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ninjanonymous · 5 years ago

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I’m pissed off, and sad, and scared, and I have a lot to say right now. This all needs to be said, for my own sake if not for anyone else’s.

Very recently, the Supreme Court ruled 7-2 that employers under the Affordable Care Act are now allowed to roll back access to birth control for their employees, as long as their religion disagrees with it. This ruling was made in the name of religious tyranny, and NOT that of religious freedom. Christian-run businesses can now force their beliefs onto their employees by actively denying them the healthcare that they very much need.

Can you imagine the outrage there would be if SCOTUS decided that it was suddenly okay for a Muslim-run business to break FLSA standards during Ramadan? After all, if a Christian-run business shouldn’t be forced to pay for all ACA-protected aspects of an employee’s healthcare, why should a Muslim-run business have to sacrifice profits when eating lunch during Ramadan is against their religion?

“Oh, but there are federal protections to keep something like that from happening.” Are there? Are there really? The ACA gave employees FEDERALLY PROTECTED access to birth control through their employers, because an employer’s religious beliefs shouldn’t be used to control the freedoms or hurt the wellbeing of others. Now look where we are.

This court ruling essentially dictates that religion can make you exempt from federally-mandated rules for the sake of profit. It puts the employer’s beliefs above the beliefs and wellbeing of their employees. It puts any company’s self-proclaimed God over the law, and allows them to forgo worker protections because, according to them, it’s what Jesus would want.

And where do we draw the line? Should a company that’s run by a Jehovah’s Witness be allowed to deny coverage for a needed blood transfusion? Can a religious company claim that any illness is a righteous punishment from God, and the use of modern medicine to treat it would be sinful? What would that mean for something as devastatingly expensive as cancer treatment? What if the CEO doesn’t agree with vaccines? And really, why even stop at access to healthcare when there are any number of ways that a company could encroach on their worker’s rights in the name of God?

Too many people in this country are entirely dependent on their employers for their health insurance. Healthcare costs in America are the highest in the western world by far, and life-saving treatment is often prohibitively expensive without it. This SCOTUS decision may ultimately deny many Americans their constitutional right to life.

Employers pay private insurance companies to provide care for their employees. This is a blanket expense. They don’t get an itemized bill for the healthcare that they’re covering. They’re paying for general healthcare coverage to be provided by insurance company, and that’s it. The employers are not the insurance companies themselves. They are not the ones processing the claims and choosing which to deny and which to cover. Your medical record is private, protected information. Your employer does not have access to that information under HIPAA. If your employer isn’t allowed in the room with you during your doctor’s appointment, they absolutely shouldn’t be allowed to pick and choose what care you can and can’t receive.

These companies are literally just saying, “see that person right there? I don’t like that they’re on birth control, because I’M a Christian, and that’s against MY beliefs, so now THEY can’t have it.” A Christian forcing their beliefs onto someone else isn’t religious freedom, just like a Muslim forcing their beliefs onto a Christian wouldn’t be. This is religious tyranny the and Christian-backed persecution of women.

And for this specific ruling, it really is that arbitrary. This ruling is a poorly-disguised move to further strip away the rights of women in the name of Abrahamic theocracy. The idea that this decision would save money for these employers is completely asinine, considering good reproductive healthcare and access to birth control reduces long-term costs overall (I will be adding the stats and sources to back this up in a later post).

And here’s an important reminder for you all: reproductive healthcare is still basic healthcare. Taking care of one’s needs regarding their reproductive system benefits their overall health. And even if you disagree with me there, “birth control” is a pretty damn big misnomer. While it is commonly used to prevent unwanted pregnancies, there are a myriad of other reasons that a woman might need it for.

Birth control can control hormonal acne. My own mother was put on it for this reason back when she was a teenager.

It can be used to help regulate one’s mood. A dear friend of mine is on it for this reason. She suffers from severe depression, occasionally to the point of suicidal ideation. I am fucking terrified about what this court decision could mean for her.

It reduces one’s chances of getting uterine cancer. I have a family history of uterine cancer, and it can be hard to detect. They only found it in my grandmother by chance when they were performing an unrelated surgery.

It reduces your chances of forming ovarian cysts. Women with PCOS often suffer from these, and they can be quite painful. My mother had to have a football-sized ovarian cyst removed from her abdomen, and histology found that it contained pre-cancerous cells.

It can relieve symptoms of PMS and PMDD. Again, this is a form of hormonal mood regulation, as well as a means of controlling many of the unfortunate physical side effects of the menstrual cycle. PMS and PMDD are often topics of ridicule, but their symptoms can have a serious negative impact on one’s day-to-day life. I’ll add more information on this later, since there’s a lot to cover.

It can help regulate one’s menstrual cycle. For reasons I shouldn’t have to explain, knowing when blood and viscera is going to start pouring out of your crotch really helps with being prepared to deal with it. It also helps to avoid really embarrassing situations in public, or the need to clean bloodstains out of clothes and furniture. Irregular periods are a gruesome guessing game. I’ve been there. I don’t want to go back.

It can make your periods less painful. Periods happen when, once a month, the uterus sheds its inner lining. As in, the person having their period is bleeding internally, because one of their organs is shredding and expelling parts of itself from the inside. That shit hurts. Many women have reported vomiting or passing out from period pain. For me, the average period cramp can be compared to really bad gas or diarrhea pain. You know, the kind that has you breaking out into cold sweats on the toilet while you silently beg for mercy to any god that might be listening. Fun, right? I’d recon my pain level is about the average, too.

It can be used to manage menstrual migraines. Did you know some women get migraines in conjunction with their periods? Migraines are debilitating. Imagine having them chronically, getting them frequently around the same time every month, then being denied affordable access to the one medicine that was keeping it in check because your asshole boss says that Jesus wants you to suffer. Bonus points if you get fired because the migraines had a negative impact on your ability to work.

It can reduce your risk of anemia. Some women get really heavy periods. Like, crazy heavy, to the point where they bleed so much that it’s unhealthy. Technically speaking, I fall into this camp. I’d hemorrhage to the point of needing a transfusion if I went long enough without birth control. Gee, I sure hope the insurance-throttling company that I work for isn’t run by a Jehovah’s Witness.

Birth control is the only non-invasive way to control uterine fibroids, which often go hand-in-hand with endometriosis. These are non-cancerous growths within or around the uterus can cause uncontrolled bleeding, and may be quite painful in and of themselves. A ridiculously high number of women have this, myself included. Most women that have them have no or very few symptoms. I was not so lucky.

And that’s just a few of birth control’s many uses. And actually, let me talk about my fibroids some more for a second, just so you all have a better idea of what it means to live with this shit. TMI time. I take birth control. I’ve been taking it regularly for about five years now. I’ve never had sex before, and I don’t plan on it any time soon. This is the one and only reason I’m on the pill.

Five years ago, during my freshman year of college, I started bleeding out of the blue. Really, really badly. This “spotting” was sudden, and heavy, and unrelenting. I’d completely bleed through a super tampon in less than two hours, when one of those would last a good eight hours on my heaviest day during a normal period. I had to sleep with towels on the bed, and set an alarm to wake up early so I could take deal with the shed blood before it got too bad, and to give myself extra time for cleanup before classes. After going from horizontal to vertical for the first time in several hours, getting to the bathroom was a race against time and gravity.

I lived like this for a full month. Tampons and pads, for those of you that have had the privilege of never needing to buy them, can get really pricey. Doubly so for a broke college student, triply so when they need to be extra-large packs containing extra-large products, and quadruple-y so when that broke college student is still managing to bleed through those products at an absurd rate. And, it hurt. The pain was worse than usual; the camps were sharper, more persistent, and sometimes it felt like someone was jabbing a big needle into my abdomen and twisting it around. I was taking OTC painkillers constantly, and they barely made a dent in the pain.

The bleeding started just over a week after my last period had ended, so it was way too early for it to be my next cycle. I figured that maybe my cycle was syncing up to my roommate, or some other chick on my floor had some weird hormonal imbalance, and the outside interference from other people’s hormones was screwing with me enough to make my own body act weird. I figured I’d just have to wait out this one bad period, and everything would settle back down to normal. But, two weeks passed and absolutely nothing changed. The bleeding wasn’t slowing down, and I started to get worried that it wasn’t just an abnormal period. I waited a couple more days, then booked an appointment at the health center. It was more than a week until they could see me.

