#again I moved 9 times “childhood room” such fucking privilege and WHY would I want to be trapped in a constant domestic war zone?

[withoutaconscienceorafilter]

I'm glad some of you find these to be happy scenarios. But the extent of my visceral HATRED of this poll is making me realized how deeply fucked up my childhood was. And same thing for my relationships.

[raysofcrosby]

HOMETOWN

"𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘳𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺."  – 𝙉𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙨 𝙎𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙨, 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙠

𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵 (𝘹)

𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥: yes | no

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨(𝘴): tbh nothing big, just some bad words here and there.

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 4,604

𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺: give me back my hometown by eric church

𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦: tbh i’ve been in a huge writing funk lately the kind where i wanna write but can’t get myself to, so i found one of my old writings from like 5 years ago and figured why not edit and update it and tbh this is what became of it. there’s a part two that’s half written, so if it’s wanted i can totally finish it. otherwise, sorry if my writing is horrendous :-) 

Some dead guy once said ‘You can’t go home again’ but the dude was full of complete shit. You can, but a lot of the smart people who don’t, decide not to because of the many lists of reasons they hold.

Josh Anderson considered himself to be one of those people. After he graduated secondary school and went off into the OHL, he swore up and down that he would never return to his self-deemed, small hometown. And the moment he made it into the NHL two years later, he kept that promise. Though when his parents asked to see him, he couldn't turn them down. It's the least he could do for all that they had done for him throughout his life. Without them and their sacrifices, he knows that he wouldn't be living his childhood dream. So he'd go to visit them, but not too often it seemed.

He wanted to embrace the life the NHL could give him. Explore the ever-winding paths out in front of him and mingle amongst the interesting people along the way. Wander down those paths for so long, that Burlington would look like nothing more than a speck in his back windshield. Yet, there he was driving down the same never-ending road leading to the old hangout he and a few of his buddies had declared as theirs during the middle of grade 9. If it were up to him though, he wouldn't be driving down this potholed road and he sure wouldn't as hell be back here in Burlington.

It's not like he's here voluntarily. It seemed as if his phone wasn't capable of being silent as the calls from his childhood buddies came in all at once. Each rambling on and on about the same fancy invitation with their class crest and school colors splashed over the front, informing then that it's been 10 years since their graduation and that it was time to "re-kindle those lost valuable friendships with some of your fellow peers and have a grand ole time at the class of 2012's class reunion." No shit, those are the exact cheesy words written by the old class president who had the unflattering privilege of being called 'Kiss-ass McGhee.'

He had NO intentions of attending this class reunion with a bunch of people he grew up with his entire life and came to hate about 60% of them throughout his years of primary and secondary school, but his best friends sure were some persuasive assholes. Secondary school wasn't really the best time of his life. Besides having an intense focus on hockey, all the underlying partying and stupid shit he did on the sidelines from grades 9 through 11, there were a few speculations whether or not he'd graduate, let alone make a name for himself. But with the help of some pretty good people, his partying cutback, his hockey stats severely improved along with his grades and he ended up graduating at the top of his class. That doesn't matter though– it hasn't mattered in 10 years. All that matters is that he doesn't find being in a room with a bunch of people in 10 years, with a good majority of them probably deciding to stay in this misery of a place while he made a new life and a name for himself across country lines and in a state nearly 400 miles away...a "grand ole time".

Sorry Kiss-Ass McGhee, but he's having no part of it

He parked his new range rover up into a parking spot right in front of the diner and got out. The warm rays from the sun hitting his face only made him want to jump right back into the AC and drive away. It was really only a 6-hour car ride back to Columbus and while 12 hours in a day wasn't exactly appealing...it was a whole lot better than what his night seemed to have planned ahead of him. Instead, he closed the door and locked it behind him, walking to the door of the diner and inside. It smelled and looked exactly as he had remembered it did back when he was here for the last time, exactly 10 years ago the night before he turned his back on this town and never looked back.

"Ho-ly Shit, well would you look at that boys. He did show up." Josh turned towards a corner booth and smiled, seeing the aged faces of his best friends. "You owe me 30 bucks, Nick." His best friend and the guy he practically considered to be his brother, Dillon said, walking over to him with open arms.

"Hey, Dillhole," he laughed, wrapping his arms tight around him.

"It's good to see you, Josh." He pulled away and motioned over towards the booth they had reserved.

He slid in on one side and Dillon slid in on the opposite side. It was crazy, seeing all five of them together again; Nick, Dillon, Archer, Colt and himself. They were the boys that caused the entire ruckus in this town, both on and off the ice. And while they weren't all the hometown heroes, they were pretty much the light of the town. "This is fucking crazy," Josh said, shaking his head.

"Watch that mouth young man," a familiar voice nagged.

He snapped his head up and instantly smiled. "Mrs. O'Donnell!" He got up and hugged her, only to pull away and place his hands on her shoulders. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm just fine," She smiled, letting out a sigh as he sat back down in the booth, and she began collecting the menus off of the table. "It's just been a long time since I've seen you boys all together in this booth. I was starting to think I was going a little crazy there. Is it the usual five double cheeseburgers and two baskets of chili fries with five chocolate malt shakes?"

"Mrs. O'Donnell, how do you remember that after all these years?" Archer laughed, his eyes wide in shock.

"You boys have been ordering the same thing since you were 7-years-old," She just sighed and added a light chuckle. "Plus, it's pretty noticeable when I no longer have to order ahead 3-times the number of patties every shipment. I'll be back soon boys."

"Does Mr. O'Donnell still work the grill? He made the best burgers," Colt said, folding his napkin repeatedly.

"I believe so," Archer replied, his eyes squinting as he looked towards the back of the diner. "I think their oldest is taking over the business soon, though. Mr. and the Mrs. want to travel around the country in that old RV they got."

Archer was the only one out of the five of them who stayed behind in Burlington. Dillon had moved somewhere over in Vancouver, Nick over in Buffalo, New York, Colt down somewhere in Florida, and Josh was more than content in his quaint house he'd bought down in Columbus, a little over 15 minutes away from the Arena.

"So how have you guys been? How is everything?" Dillon asked, his eyes meeting everyone who was sitting at the booth.

They all kept in contact, sure, but they didn't talk all the time. There was a group chat of course, but the probability of them all being active in it at the same time was incredibly rare. It's been hard seeing as how busy they all got as they went their separate paths whether that be to the next level of hockey, college or even straight to a 9 to 5 job. They still made it work as best as they could, seeing as the last time they were all together was Colt's wedding in December.

