not so much a barbecue as a piss-up.’”

Kristoff laughed. “Did Dan say that? A few of them get quite drunk, yeah. Go to bed by midnight if you don't want to hear the printers singing dirty rugby songs.”

“Maybe I know a few rugby songs.”

“Well, I’ll look forward to it then.”

-----

From: april.howell@arundelprint.co.uk

To: all staff

Subject: Team-building weekend 2017

It’s nearly here! The famous ARUNDEL PRINT ANNUAL TEAM-BUILDING WEEKEND!! :)

Itinerary:

Saturday:

10am: Arrive and unpack

11am: Assault course: admin/design/management vs printing/binding/distribution!! Wear trainers and joggers/t-shirts that you don’t mind getting muddy!!

12 noon: Lunch

2pm: Spaghetti towers - build the tallest tower out of (dry!) spaghetti to win!! Groups of three or four for this one, try and stay in departments if poss!!

4pm: Scavenger hunt - choose a partner and whichever pair finds the most items wins!! All new items for 2017!!

7pm til late: Barbecue and bonfire!! Behave yourselves please, let’s not have a repeat of last year!!

Sunday:

9am: Breakfast

10am: Tidy up and leave

(we need to all be out by 11!! So no dilly-dallying, remove all rubbish from bunks and campsite please, no one is leaving until it's all clean)

Any dietary or other requirements let me know ASAP please as I am going to the cash and carry on Thursday!!

-----

“Not exactly Center Parcs, is it,” Judy said cheerfully as they unpacked in the cabins.

“It's barely even Butlins,” Anna replied. Judy laughed.

“I think they do outward bound things here, for schools and youth groups, most of the time,” she said. “Did you get a look at the assault course?”

“Yeah - does everyone do it?”

“In a relay, usually. Then whichever team gets the best time wins.”

“And we need three for the spaghetti thing? So we’ll do that as a department?”

“Three or four, so I thought we could ask Kristoff to join us?”

Judy had her back to Anna as she pushed her suitcase under the bed, but Anna could feel her grin.

“Sure,” she said. “Why not.”

-----

“Ow,” Anna said. “No, no, it's fine. It only hurts if I bend it like this - OW.”

“Are you sure you don't want to go to A&E?” Kristoff said.

“Oh, no, it's definitely not broken.” She rubbed her wrist with her other hand. “I've broken it before. We won, though, didn't we.”

“Well, yes -”

He had to admit that Anna’s run round the assault course had been impressive. She'd insisted on going first and had attacked it with such gusto that her low time had more than made up for the CEO ambling round the course like he had all day (while Anna bounced on the balls of her feet with frustration). She seemed to consider the fact that she'd probably sprained her wrist as a minor annoyance.

“What use are you to us now,” Dan said, “If you can't tape spaghetti together.”

“I’ll supply creative vision.”

“Such as?”

“Triangles are strongest.”

“We need height, not strength. We need to get that marshmallow the highest off the ground if we're going to win, and you're the competitive one, apparently.”

“You need strength to get height,” Kristoff said. “Where is our marshmallow?”

Anna looked guilty.

-----

“Okay, for the scavenger hunt we need you all in pairs,” John the CEO announced. “Everybody pair up. Try and stay in departments if you can.”

Dan leant over towards Anna. “Oh dear,” he said. “Our department is three people.”

“So it is,” she replied.

“That’s an odd number. Anna, would you do me a personal favour? Would you let me partner with Judy? Though that does mean you’ll have to find someone else, I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine,” Anna said, trying not to laugh, “did you have any suggestions? Isn’t HR just one person?”

“I think he means me,” Kristoff said, behind her. “If you can stand any more of my company.”

“Of course,” Anna said, turning to him. “Rather you than Dan, I spend enough time listening to him complain.”

“Fine,” Dan said. “For that, we’re going to beat you,” and he turned on his heel and went to find Judy.

Everyone else was pairing up, too. Anna collected the list of scavenger hunt items and looked down it.

“I wish everyone wouldn't look at us like that when we stand next to each other,” Kristoff said.

“They all think we're sleeping together,” Anna said matter-of-factly.

“Really?”

“Mmm. Having some torrid affair.” She grinned at him. “So you’ve done this before - how do we win?”

-----

The barbecue was perfectly good fun, Anna didn’t know what everyone had been complaining about. The food was fine, for a barbecue, and there was a campfire, and someone had managed to get some music playing. And there was plenty of wine and beer.

At the beginning of the evening Anna had tried to circulate, to sit and talk with different people from different departments, but she kept gravitating back towards one in particular. Kristoff mainly sat over to one side and only spoke to people who spoke to him; when she looked over he was either watching her or looking at his drink.

Finally she gave in and sat down next to him on the log by the campfire. His smile was immediate. “Having a good time?”

“Yes! This is fun.”

To her surprise, he put his arm around her. “You look so pretty today,” he said.

“Thank you.”

He pulled her in a bit closer. “I know they’re all looking,” he said. “Looking at me with the prettiest girl in the room. Field. Whatever.”

Anna laughed. “You’re sweet.”

“May I kiss you?” he asked, very serious.

“Everyone can see us.”

“Oh.” He looked down at his feet.

“I didn’t say no.”

His face lit up again, and Anna wondered exactly how much he’d had to drink; but then, she wasn’t exactly sober either.

He kissed her, but Anna jumped away from him when a piercing wolf-whistle went off on the other side of the fire. Kristoff just laughed, then cupped the back of her head and kissed her again; this time a cheer went up but it didn’t last long. The kiss lasted longer, and when it finished Anna found that she was now sitting on Kristoff’s lap - which one of them had done that? Maybe both.

It was comfortable, though. She snuggled up and accepted another plastic cup of the not-as-bad-as-she-was-expecting white wine that was being passed along the line. She loved team-building.

-----

By half-eleven the group round the bonfire was noticeably thinning as people retired to their bunkbeds. Anna decided she might as well go to bed as well - the evening was clearly winding down - so she said her goodnights and tottered off in the direction of the women’s cabin.

She was walking along the path through the trees, wondering vaguely if she was going to be able to climb into her bunk with only one good hand without falling off the ladder, when someone came up behind her and grabbed her arm.

She jumped, and yelped. “I'm sorry!” the man said, and she turned to see Kristoff, looking worried. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he said again, slipping his arms round her waist. “I didn't mean to startle you, it's only me.”

“What are you doing here?” she said, “I was just going to bed.”

“I wanted to kiss you goodnight,” he said. “May I?”

His lips were already only millimetres from hers. Anna reached up and pulled his head down to close the gap.

They kissed. Anna’s legs were already a little wobbly, and she let herself lean on Kristoff; he stumbled slightly, and Anna ended up with her back pressed against a tree. Kristoff moved his hands to her hips, then let one wander upwards as he started to kiss her jaw and neck.

He’d never been this forward before; his whole body was pressed against hers, and when his kisses returned to her lips they were deep and passionate. Anna pulled herself up on his shoulders and hooked a leg round his hips; he ground against her and she gasped against his mouth.

And then she had a sudden mental image of them trying to sneak onto the bunkbed to have sex and snorted with laughter. Kristoff pulled back a little in surprise. “What?” he said.

Anna kept giggling as she put her foot back down. “Sorry. Sorry. It’s just -”

He let go of her and pulled back further. Anna was confused until she saw a group of people coming along the path to the cabins, and she quickly stepped back onto the path and pulled her top straight.

“Goodnight,” she said.

“Goodnight,” Kristoff replied, and then he was gone.

[iworeheelsforthis]

Forced Fun

I recently had coffee with my girlfriend who is starting a new job at a startup as their first recruiting hire.  The founder knows how amazing she is and suggested she also be in charge of setting the company culture.  She agreed, on the terms that there would be no "forced fun".  It got me thinking about all the times I have been forced into having "fun" at the companies I've worked for.  There's been no shortage of forced karaoke nights, happy hours, baby showers, company and employee anniversaries and birthday celebrations, the list goes on.  Granted, some people enjoy forced fun.  I, however, learned how to Irish exit (where you sneakily leave a party without saying goodbye to anyone) early on in my career knowing that I absolutely despise being forced to spend more time with coworkers than is required in an already forced work week. 

I'm headed to Denver this week for 2 days of forced fun with my coworkers.  Half my team is in Denver and the other half is in the Bay Area, yet we all work remotely and I think for good reason.  We all seem to be juuuust fine not having to subject ourselves to seeing each other in person...ever.  Fine, let's have a video Zoom meeting every day.  Ok, let's hop on Slack and message each other all day long.  But forcing us to all fly to Colorado in January without a fun ski trip involved is not something I'm looking forward to. 

It's partially the fact that they wouldn't pay for my hotel the night before so I have to take a 6am flight (meaning waking up at 3am) and spend 8 hours in meetings once I land, followed up by a forced fun team dinner, where I fully expect to nearly sleep-drown in my soup.  It's also the fact that on the second day of relentlessly being talked at by various team members about how to interview (I've been recruiting for 12+ years so this is offensive), how to source candidates (I've sourced candidates in every role I've had and managed and trained sourcers, so again, offensive), and sitting through employee awards (gag me!), I then have to do a 2.5 hour team activity before our 8pm dinner and holiday party.  Because nothing says lets celebrate like insomnia mixed with resentment. 