The consensus was fibroids. They couldn’t give me an official diagnosis without an ultrasound, but all signs pointed to that one conclusion. They said that the only way to make the bleeding stop was by taking birth control. I wasn’t happy about it, since my mom had me convinced that birth control would actually increase my risk of cancer (not true, as I later found out), but I agreed anyway. The nightmare was over a few days later.

So, off topic but still related, I had surgery on my foot a couple months ago. It had to be immobilized for a while, and I was put on blood thinners to prevent any clots from forming while I recovered. Birth control pills can actually increase the risk of blood clots, so I made the choice to hold off on taking those for a while, just as an added precaution. Sure enough, only five days later, the bleeding and the pain was back. Again, it had been only a week since my last period.

I still need to be on birth control. It is a medical necessity for me. My fibroids are still around, and I’ll still spot and cramp up if I miss a pill. I’ve recently been told by my doctor that a permanent fix, and my only other option for treatment, is a hysterectomy. I am 22 years old. Most surgeons would never dream about performing that procedure on me, even if it didn’t already come with its own health risks.

And hell, even if it is used just to prevent pregnancies, what gives someone else the right to deny a woman her bodily autonomy? Human beings are sexual creatures. They’re going to fuck, regardless of whatever laws or religious doctrines are involved. We are quite literally built to have sex, and it’s entirely healthy to do so. There are plenty of peer-reviewed studies that go into detail on the matter; just hop onto Google Scholar and see for yourself. And, maybe, preventing pregnancy is a need in and of itself. What if a woman has a condition that would make pregnancy extremely high-risk? Is she not justified in taking birth control to protect herself from grievous injury? If she’s married to a man, does that married couple not have a right to sleep together without fear of one of them literally dying for it? Even by Christian standards, it doesn’t seem right.

This decision that the Supreme Court has made is utterly shameful, and countless law-abiding American citizens will now be denied access to needed care that they otherwise couldn’t afford without insurance coverage. This is truly a loss for America and her people, and one that will cause suffering for decades to come.

#long post #text #my thoughts #scotus #politics #feminism #fuck republicans #fuck conservatives #and fuck the evangelical right #religion #christianity #america #2020 #sorry if i’m not the best writer #fuck #theocracy #angry #fibroids #birth control

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tourguideexpert-blog-blog · 6 years ago

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How to Fit Two Weeks' Worth of Clothes in a Carry-On and Other Travel Tips

New Post has been published on https://travelqia.com/trending/how-to-fit-two-weeks-worth-of-clothes-in-a-carry-on-and-other-travel-tips/

How to Fit Two Weeks' Worth of Clothes in a Carry-On and Other Travel Tips

Jessica Nabongo was born and raised in Detroit after her parents immigrated from Uganda. Since then, she has lived everywhere, from Japan to rural Benin, charting her travels in her blog, Catch Me If You Can.

Nabongo turned her passion into a business when she started Jet Black, a boutique travel company that focuses on encouraging tourism to throughout the African diaspora—Africa, Central and South America, and the Caribbean. But she isn’t desk-bound, despite her clients’ demands; working remotely, so far she’s logged 75 countries and counting of the world’s 195.

Nabongo visits a leather tannery in Marrakech.

Photographer: Elton Anderson

Nabongo’s airline of choice? Delta. “I usually do 120,000 [miles] per year, but this year, as of last week, I’m already at 90,000, so I’m going to do closer to 250,000 [in 2017].”

Don’t trust the photos on a hotel’s website when you can do this instead.

I use the geotag feature on Instagram—it’s my new method of checking out hotels. You find a hotel that has four or five stars, and you’re looking at the pictures on the website thinking, This is amazing. But I want to see what [guests] are posting there. When I was looking for hotels in Zanzibar, for instance, many of [the geotagged photos] didn’t look like their pictures on their websites at all. People had geotagged them, and I could see it wasn’t a very nice beach.

Checking on the geotagged Instagram photos from the Four Seasons Safari Lodge Serengeti in Tanzania will tell you what it really looks like.

Photographer: Andre Perry

You can always avoid checking your carry-on, even on a full flight.

On a recent trip I traveled between Kenya, Tanzania, Uganda, Djibouti, Qatar, and Bahrain with my handy-dandy Away bag. I love the way it rolls and charges my devices [with a built-in battery]. Depending on the region of the world you are in, [airlines] can be pretty strict about the weight of your carry-on bag, often asking to weigh it. Generally the maximum is 14 kilograms, or 30 pounds, which somehow for me is never enough. So when I approach the counter and they say I have to weigh my carry-on, and I know it’s too heavy, I say, “Actually, it’s camera equipment, so I can’t check it.” Airlines don’t want liability for electronic equipment. It works every time, even if they tell you to check it at the gate. And it is true, as I have a camera and a lens in there. It’s just the isn’t camera equipment.

How to fit two weeks’ worth of clothing in a carry-on.

The first thing I do before packing is write down a list of where I’m going, and I put in the climate as far out as I can tell [from weather reports]. I count up the number of days and count out my underwear to make sure I have enough. Then I lay out all my bottoms and my tops, then use Flight 001 spacepaks for them. They are absolutely the best thing on the market. I’ve tested them, trying to pack without them, and it doesn’t work. Using them, though, I can usually get two weeks’ worth of clothes to fit in a carry-on bag. I recommend the number 2, 3, and 4 models. And I use a long wallet from Flight 001’s T5 collection to keep my boarding passes and my passport together.

Nabongo says the best thing about Bali is that "every city is different. Ubud is all about relaxation and being one with nature. The energy is serene and calm, yet so very alive."

Photographer: Elton Anderson

A two-point plan for scoring the best flight deals every time.

Every morning I read flight deals like they’re my I check The Flight Deal, Secret Flying, and Airfare Spot. If there’s a place I haven’t been, I allow them to dictate where I travel next—like when I went to Bali, because I found a ticket for $450 from L.A. And Chase Sapphire Reserve is the best thing that’s ever happened to me; it blows the American Express Platinum card out of the water for anyone who calls himself a real traveler. It comes with a membership for Priority Pass, which is at over 1,000 lounges around the world. Sometimes, when I fly a small regional airline, it’s given me access to lounges in places like Kilimanjaro and Zanzibar. And the rewards system is insane. I have not paid for a plane ticket in four and a half months because of Chase. The annual fee is $450 per year, but you get a $300 travel credit every year, so if you charge a flight from New York to L.A? Boom! You get a $300 credit, so now the annual fee is really only $150.

"When in Kampala, be sure to stop at National Theatre in the city center," Nabongo says. "It's my favorite place in East Africa for shopping. Visit my aunt in stall 14!"

Photographer: Sarah Waiswa

Where to shop in Africa.

I am obsessed with the National Theatre in Uganda [which also features local artists’ work], because your money goes so much further with the exchange rate of the Ugandan shilling to the dollar. If you’re going to Kenya, I highly recommend stopping in to Kampala on the way and going there: The craftsmanship is amazing, on everything from bags to serving utensils. I love walking around a city [in America] with one of the bags, which are practical and fashionable.

Embrace the rain—for the right reasons.

I always recommend traveling at the end of the rainy season. I’ve done this in East Africa, the South Pacific, and Southeast Asia. I just Google “rainy season” plus whatever country to find out. Most recently, on that trip to Bali, I went toward the end of the rainy season. The lodging is cheaper—I’d estimate around 30 percent cheaper, on average—and I love taking pictures without other people in them! I got lucky, as I spent two and a half weeks in Bali, and it rained the day I arrived but never again. And I always travel with this footwear: little hunter green ankle booties from J.Crew, which are easier to walk in [than knee-high Wellington boots], take up less room in your case, and are really cute. And I have a pair of bright yellow rubber Chuck Taylors, which are waterproof.

Take that, St. Barts or Ibiza. The best island you’ve never heard of? It’s in Africa.

