#a recent friend has truly shocked me with how considerate and well mannered they are like ??? omg ??

[opheliac]

i think that a ton of the people at my university are just former mean girls and it girls (gender inclusive actually). i've never before encountered such an environment absolutely chock full of people with unending mean streaks. does projecting your bitterness really make you feel good? do you only derive confidence from a sense of superiority? do you even want to have close connections with anyone? i'm sorry you're feeling insecure but this is not the way. please show compassion to yourself then extend this to others and you will be awarded your angel wings, i promise. you can all be such lovely people who are truly happy with themselves, don't be like this please.

[afjakwritesarchive]

NWC #4

Note: I’ve decided to keep all the non-aph NWC’s off this blog. Day 3 was an original poem, so it will be kept off of this blog. That being said, here is today’s entry!

Pairing: USUK Words: 1,804 Rating: T AU: Human Genre: Romance Summary: Arthur Kirkland uses his wealth to buy presents for his loved ones in order to express his affection. He is thrown when Alfred begins to give him gifts in return.  A/N: Not amazing, but an improvement from Day 1! Mostly prose. Very fluffy. Enjoy! 

If asked, Arthur Kirkland would surely admit that expressing any positive emotion was somewhat challenging for him. Most of those well acquainted with him theorized that it was due to a lack of compassion from his parents that had caused him to repress positive emotion. As one of his only close friends, Francis, had put it: he had not yet "succumbed to the power of love."

That was, until he'd met Alfred. Arthur had been terrified at first; hell, he still was. He'd been instantly enraptured by the vibrant, overly-energetic American who had recently taken up residence in Arthur's apartment building. While the Brit lived on the top floor in the penthouse and Alfred lived much further down in the cheaper flats, they often met in the lobby on their way in from work, and Alfred had been eager to spark up conversation with the Brit.

He'd explained to Arthur in that bloody fantastic American accent—the very same accent Arthur usually rolled his eyes at due to his belief that Americans were rather uncultured—that he was new to England and hoping to make new friends. While initially hesitant, Arthur had been won over rather quickly by the American's enthusiasm and persuasiveness, and had been coaxed into coffee the following day. From there, the pair became fast friends; mostly due to Alfred's constant pestering.

It had been more than a year since their first meeting, and, before Arthur could prevent it, he'd grown attached to Alfred. He dreaded the very thought of emotional attachment—there were very few people in his life for whom he genuinely cared for, and he knew love to be a minefield of anxieties, mistakes, and disasters. It was a challenge like no other for Arthur to express it, and rarely did he do it right.

One thing that always seemed to work, though, were presents.

Arthur was a man of wealth. He'd inherited a small tea production business from his late parents and had turned it into an empire before his thirtieth birthday. Therefore, it was no trouble at all to buy gifts for the select individuals he was fond of. They could each expect a gift from Arthur at least once a month, and while they often insisted that the Brit not do such things for them, the Brit brushed it off. After all, it was his way of showing love—how would they know if he didn't remind them? He certainly couldn't say it out loud, no. They'd all become accustomed to the presents within time, and had caught on to the reason behind them as well. To outsiders, Arthur was excessively complicated; to those who knew him well, he was incredibly transparent.

Francis in particular was a master at reading Arthur. The pair had been friends since they were barely five years old, and as such he'd had plenty of time to learn and dissect Arthur's mannerisms until he was an exceptional interpreter of Arthur's behaviors. He could tell from a look what Arthur was feeling and thinking, and knew the Brit better than anyone else.

And, of course, he knew before Arthur did when the man began to fall in love with Alfred.

It first became apparent whilst he and Arthur were browsing the mall and Arthur had abruptly stalled outside a comic store. He'd peered into the window, green eyes gazing at a comic in the display window.

"You know, Alfred mentioned wanting this yesterday." He'd said, pointing at a book on display before promptly stepping into the shop. Francis had raised a brow, perplexed, and stepped in just in time to watch Arthur approach the counter and purchase the comic.

"Alfred?" Francis asked, raising a brow. "The American that lives in your building? The one who insists on a coffee date twice a week?"

Arthur went red in the face at the word 'date', waving his hand about as if to swat his friend away. "Yes, yes, him. He's rather good company, despite his obnoxiousness. We're... friends." Arthur had said, hesitating at the word 'friends'. Saying it out loud made it real, made his attachment known to someone outside of himself.

"My, my, Arthur, I'm surprised. You've only known him for two months, and you're already buying him presents? Has another person managed to crack your shell?" Francis teased, nudging his friend.

"Oh, belt up!" Arthur had said, shoving past the Frenchman and out of the store then.

Since then, the Brit's gift-giving had grown more and more frequent. Whatever Alfred wanted was often his before the week was out, no matter the cost. He'd received everything from candy bars to sold-out concert tickets from Arthur. Each time, the Brit delighted in the brightness in Alfred's gorgeous baby blues, the grin that came to his face as he gazed at his friend.

Francis had, of course, been wary of Alfred. Arthur was an easily manipulated man when he cared for someone, and he was aware that the American could be exploiting Arthur for his money. However, this theory had been blown out of the water when Alfred had begun to return the favor. To both his and Arthur's shock, Alfred had begun to bring the Brit gifts. While they were considerably less expensive than the ones Arthur often gave him due to his financial status, each one seemed to be based on something Arthur had told him, or that he'd observed as one of Arthur's interests.

"Oh! By the way, Arthur, I saw this and it reminded me of you!" Alfred often said as he presented Arthur with a gift, each time with a bright smile set upon his handsome face.

Arthur had rushed to Francis' apartment almost immediately after receiving the latest gift, baffled.

"Why the hell is he giving me such thoughtful gifts?!" He'd cried, waving the first edition Hemingway Alfred had found buried in the back of an ancient bookstore earlier in the week. "Is he trying to pay me back for what I've gotten him?!" He demanded.