The 2.5 hour team activity is an Escape Room.  This terrifies me for several reasons.  1) I am claustrophobic. 2) I don't want to spend 2.5 hours of faking that I'm having fun in a small confined space with a group of people I have never physically met. 3) What the fuck!? Are we 12? And Escape Rooms are so 2 years ago, get with the times people!  

Disclaimer: our cofounders allowed two 24 year olds to plan this entire offsite, so it does make sense in that regard.  Another disclaimer: I am a horrible liar and don't have a poker face so everyone should expect my best Jerri Blank face, played by the amazing Amy Sedaris, soon to be played by me. 

Except, inside I'll be doing this:

If you or someone you know is in charge of forcing people at work to spend additional time together, here is a list of things people would actually cringe less over:

- Massages (a relaxed employee is a happy employee)

- Wine tasting (necessary)

- Nap time (also necessary)

- A roast of your boss (the only time you can be honest about how you really feel about them without getting fired)

- A meditation session (distract the mind from the people you're forced to be around)

- Getting to fly home on a weekday instead of a Saturday morning (like I have to) so they can get back to their sanity quicker (pray for me)

Besides this Escape Room disaster, I've also been forced into the following fun in past jobs:

- In-office karaoke where the insecure leader of the ad agency belted out show tune after show tune complete with choreographed dances and the splits, hogging the microphone and continually reminding us she grew up doing theater. Yeah, we get it, Sally, and now my ears are bleeding.

- Baby shower after baby shower - at my last company at least two people were pregnant on my team of 9 at any given time.  I love those girls and am still friends with them but dear God, what was in the water?! And when you force the single, childless female on the team to play pin-the-tail-on-the-baby and guess the baby name, it really made me wonder if I could create my own gift registry of champagne and sushi restaurant gift cards to congratulate me on successfully using birth control.

- A holiday party where the Head of HR was hitting up everyone on our team for drugs, whilst her 65 year old fake boobs where verging on nipple protrusion from her very revealing dress.  

- A networking event we were forced to host when I worked for a staffing agency, where our male boss got so blackout drunk, bailed on the event that was his idea and was found passed out in the lobby of his hotel at 2am with his smashed phone next to his lifeless body. 

- This isn't company related but definitely forced fun related: a red-headed male stripper would come to our sorority every year for the Seniors as a "present" to them, get buck naked, grind on our housemother and our cook and then we'd have to see him later at the bar because he was the bouncer. I'm pretty sure if my parents knew that's where some of my chapter fees were going, they would have asked for their money back. 

This will be a true test of my patience but God willing, I'll survive. I'll be grateful every day after for the fact that I get to work in the peace of my home, yoga pants locked and loaded, without the fear of being trapped in a small space with people I don't know.  

[viewfromthedrumstool]

View From The Drum Stool #49

Saint Etienne European Tour, Part I

Albeit not fully recovered from the American tour, the drum stool beckons me back for another run with Saint Etienne. This time it’s Europe: we’ll start with some Scandi dates, head home for a week, and then do a second run south from Helsinki.

All too early on a frosty autumnal Monday morning we meet in east Oxfordshire, five persons and enough keyboards, guitars and musical equipment to open a shop. Our ride to the airport is with friendly South-African taxi driver ‘DimiPapaUk’ who, when he isn’t driving customers in his cab uses it to host ‘taxi raves’ which he broadcasts live on the Internet. (Catchphrases include “Love, peace and muthafuckin’ chicken-grease” and “Ahhhhhhhhhhhh SHIT!”). His YouTube channel is really worth a look…

There’s an extensive (and intrusive) renovation being undertaken at Luton airport which makes the process of passing through the facility painful and uncomfortable. Like a gallstone. We locate the rest of our party on a concourse littered with sleeping families and workmen heaving: it’s a scene from a news report put to a soundtrack of pneumatic drills and circular saws.

Beyond security the nomads and crowds loiter, the type of people that you don’t seem to find anywhere else and I wonder whether they’re actually travelling anywhere or whether Luton airport is simply the place these people come to quietly exist, freed from citizenship, like Tom Hanks in The Terminal.

Most of the flight (2 hrs) I spend sleeping or reading (Cider With Rosie) and eventually we touchdown in Copenhagen to be met by our man-on-the-ground Leuven.

He looks more like he belongs at sea than in the music industry, decked in thick woollen jumper with a magnificent scar on his cheek and at least two teeth missing. I sit up front with him in the rental van for his guided tour of the city as we make the short journey to the venue. He’s an enthusiastic host and a knowledgeable tour guide, if only he didn’t insist on poking me constantly with his calloused sea fingers every time he speaks.

“Hey man look at all the copper roofs!” A jab to the chest.

“37% of our citizens cycle to work!” He digs at my rib.

“Check out this church - it’s non-denominational!” He bruises my wind pipe.

I make a mental note to sit in the back next time.

One of the interesting and unusual things about Copenhagen is that they have the worlds second-oldest still-active amusement park slap bang in the middle of town. Tivoli opened in 1843 and because of the limitations in space most of the rides go up and down more than they go round and round. But there are still four rollercoasters, including a wooden one that’s so old an attendant has to ride in the front carriage and operate the brakes with a lever!

The venue, Pumpehuset, is also right in the centre of town and as we roll up outside a woman waits by the stage entrance, autograph book in hand ... I recognise her! It’s the same autograph-hunter as greeted the arrival of Man Without Country in town some years back! She must have quite a collection by now.

It’s been a long day but when show time comes around we’re all excited to play together again. Given the hysterical crowds we became accustomed to Stateside it was no surprise that the Danish audience demonstrated their enthusiasm somewhat more tastefully, though they were many in number and long may that remain.

We’re staying right across the road at the Hotel Ascot, a mere stumble away after the inevitable post-show back-on-tour merriment. It’s a civilised lodging, despite some confusion over stray knickers we’ve been finding under beds and on the stairs ... maybe there’s some Scandi-noir murder mystery situation in our midst and we should be paying more attention to these saucy clues...

Breakfast is vast and a welcome change from the tasteless beige of the American hotels (I almost always skipped). Fully fuelled - and with a boiled egg in the pocket for mid-morn - we board the van and venture first east, crossing the Øresund Bridge into Sweden and then turn north.

Above us sore enormous flocks of birds in giant V formation, sometimes hundreds in number, their aerodynamic choreography a site to savour and we crane our necks to get a sight of them out of the van window.

Suddenly everything starts to look distinctly... Swedish.

Our fellow road users are positively glowing, their skin a deep orange of questionable origin. And given the number of Burger King restaurants that litter the E6 road north to Gothenburg they’re also surprisingly slim.

In a service station we find a chocolate called a Plopp and another called a Kex. They’ve a way with words the Swedes, I’ll give them that.

Almost all of the vehicles on the road are Swedish-made Volvos too, their lights beaming out come day or night in accordance with Swedish law. The road is bordered much of the way by great slabs of rock covered in subtle shades of moss and I’m sure some rich autumnal hues linger beneath if only for a decent glimmer of sunlight. It’s beginning to dawn on me how unrelentingly dark it is up here. It’s only October but already the sun doesn’t get high into the sky and the type of light that breaks through the clouds is an impotent powerless one.

The backstage at ‘Stora Teatern’ in Gothenburg is welcoming - albeit forgivably IKEA - with the kind of rider I spent most of the US tour dreaming of. EU riders are famously good - there are fresh vegetables, plentiful fruit, cheese and cured meats, boiled eggs, weird and wonderful chocolates, snacks and interesting breads, freshly brewed coffee, and of course the obligatory houmous. (Early in my career a promoter told me if there’s ever no houmous on the rider something is very very wrong, advice I’ve carried with me since). After soundcheck we also find two iced buckets full of wine, Cava and organic beers and cider, which are tasty and preferable over a mass-produced (or even micro-brewed) American effort any day.

The venue itself is among the most grand and impressive I’ve had the pleasure of playing. Originally opened in 1859, the theatre has a large floor, dress circle, upper circle, grand circle and boxes. But the entire audience are seated and once settled into the first song it’s surreal to look up and see them sat there, so serene, several hundred pairs of eyes peering up expectantly and a peal of polite applause after each song. It reminds me of the opening scenes from Wes Anderson’s The Life Aquatic.

Gerard is suitably attired for such a grandiose venue in a dashing suit with ruffled Beethoven shirt. It’s particularly fitting for the glorious baroque intro to Whyteleafe and in the dim light of the stage his black sleeves become invisible and the sight of his cuffed hands dancing across the keyboard reminds me of Thing from the Addams Family.

Albeit clearly enthusiastic, the seated crowd are slow to stir and it’s wonderful moment when a solitary girl on the front row gives in to primal urge and stands to dance through the final few songs. Thankfully by the encore I’m the only one still seated and they’re rewarded with a spirited rendition of You’re In A Bad Way.