"You guys remember that girl I met during that grad trip in grade 12?" Nick asked, as Mrs. O'Donnell came by and dropped off each of their milkshakes.

"The blonde one with the big–" Dillon looked over at Mrs. O'Donnell who was sending him her classic 'don't you dare say what you're going to say' looks. "Uh, personality?" He smiled as Mrs. O'Donnell turned away, but motioned at his chest as if he were cupping a pair of impressive sized, invisible boobs. Which soon followed by a smack in the back of the head with a napkin by Mrs. O'Donnell, sending the table of men into a fit of laughter.

"Yeah, Shelly!" Nick nodded, leaning back into his seat. "Well, a few years after that, I ran into her on campus and we started dating and well...I just proposed to her a few days ago."

"What?!" Josh smiled, taking a sip of his malt shake as he tried to hide his surprise. "That's awesome man, congratulations."

Nick smiled and accepted the pats on the shoulders and congratulations the rest of the guys had given him. "What about you guys? Any ladies in your lives?"

"I'm dating this girl who was in one of my classes back in college. We didn't know of each other, but we started dating at the academy and now we work at the same station but–" Archer looked around and leaned over the table. "You guys know how fast news spreads around here, so that's why I'm whispering. Her name is Julianne and I'm actually proposing to her next week."

Josh almost choked on the swig of malt shake that made it way down his throat as his eyes widened. That's three of five who were either married and or engaged, and there he was still incredibly single. Another round of congratulations went around the table and eyes landed on Dillon as they waited for a life update. Josh knew Dillon better than anybody, so he definitely knew that the slight twitch in his right eye meant he was hiding something.

"Let me guess," he snorted, taking another sip of his shake. "You're getting married too?" A deep read started to spread across his face as he looked into his malt shake. "DUDE!" Josh yelled, crumpling up a napkin and firing it at Dillon's head.

"It just happened two days ago man," Dillon said, holding his hands up in defense. "I'm still letting it all sink in.”

“Who?”

Josh had to admit he was curious himself. While they didn’t talk every second of every day, he thought that he’d at least be up to date in huge events such as engagements, in Dillon’s life. “Yeah Dillhole, who?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled. “Uh…Amy Hough.”

For the second time that day, the group of men erupted into a bunch of hollers that sounded like a pack of wild dogs. They couldn't help it though for one reason, and one reason only. Amy Hough had been Dillon's girlfriend since well...forever. From grade 1 all the way to grade 12, it was as if those two were made for each other. Everyone thought they were going to follow each other to college, get married after graduation and become that cliché couple you see on lifetime romance movies. But they called it quits the day before the big grade 12 grad trip and went their separate ways.

“Guys! Guys shut up!” He laughed, begging the group to quiet down as the red from his face began to travel down his neck. As soon as they did, he smiled again. “After we got the invitations to the reunion she uh, called me and asked if we could get together the next time I was in town, which happened to be that weekend and…we just kind of picked back up where we started.”

“We got those invitations eight months ago and you’re just now telling us, bro?” Archer asked, throwing his napkin at him.

“Sorry sorry!” He said as he did his best to dodge the napkins. “What about Josh?!”

Everyone turned their eyes to Josh. “Yeah Josh, what about you? You got a lady in your life?” Colt asked.

“Yeah, as much as a big shot you are down in Columbus, you’ve got to have at least a few ladies lusting after you,” Nick laughed, wiggling his eyebrows. “Maybe multiple at a time, eh?”

Josh could feel the heat begin to rise in his cheeks and he silently prayed for it to go away. Sure, he had women lusting after him, as Nick had put it. Tons, in fact. But that came with the territory of being a professional athlete. He could barely enjoy the clubs with his teammates without the women around him doing whatever they could to catch his eye. Was it flattering? Sure. Did he cave into it? Of course, he did, especially when he was in his earlier to mid-twenties. He was a guy, after all. But lately, the hookups seemed to slow down, even if the selection of women at his beck and call only seemed to rise. Sleeping around or even having a regular hook-up in whatever city they’d be playing in just didn’t seem appealing anymore.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head. “Actually no, I don’t. I haven’t really thought about dating, to be honest.” He pursed his lips and brought his straw to his mouth as he met their shocked gazes.

“What?” Archer asked.

“You’re shitting us right?” Colt added, looking just as surprised as the rest of them. “I mean, not even the occasional club hookup? Nothing?”

Josh just shrugged his shoulders and swallowed his sip of shake. “Just busy I guess. Haven’t really thought of dating much…doesn’t really feel right.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dillon seemingly glaring at him as he struck the thinker pose. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh nothing, I’m fine. It’s just that I think the lack of hookups and the reason that you’re not dating anyone right now is that deep down you’re still stuck up on Y/N.”

Josh could feel the heat start to rise again and this time, he couldn’t hold it back. But he did his damnedest to withhold any sign of emotion from them as best as he could. Hearing your name spoken by anyone but his inner voice for the first time in nine years hurt more than he could describe.  “What? Pft, no I’m not.”

“She’s here in town you know…” Archer said, looking at him. “Just saw her leaving her parents place the other day.”

You and Archer were neighbors, but not until grade 6. Up until then, Josh had the utmost privilege of being your neighbor and best friend. Then the whole moving and  ‘who you hang out with could affect you for the rest of your life’ junior high bullshit happened and he didn’t see you again until grade 9. Josh still hated himself for the way he ignored you all those years based on the fact that you weren’t really the most popular girl in junior high and he knew that he was an ass for it.

End of story.

“O-Oh….she is?” Josh asked, looking away from his friends.

“Which means she’s going to be at the reunion tonight…” Dillon added, looking at him. “Are you going to say hi?”

The last moment that Josh had with you started playing in front of him like a black and white movie that was moving way too fast for him to really capture the details. He had spent the last 10 years pushing back everything that he knew about you in the back of his mind. He didn’t want it coming back, ever. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

Fuck, he knew that was a lie. He should have just kept his mouth shut.

“I bet you $15 you chicken out and run away like a little girl.” Dillon smiled, leaning over and extending his hand towards him.

Josh looked Dillon in the eyes and knew that Dillon was reading him like a God damn book right now. He knew exactly how Josh felt towards you, and yet Josh couldn’t bring himself to say no. He shook his hand and held his stare. “Deal.”

“Here you are, boys. Five double cheeseburgers and two chili fries. I’ll be back by later to check up on you.” Mrs. O’Donnell turned to walk away but turned back around. “And now that you’re grown men, I expect less of a mess from ya.”