Francis rolled his eyes. "He's thinking about you," he'd said simply, sipping on the scotch held daintily in his hand.

Arthur had went red at his friend's words and shook his head even as he pulled the book to his chest and wrapped both arms around it. "That's ridiculous," he huffed.

"Why? Aren't you friends?" Francis inquired.

"Well, yes, but—but he... I don't expect him to be as fond of me as..." Arthur trailed off, clearing his throat off instead.

"As you are of him." Francis finished, and took a sip from his glass. "Don't rule the possibility out, my friend. Alfred has been a constant source of surprise; perhaps he has actually managed to grow fond of your grumpy, overbearing personality somehow." He teased.

His friend's words had stuck with Arthur; the man couldn't help but to reflect back on Francis' words when he and Alfred were together. Was Alfred truly thinking of him? Could it be possible that the American had taken more interest in Arthur than the Brit had thought?

At first, Arthur was quick to dismiss the idea. It was simply impossible—Alfred was not wealthy, but his boyish charm and energy combined with his unfair attractiveness more than made up for his lack of status. He was ridiculously perfect, and far out of Arthur's league. Therefore, any thought of the American returning Arthur's rapidly growing attachment was immediately tossed aside, labelled an impossibility.

However, the dismissal of such ideas soon became impossible. The more time they spent together, the more affectionate Alfred became. Arthur would have to be positively blind not to suspect that the American was at least somewhat attached to him—however, any thought of attraction was still improbable. Surely Alfred had suitors lining up for miles! It would be impossible for him to like Arthur, let alone love him! Despite the pain these thoughts brought the Brit, he accepted their truth.

"Hey, Arthur?" Alfred asked one day.

"Yes?" Arthur asked, looking up from the book he'd been reading.

He and Alfred were so comfortable together they often sat in companionable silence. Today, they had taken up residence in the spacious living room of Arthur's penthouse, and the pair were currently settled upon Arthur's lavish sofa. The Brit was leaning against the arm of the couch, book in hand, and Alfred was splayed along the length of it, his feet in Arthur's lap as he fiddled with his phone.

Alfred propped himself up on his elbows and smiled at the man. "Do you want to get dinner tonight?"

Arthur nodded instantly. "Of course, where did you have in mind? My treat."

Alfred shook his head. "I already made a reservation somewhere. And it's my treat."

"A reservation?" Arthur raised his abnormally thick eyebrows at his friend.

"Yeah," Alfred said, sitting up.

He was smiling, but it wasn't his usual grin. It was gentle; soft and sweet, full of affection. He met Arthur's eyes, blue against green, and the love in them was unmistakable, even to Arthur. The Brit paused, taken aback by the look on the American's face.

"I thought we could go somewhere nice to celebrate." Alfred continued.

"Celebrate what?" Asked Arthur, confused.

"Celebrate us getting together. That is, um, if we do. Arthur, I like you. A lot. A-And I don't know if you like me back and this must be totally unexpected and I get it if you're super grossed out but I have to try because you're amazing and I can't wait any longer to ask if you'll go out with me." The American said quickly, flushed red.

Arthur merely stared, frozen in shock. His book slipped from his hand and dropped to the floor, and he started. Then, slowly, "...but I'm older than you."

Alfred raised a brow. "By four years. So?"

"I'm a know-it-all. And I'm stodgy, and rude, and sarcastic, and—"

"And I like you. Not in spite of that, but because of that. Because your personality—including all of the things you listed and more—is phenomenal. Not to mention your looks. I mean, you're hot as fuck, dude. Seriously."

Arthur's pale cheeks went red. "God, you are absolutely shameless!" He scolded, unable to keep the smile from his face.

Alfred grinned back at him. "So is it a yes to dinner tonight?"

"God, yes," Arthur said before taking Alfred by the shirt collar and wrenching him forward into a kiss.

[kylamari-blog1]

CHILDHOOD COMRADE

Childhood memories are the sweetest things in human mind. Nobody can forget one’s childhood memories whether pleasant or painful. When I think back about my childhood, many vivid memories that spring to mind. Some are pleasant while some are painful. Memories of my childhood still linger on my mind as I remember my friends and the way I interacted with several of them. Childhood was all about making friends and playing games together. This was a sign of love among children. Despite having some friends, there was that one friend that I still recall because of the good friendship that we had built together. In the year 2008, I met a little girl named Anjenneth in the school where I transferred before when I’m in my 2nd grade in elementary. She was the one who approached me first, and she told me that our both parents already knew each other. *fast forward* Anjenneth was a sweet and very thoughtful, considerate, and most specially a loving friend I had before. I’m a reserved kid in that age but could still managed to go outside because she was always there to play with me. She always protects me from some bully classmates, she was very concerned, she always checked if I’m okay. There was one time in school, I found it funny, but I couldn’t deny that she has truly a genuine heart. I was in pain because of headache, but she didn’t know that I already had a fever that time. I was shocked because she cried a lot while comforting me and she said” knsa nag away saimo? Gi unsa man ka?”, after asking me she ran toward on one of my bully classmates and scolded him without knowing that I just had a fever. I am very grateful that I met that kind of friend who will always be there for you, even though she’s still at the very young age, she already knew how to conserve friendship. She cried when I cried, she’s always ready to fight with other kids just to protect me. Unfortunately, we lose our communication since I was transferred here in my current hometown, however, those childhood memories will forever be remained in my mind and heart. And If I will be given a chance to meet her again, I would grab that opportunity to talk to her again and recently I heard some update about her that she’s already married. I could tell that she’s going to be a great mother to her child, and I’m looking forward for her success.

Friends are chosen from the heart because of the love that we develop when we stay together. In this manner, making friends is the best experience that we can have when we’re still young. We should well encourage our younger ones to make friends as this helps them in developing a good relationship with other individual.