The hotel is a boutique Italian affair and they offer check-in with cheese in the form of a huge Parmesan block which patrons are encouraged to pick at while they wait. It’s fair to say they’re enthusiastic to have Saint Etienne come to stay, and they produce an LP from behind the reception desk for the band to sign. Not only do they also furnish all of our rooms with handmade chocolates, but generously decide not to charge our party of 12+ people for dinner - no meagre act considering Scandi prices…!

The following morning and we take to the road once more for the 5+ hour journey from Gothenburg across to Stockholm. The rain today is persistent and I have to keep wiping the window to remove the misty condensation that keeps forming.

Having barely been here before I had high hopes for a haul of memorable photos - perhaps Sarah by a fjord, a panoramic Scandi city scape or Bob and Pete in an epic Nordic vista. In reality there’s been so little in the way of mere colour since we arrived, and the journey is again notably devoid of any hue: even at 1pm there’s barely enough light in the van to read a book. I’m starting to crave a bright colour: perhaps a firey orange or a rich red.

(In desperation I try changing my specs to a different pair but it makes no difference.)

Todays gas station discovery is a CD called RASTERBILLERSHITS Vol.2. But as intrigued as I am to know what a Rastterbillershits sounds like, everything is expensive in Sweden of course and I wasn’t prepared to stake the £22 to find out.

Instead I plug into my iPad where there are albums of Eagles songs and a playlist of country music from our recent tour of the USA ... it’s difficult to comprehend that mere weeks ago we were in sunny California - the cultures couldn’t be further apart (other than the abundance of Burger Kings). I settle on Black Celebration by Depeche Mode instead.

After what feels more like 50 hours we finally disembark at ‘Sodra Teatern’, and enter a labyrinthine venue of meandering corridors, claustrophobic catacombs and anti-chambers too numerous to keep track of. Unable to find anything that constitutes a music venue I find myself instead stumbling into a kitchen deep in the heart of the operation. A sous chef busy shaving cucumbers is pleased to have a companion - he shouts some things in Swedish, poses for a photo and directs me down some stairs, through a passageway and I eventually emerge into the backstage.

The rider tonight includes some interesting additions including a repulsive-looking repulsive-tasting appropriately-named Swedish sweet called Salt Skum. Ever the experimental eater, Pete tries combining it with other rider-items (banana, carrot stick, cheese) in a bid to make to find a companion flavour that might make it more edible but to no avail.

After soundcheck we’re led up to a restaurant on the top floor where we’re served four courses of nouvelle vegetarian fare. It’s utterly delicious and a somewhat more successful attempt at flavour fusion that combines, at various times, coconut foams, raw mushrooms, nuts and spices, and a slice of hot pineapple, all served on clay plates.

I hadn’t seen anything of the crowd before we walked on stage and though I’d heard the show had sold well it was a pleasant surprise to walk on and find a room packed to the rafters, bursting with excitement, people up the stairs and on the balcony, necks craning just to get a glimpse of the action.

It’s another fine show and a great way to end the first short leg. The band are in fine form these days and we’ve come a long way (in every sense) since the tentative first promotional dates of the Home Counties campaign.

It’s been a whirlwind of a trip, enjoyable as always and I look forward to returning to Sweden and Denmark in the future. But the grey’d aesthetic was disappointing albeit atmospheric and I don’t hold out much hope for those few times that I did pull the trigger on my Pentax.

It’s still raining when we return to the airport the following morning. But when the plane takes off we rocket up through the clouds into a pastoral blue sky and a burst of pure golden sunlight comes streaming through the starboard porthole, bathing the cabin, flooding my retinas and laying to rest any woes, cravings and longings.

Alas, part two of the EU Tour will follow … here’s hoping for some more sunshine!

Until then,

M

[kurakurarisu]

i'm dizzy and sleep-deprived and ridig high on my first glasses of alchohol in like a year but i had dinner eith my real biological dad tongiht. it was the first time i've seen him in person in nine years and i have 

I JUST FUCKING REALIZED I FORGOY TO TAKE A PICTURE OF US. FUCK

anywaje here's everything i can remember about this night so i can remember it fir all time

he was super late fot some reason, we talked about meeting at 9:30 and he ended up being an hour late

i was super nervous about meeting him so i didn't get any sleep the night before so by the time we were actually going to meet i was ready to drop dead i was so freakin sleepy

 when the taxi pulled up to the hotel we were meetig at he was standing waiting i got out and he immediately hugged me. he held me super tight

in the beginning we were obviously still fihuring out how to talk to each other so it was a little awkward but honestly not even half as awkward as i was fearing it would be

he took me to a french restaurant and he asked me i've ever eaten at one before and i said no so he said he would help me order 

he honestly looked like.. a mafia boss's relative or something. like he wasn't as imposing as a mafia boss but hedefinitely looked like h could've been part of the boss's family. he had salt n pepper hair, it was mostly white nesr the front, a tiny hit of belly and slim arms and legs. and he had a cigar

hr asked me how i was doing three times

he asked me what i wanted to know and i asked about my grandparents and appsrently my grandfather died last year :( on november 2016.  i was really fucking sad abiut that but apparently he made it to 94 years old which is pretty impressive

my grandmother is still alive. my dad is the 2nd oldest in a family of six, i have 3 unvles and 2 aunts and one of them has twins

my dad works as secind in command at a hotel, assistant general manager? he's been taking jobs in various coub0ntries trying to find a hotel where he can be promoted to general managef. he's worked in libya, ruwais, oman, saudi and here in the uae

he started as a busboy

he can speak fluent arabic and french!!! :( 

he used to swim a lot which is!! i've been wanting to learn how to swim for a while, i told him i didn't know how and that i could only float and he made a face and laughed

he ordered white wine, i forgot the name :( he thought me how to drink it, first you have to smell it, then you sip and keep in it in your tongue for a while

the food was.. delicious he ordered us both seafood bisque and i had the softest chicken breast of my life

what else. he asked about life at home cause i messaged him 2 weeks ago? asking if i coukd stay with hin cause i got kicked out. i couldn't really explain that very well, i didn't want to tell him what specifically we fought about that made them tell me to leave

he gave me a lot of life advice and advice on how to get a job and encouragement in general. he said it'd be easier to apply for custome service jobs in hotels and then work my way uo to admin by taking the hotel training courses

he said he wanted to become a general manager to secure a better future cause no one was going to take care of him in his old age :((( i have to do something about that

i told him i'm trying to kearn japanese cause i want to move to japan someday. he seemed really su4ptised cause i only ever talked about wanting to go to canada. i asked him where he wanted to retire and he daid he wants to open a restaurant in los angeles and then retire there cause he's been there before and one of his brothers lives there with his family?

he never had other kids and never thought about marrying anyone after splitting with my mom he said maybe because he was still in love with her

he likes to read history books and knows how to cook a littke

the restaurant he took me to is one he used to take my mom to when they were dating :(

nearing the end of the meal, he was sitting in his his seat turned a littke sideways and he lit uo his cigar, i was on my third glass of wine and the silence was very comfortabkr

we kept chatting til we finished the bottle, it was 12:30 and we were the only people left at the restaurant. 

before we left we hugged for a long time outside the hotel entrance, then he ealked me to the taxi stand

and that's it!! 

[donaldresslerfanfic]

A ‘problem’

Rating: M

Warnings: Strong Language (little bit)

Word Count: 2067

Donald Ressler X OC Maggie Waters.

Chapter: Seventeen.

Chapter Index

Story on Wattpad

Ressler.

Things seemed to have fallen back into place.

Like Maggie had said, it had been hard. Walking through town in the same places we had visited, seeing the restaurant we usually ate in. When I occasionally wore a sweater and it was the one she had given me for my birthday, or just for the hell of it. It was like when we split up, except it was worse, because I knew she wasn’t out there moving on with her life. She was six feet into the ground.

Work did the trick,it was a name after the other, Liz was still dealing with her husband, she wanted to know the whole truth.

Maggie… Well, Maggie was just Maggie. Things between us had gone back to how they were, we usually hung out at the café, Fridays were a thing again. Dinner back at her place or mine, catching up with her work or mine. Talk and talk. The little times I had to get something about Audrey off my chest she was there to listen attentively. I was also there when she expressed her concerns about Red. Something had him uncomfortable, and she was scared it all might have some repercussion on her.

She said she wanted a gun, and learn how to use it. And I agreed, she should have one at this point. But there was a nagging voice in the back of my head saying that if she got a gun it mean I wouldn’t be there to protect her if anything happen, and believe me, I had set it up in my mind that after everything she’s done for me, I will go out of my way to protect her. From anyone.

We hadn’t talked much or seen each other these last few days, so Friday night she invited me back to her place.

Although things seemed to had gone back to normal, I had a situation that was currently staring back at me from the palm of my hand. I didn’t have enough pills to last me till my next prescription.

Yes, I had been taking one too many every time I had to take my usual dose. It was helping me with the leg pain and the pain I usually had after a day in the field, car crash, car flipping over, getting punched, running, falling, tackling down people. That is what I did on an everyday basis, so I needed the pills to numb me up a little.

I wasn’t taking them because of Audrey. I wasn’t.

But now, I was staring at both pills in my hand, the ones that I was going to take before I entered Maggie’s apartment complex. Only two for the next few hours until the pain is unbearable in the middle of the night and I have to take two more. The problem was that the bottle of pills was empty.