They all laughed and focused back on their food as the conversations drifted from their love lives and more into sports and recent stuff on the news. But as Josh took that first bite into his burger, he looked to his left and stared at a familiar old, empty red single booth. Only back then, it wasn’t always empty. It always had someone sitting in it.

You and him.

“Alright fellas, I guess it’s about time we head out towards the good ole reunion,” Archer said as he grabbed the bill before any of them could reach it. He took out a bunch of bills and put them inside of the check, closing it.

“Can you believe Kiss-Ass McGhee wrote that? How fucking cheesy can you get?” Dillon laughed, scooting out of the booth.

The men said their goodbyes to Mr. and Mrs. O’Donnell and left the diner, standing around a bit before they stood by their separate cars. “Where’s this thing at again?” Josh asked, digging his car keys out of his jean pocket. “Please don’t say it’s in the gym.”

“Yeah, tell me McGhee didn’t go all ancient times and at least got us a sweet hotel,” Colt added.

“Sorry fellas, but it’s in the gym.” Archer laughed, opening his car door. “You guys still know the way to the school?”

“You mean the hell hole?” Dillon asked, getting into his car and leaning out the window. “Yeah, I think I’m familiar with the route.”

Josh shook his head and laughed as he watched his friends get into their cars. “Alright, meet you guys there!” Archer called out, starting his car and backing out of his parking spot before turning out of the lot and left to go further into town.

Josh got into his car and started it, watching his friends each leave the parking lot before him. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, feeling his grip on his steering wheel get a bit tighter as he sucked in another deep breath.

He can do this. It won’t be that bad, maybe you won’t even remember him. Maybe you wouldn’t even say hi, yeah, yeah that sounds plausible. He’s totally got this.

He let out the breath he was holding and opened his eyes, putting his car into reverse and backing out of his spot before turning left onto the road and followed it into town. Tonight was going to be a total shit show and no matter how many motivational talks he gave himself, there was no way of preventing it. The closer he got to the high school, the more nauseous he became. It’s been 10 years since he’s seen you and the possibility of seeing you now drove him absolutely, fucking crazy. Tons and thousands of possibilities and worst-case scenarios filled his brain.

Would you recognize him? Would he recognize you? Would things be the same when you see each other? Will all of those memories that he spent 10 years pushing away come back up and replay the entire night? Would his feelings come back? Would yours?

A sudden knock on his window brought him out of his thoughts. He looked to his left to see Dillon standing there. “Come on dude!” He wasn’t even aware that he had parked his car…or that he had even arrived at the high school.

He took another deep breath and turned off the ignition, unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. “Sorry, I was just…thinking.”

“About Y/N?”

He nodded slowly. “I just–“ He locked his car and dug his hands into his pockets as far as they could go. “It’s been 10 years since I’ve seen or talked to her Dill. We haven’t kept in contact or even bothered to keep in contact. Plus, I’ve pretty sure that one we see each other, she’ll probably run in the opposite direction.”

Dillon shrugged his shoulders and looked at him. “You don’t know that bro. Maybe what happened to Amy and me, will happen to you and Y/N.”

“I highly doubt that Dill.” He replied, walking into the school gym with him and coming to a stop at a table with the rest of the boys, searching for their nametags and putting them on their shirts. “You must have forgotten just how badly things ended with us. I don’t think they’ll just pick right back up and she’ll act like none of it ever happened.”

“Hey, you never know Josh! It’s been 10 years and during those 10 years, both of you grew up and matured. You’re both 28 for God sakes. I’m sure you’re not going to let the way you handled things when you were 18, get in the way of how you deal with things at 28.” He walked into the gym, leading the way as Josh followed behind him. “Besides, maybe she wants to reconnect and maybe, just maybe you two will hit it off again.”

“Hey, you two.” A voice said, causing the two of them to turn around. The girl walked over to Dillon and kissed him before looking at Josh. “Josh Anderson, is that you?” She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “It’s been years! How have you been? How’s the NHL? Everything you ever dreamed of?”

“Everything and more,” Josh laughed, pulling away with a smile on his face. “It’s nice to see you too Amy and congratulations on the engagement! You better keep this boy in line.”

Amy looped her arm through Dillon’s and looked up at him. “Oh I will, you can count on that.” She looked at Josh and the expression on her face resembled that of shock as if she had just realized something and hadn’t told him. “Have you two talked to Y/N yet?”

“We just got here. She’s here already?” Dillon asked, looking around the crowd.

“Yeah! Here hold on, I’ll go get her!” She smiled, winking at Josh before turning away and disappearing into the crowd of classmates.

“Amy wait!” Josh called out, realizing that he was about five steps too late before she was out of his vision. He looked around to see if he could spot her anywhere, but he was shit out of luck.

Dillon put his hand on his shoulder. “Remember…$15.” Josh just groaned, earning an honest laugh from Dillon. “You’ve got this man, remember…anything can happen.”

As he looked up from his feet, Josh could see Amy begin to make her way back through the crowd, looking behind her. He turned quickly, facing Dillon with a look of panic on his face. “I can’t do this man. I shouldn’t have let you guys talk me into coming to this stupid thing. This was a huge mistake coming here.” He could feel his heart start to race and his palms get clammy.

The last time he had ever been this nervous was during playoff runs and game 7 of the year they won the Stanley Cup. Well, all of those times and the times he’d ever been around you. Nerves and adrenaline during hockey games were one thing, but the nerves he’d get around you were those same ones, escalated a million times over again. But it’s been so long since he had to deal with that level of nerves, so as far as he was concerned, he was so far out of his league.

One thing was for sure; he had to get the hell out of here.

“Josh man, come on don’t leave.”

“You’re leaving already?” A voice said, stopping Josh in his tracks, as well as making his heart skip a beat. He turned back around and as soon as his eyes met yours, his mouth went dry and it was as if every English word he’d ever learned– had disappeared and he couldn’t speak. After a few moments of a failed response, you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and smiled. “Hi, Josh.”

“H-Hey Y/N.”

[placesthatchangedpeople]

Montana Academy testimony

This testimony was found on Reddit. All rights go to the author.

I’m not going to go into the hell that was SUWS Carolina [wilderness], as that is a whole different can of worms, and the boarding school was far more sinister. I arrived at Montana Academy a few weeks after turning 17. I was absolutely terrified after what I had been through spending 9 weeks living in the woods, but I was at least happy that I could use a toilet and sleep in a bed. [To get rid of any confusion later on, I was born male. At this point in my life I was still living as a boy, and trying very hard to convince myself I wanted to stay that way.] When I got to campus I was greeted by my team leaders and paraded through the lunch room as the entire student body looked at me [as all new students are]. I’m still convinced this is a power play devised by the creators of the school to subtly break your guard down. I said goodbye to my mom, grandmother, and my uncle, and began the worst period of my life.