[laberintos-espinas]

The Old Chunk Of Coal

Some days are diamonds. Some days are Stones... And the alternative one, I am just an vintage bite of coal, but I can be a diamond at some point  Custom Made Jewellery I love songs. I love the lyrics and secondly the thumping vibrations of the decrease observe beats. I recollect these traces from  country conventional refrains. I recollect them due to the fact I realize the feeling of being taken into consideration a clump of coal. It's a bad feeling. It's now not so much the coloration that is a downer, it's the darkness that's involved whilst one thinks of coal. It's a fossil gas. It's top simplest for heaping onto an already insupportable ecological or metaphorical emotional trauma situation and making it worse. Let's strike a in shape to the coal and burn it until it is used up into ash. Then allow's desire the wind will scatter it, as we do not even want to empty the ashes once it is usefulness has been used up. We're ungrateful every now and then for services rendered. Coal paperwork under the floor. Without light. I assume it gets worse. I assume coal is not even an unique component. I suppose it is compressed gases or rotted timber or something discarded to begin with.

OK. So you get the image that I just like the phrases to songs that sing approximately desire for rotting ancient discarded elements.

I have a friend it truly is a shamanistic healer. It started out that he changed into going to help me locate my manner and discover my voice. Then I commenced cleaning his house for him. This made feel sooner or later for some motive. We additionally percentage songs. Baby-boomers are constantly flower youngsters at heart. I suppose neither one folks really knows why I'm nonetheless spiffing up the palace. I know at a few level we bartered house cleaning for transcended meditation classes. Yet I got here with a again schedule. I'm going to clean my way through his lavatories and into his coronary heart. When I get there, I'm going to mirror my Light on his pathway and then flip him into the palms of the one true God to take care of. Silly presumptive conceited me, assuming he wanted me to shop him. I deliver up my Shaman due to the fact he instructed me in three separate restoration periods I turned into a diamond so first-rate that soon many round me could recognize and notice me. I figured he changed into speakme inside the religious geographical regions and in symbolic language. Now I'm not so sure.

OK. So you get the picture that I've been on a religious quest to connect and solder myself right into the mainline connection with my Creator, God as I changed into taught. You recognise the only inside the Christian container? However, something came about along the way I didn't assume. My point of view concerning traditional Western Christianity flipped. I think now, that Jesus changed into certainly the entity that lead me into the Kingdom of God. Nevertheless, since I've certainly wondered and did research from original supply statistics, I suppose God is Spirit, the whole Spirit of the God and that God is entire natural Love; the originating, creating, shrewd Source that is the vibration of natural white power light. The Light of all cosmology and creation.

Something has also happened to me for the reason that my unique friend and the Shaman helped me locate my voice and soul again. I started out to put in writing. I started out to write prolifically. I write all the time. I cannot prevent it. It's been approximately six months now of nonstop writing. I write day and night time. I write about something and the entirety. I actually have masses to say and do not know why. My "still small voice" is very talkative. Just about each person it is are available in contact with my e-mail radar range, has advised I write for a living. I've just been watching for the go-ahead signal from a person. I've been at the intersection watching for the mild to turn green. Today it occurred.

You now recognize I stay to write down. I discover the sector around me high-quality and wondrous and want to inform absolutely everyone all about it.

I belong to a churchwomen's fellowship institution. It's seventy five-a hundred women who can find time on Thursday mornings to come back collectively with aim of being God honoring, together. One of the instructors for one in all this season's classes, I am venerated to say, has come to be a pal of mine. Judy is a raven-haired angel of a girl filled with grace, information and dignity. She's the pastor's spouse. She's additionally very humorous. I'm unshakably convinced God has a strong dry sense of humor. He need to have. Look at us!

Today Judy surprised me. She asked my permission to study one in all my written works. It was well timed and related to the President of america. She felt it turned into a very good element for some women to hear. I did not want to appear unpatriotic in those perilous instances, right after 9/11 so I agreed. I changed into very thankful she become not going to make me arise and examine my essay. I contemplated just skipping magnificence these days, to keep away from the embarrassment I'd no question sense and possibly keep away from the harsh sarcasm or poor criticism of my sisters in Christ. (Oops. It sounds a tad like my perceptions of my fellow guy is askew, would not it?) God will work on this hassle.

I did not hen out. I confirmed up. What I didn't anticipate passed off next.

Judy didn't wait till small institution time. She got up there and read my article to the complete bunch of properly-bred, sensible ladies at the monthly scheduled all-church women's luncheon earlier than our writing class. I become mortified! I started to look around me. The feast room changed into full of spherical tables seating eight ladies a table. A little hearth-orange rose budded out of the middle of every desk. These ladies began to appear like a bouquet of freshly reduce plants to me. This kind of bouquet is such an extravagance for someone like me. These girls are the cream of the crop on Mercer Island, WA. A.Ok.A. The Golden Ghetto. My sons and I best live on the island because of a Section 8 HUD housing voucher for the poor.

I watched as women began to wipe water out of the corners of their eyes. I watched as eyeglasses started being eliminated and noses had been blown. I watched girls torn between gazing me ( seeking to hide in a nook of the front of the room) and trying to stay riveted on Judy analyzing My written words. I watched as the sounds of my tale bounced towards my mind. I changed into surprised to say the least. I 'd by no means heard my words out loud earlier than. I become curious about the article. It produced a silent sound down in my internal middle connection to God. It struck worry (as in awe) in my heart as I realized some thing supernatural had passed off to my palms to jot down such sounds.

When the object become finished, the girls applauded. They asked copies to own in unison. I turned into proclaimed a proficient writer. I was humbled into silence, again. I saw some thing unrecognizable. I saw refracted mild start to prism off these ladies lower back at me. Just like while a diamond is held up to the daylight. I contemplated this sight.