I quickly downed the two pills and put the bottle in my coat pocket. By the end of the night I have to get another prescription, somehow.

I thought about talking to some acquaintance that worked in a pharmacy and to tell her that I needed a refill. I could make something up.

While wracking my brain around my current situation I knocked on Maggie’s door, I was somehow already in front of it. She opened up with a smile and let me in.

“I’m making some beef stew, hope it’s good”

“It smells good” I said taking my jacket off. I dropped it in her couch and got ready a few glasses for us. My medication didn’t allow me to drink much, but it hadn’t been a problem so far, I usually had to work the very next day.

Maggie sat down at the kitchen island while I poured her some wine, it went well with this meal.

“I know you don’t usually hold much importance to dates but… I moved here a year ago two weeks ago, which roughly makes it one year since we met so” she motioned with her glass at me “cheers”

I smiled at her and softly tapped her glass with mine.

“To many more” I said while leading the glass to my mouth and taking a sip.

“You said it” she left the glass in the table and pulled out her phone from her back pocket “now, let me show you this real quick” she made a few movements in the phone and then turned it to me.

Maggie loved it when her sister sent her videos of their everyday life, this one was of her baby moving in her stomach, she was 6 or 7 months pregnant at this point.

I chuckled when I heard Ella asking her mother if the baby was trying to get out, the video cut out after her stomach stopped moving.

“I think that I forgot to mention but it’s Talia’s birthday next week”

“You mentioned it was soon”

“Well, I’m taking next Monday off. They’re having a little party at her house since it’s getting warmer and I can make it there and back on the same day”

“That’s nice”

She stood up to move the meat in the stove but she frowned at me and stopped

“Would you like to come?” I looked up at her, I don’t know if she was frownig because I had somehow implied I wanted to go or she was frowning for something else. “I mean it’s OK you don’t have any obligation it’s just that… You know them, kind of… And i though it would be good to go out, you’re working too much”

I nodded thoughtfully, she was right, and I’ve been wanting to go out for a while now, not just out the city but out of town.

“Another trip down to that park we went with Gina would be cool too” I commented, she smiled at me and nodded

“That can be arranged, now that the weather is better” she looked up to look for the plates and napkins on the high cabinet.

I don’t know how long ago I started to check Maggie’s movements, how she walked, how she stood, her little hand movements when she talked, lip bites, grimaces, eyebrow twitches. But I had, I was looking at her a lot lately, which is why I noticed an extra movement when she pulled the plates down.

“Has your arm been hurting?” I stod up and walked to her.

“Yeah. A little.” She rotated her shoulder “I stopped taking the pain killers they gave me, it was giving me constipation. But I guess that’s TMI for you” she finished with a smile and put the plates down.

I stopped listening after the words ‘pain killers’, if Maggie had pain killers I had to have them, she said she isn’t taking them anymore so she doesn’t need them, I do, until my next prescription.

“I’ll go wash my hands to eat” she motioned at me to the bathroom while turning her attention to the food.

I made a quick dash to the bathroom in her room and locked the door behind me.

I turned on the tap and me it flow while I looked inside her medicine cabinet. Dental floss, toothbrush and toothpaste, birth control pills? Ibuprofen, hand cream, prescription pain killers, yes!.

I checked the label and it was in fact oxycodone. I was very grateful to god right now.

I saw a pill holder with the days marked, I opened it to find she hasn’t been taking the pain killers, they were still there, but the birth control pills were only on Saturday and Sunday, tomorrow and the day after.

I then checked the inside of the bottle and I dropped the pills in my hand. 12, that wasn’t going to last me a week, let alone till my next prescription.

All the while I was taking the pills and putting them in my empty bottle I couldn’t shake up the voice in my head.

I was stealing pills from my best friend.

Pills that I was very sure they weren’t going to last me a week, my next check in and prescription were next month. I had somehow taken a month’s dose in one week.

But also, Maggie wasn’t using them, she wouldn’t notice the difference, and I was planning on showing up on the week to replace the pills when I got my own.

“Don?” I heard her voice calling me from the bedroom.

“Be right out” I called back, I hurriedly put everything back in it’s place, or what I hoped was it’s place, then quickly washed my hands.

“The hell were you doing? We’re eating not going to perform surgery” she joked as soon as she saw me walk our of the bedroom.

“There’s a lot of bacteria in bathrooms” I excused, she gave me a 'really?’ Look and presented me with a plate filled with the stew.

We ate while the TV made some background noise, we had busied ourselves with whatever local news had came out and some pop culture reference Maggie threw at me, I had been seeing some movies here and there.

“I think I would like to visit your family” I said taking her empty plate to the sink, she’d cooked, I had to clean.

“That’s awesome!” She proclaimed probably a bit relieved that I hadn’t made the subject awkward, it’s not like we’re dating or anything. Though on another note if we were dating that would be easily explainable to Maddie and her family.

Again I was asking myself how things would be if I was dating Mags. I was thinking about it an awful lot for someone who had just lost a life partner less than two months ago.

“Thinking about her?”

She leaned her cheek in my shoulder while I pulled up my sleeves to clean the dishes.

“Yeah, nothing sad though. It just feels weird to move on as if nothing had happened”

“You can tell me, I basically moved states as if nothing had happened. I know it feels weir but it’s OK to want to move on. Wouldn’t do her much good knowing you’re sulking and coming apart”

I nodded, thoughtful, Maggie moved her cheek from my shoulder and walked back to the island, she sat with a grunt the sighed.

“I’m going to send a quick text to my sister then”

“How about we wait until I get confirmation from HR”

“It’s not like they can say no” she said mockingly “you should get five days off for every concussion you get”

“It’s actually two days” I corrected.

“Then you must have like 46 free days pilling up, take one”

“There are 32, and we’re a limited task force. Even when Meera’s kids had gotten sick she hasn’t been allowed to leave. The task force comes first, second and third.” I finished washing the plates and cleaned my hands with a napkin while turning to Maggie

“Can I ask you something, not intending to be offensive or intruding?”

“You’re my best friend Mags, there’s nothing offensive of intruding between us”

I sat down next to her and she put her hand on top of my forearm.

“Have you been seeing a psychologist?” She asked me worried.

“I had one visit with the shrink and the office, but I don’t need a full treatment”

“OK” she said and nodded

“Have you?” She nodded again and moved in her seat a bit uncomfortable.

“I have, Raymond has her on call and she understands the risk his workers go through, so I’ve been seeing her, a lot after I got shot. I know I said it was nothing and it felt like nothing but… It took a tool on me after it finally clicked that someone was trying to actually kill me”

She looked away, her eyes watered. I leaned in and rubbed my hand on her back while the other one held her by the arm, trying to comfort her. I wasn’t the best there was but Maggie felt very vulnerable right now. Who knows what she sees when she’s out there working for Raymond?. Who knows what she isn’t telling me?

“You can get out of this deal anytime you want Mags.”

“I can’t” she whispered “what if he decides to skip and you have to go after him?”

“Forget about me, and the task force, if you can’t do it anymore leave it”

She gave me a little said smile, I rubbed her back again and I pulled her to me to hug her.

I was enjoying a little too much hugging Maggie, her hair always smelled nice and the heat of her body seeped away from her clothes and onto my own body. I gave her another pat in the shoulder and looked to my coat.

“Here, I’ll teach you something”

She moved away from me and I stood up, retrieved my gun from the holster and unloaded it.

She had walked to me and I moved her to near the couch for us to have more space.

“I’ll teach you some basic disarming technics.” I handed her to gun and she hesitantly took it.

“Its heavy” she said while weighing it in her hand. I moved her hand up for her to point at my chest.

“Don’t put your finger on the trigger” she took it out and took a deep breath “otherwise when I do the move I might break it” she gave me a funny look and that made her relax. “When your attacker points at you the first thing you have to do is move your body out of the way before reaching out to take the gun.”

I moved out of the way and my arm caught her forearm, I pulled her to me while I spined and trapped the arm that held the gun between my other arm and my torso, my back to her, the gun slipped from her hand easily when I grabbed it.

When I turned to her again she gave me a wide eyed look

“That was awesome” she said with excitement of her voice, I smiled and pointed the gun at her.

“Now, yo-” before I could finish the phrase she replicated the move on me, but of course I put some resistance when she went to take the gun from my hand. We were side to side with both our hands in the gun “now, it’s not going to be that easy. Now it’s a fight, we both have control on the gun, and the attacker isn’t going to give it to you, you have to do whatever you have to to unbalance the attacker, stomp his feet, the elbow is one of the strongest parts of the body” I took her by the wrist and made her push and bent backwards her elbow to my face, being careful it didn’t actually hit me. “After you unbalance me you can take the gun with your hand” I held her hand in mine and covered the barrel off the gun with her fingers “now you can twists the gun the other way and finally take it”

By the end of the movement she had the gun in her hand with a big smile.

“Again, but I’ll do it for real” she handed me the gun

“I’ll fight for it” I assured also with a little smirk.