So the Staff of our team was our team leader Dave, and boy, Dave was a piece of shit. He was the type of guy who would get a shit eating grin whenever he could punish you. You could fucking tell he got a semi off of it, and we would all talk about how much we hated him behind his back. I remember the ear to ear smile he got on his face as my eyes welled up with tears when he told me I couldn’t spend Christmas away from the ranch with my mom, because I was short by one signature on my checklist. That’s Dave in a nutshell. The weekend team leader was Sam and I think he was even worse, because he had the amazing ability to make you feel safe and loved one week, and then emotionally beat you to a pulp the next. For instance... There was one weekend where Sam and I had a long emotional talk where I opened up to him about how much my dad meant to me and how I would give anything to have him back. He gave me the biggest hug and told me he was here for me. The week after was rough and I was so excited to talk to him again, but when his shift started, he sat down and immediately screamed at me in front of everybody for not sitting down fast enough at the table, and put me on privilege freeze for a week. This would happen all the time. It was like he got off on building up our trust and hopes and then he would have a bad week at home and treat us like absolute shit.

I started with every intention of bettering myself. I had fully subscribed to the belief that I was broken as a result of “immaturity”, and the Founder of M.A.'s book was so fond of claiming. Despite coming from a broken home, childhood neglect, death of a parent, sexual abuse, trauma etc, it was MY fault that I ended up at M.A. I was ready to do my part. Unfortunately I wasn’t perfect as the staff expected me to be. I tried my ass off to do chores to the militaristic standards that they upheld, but I often fell short. Perhaps I missed a nearly microscopic hair in a bathtub. Sometimes, my sheets were a little crooked. And for each little transgression there was a severe consequence. If you made more than one mistake on your chores within a week, you could kiss all of your privileges goodbye. No phone call to your mom. No movie night. This may not seem like a big deal, but when you’re locked in an environment where you have maybe one tiny thing to look forward to a week, losing it because of something that is often not your fault is the most heart wrenching feeling in the world. Sometimes the punishments would go beyond cruel and just become abusive. About 5 weeks into my stay, I made the grave mistake of telling my team leader Dave that I had finished my assignment because I was having a really horrible day and just wanted to continue reading my book. Unfortunately he decided to double check. When he found out I wasn’t being honest, he assigned me to my first drudgery. That weekend I spent 6 hours outside in 20 degree weather scraping ice off of every single pathway on the entire ranch campus. I asked once if I could stop because my hands were rubbed raw and starting to bleed, and my weekend team leader Sam refused. I shouldn’t have lied, he insisted. By the end of the night, my hands were covered in blisters and I had learned my place. At this point I was broken, or so I thought. I didn’t know it could get worse.

As for therapy… My 1st therapist was useless. She was liable to cry about tragedies that had occurred during her own life. Ironically she was as cold as ice when it came to my issues. When it came to the issue of me being sexually assaulted in the 1st grade, she breezed right past it, and moved on to other issues. When I told her that I had always wished I had been been born a girl, she didn’t seem to give the slightest semblance of a fuck. When I would bring up the death of my father, or my mother’s alcoholism, she would go into how her brother died and start crying, and the next thing I knew I would be awkwardly wondering if I should console her. The biggest breakthrough in our therapy was when she came to the confident conclusion that the root of all my issues was that I was… wait for it… ADDICTED TO VIDEO GAMES… Every therapy session turned into her trying to convince me that I never wanted to play video games again, despite the fact I was drinking heavily and using substances before entering wilderness. After I finally promised her I would never touch another game again, we finally moved on to trying to process the loss of my father, and even that was a useless endeavor.

Group therapy was a clusterfuck. I don’t exactly know a better way to describe it than to call it “conflict therapy”. Seeing as how the entire M.A. operation was based around punishing students for their mistakes it was only natural to pit them against each other. The students of M.A. were each separated into 7 teams of roughly 10 students each. I spent 90% of my time with my team. They were your my friends, but I can guarantee they knew me fucking biblically. During group, it was common for one student on the team to be singled out and for every other student on the team to just fucking lay into them. It happened to everybody. We were all encouraged to tell on each other if we witnessed any rules being broken. I couldn’t trust my best friends with a secret at M.A. because the consequences were so dire. One tiny mistake could land me there for an extra year. Imagine the fucking paranoia that this causes. I was ALWAYS being watched. I began to question every single thing that I did. I began to believe the punishments I was being given were because I was useless, and because I couldn’t do anything right. After about a year I was 100% fucking brainwashed. I because some kind of M.A. Drone and I genuinely believed that I needed them to survive. It was like I was in a fucking cult, and if they had fucking cyanide in the punch I wouldn’t be writing this right now.

I think this next part was the most fucked up. This was the point where my red-pollyped festering cunt of a therapist decided to use me as an example, to teach a fucking seminar. My team was planning a father-son weekend trip. Doesn’t that sound lovely? Well, problem is, my dad’s fucking brain drowned in its own blood and so he’s in a box in my mom’s closet, so I can’t exactly take that out to Bowman lake with the boys. Luckily for me my therapist called me in and informed me that I was allowed to spend a weekend with my Uncle [who I love very much]. I was so happy, I was jumping for joy! A few weeks pass, and the father-son weekend is getting closer. My therapist calls me back in and tells me to sit down, and then informs me that she actually thinks it would be great for my “therapy” if I went with my team on the trip... I begged her to let me spend the weekend with my uncle, but she said it would also be good for the team’s therapy. So that weekend we all went to the lake. It was a really wonderful experience for everybody except for me. For the entire weekend I was alone. Some of my friends and their dads spent some time with me but I honestly wanted to be alone. Being the only kid without a fucking dad on a father-son trip is fucking humiliating beyond words. The worst part was on the last night of the weekend where the therapist held a group therapy session and the whole fucking thing was centered around me and my fucking dead dad, and all the issues that come with having a dead dad. My therapist had some really great and sensitive questions prepared... “Do you miss your dad?” “Do you feel guilty about anything?” “Why do you feel like it was your fault?” “Do you think your dad would be proud of you?” “Do you wish your dad was here?” “How did you deal with your mom falling apart?” “How do you feel that your mom is drinking again?” and the therapist just keeps pushing me and pushing me and pushing me until I’m inconsolable, and having a panic attack, and I just want her to shut the fuck up. I felt so broken, humiliated, and violated. How fucking dare this bitch of a therapist come at me with all of this heavy shit in front of people I've never met, when all she ever wants to talk about in our sessions is how much I like video games. They don’t care in these fucking places. They wanted to give these stupid fucking dads something powerful to witness so they could write a fucking Facebook post about the amazing work that's being done at MA. May they rot in hell.