As if this became now not sufficient, the primary group disbanded into the smaller lecture room corporations to prepare for the inspirational teachings of the day. It would be an hour and a half of studying and sharing Life training, girl Christian style. Judy had every other marvel in keep for me. She wasn't through with me yet due to the fact she was the teacher of the writing group I belonged to for this smaller organization.

The topic below discussion become Changing Times. Judy started out giving examples of how traditional authors had expressed themselves as she thumbed via Emerson, Lewis, and a pair current luminary authors. About midway via the class, Judy yanked out yet ANOTHER of my tales and read it to this magnificence as her last example! I turned into petrified the ladies might grow resentful, bored and angry at this monopoly on their time. There had been many proficient women in this organization. All with superb motivating stories to inform. Judy made no bones about how highly she regarded my capacity to seize pix and percentage my coronary heart-mind to an target market. She study Homecoming Parade. She excerpted and compacted the lengthy story into one which hit the mark. More tears flowed and mouths hung free. You should've heard a pin drop in the location. More applause. I shriveled underneath the desk and attempted to clown round graciously to alleviate the pain of appreciation and recognition.

What I saw as I appeared around this group of 30 movers and shakers of all ages, shocked me. I noticed it symbolically, as is my way. But nevertheless, it became there for the viewing. I saw a super wonderful blue-white, exquisite-reduce diamond being held up and placed into a platinum solitaire putting.

When the meeting ended, a woman I'd gotten to recognize recently approached me. Her call is Judy Boynton. She clipped off her credentials for the organization. She was a professional posted creator of fiction and non-fiction novels. She changed into an finished artist of sculptures. She become a trustee on the Board of Pacific Northwest Writers Conference affiliated with Pacific Lutheran University. She'd been a member of this group for over 25 years. I became impressed. Not so much through her credentials, as high-quality as they were, however with the aid of the strength and force at the back of her eyes. This woman had awareness and motive. She was aiming at me.

She advised me she knew what she was speaking approximately. She instructed me and the organization I WAS a gifted creator. She told us she'd visible enough to realize the difference among one that would like to be a writer and one that IS a writer. I fell into the latter category. She surpassed me numbers and pamphlets and instructed me to be at the next convention meeting. She explained this is where publishers, agents, and authors meet each other with the purpose on publishing written works of merit. Names like Ann Rule and J.A. Jance had been bantered approximately at some stage in this same day through others as they requested my permission to have them perhaps touch those "friends of theirs."

It isn't regularly in a lifetime that one simply is AWARE of a life converting moment or day. I've been graced with one of those moments. Today it appears, the sector round me is starting to notice and recognize the old chew of coal were given the dust pressure-washed off of her so hard and significantly by means of Life, that she'd developed into a diamond solitaire of well worth and observe.

I know in which I belong proper now, proper at this area in time. I belong sticking effective near my special buddies who know a way to crimp the ones platinum prongs at the diamond setting firmly and securely. I even have a sense diamonds are forever, as they are saying. How should this have passed off?

[occasionalshinylucario-blog]

Flame Bearer CH 1.2

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NIGHT 8.1 [AUDIO TRANSCRIBED]

(Cefas’s voice has been considerably lowered, whispering.)

I believe I failed to properly finish my explanation yesterday. I was careless and an Inferno Clan patrol wandered upon my location. I shall be more careful this time around. 

Now, picking up from yesterday... 

… Architect Andrew told me to log my current day progress, but the only thing I have done is travel a fair amount through the forest. I can only talk so much about Aeonia’s landscape for the hundredth time until I feel like I am in another one of my father’s botany sessions. 

So, instead, I will talk about my combat encounters! While I have been taught to be humble in my combative incidents, there are no elders around to stop me from talking about how I completely decimate Inferno soldiers. I am not sorry.

Last night, a patrol of four houndoom followed my scent and noticed noises coming from the tree I claimed for my night of rest. Thanks to my quick thinking, I grabbed my trust aura staff and immediately descended atop on one of them, incapacitating him. By incapacitate, I mean break a couple of ribs as well as knocking him out. He has my metallic skeleton to thank for that.

The others were quite shocked, as you can imagine. Their hesitation was their biggest mistake, because surprise was already on my side. With their maws still open at the display my skillful landing, I managed to knock another one out with the blunt end of my aura staff. It has quite a lot of knock down power for a piece of wood.

I feel like I am saying “knock down” a lot.

(Cefas giggles and pauses, followed by a short moment of silence.)

Ahem.

One of the two remaining was their leader based on his reaction time. He threw a ball of fire my way when his second friend was down for the count. A commendable effort. Normally, I would simply step to the side of the blast, however it is currently dry season and I would rather not have my area caught on fire due to a stray fire. I threw up my protect at the last second, causing the flames to die out behind me when I blocked it.

The fire was intense, but between my punches and his flame cough, my fists are to be feared by someone of his type. He, too, went down after two quick strikes and fell to the ground like a rock.

The last one decided to make the mistake of running away. Normally, in his situation, he would be smart to get help. Unfortunately for him, I had a secret weapon in my possession. I let loose an arrow and struck him right on his backside, and he collapsed with a yelp.

Hm... I should probably explain the arrow.

My aura staff is not necessarily a staff, per se. Yes, it does help me whenever my back feels like Elder TuMuht’s does during a rainy day, but it also has a function recently discovered by yours truly.

... Well, maybe my uncle had the idea since he is a decidueye, but I executed the idea so I believe I should get the most credit.

I can harness my aura to resonate with the staff’s crystal, and I can create a rudimentary bow string. Unlike a typical aura sphere, I can create a far more of an effective projectile.