Nabongo says Lamu Island is one of Kenya's best-kept secrets. "There is a lot of local tourism to the island, but most outside visitors travel to Mombasa and Diani. The food in Lamu is incredible, the people are super nice, and the sunset dhow boat rides can't be beat."

Photographer: James Anthony

Lamu is a quaint, quiet island off the coast of Kenya, which all my Kenyan friends told me about. It’s a short flight from Malindi, where most tourists go, and like much of the East African coast, it’s largely Muslim. I went during Ramadan, so it was extra quiet, very calm and peaceful. We stayed at Forodhani House, which is really good for a family or a group of friends. But if you want more of a hotel, try Majlis. The architecture and culture of the island is a mash-up of Swahili and Arabic influences. Like Zanzibar, it’s a spice island, dating back to the old trade between the Arabian Peninsula and India. So the best part of a trip there is the food—the best samosas I’ve ever tasted, and I grew up in a home eating a ton of Indian food, with a Ugandan mother who makes samosas. I already told her, “Mommy, you’ve got to rethink your recipe.”

How to chop onions without crying, wherever you are in the world.

When I graduated from the London School of Economics and Political Science, I spent an extended stay in Benin, working with a small Italian NGO. We were living about 250 kilometers from [the largest city] Cotonou, in one of the world’s poorest countries, so you can imagine what life was like. We lived with some nuns in a convent, because there was a cave nearby where people came for pilgrimage. The convent was the only place in that area with electricity and running water, but not hot water. One time, when I was cooking my own meal, I was struggling with chopping onions, and my eyes began to water. One sister, from Nigeria, handed me a matchstick and told me to put it between my teeth, flammable side out, and it would prevent my eyes from watering while cutting onions. To this day, I always put a match in my mouth when cutting onions, and it works like a charm.

Read more: http://www.bloomberg.com/

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wombwonders · 7 years ago

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Cairo Phoenix’s first crowdfundings Campaign = Check.

This blog is from 2014 reposted from my previous blog Cairo Phoenix.

Update: Since than things have developed and transformed. I’ve been studying movement based Art therapy and certified as a sexual trauma crisis counselor. At the moment I am also working as a student Doula/Birthing coach. Becoming a mother to a beautiful son made my adjust my coarse for a bit. This year I’m offering workshops for new mothers in Cairo. The money that has been raised during this campaign I still keep aside to use when the time is right to work again with women after sexual violence ----------------------------------------------

With even still a few days to go Cairo Phoenix raised 14% more than the $4000,- target.

I’m so touched by all the support from friends and also strangers who believe in the impact that creative expression can have on the healing process for women after sexual assault. It’s a great motivation to keep helping Cairo Phoenix rise higher and spread her wings further.

This also means that any excuse I had left for not pursuing this is now dissolved in thin air, Thank you very much!

There is no doubt about it; If you believe in what you do, if you follow your passion, others Will support you. You just have to find your own personal passion and share it with many other people so they know what you are into and they can share relevant information with you. Everyone enjoys the feeling of helping someone else. This is how I got contacts of other organisations and individuals who are also interested in the same topic and a month ago someone pointed out this Zoomaal Challenge for ‘women in the Arab world’ A crowdfundings campaign for women where every $1 raised until a certain amount would get matched by another $1.

Never before did I apply for anything like it but I did remember a friend crowdfunding her project and that inspired me to give it a go and to see what would happen. While filling in in the online form I drove my roommates crazy. (my computer was acting up and needed to use theirs to make a video) I realised I really enjoy talking to people while looking them in the eyes, other than having to talk to a computers screen where I see only myself stuttering. I decided to not edit it and just trust people could see past it. The fact that the deadline for applying was getting pretty damm close had nothing to do with that off cource) Just as I was about to send it of 10 minutes before the deadline my computer crashed and I tried to recover it all night, The next morning it finally did work again but by now the deadline had passed, I decided to contact the organisation and ask if they would still consider my application, I was lucky because the community manager liked the topic of using the arts to help women in their healing process.

And so it happened that Cairo Phoenix was chosen to enter this challenge with 22 other projects initiated by women in the ‘Arab world’. The race against the counter began trying to raise as much as possible of the funds money that would double the amount. The fund had already run out early the next morning and by than we raised around $700 that would get matched so that was a great first push, I decided to lay low a bit after contacting all my friends and using all the social media tools I had at hand including asking others to also share the campaign to reach a wider public. 2 of the total 4 weeks passed and I still needed to raise about $1500,- to reach the 100% so I decided to organise a fundraiser event at my previous workspace The District. W’lessa a group of young theatre makers from fayoum came to perform on the Rooftop and the Cairo deli offered to give us a nice deal on their catering.

Two days before the fundraising event I got a very generous contribution from the author of Society30 and together with a few more contributions we where able to push it to over the 100% even before the actual fundraiser event!

With the raised money we can now start organizing the first few co creativity retreats.

The idea is to start off right after the month of Ramadan and use the time before to go out and explore more possible partnerships and to come up with the perfect content of the retreats where we aim to offer groups of around 12 women an inspirational & balanced retreat between, connecting with each other, exploring new art forms together, creating more self awareness and stimulating sharing stories, ideas and tools with one another. With the purpose of exploring and rising further within the individual and in the collective healing processes.

For more info register to the Cairo Phoenix newletter here and if you would like to read more about crowdfunding than check this blogpost on MBAonline.com for good tips. Yalla beena!

Last but not least I want to thank every one who supported, shared, and contributed this project. Thank you so, so much;

Pink, Pink’s family, David, Kholoud, Jim, Ahmed, Ahmeds mom, Sylva, Mandie, Hisham, Mazen, Sara, Hana, Anke, Nathalie, Helen, Dana, Paivi, Westen, Megan, Marina, Rachel, Walter, Michiel, Veronica, Bill, Joost, DaliaSteve, Zeinab, Catriona, Lina, Nada and Ronald, Helen, Laura and Hivos for matching some of these contributions! + all the kind anonymous contributers and the ones using the District donation box.

Shukran kidan, kidan!

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aoibaratraveler · 5 years ago

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A Look Back At My Time in Japan! Chapter 5

Fourth and Final Month on Exchange: July

This was a month full of social events both fun and bittersweet!

I started off the month by watching a movie with some of my uni friends. I have no idea what movie we watched but I’m sure it was a good time. The next couple of weeks consisted of mostly dance practice for the pier side festival that was to be taking place at the end of the month in Nagasaki. I joined the JASIN dance team since they were short on members and I thought it would be cool (plus we got a free university shirt for participating), but man was it difficult. JASIN was the international program that brought in exchange students from around the world to Nagasaki University of Foreign Studies and every year they apparently recruit exchange students to represent the school in a dance in the opening ceremony/party on the first day of the festival. I think there were about three or four other universities there. I actually have footage from the event thanks to one of my pals who was an intern at NHK since they televised it (I think I’ve been on NHK in some way, shape, or form at least two or three times but that was the only time that I was able to actually get the footage since I rarely had access to a TV in Japan during my travels *sighs*). Another girl from my exchange group who was super good at dancing and just had great coordination offered to give me some dance tutoring every day after class when I didn’t have work leading up to the event since I’m just born clumsy so it took awhile for me to get the hang of it.

By around the 16th of the month, pretty much all of Japan went crazy; especially my university. Why may you ask? Because Pokemon Go was released in Japan. While North America had access to the game, Japan was a couple of weeks behind so when it was finally released on Japanese servers it just blew up. Seriously, you couldn’t pass a person on the street without seeing them playing the game. It was great. Even R, one of my university buds who didn’t seem too into anime or gaming, downloaded the game before me and was playing. We pretty much spent everyday thereafter playing together, catching Pokemon and trying to compete in levelling up. She, Corn (a nickname for one of our guy friends) and I decided that we would all be team Mystic since everyone else seemed to be Instinct. Honestly, even the teachers joined in on the excitement. I stupidly didn’t invest in a data sim card or portable WiFi during my time in Japan so I was limited to public WiFi when playing but there was enough of it to go around in the city, it was just harder in the suburbs or more rural areas to play. It’s a shame though because while I still play, most of the people that I started playing with have lost interest in the game but I have decided to stay team Mystic even though the bf is team Valor just to hold onto the memory of that Summer. It was a great bonding experience although I did annoy at least one of my friends with my constant playing who never saw the fun in it.