She was a fast learner, she asked me if she could add a headbutt or whatever movement and we practiced several take downs, from the side, from the back or directly in the face. I resulted in Maggie taking me down after two or three tries.

It was another two hours of just her and me struggling to get the gun along with some laughs. Now she felt confident, and that was important.

I ended up leaving her house at almost two o clock in the morning.

By the time I got into my car the pain in my body returned, I fished the bottle from my pocket and downed two more pills without thinking about it.

I had to get another prescription, the pain was going to be bad to make me down this bottle in three days.

[biofunmy]

Against Nihilism

Kate Ferro for BuzzFeed News

After a big breakup earlier this year — I was the one who ended things — I gave myself a lot of room to grieve in whatever ways felt good at the time. Ordering takeout for both lunch and dinner? Sure. Downing IPAs while watching women’s soccer at 10 in the morning? No problem. Draining my savings on weird funky clothing and yet another pair of clogs? You bet!!!

According to the tenets of modern pop feminism, I’m entitled to a certain amount of overindulgence because, as a hardworking woman, I’ve earned it. Everything from institutional sexism to harassment to heartbreak can supposedly be assuaged by a couple bottles of wine with a group of good girlfriends. The treacly “Treat yo self” mantra popularized on Parks and Recreation has enabled many a stressed-out woman to place that $800 Anthropologie order (you can always return most of it, right?). Life is hard and the world is on fire; maybe we deserve to indulge in some good old simple pleasures.

So what if wine is a carcinogen and the alcohol industry has actively worked to downplay the link between drinking and cancer? So what if fast fashion is built on exploitative labor and contributes to mass global pollution? So what if the concept of self-care — popularized by Audre Lorde, a black lesbian activist battling breast cancer — has been co-opted to sell us things we don’t need, things which indirectly harm others and might actually harm us in the end? We’ve earned it, ladies!

I’d like to think I don’t actively buy into the capitalist vision of self-care, even as I’ve thrown my money into its maw; at least, I don’t assume any sort of entitlement to feeling good via the accumulation of material things. More so, I just thought…fuck it.

A few months ago, drunk in the middle of the day, I impulse-bought a Juul at a bodega in downtown Manhattan. I’d been taking hits off my friends’ vapes for months, only after I’d had enough to drink that smoking became pleasurable instead of disgusting. That was the rule I’d used for myself previously with cigarettes: I could never buy my own, but if I was drunk, I could bum one or two or five. Actually owning a Juul, as much as I liked to think the vapor or whatever made them safer than my beloved Marlboro Lights, was definitely breaking the rules. But I’d reached a point where I no longer cared.

While other people were having their hot girl summers, I spent mine flirting with a sense of doom I haven’t experienced since I was a hope-starved teen. (Nihilism: It’s back in style, just like denim miniskirts!). And I’m not alone. Twitter offers a daily glut of jokes about the apocalypse; things have gotten so bad we’re begging for vaping or an asteroid or alien overlords to finally put us out of our misery. The novelist Jonathan Franzen published a (much-maligned) essay this past weekend about climate change, arguing that the oncoming disaster is impossible to mitigate and “we” can no longer pretend otherwise. (“Every day, instead of thinking about breakfast,” he wrote, we all “have to think about death.”) Reading recently about presidential candidate Andrew Yang’s dystopian vision of the future, I found myself dismayed, and thoroughly dragged, by Max Read’s description of a “doomer,” the archetypal internet memer who believes we’re all totally fucked: “a depressed, purposeless 20-something usually depicted smoking a cigarette and wearing a beanie.”

Okay, I’m not a doomer, but I have become somewhat fatalistic lately. With talk of another recession and the continued possibility of dying in a mass shooting or some sort of natural disaster, the scarcity mindset I’d developed as the child of a parent living paycheck to paycheck kicked back in again. Thanks to a few greedy corporations and crisis-denying national governments, climate catastrophe seems inevitable — no matter what personal choices I make about things like food or travel or children.

So why bother saving for the future if there isn’t even going to be a future? Why bother being kind to my body by taking it easy on the beer and potato skins when all the crap I consume might not catch up with me by the time that not-future comes to pass? No matter how I treated myself — and no matter what infinitesimal steps I took to be a better human citizen — we’d all end up in the same place in the end.

For a while during my “fuck it” summer, it felt great to be a mess, if only because of its implicit rejection of corporatized self-care’s evil twin: self-optimization. Since diets have become passé, we’ve entered a new era defined by “wellness,” but women are still expected to meet Eurocentric and patriarchal beauty standards — only, unlike with dieting, we’re now supposed to feel good about attempting to contort ourselves into socially acceptable bodies.

Fuck other people’s narrow ideas about the only right ways to live a good and happy life.

“Wellness” conjures images of Gwyneth Paltrow peddling hundreds of dollars’ worth of Goop vitamins and oils and crystals and juices to customers who, because they are not wealthy celebrities, will never look like Gwyneth Paltrow. Organic vegetables and private Pilates instructors are the provinces of rich people who have the time and money to optimize their bodies as if it’s their job (because it is). Fuck wellness! I thought, ordering chips and queso for the third time in a week. Fuck other people’s narrow ideas about the only right ways to live a good and happy life.

But was my life really better, or happier? I loved taking shots with my sister at my favorite dive bar, bonding in a way we sometimes struggle to when sober. But I hated that by the time we got home I was sobbing on the couch about our fraught relationship with our mother, some deep dark part of me ripped open and exposed to the unforgiving light. I loved the dopamine rush of confirming yet another online shopping order, but I hated having to return half the crap once it piled up in my bedroom. I hated hangovers, mountains of takeout containers, and the point at which my Juul would stop giving me a stream of little highs and instead just start making me sick.

Amazon Studios / Courtesy Everett Collection

Jillian Bell in Brittany Runs a Marathon.

Last weekend, I took myself on a date to the movies. I saw Brittany Runs a Marathon, which is the exact kind of movie I’ve been seeking out lately: funny, uplifting, and you know going in exactly what you’re getting. Keep your twist endings, Quentin Tarantino! I’ll watch the movie where the ending is literally spoiled by the film title.

Paul Downs Colaizzo’s indie movie, which won the Audience Award in the US Drama category at Sundance, stars Jillian Bell as the titular Brittany, a goofy twentysomething in a major life rut. A doctor tells her she has an unhealthy BMI (proven to be a bogus measure of a person’s health) and that she needs to lose 50 pounds. This leads Brittany — and Bell herself — to attempt to shed the weight of a “small Siberian husky” over the next year, at the end of which Brittany plans to run the New York City Marathon.

A movie about a woman trying to find fulfillment through weight loss sounds pretty out of step with our current cultural moment, when fat acceptance and body positivity have been gaining significant ground. Kate Browne in Runner’s World argues that the movie functions as “fitspo” by conveying to viewers that if you lose weight, you, too, can achieve your dreams. “The story we’re too often told about fatness and running,” she wrote, “is that body size is an obstacle to overcome in our quest for glory.” Madison Malone Kircher, in a piece for Vulture, made similar points: “In Brittany Runs a Marathon, being fat is portrayed as a starting point instead of just a state of being.”

I, too, would have preferred a movie in which Brittany ran a marathon after gaining back all the weight she initially lost while training — proving to herself, and to viewers, that she could do remarkable things at any size. Still, I think the film does complicate more straightforward and more explicitly anti-fat weight loss narratives in popular culture by making clear that personal fulfillment and a small waist aren’t inextricably intertwined.

Soon before she’s set to run her first marathon (spoilers ahead), Brittany pushes herself too hard in her attempt to lose her final 10 pounds; she deprives herself of food and ends up in the hospital with a stress fracture. She has to miss the race. While recovering, she’s much thinner but more miserable than ever. In the film’s cringiest scene, Brittany gets drunk and heckles a fat woman at her brother-in-law’s birthday party, refusing to believe that the woman’s “average” size partner could actually love and desire a fat person. At other moments, she makes jealous assumptions about a (thin) neighbor she doesn’t actually know; she begrudges a married friend his happy domesticity with his husband and children. The film suggests that Brittany’s main problem has never been her weight — it’s that she’s convinced all her woes have nothing to do with her own actions and that other people, in turn, don’t deserve their happiness.

Amazon Studios / Courtesy Everett Collection

Patch Darragh and Jillian Bell in Brittany Runs a Marathon.

At the end of the movie, when Brittany signs up for the marathon again the next year and actually makes it to the race — cheered on by friends she’d previously spurned — I cried. I cried because it was, yes, inspirational, but I was also moved by the way the story managed to explore personal autonomy and desire in a self-improvement narrative without discounting the significant role played by larger systemic forces.

No, Brittany shouldn’t have to lose weight to be treated with respect — but the material reality of her life is that, when she’s thinner, she’s actually “treated like a woman,” as she tells her soon-to-be boyfriend: People smile at her; they hold the door for her on the subway. No, it isn’t fair that the fancy gym she tries to join when she first decides to lose weight is cost prohibitive to so many people — but that doesn’t discount the fact that running, and other ways of moving one’s body, are completely free.