So, before the poor houndoom can say the words “Oh gods, help us! We are under attack by the princess!” I took out four assailants in the best possible scenario: they did not get a good glimpse of me, I have taken them out in a timely manner, and none of them have died.

Now, Glaxius raised some concerns when I told him about my confrontation; Mostly about part where I do not kill anyone. He said that I should have killed them so that they would not be able to eventually report my presence. While he may be right to be concerned, I will keep my killing to an absolute minimum. 

These wars have thinned the land’s people well enough already.

That is what I told him, and he did what he usually does when I will not change my mind. He sighed, told me to be careful, and told me that he loved me. He knows well enough by now that I will not budge on this subject. 

I am glad I made the correct choice in such an understanding partner. He already makes a great general; he will make an excellent king.

Well, that is enough of that. I have made significant travel distance. That is uninteresting to talk about, so I shall get some well-deserved sleep.

... Where is the “stop” button again?

NIGHT 8-1 END

“You ingrate!”

A houndoom was slammed onto the side of a cave, his breath sharply leaving his lungs.

“Captain-” he rapsed, but yelped as he was kicked in the gut by a simisear. The monkey captain turned towards the three cowering, injured subordinates nearby.

“How could you let one pokemon do this to you?! You have disgraced your village and your army! I should gut you and send your head to your family so they will know that you have failed in the simplest of tasks-”

“That is enough, Churom,” a bellowing voice came from the deeper parts of the cave. “Your treatment of our soldiers is unsightly.”

“… Yes, General.”

The houndoom gasped for air and eyed the innermost parts of the cave, struggling to get up as a mountainous figure approached.

“This assailant. You are sure that this was one person?” An Emboar gruffly said, donned in bronze colored armor that adorned his entire body.

“Yes, General,” the houndoom coughed, trembling as he sat up straight. “It took us by surprise and attacked all of us.”

“Yet, you stand here with all of your lives?”

“Yes, General,” the houndoom gulped, eyeing his badly wounded patrol team.

The figure let out a long huff, causing everyone to tense as the general went deep into thought.

“This is the work of either a guardian or one of their spies. Any of our allied nations would have killed you and made you disappear outright if they have decided to turn on us. But why would one be so far into our territory?”

“I… am not sure how to answer that, General,” the houndoom muttered.

The houndoom was struck in the face by the simisear, Churom. He spat out blood.

“Rhetorical question, ingrate! As if you would ever know with your pitifully small brains. I should end you right here and right now!”

The Emboar put a hand on Churom’s balled up fist before he could do any more harm.

“It is late. We shall discuss this later. Kassam, you and your men are dismissed. Continue your scheduled patrol tomorrow night. Do keep in mind that there are threats where you least expect them. Even though we are leagues away from our front lines, we are still very much at war.”

“Y-yes, General!”

The houndoom, Kassam, bowed and limped out of the cave. His men shortly followed. 

“… Be grateful, ingrates!” Churom bellowed at the end of the cave. The General let out a thoughtful “hmm” and drummed his claws on his leg.

“We do need to work on your temper, Churom. One who cannot maintain the support of his men will experience a great fall in their leadership.”

“Yes, General,” Churom bowed, gritting his teeth.

“I cannot blame you for being on edge. We have been at siege for quite some time. You and your men have not seen combat since the spring season. I will give you a task. Find this assailant. Whether it is a spy or an actual guardian, we must remove this thorn in our side. It would be troublesome if we let a possible assassin slip through our defenses.”

“I will start a search tomorrow, General.”

“Good. Start within our ranks tomorrow and search closer to our home nation as you sweep. Report with a runner every five cycles on your progress. Continue until you have found this spy or until you receive further instructions.”

“Yes, General.”

“You are dismissed, Churom,” the General said as he walked back to the inner part of his cave. “Oh, and Churom, do try not to grind your teeth. I hear it is quite bad for you.”

“… Yes, General.”

[glimpseofbeing-blog]

A Letter to a Friend...

Copied below is a a letter written to a friend in prison on October 10, 2017.  The body, beauty, art, ect., are reflections of the world.  I think this writing is to.  A representation of my processing of recent and ongoing events.  Hopelessly bleak and still somewhat hopeful.  A bit of Steppinwolf I suppose.

Hi Mike,

Been a bit, per usual-apologies for the delay. Honestly, I'm not even sure where the time goes. I make to do lists almost daily with "write Mike" always on there. It's strange: I haven't had a job in a year but I'm always busy, though I'm not sure with what. The little things in life I suppose. Maybe difficult to understand from your position, maybe not.

The world is wild. I'm writing this letter, or at least this portion, on my phone. I'll eventually email it, then print using a tiny memory stick at Kinko’s in town. And I'll pay for the print with my credit card, of course, so I can get a frequent flyer mile. After 12,000 of those I get a free flight. Ridiculous!

But the world is wild in many not so great ways too. I'm sure by now you've heard of the mass shooting in Las Vegas? I'd really love to hear your thoughts on gun violence and what you feel America can do? Only if you're comfortable and willing, of course. No pressure.

I have another sensitive question, only if you're willing as well: do you ever get depressed in there? If so, how have you learned to cope?

I'm newly seeing a therapist for my first time. Pretty excited though it took a minute to get started. The first one I tried was horrible but I've now connected with a woman who is intriguing in having previously worked on the stock market in New York before becoming a counselor. I like that she is into analytical business while holding a high value for emotional communication.

She shared that she knew 50 people who lost their lives in the world trade attacks on 9/11. After losing my friends in the fire this year I find comfort in speaking vulnerably with a person who also knows what grief comes when people disappear unexpectedly due to traumatic events.