Medical malpractice was also Rampant. While at M.A. I was struggling with weight and eating issues. My team “suggested” that I run a half marathon because our new team leader liked to run and they love to fucking push even the smallest beliefs and hobbies on their students. The shoes I was training in had literally no insoles. I asked for new shoes and was told to write a proposal. I wrote one and was never responded to by the treatment team [big fucking surprise]. After weeks of training we finally ran the half marathon. Halfway through, I felt a shooting pain in my foot. I told my team leader as he was not too far ahead. He didn’t give me much of a choice but to finish. For the next 6-8 weeks I asked the nurse every day if I could please go to the doctor as my foot was killing me, and nobody ever did anything about it. Finally after asking over what must have been 50 times, they agreed to let me go into town to get an x-ray. The x-ray found that I had snapped the middle metatarsal bone in my foot clean in half. So not only did M.A. make me run 6 miles with a broken foot, they made me do hard fucking labor on it for 6-8 weeks before allowing medical treatment. Care for Transgender students was disgustingly ignorant and based on lies and misinformation. Despite trying to come out as trans to my 1st M.A. therapist, it was just ignored. I tried multiple times to bring it up, but I’m now certain that my therapist didn’t know what a trans person was, and so she just thought it would be easier to switch the subject. When I moved on to the Sky House [the halfway house portion of the program] I said fuck it and just fully came out. This was met with backlash from the therapy team. Since I was at the Sky house now I had a new therapist and he had a lot of info about transitioning. Unfortunately, all of the info was fucking wrong, and he filled my head with misinformation, lies, and half-truths, in an attempt to make it sound like starting hormones was harder than getting a fucking doctorate from Harvard.

After Finally graduating M.A. I had been brainwashed into believing that getting a script for hormones was like a quest for the holy grail. I had no idea how fucking easy it actually was. I tried to live a normal life. I moved in with my aunt and uncle for a little while until I went off to college. I stayed sober for a few months, but as soon as I got to the university, things started fucking unraveling fast. I realized that I had been horribly abused and that the “therapy” I had been undergoing was nothing more than expensive babysitting. I fucking lost it I started drinking and taking any substance I could. I failed out of my school and moved back home. I drifted around for 3 years drinking, and being a disgusting and terrible person. I had to figure it all out on my own. I fucked with drugs I never should have and fell in with people I had no business being with. I drank too much, and made many regrettable decisions. But I still figured my fucking life out. I figured out that I needed to fucking get it together. I made a goal. I needed to transition. That was problem A. I got sober, went to my Nana [my hero] and found a therapist and within 2 weeks I was on hormones and began my transition, and by pure luck, I found love. It’s been a little over 4 years since I’ve gotten sober and things are far from perfect. I have severe PTSD from going to that hell of a school. I still dream about it multiple nights a week, and wake up in a fucking panic. I never leave the goddamn house because I start to panic, and I have serious trouble holding a job, so instead I work from home as a camgirl, inserting large objects into me for money. I’m lucky though that I now have my girlfriend to help me through it. Without her, I don’t know what I would do most days. Also, its really fucking great to not have to be a goddamn boy anymore. If anyone else had a similar experience [and I know others have] you’re not alone, and good luck.

[acrcsstheuniversee]

Good Enough For Me

Pairing: Paul McCartney circa 1962 x John Lennon circa 1978 (McLennon)

Rating: Mature, readers 18+

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of porn and sex work

Words in this chapter: 1800+

Author’s Note:

Here it is! Refer to my summary and introduction post if you haven’t done so for more disclaimers, visuals, tag list info, and more.

*Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles. This is fiction and written for leisure. Aspects of the story will not be historically accurate and should not be taken extremely seriously.

Chapter 1

Already a month into the semester, Paul found himself struggling to keep up with his studies. He tried his best to focus on typing an essay on the history of guitars that’s due the next day by 10 a.m. but just couldn’t get himself to do it. Not like it was hard or anything; he just hated doing what he’s told, especially if it was something he didn’t care about. He just wanted to do music but having a degree is a necessity now.

He pressed the home button on his cracked phone screen to see that it was already midnight. He was only half way done with the assignment that could’ve taken him only 30 minutes if he wasn’t writing songs in between paragraphs.

It was all too much anyways. American universities have much more homework assignments than back in England. Times like these made him question whether or not going out of the country for school was worth it. There almost seemed like there were more cons than pros in his decision. He lacked resources, he didn’t have any friends or family here except his roommate/best friend George, he was poorer than ever, and must work and attend school part-time. If he stayed in Liverpool and just continued school locally, he probably would’ve earned his degree by now; but now he’s what Americans consider a “super senior” because he’s 21 years old with the amount of classes completed equivalent to a third year student. Despite the struggle, all of it was better than his father dictating his every move. 

He shut his laptop, giving up on the assignment and leaned back into his desk chair, rubbing his tired droopy eyes.

He had two classes and work tomorrow. The thought of them made him roll his eyes. Music history from 10 a.m. to 12 p.m., a business class he couldn’t remember the name of from 1 p.m. to 2 p.m., and work right after at a restaurant nearby as a dishwasher, and occasionally performer if the artist they booked cancelled that night.

He yawned as he got up and slide into his bed. Before shutting his eyes, he turned his head and looked directly across the tiny dorm room to his right to see his childhood best friend and roommate, George Harrison sound asleep.

Paul really needs to take a note out of George’s book and sleep earlier. These late nights are just stressing him out more and more.

***

“Paul….. PAUL! Get up!”

Paul jolted up right when a sudden raised voice rang in his ear. His eyes met George’s signature judgemental look. One of his thick brows cocked and his lips curved awkwardly. He was already ready to go to class.

“Ah, what time is it?”

“9:30. I woke you up 30 minutes before hand because I just know you aren’t going to get up to the 9:45 alarm unless you expect to make it to your first class in 15 minutes,” George teased.

George is a pain in the ass and a know-it-all, but Paul loved him dearly. He comes off mean sometimes but Paul knows it’s just because he’s younger and feels the need to prove himself. Paul was used to it after all this time but sometimes, that boy needs to know when his criticisms cross the line. Despite being a dick sometimes, they’re both grateful to be going to the same college together. It was one in a million chances for George to land the same US college as Paul just a year after Paul’s acceptance.