I also spent a lot of my days that month going out after work with my coworkers. It was just a super lively month in general; B introduced me to a small, but delicious local Korean place and there was an izakaya outing almost every other night with my uni friends. I don’t drink but I still enjoy the atmosphere of everyone being silly and just having a good time - plus the food at izakaya joints is always delicious. It was also the birthday of the crazy receptionist that month, M, and while I may not have been on the best terms with her, she was still friendly with B who is friends with me so I still got an invite. We went to a manga cafe/karaoke joint and it was just quite the time. We somehow managed to stay out until 5 am.

Some days after, B and I went on a hike up to Inasayama from the centre of the city. We were able to open up to each other a lot during this walk and just talked for ages. I hadn’t been hiking in a long while and even though I was cycling or walking to university everyday...I seemed to be a bit out of shape for the hike...Once we left the centre of the city and were hiking more rural routes I really felt it whereas B had been used to inclines like this since she lived at the top of a small mountain and had to walk a huge staircase everyday to get home so it was a piece of cake for her. This also took place on a gorgeous day in the sweltering heat and humidity and I seemed to have forgotten to pack water so it was tough, not gonna lie. I also had stopped wearing the hiking boots that I bought specifically for Japan after my trip to Taiwan since it was just a bad purchase, my feet could never breathe and were a sweaty mess after a day of wearing them...sorry TMI! So I was always spending my days, whether hiking or not, in my sandals that I bought in Taiwan. Not the smartest idea, but hey, at least I got a cool sandal tan (xD). Fortunately for me though, with regards to dehydration, Japan has the most vending machines of any country, about 1 for every 23 citizens and each one has water as well as many delicious and sometimes seasonal drinks so I was covered for refreshments. You can literally find these machines in the middle of nowhere and the most random of places. We were taking side streets up residential areas and we still found a couple. By the time we got close to the top of the mountain it all felt worth it. It was so beautiful, with spectacular views and we managed to catch such a nice breeze. I wish I could still go on hikes like that one with B. It feels so nostalgic to think about that day.

I think I mentioned back in chapter one or two that my home stay family unfortunately did not turn out to be so great even though in the beginning they seemed awesome; so I’m going to take a little break from my recollection of July to explain why that was since July was to be the last month that I would stay with them and I might as well get that out of the way. In the beginning, they really made me feel comfortable and happy and it’s a shame it turned out the way it did because I really wanted to have a second family in Japan through them. They didn’t by any means break my exchange experience but it is a slight unfortunate side to my time there. Before I met my home stay mother who was late picking me up on the first of April, my university informed me of how lucky I was to be staying with this family. This was primarily because their house was in the centre of Nagasaki city and close to everything I could need. I wouldn’t have minded at all being in the pure countryside though but oh well. They also said this because apparently my home stay family were veterans in hosting people but had taken a two year break from doing it and I was the first person that they had decided to take on in a while. (I later found out that it was because their last home stay student was this big smelly guy who just never left his room and seemed to watch anime all day, every day. My home stay family often compared me to him and said I was much better while basically bad mouthing him.). I think that after a month of living with my home stay family the novelty must have worn off which is strange that I would have been a novelty to them since they were so used to hosting foreigners but it truly felt like that. All of April was great and they really showed me a great time. From May onward, however, their attitude towards me just dropped. I tried to be as respectful as I could to them and never take advantage of their kindness or ask too much of them so I really don’t know what happened. They just became very neglectful and apathetic towards me. My theory is that even though my home stay mother was a stay at home mother she just had too much on her plate. She was very sociable and if she wasn’t tending to her high school aged daughter’s or junior high school aged son’s needs then she was taking part in some kind of event. Not that I think it should be her job to clean it but their house was always filthy so clearly she didn’t care about that either. Which meant she was outside of the house a lot of the time and wasn’t cooking or cleaning and which would result in the father having to cook, usually just enough for himself and his son. Essentially, if the mother wasn’t home then I wouldn’t get breakfast or dinner--which is what I paid for as part of my home stay package (and it was quite the expensive package).

To be honest it felt like they were becoming quite stingy with me which didn’t make sense because I saved them a lot of money. I often went out with my friends and would always let them know when I was going out and didn’t need dinner and then in Ramadan when I spent the month fasting I never needed breakfast so they didn’t need to cook for an extra person for a long time. Regardless, there was one time when they all decided to go out for dinner for a special occasion and said I was allowed to come but had to pay for my portion. So either come out and pay for dinner with them or get no dinner at home and have to buy dinner anyway. It’s not like I was expecting them to pay for me but come on, I paid so much to live with them and they were saving so much money as it is but then were even having me pay for dinner with them? I guess I’m still a little bitter. On some days when it rained or when I didn’t have any plans, which was somewhat rare, they even seemed bothered by the idea that I might want to spend the whole day in the house and would ask if I was planning to go out at all. I went from really trying to be close with them and getting them to like me to just keeping to myself after a while. My little home stay brother who was in junior high didn’t seem to get the memo about being cold to me because in the end he was my only friend in the house and we would often play card games together. Don’t get me wrong though, I did try to at least communicate the food issue with my home stay mother but she acted like she had no idea what I was talking about and that the times that I didn’t get any dinner was because they didn’t know that I was in the house (???). A complete lie because I always informed them when I planned to be outside the house through text (always in Japanese) and when I didn’t say anything then that meant that I was planning to be home for dinner; besides she also never asked or made sure if I was planning to be out.

Throughout July as well, my home stay mother was also just never around when I needed help with preparing to leave in August or would just make up an excuse and say she needed to do something when I needed her help. You see, I was planning to start backpacking around Japan come August and needed to sort out how to get my suitcase from Nagasaki to Tokyo and what to do with all of the things that I wasn’t planning to take with me i.e. donate or recycle. I had done some research on the best method to get my suitcase sent back to Tokyo without incurring any extra costs. When I sent my suitcase to Nagasaki from Tokyo in March it had a place to go to but since I would be backpacking and didn’t really have a place waiting for me at that point in Tokyo I couldn’t just send my suitcase all the way to Tokyo with nowhere to go but I had found out I could send it to a major post office, for example, Osaka city post office, and they would hold it for ten days free of charge before sending it back to where it came from and then I could just send it again to Tokyo from Osaka when I was to arrive in Osaka. It did need a lot of explanation to the post office staff on what I was planning to do and my suitcase was heavy enough already so I had to get rid of a bunch of stuff. This is where I thought my home stay mother would help me. First of all, the Nagasaki city post office was a bit far to be lugging around the suitcase from their apartment so I thought she could drive me there, help me donate some of my stuff and help to explain my plan to the post office staff. Alas, she wasn’t around to help with any of that and I had to figure it all out on my own. Anyway I’m getting a bit ahead of myself because that didn’t actually happen until the beginning of August but I wanted to paint a picture of what my home stay family was like before I mention them again later.

The end of July was super jam packed. On the 27th, I had my last day at the English school that I was working at and it felt like my time there had gone by so fast. My boss made it clear to me how much he wanted me to come back and work for him when I was to graduate. Working for him was quite the experience and I definitely learned a lot about myself as a teacher and about teaching and realised that I really enjoyed it which is why I decided from that point that I was going to work toward applying for the JET programme, but that’s a story for another time. My last shift was really sweet because I had bonded with a bunch of my students so each group of students from the various classes that I taught made me a little farewell card that I still have. I was really sad to be going but looking forward to possibly teaching in Japan again at some point in my future.