My major motivators in seeking therapy are 3 fold. The first is dealing with ongoing grief from the passing of my friends. The second is improving my interpersonal communication approaches. I have patterns in intimate ongoing relationships where I tend to get frustrated and lash out at those closest to me. I've always done this with girlfriends and have lost a few great ones from my lack of self management. Never physical abuse, just saying things in anger that don't really communicate my interests. Likewise, I've struggled in work situations. After cooking in loud kitchens forever, I sometimes am too much for professional colleagues. I care a lot about work and invest a lot of energy in being successful. I try to communicate clearly but the high expectations of my drive to achieve have left some thinking of me as condescending. I can see what they mean though I certainly don't intend this to be. So hopefully I can find some new paths.

Thirdly, I find myself depressed here and there. Even with my job search: some days it's hard to stay positive, especially as political conditions and economic systems appear increasingly dismal. All in all, my life is great and I'm mostly a happy person. But some days things are cloudy.

As part of beginning therapy I have reached out to my sisters and asked them to share any relevant  diagnosis and resulting medication choices. I've known since childhood that mental health was an almost ubiquitous challenge for the whole of my family. And I saw therapists fail with my mother time and again while witnessing both my sisters enter various kinds of treatments with mixed results.

Still, I was shocked to read the depth of medication and diagnosis that my sisters have recently shared with me. My middle sister also helped refresh my memory of my mom’s conditions, medications and family history. I had forgotten that her father, although adopted, had been labeled schizophrenic. Obviously there is no genetic connection but as my sister appropriately noted that being raised in a household with these types of conditions can also affect one's adult development.

So here I am. Reasonably happy but aware that I suffer from situational depression as well as limited anger and frustration. Feeling pretty damn lucky in light of the struggles those most closely related to me have continued to face since our childhood.

I admit it is pretty wild each time I look back. The more I study the legacy of global capitalism and the role of American imperialism, the more I become aware of the privilege I received growing up as an American male of middle class status. For a long time, I wrote off any sadness or feelings of emotional trauma as overly dramatic and unfounded due to my privileged upbringing. But now more than ever, I have creeping memories of family events that I seem to have suppressed in convincing myself that I had no right to feeling emotionally challenged from my childhood.

Please understand that I am far from asserting I was abused in any traditional sense. I hesitate to place myself any where near such a label as I feel that would devalue the significance of experience so many others have had to endure in this truly messed up world.

It's fleet week here. I stepped out to get a coffee and saw the blue angels flying fighter jets in formation over the city. I remember running a food vending station at an air show years ago. My location was right next to the crowd stands and so I got to watch all these amazing jets and planes race by all day long. I've also been on an aircraft carrier once in South Carolina.

These are the creations of man, or better stated in a non-gendered expression, the result of human ingenuity. To say the least, we are impressive creatures posing powerful intellectual potentials. But I'm left wondering what it says about our species when we acknowledge that many of our most monumental feats are focused about death, destruction and oppression.

The world, or at least the human experience of it, appears to be dying and at an increasing rate. I have limited knowledge of how limited your knowledge is as a result of your incarceration. I think the briefest statement is to say things look bleak from most any perspective. The Cold War is in full effect again, poverty and the division between wealthy and poor is widening, and climate-related emergencies are increasing at a rapid rate whether our government chooses to acknowledge it or not.

The catch is that all these considerations are largely the result of human action and interaction, and in my view particularly the outcome of social systems that lack compassion born from respect for equality of being. Yourself and the many others imprisoned in our nation and across the world come to mind as I struggle with these thoughts. Malcom X wrote in his biography that the most cruel thing a society can do to an individual is to place them in a cage.

I recognize from your writings that some good has come from the programs you have engaged in during your sentence. I'm glad for that at least. I do hear some sense of achievement and hope as I read of your accomplishments and ongoing betterment activities. Likewise, I am aware that your crime, regardless of your remorse, which I believe is sincerely genuine, was a heinous act requiring some societal response.

Yet Malcom X's words continue to ring in my head, especially as the house I'm in shakes from the jets flying closely above in demonstration of the destructive power of our nation's political might. Something is very not right here. Maybe you weren't a child at 17, but after all our letters and the time spent as boys I struggle to accept that you as a person are simply an animal so threatening to the world that you should be caged. Or that caging an individual is actually for that person's benefit.

And in the same regard, I struggle to accept the prison system as fair and just while being aware of the disproportionate incarceration of minority groups and people of color. We have a nation that more strictly regulates a woman's reproductive rights than an adult's access to technologies solely focused on the termination of life. That is not just, fair or respectable.

I am glad you've found success in your living condition and that you've embraced the opportunity to both help others and prepare for re-entry. But I'd be lying if I said I believed in the system's expressed intent to rehabilitate and support convicted individuals for success upon release. It's hard enough for the average individual to get a job and I know that a felony record only exasperates this universal struggle.

I am optimistic for you though. I know you to be kind, well mannered and focused on positively supporting those around you. I think that orientation goes a long way in a world where success is significantly impacted by both an individual's sheer will and their connection to gatekeepers who hold access to limited resources such as employment opportunities. And so, I like to imagine that you have impressed many who you've worked with to a point where you'll have the opportunity to pursue your dreams upon their social connections when released.

I suppose this letter is far too heavy and long winded. Best to wrap it up. My apologies for not being more up beat. Please accept my vulnerability in sharing the rather dismal view that currently dominates my outlook. I hope you're well and continuing to find peace in working forward toward the next stages.