“Okay, whatever. You have a point, I guess.” Paul groaned and rolled out of bed. 

“I know I do, ha. I’ll see you later.” George messed up his friend’s darkhair more than it already was, making Paul swat his hand away.

When George left, Paul finally got ready and headed off to class with his incomplete essay.

Everyone was already seated and the professor was setting up today’s powerpoint lecture when he finally arrived. Paul sat down in the back where he’s been since the beginning of the semester. It hasn’t been a problem until a girl started to sit near him everyday since last week. When group or partnered work was assigned, she would often ask him to join her. She was kind, but Paul knew she liked him. She couldn’t make it less obvious. They would make small talk here and there---just about classes and hobbies. She was also very good at piano just as Paul was, but not too good on guitar though she claims to be.

He felt her looking at him, making him turn his head to find out he was right. She just smiled and waved. Paul nodded and gave her a small smile in return, trying not to show too much emotion, afraid she would like that too much. She already had the wrong idea but he didn’t want to be mean about it. Paul was not interested in the slightest and, he was gay. Found that out in high school and hasn’t been too shy about it since then. 

When class ended, Paul left immediately to his second class to avoid conversation with anyone. This next one was business related which is something he also could care less about. He was a bit behind in this one too, but this time, he truly didn’t understand the material. He definitely needed a tutor soon.

Not much happened other than him writing mini poems all over his in-class assignment. He didn’t even bother erasing any of it before turning it in at the end of class.

Paul sighed as he made himself to his busboy job right off campus. Before stepping inside, he felt his phone vibrate. It was his dad. Ugh, he thought but answered.

“I’m about to go into work, Dad. What is it?”

“Well, hello to you too. I was just wondering how the first month in the states have been. I haven’t heard from you.”

“It’s fine.”

“Just fine? Have you got a chance to tour places? You should send me photos.”

“No and no. I don’t want you to be sending the pictures to your friends as if you helped me get here. I know you do that.”

Paul heard his father sigh.

“Just text me when you get home and tell George I said hi.”

“Okay, bye.” Paul said before hanging up and walking into his shift.

It seemed harsh but his dad was a selfish prick. He loves to be in control of everything. He was the reason Paul came to the states to study. All he wanted was to ride the wave of success his two sons have been achieving.

In all truthfulness, Paul stopped believing his dad’s bullshit after mom died about 6 years ago. His dad seemed to have lost his way but Paul couldn’t be around all the time if he had a dream to follow. It’s been rough without his mom around but Paul had to do what he was right for him, even if that meant getting away from his dad which is something even she would’ve supported.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how irritating school and his dad were during his shift. The rude coworkers and customers didn’t help his case at all. This wasn’t new though. Paul was used to working constantly in some shape or form. The only problem this time is that he needed more money now that he’s completely independent from his father.

“Hey, busboy!” his boss called out to the dishroom from the back office. Paul rolled his eyes and went to see what he wanted.

“Yes?”

“I have to cut your hours in half. Here is your new schedule. You’re off now, so don’t wash another dish.”

“In half?” Paul took the schedule and saw that his income now would not suffice his monthly tuition payments, let alone some money for necessities. “You’ve got to be shitting me. Why?”

“We can’t afford to pay you. I’m sorry, kid.” he said nonchalantly.

“Will I be able to perform sometimes still?”

“Ehh, sure.” he said as he continued his paperwork, not even looking at Paul.

Paul rolled his eyes again. Could his life get any more annoying? He let out a sigh and clocked out. Now what, he thought making his way home.

When he got home George was playing his computer games with his big headphones to fit on his large ears. The younger man didn’t even notice his friend come in until one side of his headphones was pulled and slapped against his head.

“Hey!” George readjusted himself then paused his game to face Paul with his eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“My hours got slashed.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope, hah.”

George frowned.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Are you going to find another job?” 

“Well, I’m going to have to because I will not be asking my dad for help.” Paul said as changed into his pajamas and hopped onto his bed.

George sighed. Paul just stared at his friend for a moment, not knowing what to say. This was bad news for both of them. George didn’t have the same financial issues as Paul did. He only had enough for himself. If George could help, he would---and Paul knew he would.

“I’ll think of something, George. Don’t worry.” Paul got under the covers and listened to his friend shut off his computer and lights before hopping into bed as well.

He stared at the ceiling and sighed, then began to think about all the ways he can make money quickly but none of it would be fast enough to pay his next tuition bill. He rubbed his eyes. It was beginning to stress him out the more he thought of it and he just wanted it to all stop for a second.

Ah fuck it, he thought before whipping out his phone and started to scroll through his favorite porn blog on Tumblr. What better way to forget about things than looking at some sexy pictures of guys?

Paul scrolled until he ran into a post that was by a male sex worker selling nude photos and thought hard to himself. It was a young guy about his age selling his photos for $25 a piece and a private snapchat story for $5 per friend request and $15 extra for screenshot privileges.

Paul bit his lip nervously. It’s been a couple years since he did sex work. All he did was some cam work, sold some nude photos, and made customized videos for people on the internet. He remembered enjoying it but there was always the parts he hated that made the job extremely draining like any other job.

He laid there staring at the screen. He must admit, it was tempting to dive in again but he was afraid what George would think.

“George… Maybe I should go back into sex work…” Paul said suddenly.

George didn’t reply. He just snored in in response. That bastard.

Paul sighed and continued to scroll through sex work blogs, inspired by the possibilities until he slowly drifted to sleep.

-

Tag list:

@nowandthenoldfriend

[allisonbklyn]

All we have is this

(^This used to be my bedroom)

A year ago, in south Louisiana, rain had been pouring for days and the rivers rose and nearly 150,000 homes were flooded.

My childhood home took on almost three feet of water.

I remember when we first moved into the house, in November of 1998, when I was 9. I remember the exact date, in fact, because it was Friday the 13th. Of course we noted the supposed unluckiness of the date (and I want to say I warned against it) and decided that superstitions aren’t real. I thought about that date again when the house flooded 18 years later. Surely, it had nothing to do with moving in on Friday the 13th. We weren’t the only house that flooded, after all. But it’s still weird to think about, you know?

More relevant than the superstitious moving day was that the house had a history of flooding. There was always going to be a risk. But tons of houses in Baton Rouge took on water in 2016 that had never flooded before. It was what they call a 1,000-year flood. The kind of disaster that statically happens only once in 1,000 years. But somehow, as we continue to wreak havoc on our planet, these 100- and 1,000-year events seem to be happening a little more frequently. 