The next day was the “graduation/farewell” ceremony for all of the exchange students at my university who were planning to leave. This was also sad but also so much fun because the school made a whole event out of it. There was food and music and everyone was dressed up so nice. I even put together my best outfit which was a flowery crop top hand me down from B and some nice overalls. Looking back on some photos though and by the end of my exchange I became so dark compared to how I normally am. I guess because I was walking to school everyday but I really don’t tan that easily in Vancouver, just shows how strong the sun is in Japan. My home stay mother also made a passing comment (before the graduation) about how it would have been nicer if I stayed whiter...I don’t think she meant to sound racist or anything and I am just doing a literal translation of what she said but I think she was just bewildered at how much I just didn’t care all that much that I was tanning and the fact that I was able to become so tanned and that I never put any effort in to look feminine. It also is not common at all for Japanese women to tan and actually they often try their best to cover their skin from the sun in the Summer since looking “white” or pale is something most girls strive to look like there. Anyway, the ceremony portion of the event was really nice and some of the exchange students who had been there longer gave a little speech. It felt super bittersweet to be saying goodbye to all my friends that I had met there from around the world. I met people from the U.S, the Netherlands, France, Vietnam, and China and we shared so much together whether in class or at some university event. I tried to write a letter to some of the people that I was close to and I ended each one with a little message that is a bit cheesy but why not? This was a landmark event in our lives. I said something along the lines of “this isn’t goodbye but see you later!” because I was planning to see them again and I have already met with some of them since then. Later that evening, B took me up to Inasa mountain to look at the stars, enjoy the night view of Nagasaki and celebrate the end of my studies. It was a lovely end to an eventful four months both at my part time job and university.

The day after graduating was the long awaited dance event of the pier side festival! It was quite the exhausting night and I was super nervous about whether I would dance well at all but it was a success! I was able to dance in sync with everyone else! By the end of it all I was super red in the face from what a workout it was and that it was just super humid. It felt like the whole city was there to watch. It was a little embarrassing because some of my students were there too as well some of my teachers from the university but it was a lot of fun and really cool to be able to represent the university and be in the spotlight like that. It honestly went by too fast. You know that feeling of tension that builds up before you get on a really scary looking roller coaster but then you get on and it’s over before you know it? That’s what this kind of felt like. Either way, a really memorable experience and I’m super glad that it was filmed by NHK and I was able to get a copy. Actually, now that I think about it. I pretty much did everything but vlog/blog when it came to collecting memories of things that happened. I took SO many photos of things, a few videos (both on a really bad and worn out phone) and whenever something was being filmed I always tried to get a copy of it. The second day of the pier side festival was the day I got to fulfil a little childhood fantasy of mine; I got to have my first go at a Summer festival at night in a yukata or Summer kimono and it was a blast! I felt super pretty in B’s hand me down yukata that she gave me which had a pink flowery design on a black background. I walked around with R and Corn and later met up with B, ate at some of the food stalls and watched the pretty fireworks for a good 30 minutes. It was absolutely lovely.

On the 30th, one of the senior American teachers that I had mentioned before who was somewhat in charge of the exchange students threw what was apparently his annual end of the year Summer party at his house. It seemed a tad bizarre to me that all of the Japanese first year students (other years were welcome too) and all of the exchange students were invited to party it up at a teacher’s house to celebrate finishing our studies but oh well. R made me promise to go since she had to be there as well because she was on the culture festival preparation committee or something and apparently everyone in the committee has to go to this party so she wanted me to be there too. I didn’t mind at all, I mean, I had some reservations about it because it was weird but also because I had to be up early the next day but since a couple other friends of mine were going as well as H who said he’d drive us (this teacher’s house was in the proper countryside, middle of nowhere). From what I can remember it was an interesting but still strange night. Several of the students didn’t care at all about drinking at a teacher’s house and people generally let loose. My only problem was a couple of the female first years and one girl in particular who got super wasted and was dressed in heels and was just being really loud and obnoxious but still wanted to follow me and a few others across the street, in the dark, from the house, through a wooded area and to the beach on the other side for some fresh air and to just get away from everything at the party. I was a tad annoyed but mostly concerned that these girls would hurt themselves although no one else seemed to care. I don’t remember much else from that night apart from the fact that we seemed to be there until sunrise. Although my friends and I spent most of it walking around outside and found a really pretty bridge to catch the sunrise. It was a nice way to end a weird night. Although, it wasn’t exactly over. I and the couple of other friends just mentioned, one of which being N, the girl I participated in the dance party with, had committed to being in the Nagasaki Peron boat race, again to represent our university and had no time to go home and rest beforehand since it was meant to start a few hours later at around 9 am. So H, being the sweetheart that he is, stayed up with us and drove us to where the boat race was to take place, parked outside a convenience store and we napped there for about an hour and a half, got some breakfast and were ready to go. I was truly living the exchange life with all these all-nighters that didn’t involve studying. The boat race was a hit as well. I remember being super pumped for it and not feeling tired at all. At some point I memorised a sort of cheer that is said during the boat race and began to basically chant it over and over during the race which seemed to help motivate everyone to row faster. I can confirm that according to a photo that I just saw from the event, I had a blast but looked super goofy.

Boy Drama Part Three: The Finale

Bet you thought this was over! Well, not quite yet. You see I never finished talking about what happened with E and you may think that it just fizzled out...but not exactly. Actually, my ending with him took place from mid/end of June until about the middle of July but since I spoke about Y enough in part 2, I thought I might as well dedicate part 3 to E. It was very strangely just a couple of days after the incident with Y that E messaged me again and pretty much insisted on a second date. He even invited me over to his house but I quickly declined that offer. This was all probably owing to the fact that I had spoken to him at the university just recently about how my phone broke and I panic bought rice to fix it but didn’t know what to do with the rice afterwards and then he offered to take it off my hands. He wanted to eat my phone rice. Well, one less thing that I needed to worry about I guess. Anyway, I was still kinda reeling from what happened with Y near the end of June and having to think about my final assignments, the dance at the pier side festival and wrapping everything up with university but E insisted on a date even though he should have known that I would be busy with assignments being that he was a teacher, but sure, whatever. I agreed to a date for the first Sunday of July but told him that it would have to be a much more casual one since I was planning to get some studies done earlier in the day before meeting up with him. Well, that was the plan. I really should have never agreed to meet up with him because I didn’t even like him anymore but I thought he got the hint that I lost interest and we only had one date that wasn’t really romantic or anything. But he insisted on this date and I didn’t know how to tell him that I wasn’t into him anymore or, well, I just didn’t want to, apart from all the excuses that I tried to give him.

The plan was for him to do his errands that he said he needed to do and that I would study at a cafe for a few hours and then we would meet up at 9pm for a night time stroll and maybe to get a snack or something. That didn’t happen. I cycled up to the cafe at about 5pm and he was there. I was so confused. We had agreed to meet at 9 but he was there. To be honest, I was feeling a bit ill as well and just wasn’t at all in the mood for this creepiness. I asked him what he was doing there so early and he said that he already finished his errands and thought we could start our date early. Um what? I told him that I hadn’t even started studying yet and he said it was ok and that he would join me while I studied. You might be thinking that should be nice, right? A Japanese teacher to sit with while I did my Japanese studies. Nope. I set myself up, and opened my books and instead of starting a conversation or asking what he could help with or anything, he just sat there and stared at me while I tried to finish my homework. Ahhhh the creep factor was strong with this one. I withstood that for all of 10 minutes before I just thought, right, this isn’t working. I packed up my stuff and told him we should go for a walk since I couldn’t concentrate. I remember my mood just getting more and more sour because, I’ll be honest, it was my time of the month and I was pmsing and he just wasn’t helping the matter. We walked around the city and pier and I tried to cheer myself up so that I didn’t seem too mean but I just found him utterly boring by that point. I think at some point he noticed that I wasn’t feeling well or something so he began to fill the silence a bit himself but it wasn’t really working. We decided to go into a supermarket after awhile and get some ice cream. We bought yukimi daifuku which was a brand of mochi ice cream and was delicious so that did help things a bit. Afterwards though, I decided that it was late enough that I could probably get away with ending the night there so I said that I wanted to go home and then he insisted on walking me home and wouldn’t take no for an answer. On the way back, he began to talk about how he can’t wait until I’m not his student anymore and how he wants to be able to be super open with his affection towards me and hold my hand while walking and do romantic things like that. I was too tired to think too much about it at the time but it really should have dawned on me at that point that this guy thought we were a couple. We had been on barely two dates and still hardly knew each other apart from texting for like a month and talking at school but he thought I was his girlfriend.