Best regards,

[truedogs-blog1]

The World of the American Pit Bull Terrier - Forward

           Recently, at a Thanksgiving dinner, a favorite uncle of mine introduced me as someone who raised Pit Bulls. Knowing my uncle’s evil sense of humor and propensity for inflicting awkward situations on me to see how well I squirm out of them, I knew that I was being set up. My uncle’s friend was obviously intelligent and well educated and, above all, a gentle and kindly person. So, naturally, his response to my “exposure” as a devotee of the Pit Bulldogs was something of a shock to him. “Oh dear! Oh dear!” he said, shaking his head in a mild reproof. I regarded him bemusedly and answered, “Brainwashed by the news media, I see!” After making that pronouncement, I rebuked him gently for allowing an educated man like himself to be hoodwinked so easily. And because he was educated, intelligent, and open-minded, he listened to me as I explained what the Pit Bull was really like. He apparently gave some credence to what I had to say, for he left that night with a parting comment that he wanted to talk to me about acquiring a Pit Bull pup – much to the amusement of my uncle who knew very well (from experience with my dogs) that Pit Bulldogs, despite their reputation to the contrary, have possibly the best and most stable dispositions of all dogs.            Unfortunately, it must be assumed that anyone familiar with Pit Bulldogs who happens to pick up this book has been brainwashed by the news media, for certainly most of the public has been brainwashed, and where else would they have gotten their information? It is hoped, however, that the reader will be open-minded enough to consider this most deserving of dogs on his own merits and not on his reputation. It may seem that where there is all this smoke, there must be at least a little fire – and, sure enough, there is! These are dogs with awesome fighting ability; and since they enjoy fighting, they can be a danger to other dogs, regardless of size, and to other animals, too. Thus, the owner of a Pit Bulldogs must be a responsible person and not violate the leash laws as so many others do.            Since the Pit Bull is a unique breed of dog, special precautions are needed for keeping him. I have provided a chapter that details some of the systems for keeping more than one Pit Bull and, of course, they can be used even if you’re keeping only one. It’s easy once you know how, and it’s worth it, for these dogs are truly special.            Some may feel that I have been soft on dogfighters (or pit dog men, as they prefer to call themselves), but there are plenty of other writers who know little about pit dog men but condemn them roundly and regularly, so why should I add to that? I think my place is more to put things into perspective for readers that have been regularly spoon-fed stories of how kittens and small dogs are used for bait in the training of a pit dog. And, too, although of a scientific bent, I am a hopeless romantic when it comes to this breed, for I view them as the most courageous and heroic of dogs, and I’m not convinced they’d stay that way without the fiery sport that forged them.            Perhaps one reason I am so tolerant and understanding of pit dog men is that in my youth it was my good fortune to know some very fine men who happened to be pit dog men. Although they could stand to watch a pit dog take punishment in a match, they were more tender than most people when it came to animals, and they were bona fide dog lovers, too. They were far more responsible dog owners than the vast majority of people – including many of those who criticize pit dog men. My old mentor Bob Wallace, in particular, was highly critical of irresponsible behavior of the average dog owner. And I have never known anyone who had a better feeling for dogs of took better care of them.            This book is my third on the American Pit Bull Terrier. Ideally, the books should be read in order, starting with This Is the American Pit Bull Terrier, then the Book of the American Pit Bull Terrier, and finishing with this one. No harm is done, however, in reading the books out of sequence. Indeed, this book in some ways is more of a primer than the other two in that it gets down to basics about such elementary things as the feeding and housing of an APBT.            Some readers may be shocked that I provide a generalized “keep” in this book. But why not do it? The contesting of dogs is continuing unabated, so why not help relative novices provide their charges with the best possible conditioning and feeding methods? After all, my thesis has always been that matching dogs is not cruel if done properly. Besides, just exactly how all of this is done will be of interest to the regular Pit Bull owner and perhaps even to those poor toy dog devotees who have been horrified and sickened by stories of how pit dog men are constantly on the prowl for little dogs to use as “training bait”!

           One of the problems with a third book is to avoid repeating what was already covered some place in the other two. However, some things are worth repeating, and other items needed embellishing. Generally, though, the material in this book consists of what I still had to say about what I consider to be the most remarkable and unique breed of dog that has ever existed.

Richard F. Stratton

AN IMPORTANT NOTE TO READERS OF THIS BOOK

           You are going to find as you read this book that my feelings about dogfighting are much different from the feelings about dogfighting that you’ve had thrust at you from the print and electronic news media. Unlike the media, I’m not against dogfighting; I like game dogs, and I like most of the pit dog men I’ve come across. So naturally any book I write about the world’s premier fighting dog is going to be partial to pit contests and pit dog people, and it will put the knock on their enemies. I’m biased, obviously.            You might conclude while reading the book that I’ve been strong in expressing both my likes and my dislikes; you might even feel that I’ve been too strong. That’s okay -- at least you know where I stand. But the one thing you should not conclude from what I’ve said in this book is that I’d like to see you get involved with dogfighting. I don’t think that you should. I think that you should keep away from dogfighting in any form, and the reason I think so is based on one very important consideration: dogfighting is illegal in most of the places this book will be read. Now I can sit down at a typewriter every day and knock out a new manuscript saying why I think dogfighting is a humane and sensible activity and why I think the people against dogfighting are mindless and gutless humaniacs – but that doesn’t change the fact that the laws I rail against have sharp teeth, and I wouldn’t want you to run afoul of them. The laws are mostly counterproductive and egregious, but you can’t use the laws’ idiocy as a defense is you’re charged with breaking them. I hate to say it, but the best way to avoid having dogfighting charges lodged against you is to be completely blameless. (One way, for example, to make sure that you never get arrested at a dogfight is never to go to a dogfight where dogfighting is illegal.)            Just in case you’re not aware of some the very stiff laws against dogfighting in the United States, I’m going to reproduce here a portion of the text of the section dealing with “animal fighting ventures” from a 1976 federal law; many state laws are even worse. Take my advice: don’t: get caught breaking any of the laws against dogfighting. Use any legal means you want to educate the public and change the laws, but steer clear of breaking them. The humaniacs who’ve gotten the laws passed would like nothing better than to see you locked up and fined heavily for having anything to do with the pit – don’t give them the satisfaction.