I cried because I’ve long resented all the pressure I feel to work out and eat “well” and drink less and sleep more. So much of that pressure comes from a world hellbent on optimizing our bodies and brains for workplace efficiency, for social acceptance, for conventional beauty standards, for “normalcy.” It’s pressure designed to make us believe the world will become less of a hellscape through mere personal effort, rather than structural change.

But what if we don’t make those choices (just) to make ourselves more palatable to the world around us? Yes, living “well” — if we’re financially and physically able — benefits The Man. That doesn’t change the fact that treating our bodies with respect and care might benefit us too.

When I first thought about quitting drinking, about a month ago, I read Sarah Hepola’s 2015 recovery memoir, Blackout: Remembering the Things I Drank to Forget. I sobbed through the last 50 pages. (Yes, I’ve been crying a lot lately.) She talks about how, even after she got sober, she still wasn’t taking care of herself: lots of takeout, not a lot of making the bed or hanging up her laundry.

I told myself this was OK, because our society was beyond warped in its expectations of women, who were tsunamied by messages of self-improvement, from teeth whiteners to self-tanners … I wanted to kick the whole world in the nuts and live the rest of my years in sweatpants that smelled vaguely like salami, because who really cares?

But then, after a while, Hepola realized: She cared. She realized she didn’t need to make her body and home feel and look better to please men, or because it was what she was “supposed” to do. “I should take care of myself because it made me happy,” she wrote.

After finishing the book, I wondered if, angry at the propagandist sham of American individualism and bootstraps meritocracy, I’d course-corrected a little too hard — giving up on trying to improve myself or the world around me.

Eddy Chen / HBO

Zendaya as Rue on Euphoria.

My nihilism was both political and personal. Politically, I’d become Chidi, the philosophy scholar on The Good Place, who ends up in Hell because of his ethical indecision. At one point, after grasping so desperately for moral purity and failing to find it, he gives up. “The world is empty,” he yells. “There is no point to anything. And you’re just gonna die. So do whatever!” Personally, I saw myself as Euphoria’s Rue (minus the hard drug-taking), who returns to her life of debauchery after getting clean in rehab because she doesn’t see the point in trying to get better. “The world’s coming to an end,” she says in the first episode, “and I haven’t even finished high school yet.”

It’s a lot easier to believe that you can’t do much to improve your moods, your relationships, and the way your body feels while simultaneously believing you can’t do much to improve those things for other people, either. Abdicating that sense of any responsibility let me avoid a deeper, darker worry: that prioritizing the self is, by nature, saying to hell with everyone else.

My obsession with that particular quandary led me to Trisha Low’s new book-length essay, Socialist Realism, in which she attempts to reconcile her desire for the comforts of love and home with her desire for a socialist utopia. Is it even possible to pursue personal happiness and fulfillment while prioritizing The Greater Good at the same time?

“Home,” she writes. “It’s just something to contain our misplaced desires for a better world. How can we willingly long for that?” Her work is built upon that of her teacher, the academic José Esteban Muñoz, who famously theorized that queerness is, by its very nature, not-yet-here — “that thing that lets us feel that this world is not enough.”

In Megan Milks’s review of Socialist Realism for Bookforum, she notes that a decade ago “many queers were enamored with the alluring radicality of queer negativity” — think Lee Edelman’s 2004 polemic No Future, about the queer death drive — but “in the Trump era such grandiose nihilism seems puerile.”

I loved Low’s book for its messiness, its sense of struggle — a perfect depiction of the constant tugging I feel within myself every day, between my desire to deal with the realities of my own life and my desire to think on bigger, more ambitious scales. “Whatever,” Low eventually concludes. “You can make utopia out of almost anything.”

Since last month, I’ve stopped consuming alcohol (for now, though maybe also for longer). I threw away my Juul, then got jealous that I didn’t get rid of it more dramatically when I saw somebody smash theirs with a hammer on Instagram. Even King Princess, the Gen Z queen of Juuls, recently quit — a harbinger of change if I’ve ever seen one.

I’m trying to whittle away at my nihilism (both the personal and the political) in other small ways. I signed up for a trial at a rental clothing company, with the hopes that I’ll spend less money on shopping and contribute less waste. I’ve stopped eating beef, hopefully en route to full-fledged vegetarianism. And I joined a powerlifting gym after my friend Katie, who is basically a lifting influencer, extolled its many virtues. I’m hoping the sport’s focus on strength and power, rather than weight loss, will help me stop punishing my body for the way it looks and start celebrating it for what it can do.

I’ve had these little bursts of self-improvement projects before, but in the past I’ve always gotten bored and given up eventually. I’d start drinking again. I’d order a bunch of crap I didn’t need from companies that mistreat their workers and actively make the world worse. Whatever, who cares, nothing matters.

Just last week I caved and ordered six different white T-shirts and a $200 pair of boots. (“Basics!” I told myself. “Just the basics!”) I know I’m still going to have nights where I eat only popcorn for dinner and watch six straight episodes of Love Island and bum hits from my friends’ Juuls. I think what’s most important is that I’m at least trying to train myself to rely on more than just instant gratification. To have faith that, if I’m lucky, there’s a lot more life I’ve yet to live.

Critics of Franzen’s New Yorker piece on the climate apocalypse pointed out that the author’s climate projections are seriously flawed and his conclusions perhaps even more so. After taking swipes at everyone, from the evil science-deniers on the right to the overly optimistic peddlers of the Green New Deal on the left, Franzen sees hopeful futures for community gardens and CSA programs, but not much else.

“If your hope for the future depends on a wildly optimistic scenario,” he wrote, “what will you do ten years from now, when the scenario becomes unworkable even in theory? Give up on the planet entirely?”

What a patronizing way to address anyone who dares to dream. Teenage climate activist Greta Thunberg hasn’t documented her climate depression or dared adults to consider the impact of their personal choices just to piss off a bunch of man-baby conservatives. As a young person, she’s more than justified in fearing for her future, but despite her anger and her sadness — because of her anger and her sadness — she still believes in something better. Why bother even trying otherwise?

Yes, living “well” — if we’re financially and physically able — benefits The Man. That doesn’t change the fact that treating our bodies with respect and care might benefit us too.

Corrupt corporations and governments do hold the most blame, and the most significant obligations, when it comes to righting our course. But there is no easier way to shirk consumer responsibility — whether you’re eating beef, or flying a lot, or holding onto that unholy Amazon Prime subscription — than by self-soothing with the leftist adage that “there’s no ethical consumption under capitalism.”

As Charlotte Shane recently wrote in a piece about Jonathan Safran Foer’s We Are the Weather (yet another collection of Big Climate Thoughts by yet another underqualified white guy), holding institutions accountable “can’t be a ploy to deflect attention from our own culpability … No matter how otherwise constrained our circumstances, we can always choose each other, choose solidarity, choose effort. Every time we do, we’re making headway toward a new habit, a self-reinforcing orientation that alters the fabric of who we are and how we live.”

Is there anything in this world harder than trying to be both happy and good?

I’ve been listening to Lana Del Rey’s Norman Fucking Rockwell on repeat since the album dropped, which has put me in the perfect mood for my sad girl fall. But as much as Lana sings her beautiful, dreamy way through the depressing fog that is modern living, she still ends the album on somewhat of a high note. “Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have,” she croons on the very last song. “But I have it.”

May we all, Lana. May we all. ●

Sahred From Source link Science

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[365-money-diary]

DAYS 36-42

DAY THIRTY-SIX [FEB 6]

8:30 AM - Make a chemex and get to work.

10:00 AM - Pineapple!

12:45 PM - Heat up cheesy red lentil soup for lunch with a La Croix. 

4:00 PM - Do a 10-minute Peloton ride and a barre class. Barre class gets interrupted as I get text updates for the grocery order. I kind of end up half-assing it toward the end but I’m glad I got it done. 

5:45 PM - Prep the kitchen for the grocery order – incoming of bread, greens, tomatoes, onions, garlic, tempeh, tofu, tortillas, tortilla chips, pretzels, apples, jalapenos, lemons, limes, cabbage, cilantro, vegan sour cream, rice, chickpeas, pinto beans, frozen burritos, bell peppers, eggs, parsley, ginger, BBQ sauce, buffalo sauce, grapes, sprouts, brussels sprouts, green beans, miso, cloves, frozen pizzas, hamburger buns, plant yogurt, cucumber, carrots, chipotle seitan sausages, tomato paste, broccoli, bananas, celery, potatoes, clementines, hashbrowns, red lentil pasta, dijon, seltzer, pineapple, dark chocolate, strawberry jam, vegetable bouillon, zucchini, mushrooms, dried oregano, radish, & snap peas. $342.39

7:00 PM - roast potatoes and make veggie sandwiches. Drink a hibiscus mezcal cocktail too. MAX RELAX for the rest of the eve. It’s Friday baby!

 DAY THIRTY-SIX: $342.39

DAY THIRTY-SEVEN

9:30 AM - Slept in weird vibes. Feel tingly when I stand which means blood pressure is bad. We are seeing friends today and I don’t want to power through it so I just drink some soy sauce. It does wonders and I’m feeling better within 30 minutes. Make a Chemex and watch an episode of dessert person.