We got back to my house and I thanked him and was about to leave but he went in for a goodbye hug which I obliged him on but after that went in for a kiss and I kid you not, I ducked out of the way. I don’t know if he thought it was a mistake or something but he tried to kiss me a second time!! And I friggin ducked again. I don’t know what to tell you, it’s like something out of a sitcom. You can’t make this stuff up. I don’t know what he was thinking but after that I quickly said bye again and just ran up the stairs. Later on, he sent me a message saying he had a fun night to which I did not reply. I honestly do not know what part of that “date” he thought had gone successful enough for a kiss or even that he felt any chemistry between us because trust me there was none. *sighs* Why do I seem to attract weirdos? (not including the bf, of course)

A week or two passed after that and I wasn’t seeing much of him at university because I only had him for a speaking class and by mid July those classes were done but he seemed to be acting normal. Well, I thought he seemed fine but one day I got a long text from him calling me a coward and basically saying I was ghosting him and planning to leave without breaking up with him and just stringing him along and just a bunch of things along those lines. That’s right, he said breaking up. I’m not exactly sure if this is the case in general in Japan, the verdict is still out but I think showing a bit of interest and going out on at least one date even though I never specifically said that I liked him and wanted to be his girlfriend meant that I was in fact his girlfriend and I was being a crappy one at that. I don’t know what he expected, we never talked about a future or anything on the date (and a half) that we went on, or through messenger, but I was due to be leaving Japan in under two months and Nagasaki in just a couple of weeks and not planning to return for at least a few years so what did he think was going to happen?? Ah, I still cringe and am still so confused. I replied to him and told him that I was planning to talk to him about the fact that I was leaving and say goodbye (which was a lie but in retrospect I probably should have actually meant to) but that I was busy and that he should have known how busy I was. In the end, I told him we should talk about it in person so I told him that I would cycle over to the school the following day and talk to him for a bit since I had to go there for dance practice anyway. The following day, I did just that and oh my goodness the tension in his office was surreal. I went in and closed the door because I thought he probably wouldn’t want anyone to be hearing our conversation but then he got up and opened it and then just wouldn’t stop glaring at me which made me sufficiently uncomfortable. He sat back down and continued to glare and just didn’t say anything. I tried to open up the conversation and say that I was really sorry if I hurt his feelings and that that wasn’t my intention at all but said a couple of the same things that I said through text to him which was that I was planning to be leaving in just a couple of weeks and didn’t think much would come of our relationship but that it would be nice to remain friends if possible. Nothing. He did not say a word. He continued to glare though which made me unable to look at him and I was just facing my lap the entire time. I tried to apologise more and get him to say something but my efforts were futile and after about five minutes I told him that I had to go to dance practice and promptly left. It was unreal how uncomfortable I was and how creepy he was. I never spoke to him again after that either, I did see him around the university up until graduation though but we made sure to avoid each other.

#studyaboard #studyabroadmemories #hiking #japanesenature #studentexchange #Travelblog #japantravel #boydrama #friends #travel #japanesesummer #japanlife #pokemongo #crazylife #japanexplore #lifeabroad #is this the real life

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waitineedaname · 8 years ago

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Talk

Skam month: week three, day four / missing scene

(AO3)

Even’s knee was bouncing, but he knew there wasn’t any hope in trying to get it to stop. With the amount of stress he’d been under for the past several weeks - the amount of stress he was sure this meeting was about to bring on - it was probably better to let his leg just do its thing when the alternative was exploding with anxiety.

When he left Bakka, he thought this might all go away. He’d get a fresh start at a new school, and they’d eventually forget him. It was better for everyone involved. They didn’t need to deal with him and his bullshit.

(The more rational part of him said that would have never worked. That he’d known some of them since lower secondary school, and you don’t forget someone you know that well very easily.)

Either way, it didn’t happen the way he wanted it to. Everything followed him to Nissen, turning into hushed whispers behind his back, rumors spread by people who didn’t even know him or anyone who was involved, texts sent to his boyfriend about did you hear? That Even guy? He’s fucking crazy, didn’t you know?

He woke up every morning grateful that Isak still stuck with him, despite everything. Every now and then, when he was feeling particularly low, he expected Isak to tell him he was leaving, that he was too much to deal with. Sometimes he wished that was what would happen, because then he wouldn’t be burdening him anymore. But Isak was always there, kissing his forehead and telling him he loved him when every part of his brain told Even he didn’t and cooking him shitty ramen when he couldn’t get out of bed. Even was so incredibly glad he had him.

So every morning he woke up to find that big bruise on Isak’s face, it killed him inside. That was his fault, he knew it. He might not have been the one to throw the punch, but it was him, his actions that led to it happening.

He couldn’t avoid it anymore.

The sound of his old friends talking brought him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to find them walking over. He’d set himself at a picnic table in the park they used to play basketball in. It was more neutral territory than someone’s house, and it was still Ramadan so inviting them out to eat wouldn’t have worked either.

Their conversation died off when they drew closer and saw him. Mutta gave him a bit of a smile, but everyone else looked tense. Even didn’t blame them; he knew he looked just as nervous. One by one, they sat down on the bench opposite him until there was no more room and Yousef sat at the other end of his own bench, giving him as much room as he needed.

Even looked at all of them and found every word he’d been planning to say had escaped him. He let out a shaky breath and gave them a weak smile. “Hey guys.” He finally managed to say. These guys had practically been family; it shouldn’t be this hard just to say hello. Though, perhaps given the circumstances, it was to be expected.

“Hey, Even.” Mikael was the first to speak up, giving him that crooked half smile. Even wasn’t sure the unease in his eyes was really there or Even’s subconscious was projecting it. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done that. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it has been.” Even’s smile faltered and he looked down at the table.

“We’ve been trying to get ahold of you for almost a year, man.” Adam’s voice brought him back to attention. “When you texted us… we couldn’t really believe it.”

Even sighed and nodded. “I’m sorry about all that… It just- It felt like the right thing to do. And it wasn’t. It just made things worse. So now I guess it’s time to finally talk about- about everything that happened.” He looked up and found five pairs of concerned eyes on him, waiting expectantly. He licked his lips and tried to brace himself. “How much do you guys already know?”

“Sonja, she told us you were depressed. And-” Elias cleared his throat, like the words were getting stuck before he could say them. “-we heard you tried to kill yourself.”

Even smiled, grim and tight-lipped. “That’s half of it. I-” No use hesitating about it now. “-am bipolar. I didn’t know back then. I didn’t get diagnosed until I was in the hospital, actually. All the-” He couldn’t help but look at Mikael when he said it. “-the random shit I did, it was because I was manic. I wasn’t thinking straight, it was all impulses. And then I was depressed, and it all came crashing down, and-” He fell silent. It wasn’t easy talking about this part, but they got the picture.

The guys were silent - all digesting this information, he assumed - and he looked down so as not to see their expressions. After a few minutes passed, Yousef reached over and squeezed his arm. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Even looked up and found them all looking at him with concern deep in their eyes. A lump formed in his throat. “I thought it would’ve been easier if I just left you guys alone. I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“Even,” Mutasim’s expression was earnest and kind. “We’re your friends. We would’ve been there for you. We all thought maybe we did something wrong-”

“No.” Even interrupted him firmly. “You guys didn’t do anything wrong. It was all the fucked up chemicals in my head, you guys didn’t do anything.”

“You say that, but-” Mikael pushed some of his hair back, and the guilt in his eyes damn near killed Even. “I’m sorry about- You know. Reacting how I did. I panicked. You didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have put you in that situation.” Even shook his head a little. “Everything that had been on my mind came out, and questioning my sexuality was pretty much always on my mind. Everything was confusing, and you ended up with the brunt of it.”

“Looks like you have it figured out now, though.” Mikael gestured to Even’s jacket and he remembered the pride pin he had on. “Pan, right?” His smile was slowly returning, and Even smiled back just a little.

“Yeah, that’s right. And I’ve got a boyfriend now- who, by the way, told me to tell you guys he’s really sorry for what happened at Syng.”

“He’s not the only one,” said Elias, leaning in a bit. “Tell him I’m sorry too. I didn’t even see what happened, I just saw him push Mikael over and I freaked out.”

Even heard Mikael mumble something about him being way too protective and smiled. “He doesn’t hold it against you, don’t worry. He’s been beating himself up about it for weeks, he hopes you’ll forgive him.”