§2156. Animal fighting venture prohibition—Sponsoring or exhibiting animal in any fighting venture    (a)It shall be unlawful for any person to knowingly sponsor of exhibit an animal in any animal fighting venture to which any animal was moved in interstate or foreign commerce. Buying, selling, delivering, or transporting animals for animal fighting venture    (b)It shall be unlawful for any person to knowingly sell, buy, transport, or deliver to another person of receive from another person for purposes of transportation, in interstate or foreign commerce, any dog or other animal for purposes of having the dog or other animal participate in an animal fighting venture. Use of Postal Service of other interstate instrumentality for promoting or furthering animal fighting venture    (c)It shall be unlawful for any person to knowingly use the mail service of the United States Postal Service or any interstate instrumentality for purposes of promoting or in any other manner furthering an animal fighting venture except as performed outside the limits of the States of the United States. Violation of state law    (d)Notwithstanding the provisions of subsections (a), (b), or (c) of this sections, the activities prohibited by such subsections shall be unlawful with respect to fighting ventures involving live birds only if the fight is to take place in a state where it would be in violation of the laws thereof. Penalties (e)Any person who violates subsection (a), (b), or (c) of this section shall be fined not more than $5,000 or imprisoned for not more than 1 year, or both, for each violation.

  Stratton, Richard F. Foreword. The World of the American Pit Bull Terrier. New York: TFH Publications, 1983. 6-7. Print.

[ghostofmourning]

Don't Forget Where You Belong, Strong, Happily, Better Than Words, Why Don't We Go There, Alive (not sorry for sending so many tell me everything nagek)

Don't Forget Where You Belong: Who are those people that you can truly depend on? Are they a group of close friends, just one person, or your family?

“This is a very easy and predictable answer soforgive me for my lack of shock factor or a dynamic answer. It is nosecret that as an orphan the people who I have always felt I coulddepend on is my siblings who I love more than anything in this world.Hitori is obviously the one who voluntarily sees himself as the oneto depend on most of all but each and every one of them at HatofulHouse gives me a sense of strength and purpose in their own way. I'dbe lost without them.

More recently I have had the opportunity to form acluster of friends through Hiyoko and Ryouta and this is more than Iever expected. They are a crazy bunch but I appreciate theircompanionship. Even the most outlandish ones like Okosan and Anghelhave their kind and sensitive sides and I have grown fond of themeven if those two especially do tend to exhaust me.”

Strong: If you fell in love withsomeone you couldn't have, would you still go after them? Would youtry a secret relationship, or would you take your chances andannounce it to the world?

“If I knew I couldn't have someone at the startI think pursuing it too seriously would be pointless as nothing goodcould come out of it. At first I think I would try and dismiss thethought or not give it much time as the focus of my thoughts in thehope the feelings would subside and fade away eventually like apassing phase. If that wasn't the case then I would have to takeother means into consideration. I think I would want to approach thatperson and tell them even if it led nowhere and I wouldn't pursue it.It would be their right to know after all. I'd come clean and say Iwas in love with them but I understand the situation and that I hopethis didn't affect things between us too poorly.”

Happily: Are you someone who getseasily jealous, whether it's with your boyfriend/girlfriend or simplyone of your friends? Have you ever acted out of jealousy?

“I can't say that has ever been something I havebeen inclined to do. I appreciate and am always surprised that myfriends want to be with me in the first place so I wouldn't blamethem for wanting to spend time with others too. It isn't a case ofhaving either me or everyone else. I'd be content with a happy mediumthat is healthy for all parties involved.”

Better Than Words: How would youshow someone you loved them, without outright saying, "I loveyou?" How would you show it through actions?

“Ithink it could be argued that for most of my life those closest to mehave been doing this sort of thing every day through small gestures.I guess I would do the same sorts of things as they have always done.

If I wasgoing to prove my love to someone then the most important thing is tomake them feel happy and relaxed. The best way to do this would be tofirst prepare them something to eat, be it a full meal or just asmall snack of sorts, and show them that I cared enough to put timeand effort into making something for solely their benefit. Kindnessseems the best way to show any person how much you love andappreciate them. Once they were done eating I'd be sure to spendplenty of time with them doing something they enjoyed based on theirpersonalities. Even if it wasn't something I was particularlyenthusiastic myself I would be content to pass some time in thatmanner for their benefit. If the moment was right I would be sure togive them little physical gestures of affection like touching theirhand or hair or embracing them.”

Why Don't We Go There: You'regoing on a road trip across the country and you're taking one personwith you. Who would you go with, to where, and why?

“The answer to this one is very simple so Ishall keep it brief and concise and assume you understand. If I wasgoing on a road trip across the country and I am going to be takingone person with me then I would take Hitori. If I didn't he'd bepanicking and insisting I phone him on a bi-hourly basis to show I amalive and well from the moment I leave his sight to the moment I cameback into it. At least this way he'd relax and we could enjoy thetrip together.

As for where we went I would leave that up to him.But I would like to go to Europe and see some of the famousarchitecture and historical sights. It would be a stimulating andeducational trip I think.”

Alive: What are you mostpassionate about? What do you love to do, or perhaps, who do you lovebeing with?

“Something I am most passionate about? I.... Ihonestly don't know in truth. Is there anything I am incrediblypassionate about? I guess you could argue reading. Not justliterature though. I like to learn and read about a wide variety ofthings. Non-fiction books allow me to know about a wide array ofthings I have never seen and probably never would even get theopportunity to. It is like a portal to all the most fascinatingaspects of our world. Perhaps this is why I have such a capacity ofremembering facts about space and rocks and other naturally occurringwonders. I just like to learn and understand everything in a naturaland relaxed manner. Novels might give me the chance to escape toothers worlds that I read about but the more realistic alternativecan be nice too.”