10:30 AM - Head out to our pals’ house (If you read my last diary series, they’re the people we used to go to Suns games with) in uptown Phoenix for an outside hang. We meet their new baby and he is super cute. Hang out 10 feet apart and it feels so normal and chill. I also find out that I apparently qualify for the vaccine because I work to facilitate education, so I need to look into that.

2:45 PM - K and I haven’t eaten today and we’re starving. We split a Daiya pizza and eat snack on chips and salsa while we wait. I also eat a clementine. 

5:30 PM - Feel my body starting to fade and I’m kind of barred out. Decide to walk to the lake. I do a bad job of getting my HR up but I still enjoy my time outside. 

8:00 PM - I’m not hungry at all from all the salt. Decide to eat a small bowl of cheesy lentil soup for dinner but mostly just pound the water while working on a post for oil-free Greek dressing.

8:30 PM - I notice someone posts a sample sale for Splits 59 which is one of my favorite workout brands. I’m hitting 250 Pure Barre classes this week and use it as an excuse to celebrate. Buy 2 pairs of leggings and a cute tank. $70

10:00 PM - Definitely at that point in the day where I feel like I’m just passing time.

DAY THIRTY-SEVEN TOTAL: $70.00

DAY THIRTY-EIGHT

8:45 AM - Spend some time in bed adjusting my fantasy bball team. Still set to be undefeated in the more competitive league. Eventually make a chemex and post my oil-free greek dressing around the web. 

10:30 AM - I listen to a session on Mined, cook brunch (tofu/egg tacos with soyrizo) and and frantically get ready for M’s baby’s 1st bday. 

1:05 PM - Arrive at the party… what I thought was going to be just me, M, his wife, his mom, and his kid is actually them plus 6 other people hanging in the backyard. Not my favorite thing I’ve had to deal with this pandemic. Everyone is outside/masked. I learn that 2-3 of them have already been vaxxed but it’s still kind of a weird situation for me. I know if K was with me it would be bad news, so I am grateful he stayed behind today.

2:00 PM - Hightail it outta there once 4 more people show up. Listen to music really loud in the car and scream some lyrics on my way home. Feels good man.

2:45 PM - Continue listening to tunes at home, digging thru my Spotify discover weekly for the first time in a while and building a set that I want to record sometime next week.

3:15 PM - K’s brother and wife stop by and we do an outside masked hang with them for about an hour and a half. We haven’t seen them since December of 2019 so this is really really great.

6:00 PM - K and I keep talking about getting takeout but nothing sounds good so we just decide to do veggie sandwiches and potatoes. Drink wine.

7:00 PM - I decide to work on my tax stuff all evening instead of exercising. It takes 2 hours but I get all of my stuff together and send it to the guy. Pour myself a celebratory glass of wine after.

10:00 PM - K and I watch Beverly Hills Ninja in bed. I’d never seen it before and it was so good.

DAY THIRTY-EIGHT TOTAL: $0

DAY THIRTY-NINE

8:00 AM - Chemex. Pure barre weekly charge. $15

10:00 AM - A local bar down the street has been closed since March and a pal posts a GFM on their behalf. I donate to it. Eat a banana and a clementine $50

11:30 AM - Prep salad for the week - greens, gochujang tempeh, miso dressing, soba noodles, snap peas, carrots, and cucumber. Finish about 2 minutes before a call and I’m scrambling to appear composed.

5:30 PM - Do a pure barre livestream while K runs to go pick up dinner from a local vegan spot. K gets a fried chicken seitan sandwich and I get a burger. It’s really really delicious and I’m super stuffed after.

DAY THIRTY-NINE TOTAL: $65

DAY FORTY

8:30 AM - Chemex. Work is still kind of wild but I make a lot of progress on my report this AM so I’m feelin’ good there.

9:30 AM - Banana and clementine.

12:00 PM - Salad.

4:30 PM - Try to do a PB live stream (my 250th class) but Zoom’s server is being weird so I do a 30 min Peloton ride instead with a 5 min stretch.

6:00 PM - Veggie sandwiches with potatoes for din again. 

8:00 PM - A friend from highschool, N, and I chat and it’s really really great. I drink 2 glasses of wine while we catch up. 

DAY FORTY TOTAL: $0

DAY FORTY-ONE

8:30 AM - Oof my quads are sore. Make a chemex.

10:00 AM - Eat a banana.

11:00 AM - We’ve been dragging on the KN95 thing but decide to go for it today. Buy a pack of 50 in assorted colors, some Healthy Blood iron from Garden of Life, and poop bags for the dog. (Counting this expense as “home”) $98.04

12:00 PM - Spend time doing an analysis that doesn’t really tell me much but it was worth looking into. Eat gochujang tempeh salad

2:00 PM - I have a zoom scheduled with a work pal who I haven’t seen in forever. She tells me (much like the few others) that we qualify for the vaccine. I decide to make the appointment based on her feedback and after 40 minutes of messing with the system was able to get in on Feb 19.

5:00 PM - Take my 250th Pure Barre class! I am sweaty and it’s great.

6:45 PM - K isn’t really hungry so I eat the last of the red lentil soup.

7:30 PM - We have plans to see a friend in town from Ohio. Meet up with him at his hotel and sit on the front patio masked up for a while. I am mostly cold and have to pee.

9:45 PM - We arrive back home. I snack on a few pretzels, drink a glass of wine, eat some grapes and some dark chocolate.

DAY FORTY-ONE TOTAL: $98.04

DAY FORTY-TWO

8:30 AM - Chemex. My allergies are bad this AM. Send emails out - looks like my tax return is going to give me $1200 but then I owe $200 on my state. I always owe on state. One day… Also send a note to the loan guy who says I’m definitely going to close tomorrow at 8AM so we shall see.

10:30 AM - Tax invoice comes in. $220

11:00 AM - Boil some more soba noodles for salads. I’m basically going to be in meetings until 4:30 PM today so I’m trying to get ahead of all my stuff. Also do a check for all of the house painting things that came over the past week. Looks like it’s all here and I can start painting this weekend!

12:00 PM - Make salad in between calls and crack open a La Croix.

4:30 PM - My calls are done, do a 10 minute Peloton climb ride and then do a Pure Barre stream.

8:00 PM - Eat the last of the veggie sandwiches for dinner. Drink 2 glasses of wine and some dark chocolate. Something about tonight is off in my brain. I don’t have the capacity to be productive so I just watch episodes of The Challenge on my laptop while K plays Rocket League.

DAY FORTY-TWO TOTAL: $220

[harborstock0-blog]

italian pasta salad

<![CDATA[ .tasty-recipes-quick-links text-align:center; .tasty-recipes-quick-links a padding: 0.5rem; ]]>

Dear taste buds, prepare yourselves for the flavor sensation that is this Italian Pasta Salad! It’s loaded with artichoke hearts, basil, tomatoes, black olives and a big bright and bold garlic and red wine vinegar dressing to make it pop!

It’s the newest recipe to make the BEST OF list here on Healthy Seasonal Recipes, and I cannot wait for you all to try it and let me know what you think.

With only a week away from the unofficial start of summer, I knew I had to get this Italian Pasta Salad into your hot little hands, my friends, because you’re gonna consider it your new favorite pasta salad recipe. 

Pasta Salad With Italian Dressing

Creamy Dressing Vs Oil and Vinegar Dressing: I am not saying I don’t like pasta salad with creamy mayonnaise dressing (I usually cut the mayo with Greek Yogurt, like in this Healthy Macaroni Salad with Cheddar.) But there is something so refreshing about a pasta salad with an oil and vinegar based dressing instead. The red wine vinegar and extra-virgin olive oil really adds a bright acidity that goes well with so many other cookout side dishes and grilled meat and chicken. 

It’s Vegan: Because mayonnaise and greek yogurt aren’t vegan, many pasta salads are off limits for plant-based picnics. But this pasta salad is completely vegan! 

Make The Italian Dressing From Scratch: I like to make my Italian Dressing from scratch, and it’s really easy to do it right into the bowl where the pasta salad will be mixed. This saves a dish! 

Make it Flavorful: This Italian Dressing is quite bold. But remember it’s the main flavoring for an entire batch of pasta, plus all the veggies. So it’s quite strong for a reason. 

Dressing Ratios: Use a little bit more oil than vinegar, so as to make the dressing not too tart. Remember that salt and vinegar balance each other, so use the full amount of salt if your diet can allow. If you are on a lower sodium diet, and need to drop the salt, use less vinegar too.

Food Safety: Mayonnaise also has a bad rep for going bad when it is left out in the sun at barbecues and picnics, so that isn’t as much of a factor with this pasta salad recipe. It’s vegan in fact! That said, don’t leave any food (with or without mayo) out in the heat for too long! Two hours is about all you can safely count on. Four hours maximum if it isn’t super hot/sunny. You can read more about the temperature danger zone here in my post about how to thaw chicken safely. 

Sub In Bottled Italian Dressing: If you have a store-bought Italian dressing you like, you may certainly sub 1 cup of it in, but I would recommend adding a little bit more garlic, a splash of vinegar and a pinch of salt to it. The pasta needs the extra boost of flavor.