“He seems like a good guy,” Adam grinned at him from across the table. “Other than pushing Mikael. I saw him sing with you, that was super cute.”

Even grinned back and nodded proudly. “He’s great. I’m really lucky to have him.”

“And you guys are happy together?” Yousef asked, and Even regretted cutting himself off from them for so long; he couldn’t ask for more supportive friends.

“Yeah, we are. We’re actually living together now.”

“What?!” Mutta’s jaw dropped, and everyone’s faces were a mixture of surprise and delight. “How long have you been dating?”

“Since November.”

“And you’re already living together? Here I was thinking Yousef was ridiculous for talking about kids before they’re even dating.” That earned Mutta a swift kick from under the table, and Even raised his eyes. He’d have to ask about that later.

“Hey!” Elias spoke suddenly, like he just remembered something, and his eyes were bright with excitement. “Did you hear about our Youtube channel?”

“What? You finally started one? You’ve been talking about that forever!”

“Forty thousand subscribers, man.” Elias preened, and Even laughed.

“That’s great! I’m gonna have to watch it.”

“You should come on some time!” Adam suggested, and there was a chorus of agreement. “If you want to, of course.”

“I will if you'll have me!” They all grinned at him before launching into another topic.

They sat there for what must have been hours, catching up on all the lost time this past year. Surrounded by the best friends he ever had, Even almost felt like he’d never left. They only left when it was starting to get dark and the promise of Iftar at the Bakkoush’s had them all eager to leave. Even could practically still feel all their hugs as he boarded the tram home and pulled out his phone.

Heading home

(Man of my life) How’d it go?

Really well They all want to interrogate you and make sure you’re treating me right

(Man of my life) Haha You told them I’m sorry for syng right???

It’s chill They all really like you

(Man of my life) I’m proud of you For doing this ❤

❤

Even locked his phone and smiled. Yeah. He was proud too.

#skam #skammonth #even bech næsheim #elias bakkoush #mikael øverlie boukhal #yousef acar #mutasim tatouti #adam malik #okay to reblog #my writing #i would kill for even and the balloon squad #like i appreciate their talk in the youtube video #but it should've happened earlier #i love my kids with my whole heart

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bigheadzilla-blog · 7 years ago

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Journey Away from Home

“Yousef! Yousef! Yousef, get up right now, you’re going to be late for your first day of school,” my mom screamed into my ear while trying to wake me up.

“Oh, shit,” I thought to myself as I begrudgingly got out of bed. After two and a half months of summer vacation and two long weeks of searching for a new school, it was finally time for my first day of school in America. I was never happy about moving here, I always wanted to stay in Canada, with all of my friends that I had known for pretty much my entire life. The reason we did move here of all places was because my mother was American. I tried to stay keep a positive attitude about moving here, but after reading that Louisiana was among one of the most racist states in America, and being of partial Pakistani heritage, I guess knew it was only a matter of time before things started to go south for me.

I quickly got ready and headed downstairs for breakfast. “This uniform feels like paper. Why do I have to go to a private school anyways?” I said as I stuffed my mouth with a spoonful of cereal.

“Look Yousef, your father and I want you to live an easy and comfortable life,” my mom replied.

“Comfortable? With this uniform?” I said with an annoyed look on my face.

“Just listen to your mother,” said my uncle Frank said as he walked into the kitchen, “trust me, everyone will think you’re cool if you listen to your mother.” I was perplexed by his answer and didn’t know what to say. I always liked my uncle Frank, he was a short, stubby, balding man who wore gigantic glasses. I think he just tried a bit too hard to be funny and cool. Nevertheless, he is really nice and sweet.

After finishing my breakfast, I got into the backseat of the car and headed off to my new school. “Now Yousef, make sure to introduce yourself to everyone and try to make a lot of friends,” my mom said looking back at me.

“Yeah, yeah whatever,” I answered in an uninterested tone.

“C’mon Yousef, try to lighten up a bit,” my mom said trying to brighten my mood, “I’m sure your first day of school will go well”.

“How can you be so positive about this mom? You can’t seriously be happy about moving here”.

“No one is happy about moving here Yousef, your father is still back in Canada out on the sea working hard just for you. Can’t you just try to be positive, if not for yourself, at least for him”.

“Okay mom, but I’m still not happy about this.”

“That’s fine, I don’t expect you to be happy, but at least try to look at the bright side of things. I know you can do it, you’re a good boy Yousef”.

I finally arrived at school, kissed my mom goodbye, and headed for the main gate of the school. It was a small private school with a little under 200 students, so everyone in the school already knew each other. The school principal came to meet me at the administration and guided me to my class. As he took me to my class, he told me that the school was happy to have me and that I was a great addition to this class. I smiled at him not to be rude, but deep down, I knew that I was not going to be happy here.

I walked into the classroom and the whole classroom went silent. The principal introduced me to everyone and told them that I was a new student. Everyone looked confused. You see, the school started a month and a half before I joined in late. All of the students stared at me, looking at me as if I were an animal in a zoo exhibition. After the principal finished introducing me, I sat down in the closest seat to me. A few of the students came to me and asked me my name and I told them. They didn’t seem too bad and I kind of liked a few of them. That was until the homeroom teacher entered. “All right class settled down everyone, get in your seats so I can take attend- Wait, who let this chocolate bar inside the class?” said Mr. Johnson pointing referring to my darker skin. The whole class roared with laughter. I felt embarrassed but kept my composure.

“No, no, I know who you are, c’mon get up in front of the class and introduce yourself new kid.” I got up in front of the class, and that was when I made the biggest mistake of my life.

“My name is Yousef Mahmoud, I’m a fifteen years old,” I said at the front of the class

“And where you from Yousef,” said Mr. Johnson asked me.

“I came here from Canada, but I am a Muslim that originated from Pakistan.” I replied. As soon as I uttered those words, I could see the laughter that filled the student’s faces previously had quickly vanished.

“Umm… Okay, th-thank you, you can go back to your seat now,” Mr. Johnson said with a stutter. I saw the disgust in the eyes of the other students and realized what I had said and where I had said it. I just told a bunch of naïve fifteen-year olds that I was not only Muslim, but that I was also from Pakistan. It would have been better if I had put a target right on my forehead.

I could hear the whispers of the other students. I heard the gossip going about. The rumors that spread across the entire school. I had a lot of time to think about the situation I was in throughout the school day. I realized that my parents were actually working really hard for me and I didn’t want them to worry. So I decided not to tell my parents about what had happened.

That day when I got home, I told my mom that I had a great day and that I loved the school. I cried myself to sleep that night, not the first time, and certainly not the last.

For the next couple of days, no one talked to me. I was completely alone at lunch. I actually preferred class time because it was the only place I could sit and be silent without looking like a loser. Every day I would come home with a big smile on my face but it was eating away at me on the inside. I couldn’t handle putting on this mask. For many nights before going to bed, I would Skype my best friend from back in Canada, Osaed, telling him about how much I hated it here. Multiple times I would come crying to him, but that was only the beginning.

About two weeks in, the other students realized how vulnerable I was. They started to take advantage of me. They started bullying me. Every morning when I came into homeroom, I dreaded seeing one person’s face, a kid named Richard. Richard was a tall, overweight, freaking horrible human being. His only purpose was to make my life miserable. He was the worst part of every single day of my life. I can’t even begin to explain how horrifying the things he did to me were.

There were a lot of things he and his friends did to me. They did the usual bullying things, like beating me up, making fun of me, spreading rumors, but there was one thing that stood above the rest. I was fasting during the month of Ramadan and Richard knew of this, he took advantage of how vulnerable I would be during that time. He forced food down my throat every single day. He disrespected my beliefs and my religion. I always tried my hardest to resist, but to no avail. That really hurt me mentally and emotionally. I’m lost for words on what an abomination that kid was. I honestly couldn’t understand how anyone could be such a horrible human being. The worst part is, pretty much everyone in my class knew about what was happening to me. No one did anything about it. No one talked to me. No one helped me at all. No one even tried.

I tried talking to my homeroom teacher, Mr. Johnson, about how I was being treated repeatedly, but he said there was nothing he could do. He kept on telling me that none of the teachers really had any control over the student’s actions. I couldn’t understand the kind of school this was. How could a school disregard what was happening to their students.