The house we’d left behind, a smaller one but in the same neighborhood, did not flood in 2016. But you can drive yourself crazy by always thinking of “what if.” Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. There aren’t alternate timelines we can just switch over to and carry on with the world we think we were supposed to have. All we have is this.

Loss

“Ultimately all these man-made structures are destroyed by nature and only the birds remain.” —from the website for the Breton national wildlife refuge off the coast of Louisiana

My family had a day or two advance warning that the rivers would get high enough for our house to flood, so they were lucky to be able to save many of our possessions. But they were rushed, and many things were still destroyed. A lot of my childhood is gone. I don’t even know what survived and what didn’t; all of my stuff is still in storage.

I know it’s just a house. It’s just stuff. We all survived. I wasn’t even living there and hadn’t been, full-time at least, for 9 years. But … it was still my house. It was still my stuff.

Going back to see the house, all gutted, half of the walls taken out, was surreal. Have you ever thought about what your house would look like without any walls or doors? It feels smaller. You can stand in the corner and tell yourself, this used to be my bedroom, but you can barely imagine it actually being a room anymore.

(Can you even tell that was a kitchen?)

We’re not rebuilding it, at least for now. The goal is to sell it as is, to a developer who will flip it into some fancy home, I guess, even more unrecognizable. I’m OK with that; I would rather see my mom move into a house with, hopefully, less of a chance of flooding again. But it all costs money and time, and there’s not much I can do to help out from Brooklyn. I still feel guilty and helpless.

Recovery

It’s still a long road forward for my family and the rest of the community, even as the rest of the world has moved on.

When I first envisioned this inevitable blog post, when I toured our gutted house in December, the piece taking shape in my head was mostly about loss. How nothing lasts, how things and people go away, how they change. The quote above about the birds on the stupid wildlife refuge felt fucking perfect. Loss, change, passage of time, and more loss.

That’s why you should never write in your head. Because all of that seems futile and unnecessary now. Of course, things change and turn to shit. We’re all used to that by now. The question is, what is the path forward?

I’ve been thinking lately about what happened to south Louisiana last August, but I also can’t stop thinking about the events of this past weekend, in Charlottesville, Virginia, in 2017. I feel a little guilty for writing about a tragedy that affected me and my family a whole year ago while there is more pressing pain and tragedy that threatens my black, Jewish, Muslim, immigrant, gay and transgender friends right now.

I don’t want to equate these two issues at all. But, in both of them, we as Americans have fucked up.

We’ve failed to take care of our planet and we’ve failed to take care of each other. Carbon dioxide has filled the atmosphere and the water has warmed and the ice is melting, and we’ve created such economic inequality that natural disasters take a much bigger toll on poor people, immigrants and minorities. Racism and misogyny that have been quietly simmering (or, loudly, but some of us just haven’t been listening) have now exploded into the public square because our head of state rode their support to victory and is fine with it. We elected a president who doesn’t care about climate change OR civil equality! Go us. We are really rocking at being humans.  

Yeah. We did this. It doesn’t just happen.

And, again, there’s no use pondering “what if.” Hillary Clinton supporters are writing on Twitter that they  tried to warn us against electing a fascist bigot. I feel that, and they’re right, but there’s no going back in time and fixing it. (I mean, if you’ve been hiding a time machine, this would probably be a good time to try it out…) This is the reality we live in. So what do we do now?

On one hand, I fear that trying to shout out the other side, to condemn their hateful actions as loudly as possible, will just egg them on and make them stronger. They think, because we’re fighting back, they must be in the right. But how can we negotiate with a side that believes that huge swaths of people are inferior and don’t deserve to be in this country? How are they ever going to listen?

I do feel my privilege. In Louisiana, there were other families who had it worse, who had no warning their homes were about to flood and lost everything. People with health problems who were left homeless, who didn’t have well-off family to take them in or help them rebuild. And I wasn’t even physically there, so I was able to carry on with my life without much disruption, while for others life has been a daily hell for an entire year now.

And in our current political climate, the danger is far worse for people who are black, Muslim, Jewish, gay, disabled, poor or undocumented.

So I’m going to stop with the comparison now. I don’t want to make this all about *me.* But I have a lot of feelings about both of these horrific events and I believe we all have a lot of work to do.

We’ve been doing this civilization thing for several thousand years now. There have been ups and downs, but we haven’t completely obliterated ourselves or our own planet yet. So let’s get our shit together and figure this out.

[zalrb]

TVD = The It Doesn’t Make SENSE Diaries {1x13 Review}

Welcome to the 13th review of season 1! As per usual, here are the guidelines: Considering that I haven’t sat down to watch a full episode of the past seasons of TVD in a few years and my memory might not be the greatest I will start with my usual disclaimer:  I write my thoughts in real time so if I make a mistake at the beginning of this post, it will be corrected by the end. There will be anti-Damon and anti-Delena senitments and I feel the need to say there may be some anti-Jenna sentiments too. I will probably bring up other shows and call attention to misogynoir, racism and anti-blackness. OK. Ready? Let’s go.

1. Opening scene of Damon helping Katherine murder two people and yeah Human Damon is a lot meeker but that doesn’t mean that this grown ass 20-something year old man was “done in” by Katherine, he knew exactly what he was doing and doesn’t actually seem to struggle with her killing two people, he just seems mildly uncomfortable and then he kisses her with their blood on her lips, the fact that he has a “Aw gee” meek demeanour doesn’t make him any less of an an accessory to murder, guys.

2. Elena and Stefan cuddling as they wake up! So cute! The way she smiles when she wakes up in his arms and how he kisses her, omg.

3. I also just realized that the door is still open when Elena brings Stefan back into bed so like not only does she not give a shit if Damon hears them fucking, she doesn’t care if he happens to pass by either. But seriously, how can anyone say they didn’t have amazing sex, she’s like um excuse me, half-naked God of a man in my bed, I’m not done.

4. Seriously, Giuseppe doesn’t realize that his two sons are sleeping with the same woman in one house? HOW?

5. Also, legit Damon would’ve been married with kids by now. Stefan wouldn’t be too far off either, it would actually be interesting if they were at least promised to two other women and then Katherine came. Like if Katherine convinced Damon to destroy his life, leave his kids, leave his wife so they can run away for an eternity together and then went oh btw, your brother is coming with us and then set the series of events in motion in which the town was at war with itself and Damon spent over a century waiting for her and feeling the guilt of having abandoned his wife and children for her but holding on to the idea that this woman he did all these things for will finally reunite with him only for her to be gone? Then that would be way more interesting and have way more emotional stakes than what we have now.