How to Make Italian Pasta Salad

First Cook the Pasta:

This recipe only takes about 15 minutes of actual prep work. Much of the start to finish time is waiting for the pasta water to boil and allowing the pasta to cool. So getting that pot of water on at the very beginning before prepping the veggies or making the dressing should be the first step. 

Which Pasta To Use:

I like the fusilli in this recipe because I love the way the oil and vinegar based Italian dressing clings to all that surface area! It really makes it so much more flavorful. I did test this with brown rice pasta, for a gluten-free option. I didn’t love how the pasta was a little limp in appearance when it was cooked according to the package instructions. But we all agreed that we liked the flavor and texture of it. 

Prep Dressing and Veggies While the Pasta Cooks:

While you’re bringing that pot of water up to a boil and while it is cooking, you can get your dressing made. See above. And you can also prep the veggies. 

Add the Hot Drained Pasta To the Italian Dressing:

The key to maximum flavor is to add the pasta to the oil and vinegar dressing when it is still hot. No need to rinse the pasta once it is drained, the dressing will coat the pasta so it won’t stick together. The hot pasta will absorb the dressing as it cools, and impart overall delicious Italian dressing flavor.

Add the Veggies to the Cooled Pasta:

After the pasta has cooled with the dressing for about 20 minutes, you can add in the artichoke hearts, roasted red peppers, olives, basil and scallions. 

Make Ahead Tips for Italian Pasta Salad

The dressing can be made up to 5 days in advance. Store it in a jar in the refrigerator. It will become solid in the fridge, just bring it up to room temperature and whisk it in a large mixing bowl before adding the hot pasta to it. 

The entire recipe can be prepared through step three up to twelve hours in advance.

All the veggies, except the tomatoes, can be cut and stored separately in covered containers in the fridge up to 12 hours ahead.

Another option would be to prepare start to finish but omit the tomatoes and basil up to 12 hours ahead. Add them right before serving. 

What To Serve With Italian Pasta Salad

Marinate and Grill Something. I love making a batch of My Favorite Garlic Marinade and using it for which ever meat looks good or is on sale. The flavors of the garlic and herbs mimic those in the pasta salad dressing, and would make a nice compliment. The marinade works with chicken, fish, tofu or pork.

Shrimp Kebabs. These Rosemary Shrimp and Tomato Kebabs are a summery grilling treat that would go great with the basil and olives in this pasta salad. 

Grilled Steak. This Tomato Herb Flank Steak is a great recipe for entertaining and folks always compliment it when I serve it.

Panzanella. Another Italian salad I love is Panzanella, and this Rainbow Panzanella is so colorful. It would be an easy make ahead side to serve as well. 

Italian Inspired Pork Chop Dinner. This Italian Pasta Salad would round out the rest of the meal with this Pork Chops with Arugula Salad 

Thanks for reading. If you make this Italian Pasta Salad please come back to let me know by leaving a review and star rating. It really helps a lot! Thanks so much and Happy Cooking!

~Katie

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Description

This easy Italian Pasta Salad is so good! It’s loaded with artichoke hearts, basil, tomatoes, black olives and a big bright and bold garlic and red wine vinegar dressing to make it pop!

Scale 1x2x3x

Ingredients

1 16-ounce box fusilli (gluten-free if desired)

1 clove garlic, minced

½ cup best quality extra-virgin olive oil

¼ cup plus 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar

1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

1 teaspoon dried Italian Seasoning

1 ½ teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon pepper

1 14-ounce can quartered artichoke hearts, drained

1 12-ounce jar roasted red peppers, drained and chopped

1 cup chopped scallions

1 cup cherry tomatoes, red and/or yellow, halved

½ cup black olives, pitted and chopped

½ cup chopped fresh basil

Instructions

Cook pasta according to package instructions until al dente, about 12 minutes.

While pasta cooks, whisk garlic, oil, vinegar, mustard, Italian Seasoning, salt and pepper in a large bowl.

Drain pasta, and immediately add it to the dressing. Toss to coat. Let cool, tossing once or twice, at least 20 minutes. To make ahead, cover and refrigerate up to 12 hours.

Stir artichoke hearts, roasted peppers, scallions, tomatoes, olives and basil into the pasta. Serve immediately or chill.

Notes

The dressing can be made up to 5 days in advance. Store it in a jar in the refrigerator. It will become solid in the fridge, just bring it up to room temperature and whisk it in a large mixing bowl before adding the hot pasta to it.

The entire recipe can be prepared through step three up to twelve hours in advance.

If you cannot find dry Italian Seasoning, substitute 1/2 teaspoon dry oregano and 1/2 teaspoon dry basil

Nutrition

Serving Size: 1 cup

Calories: 239

Fat: 10 grams

Carbohydrates: 31

Fiber: 3 g

Protein: 6 g

Keywords: pasta salad,pasta,Italian,summer,picnic,barbecue,easy,vegan,healthy

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Source: https://www.healthyseasonalrecipes.com/italian-pasta-salad/

[2dmenarewonderland]

LifeLines. (part 9)

Daniel’s POV

The itch to nail the blonde till she screams it’s the best she’s ever had was there.

The itch to head over to Jess and stop or watch her and Matt was there

The itch to smirk and taunt her drunken state of finally being fun was there.

The itch to answer any of her questions though, none at all.

She’s the one to take lunch at 4, not me; the rest of my night was boring because her ex was bitching about her; How do I manage a heads up when the genius has left her phone and purse behind? She’s the one who had a change of heart and hung out with her ex, telling him not to be a stranger before she left. The man was merely taking up a chance and why did I have to choose between the two? It’s their business, not mine.

“Okay.” Calm and even, jacket on and button up. “Just send the written notice to HR before end of day, I’m off and won’t be back till Wednesday.” Taking the night and tomorrow off seem to be what I need, once the elevator door closes. With a sigh and brows raised, I shake my head as a sign of agreement. “Yeah, you’re right. She is whiny.”

Chuckle and pat on my back, Matt takes me to a newly open pub which sets a much different atmosphere to what I normally go to. Less sophisticated and prudish, happy hour on a Monday feels depressing but then again, Monday or Friday is pretty much the same to me.

“At least you got some action last night.”

“No, I didn’t.” A sip of cider to cool off the light headache I’ve been having all day doesn’t ease much at Matt’s mocking wink, “I can live without fucking for a night or two, you dick head.”

“Hey, don’t worry about Jessica. She’ll come around and even if she does leave, I have just the perfect person for you.”

Oh boy- “Yeah you said that too when you set me up with the perfect girl last time and grrr it still haunts me.”

The friendship Matt and I have go beyond explanation, we don’t judge or interfere with each other’s lives unless one asks for it or simply just to annoy the hell out of the other. Introducing Matt and Jess started off as a joke which turned out to be great till they broke up, he mircalously got over it and moved away. Occasional random text and regular Facebook updates but his surprise of being back in town is still yet to be determined whether it’s a good or bad decision.

“I’m gonna call it a night, head home and play some Fifa if you’re up for it.”

Invitation declined but lunch scheduled the next day, I find myself home alone for the second time this week. Probably isn’t a great start.

Jessica’s POV

By end of day, as requested; the letter of resignation has past the senior Davies’ office and sits on top of a pile of paperwork on the desk of a HR employee who is for once, here at this place as late as me. Signing off from work at just after 11pm, it’s a solemn and slow walk down to my car in the parking lot which sinks in the fact that I won’t be doing this all for much longer. Having skipped lunch and now not in the mood for dinner, I fall asleep on an empty stomach which makes me feel terrible the following morning.

First day of sick leave is taken and called in for by 7am, in over 8 years. Staying home gives me the opportunity to think and emotionally accept the fact that whether haste or necessary - a chapter in my life is finally coming to an end. Swallowing some of my pride and calling a few acquaintances, it doesn’t take long before my persuasion and pulling of strings because it’s what I do best, lands me a job without a formal interview. I’m Jessica Jones - the world knows exactly what I’m capable of, its just finding someone to appreciate it.

Office quiet and kept that way until the return of Daniel, I hear little from Matt, am able to squeeze in two other dates because I have time as I’m no longer obliged to act as an almost corporate babysitter and get onto organising my final plans for Italy. Almost a week goes by before Daniel and I are even in the same vicinity to speak to or acknowledge one another. At first, I’m tempted to smile, be warm and conduct myself in the usual manner in which I behave, yet it seems I just don’t have the drive to be like that. All this should be affecting him as it is me. If it’s not, well then perhaps I was being taken for granted and under appreciated. All I wanted was more. Of what, I’m not entirely sure but something as simple as a ’Great job Jess’ would have sufficed.

It’s white wine and pasta alfredo alone that night. It’s red wine and lamb the next. Before I know it, it’s the end of the week and I’m sipping on champagne and enjoying seafood. In the office at 9.30 and out by 3. No extra efforts, no overtime, no socialising or after work shenanigans.

A knock at the door throws me for 7pm on a Thursday and I’m cautious about opening it. Checking my phone and not seeing any alerts on it, I figure it’s safe to answer because anyone in my life who knows me gives me some form of heads up if they plan on visiting, but when the door finally opens, who’s standing on the other side of it is definitely not someone I was expecting…

Life line Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13