I was completely lost. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t think clearly. No human being should ever have to go through what I had been through. I had to hide my bruises from my mother. I went straight to my room after coming home from school telling my mother that ii had a lot of school work to do. I kept my interaction with people as minimum as possible. I didn’t want things to get any worse than were. This is usually the part in the story where I tell you how I overcame my obstacle and how I defeated my problems, but it isn’t. It only got worse and worse.

Three months had passed by and I was in the worst state of mind I had ever been in. There was pretty much no one by my side. The only people I had supporting me who knew about this were a few close friends from back home, but it’s not like they could really even do anything about it. I kept my family oblivious throughout everything. My uncle Frank actually had not been feeling so well for the past couple of months and my mother was worried sick about him. With all the work they do for me, I wouldn’t want them to have to start worrying about me as well. I just thought that it would be too much stress for them to handle if I told them because it was definitely too much for me to handle.

In early December, my uncle Frank passed away due to coronary artery disease. It wasn’t easy for me or my mom. He was the only sibling my mother had and they had a really strong bond. My dad was there at the funeral. I met with him for the first time in months. We sat down on a bench and I asked him, “How long are you here for dad?”

“Just for another two days Yousef,” he replied.

“Have you found any way for us to be able to move back to Canada?” I asked him with a glimmer of hope in my eye.

“You know I’m trying, I’m really trying,” he answered back, “but aren’t you happy here, you told your mother that you’ve been having fun at school”.

The guilt of lying to my parents struck at my heart. “Ye-, yea but, it doesn’t compare to back home”.

“I know son, I know,” he said while kissing my forehead.

I missed a week and a half of school because of my uncle’s death and Richard started spreading rumors. He had told everyone that I had been clinically diagnosed with depression and had to skip school because I was cutting myself. None of this was true (although I had been tempted a few times) but because everyone knew how I was treated, they probably thought that it wasn’t unlikely that it could be true.

Later that week, the school’s councilor had called for a meeting with me and my mother. I already knew he was going to tell my mother about the rumors that had been spread about me. She still thinks that I’m happy at this school and when she finds out that I’m not, added with the death of my uncle, I can’t even begin to imagine what’s going to happen.

“Mrs. Mahmoud,” said the councilor, “there have been widespread rumors about your son being clinically depressed, I just wanted to confirm with you to see if this is true.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” my mother replied.

“Well, with the way Yousef is treated here, I’m sure you know something of it,” the councilor replied with a shocked look on his face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Yousef says he loves it here. He says that he has made lots of friends and that the teachers are good. I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

With those words, the councilor looked at me and said, “I’m afraid that all of those things are untrue. Unfortunately, Yousef isn’t very popular to say the least, he is constantly getting bullied in school. I cannot believe that he hasn’t told you” I shrank into my chair with fear of how my mother was going to react.

“If you knew this was happening, why didn’t you do anything about it?” my mother said to the councilor with a menacing look.

“Mom, it’s fine, you don’t hav-“.

“You keep your mouth shut young man. I’ll get to you too. I can’t believe you lied to me,” my mother cut me off.

“Well you see Mrs. Mahmoud, the school doesn’t take responsibility for the actions of the other students,” replied the councilor with a frantic voice.

“What kind of bullshit school policy is that? You knew my son was getting bullied and you didn’t even think to tell his own mother!”

“We assumed that he had already told you”.

“If he had already told me, we would have had this conversation a lot sooner”. My mother’s voice kept getting louder and louder. I think she was letting out all of her emotions regarding the death of my uncle onto the councilor.

She went on for another ten minutes while I was thinking about what she was going to say to me about everything. She was completely silent on the car ride home. Those ten minutes it took us to get home were the most frightening moments of my life. As soon as we walked into the house, my mother fell on her knees and started sobbing.

“What did I do to deserve this?” my mother asked me, “What did I do Yousef? Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve talked to the principal, I could’ve talked to the bully’s parents, I could’ve even had your school changed. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry about me,” I said as tears rolled down my cheeks, “You and dad already work so hard for me and I just didn’t want to put any more stress on the two of you. I’m sorry for not telling you, I just couldn’t find the willpower to. I was scared about how you would react”.

I couldn’t imagine what was going through my mom’s head. She was probably worried sick about me. I couldn’t blame her. She just found out that her son had been getting bullied in school for three months right after her brother passed away. I wouldn’t blame her if she was losing sleep over it.

The next day, the councilor called me and my mother back to his office to talk about what had happened the day before.

“Mrs. Mahmoud, I have called you back today to talk about possible solutions for the problems your son is facing,” the councilor told my mother.

“Now you come to talk about solutions?” my mother replied, “Not three months earlier when you knew the problem arose”.

“Simply talking to the bullies will not work,” the councilor said ignoring my mother’s comment, “they have sort of gotten used to bullying Yousef dare I say and if we suspend them or put them in detention, they will just start to bully him more”.

“So what do you propose we do?” my mother asked.

“I would say the only real option you have at this point is to have his school changed”.

“Have his school changed? Where on Earth will I find a school willing to accept him three months after the school year has started?”

“Mom, we could move back to Canada, you know I won’t get bullied there,” I said to my mother with a glimmer of hope of her saying yes.

“We went over this Yousef, your dad’s company isn’t paying for the house rent or the school fees anymore. It would just be too expensive to live there”. I knew the reason we couldn’t go back, but I just thought that maybe with all of this going on, my mom would start thinking about possibilities on how we could move back.

“Well Mrs. Mahmoud, other than going to a different school here or moving back to Canada, I cannot think of any other possibilities to save your son from being bullied”.

“Mom, please talk it over with dad, there might be a way for us to move back to Canada,” I said to my mom as a last ditch effort because it didn’t seem like we really had any other options.

“Fine, fine, I will try but, you know we tried to stay, we really did but we couldn’t find a way. Your dad couldn’t find a different job with enough pay to support you going to school,” my mom said back to me.

“It doesn’t matter if you change the school, I wouldn’t mind going to a different school, just anywhere that isn’t here”.

“Alright sweetie, I’ll try my best, but I have already told you many times, it is highly unlikely”.

We couldn’t think of any other solution. It was either switch schools or stay in this shithole. Thinking about possibly going to Canada really put hope in my heart and reminded me of how life was back then. It was a simpler time when everything was easier.

School was good, I was more active. My new school didn’t really put emphasis on sports and I loved playing sports. I really loved playing basketball but after moving here, I completely stopped and my love for the sport vanished. I really wanted to go back and I knew my school would accept me back because I was a model student. I was a straight A student who was captain of the volleyball and basketball team, leading them to the inter-high championship multiple times.

There was just a week left before winter break began and I was finally going to hear some good news for the first time in months. My mom said that for winter break, we were going back to Canada. I was ecstatic, I only had to deal with one more week of school and then I would be back with my friends for two weeks. The last week of school was probably the easiest for me because Richard and some of his friends were out of town so I didn’t really get bullied at all.

We arrived at the airport and my dad was there waiting for us. I hadn’t seen him in months due to his job and gave him a big hug. My mom had told him the situation I was in and said he was doing whatever he can to get us to move back to Canada. I spent most of the time there with my friends, reminiscing about past experiences. I loved every minute I spent there, but was scared of having to go back. I never wanted it to end, but I knew it had to. Or so I thought.

My dad just got a call from his company, their chief engineer just got fired for sleeping with the CEO’s wife so they need him back to become interim chief and to possibly even become the chief engineer again. I couldn’t believe it, there had just been so many downs in my life for months and I finally get some good news. I was so unbelievably happy there are no words to describe it. I was finally going to get my life back. I was finally going to be happy again.

I packed my stuff as fast as I could when we got back to Louisiana. The moving process felt like it flew by in an instant. As winter break ended, we were completely settled back in Canada. I was so incredibly happy that I would be with my friends again. I was up all night on the first day of the second semester. I got ready as fast as I could, went to eat breakfast and was headed off to school. I arrived at school, kissed my mom goodbye and everything was finally back to normal.

#shortstory

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tourguideexpert-blog-blog · 6 years ago

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