6. Yep, let’s just brush over the fact that Emily is enslaved. Pearl also would not be so easily accepted.

7. No seriously, how OLD is Anna? When did she turn?

8. And I never got why Pearl wouldn’t just leave Katherine behind. Like yo if they have vervain in elixirs and they’re trying to find vampires, I’m about to LEAVE.

9. “You were sad, Ben, you lacked purpose, you needed me.” I don’t understand this idea of vampirism = purpose because the show doesn’t expand on that. As a vampire your emotions are heightened so if Ben was sad as a human, would he not just spiral into despair as a vampire? And also his “purpose” is to help Anna for her own agenda, how would Ben not realize that? At least in True Blood when Godric turns Eric, Eric is dying and Godric likes the fire he has because Eric was a viking and he was like do you want to be a companion of death? I will be your father, brother, son and friend. In TVD it’s just ... what?

10. “You know I really think that Damon believes that everything he’s done, every move he’s made, he’s done for love. It’s twisted but kind of sad.” HOW, ELENA? How was turning Vicki and leaving Stefan to clean up the mess done for love? How was abusing and raping Caroline done for love? And how can you speak so dispassionately about something when the people being affected are the people you’ve known since childhood? It doesn’t make SENSE. From the first season, Damon and in relation Delena is the biggest writing weakness.

11. Stefan: “There are other ways to get what you want, you don’t have to kill people” LIKE RIGHT THO? And Elena just tilts her head like, “Oh. True.” WHAT? This reminds me of a plot line in Friday Night Lights, where a man attacks Tyra and tries to rape her but she manages to fight him off but then he comes back again and tries to rape her so Landry kills him. After a while, the attacker’s brother asks to see all of his brother’s victims to apologize on behalf of him and Tyra is uncomfortable doing it so choose Landry to go in her stead and his brother is like, I’m sorry he never used to be like this ... he was the only one who took care of me, my dad ran off and my mom was too drunk to feed us and Landry is like, you know what, pretty much every person in Dillon has the exact same story and they don’t turn out to be rapists! Same THING.

12. Also, I have a question about these journals ... does every Founding Family have their own set of journals? And if they do, since they make up the council, shouldn’t they you know SHARE these journals with each other? Like why is it so singular?

13. OK, schools do get locked you know.

14. Paul commands such presence in his scenes, seriously when Alaric discovers he’s a vampire and Stefan just dashes him to the desks and tells him to sit? I would not want to cross him.

15. The woman who plays Pearl has so much more presence than Nina and she comes across as older -- because she is -- so for her to take point from Katherine is like, why? I don’t get it.

16. “I never asked for your respect.” “Good for you, Damon. Because all I have is disappointment.” Said every sane viewer ever.

17. IT MAKES NO SENSE THAT STEFAN AND DAMON WOULDN’T GROW UP LEARNNG ABOUT AND HATING VAMPIRES.

18. Also, I missed when Damon went over to Elena’s house. And him being in the kitchen cooking is like, that’s cute, Stefan did that 8 episodes before, you’re late.

19. His grin is annoying.

20. “You met Damon.” “Who do you think killed my wife.” Oh yes, ALL for love.

21.Elena feeling guilty about lying to Damon is like, remember that time he nearly killed Bonnie? Remember that time he nearly killed Caroline? Remember that time he killed Tanner? Remember that time he turned Vicki?

22. And so Jenna and Jeremy aren’t a little bit curious why a grown ass man is hanging around Elena and why he’s at their house? When Angel is in Buffy’s house, she has to lie to her mom and tell her he’s in college and that he’s her tutor and Joyce side-eyes the hell out of that so Buffy has to sneak him up to her room. If you’re making sexy eyes at the man, Jenna, then he should not be around your niece the way Damon is.

23. “Elena and I are bonded for life, I can’t imagine it any other way. She’s my sister, I mean, I’d die for her.” WHY. WHY. WHY. WHY BONNIE. Elena hasn’t done anything in these 13 episodes that would warrant such loyalty.

24. Also, Damon just told Elena that he won’t let anyone get in his way when it comes to getting Katherine back, like it was a threat, and when they find out the journal is gone and that Jeremy is the only other person who knows about it and he walks back into the house that determined and Elena is just like “Damon, leave him out of it ...” I would panic especially considering that Damon had already negatively impacted Jeremy’s life by turning Vicki.

25. Yeah, this Giuseppe is stern and a hard-ass but I didn’t get the impression he was this tyrannical, abusive father. In 1x20, Stefan does say even in our death you only feel shame so like I don’t get a sense of closeness with Giuseppe and either brother but I really do feel like they turned him into a monster in season 7 as an attempt to excuse Damon’s behaviour because we all know if you’re forced to eat your pet bunny nearly two hundred years ago you have to act out and kill people.

26. Stefan, why are you giving Elena a shovel too to dig up your father’s grave, you can vamp speed that shit.

27. Seriously. Paul’s sighs when Nina is kissing his stomach and chest, like ...

28. I forgot Bonnie actually kisses Ben.

29. WHY would you open the grimoire there? Vamp speed the dirt back into the grave and then go. HOME.

30. Oh shut UP, Damon, you’ve caused this town so much damage, Elena owes you nothing.

31. It’s also super gross that Damon sniffs Elena’s hair as he hands her back to Stefan after force-feeding her his blood.

32. It really bothers me that the show is substituting vampires for the enslaved without talking about the enslaved, like it takes some kind of privilege and entitlement to have  a show set in the South and flashing back to 1864 and NOT talking about it.

33. To be fair, Stefan didn’t tell Giuseppe that he was sleeping with a vampire, he was just like so maybe we shouldn’t kill all of them. I get that in the heat of the moment, Damon would blame Stefan but like 100 and some odd years later? Fam, let it go. Or if the point is that he can’t let it go and the older he gets the more stuck in time he becomes, that needs to be displayed more.

34. I love that forehead kiss and Stefan and Elena holding hands till the very last minute is their aesthetic.

35. Wow, Jenna being semi-active! “You know you’re not staying the night, right? Keep the door open.”

36. Pearl’s death is probably the most moving part of the episode.Much better than Damon’s man pain.

Thanks for reading!

[septmilleneurones]

Hey look, actual "unique" questions

Via @quietandinviting, and apparently this was the original source.

I’m doing this LiveJournal style because I ultimately prefer to take my destiny into my own hands when it comes to answering questions like this! :D 1:Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed? >I actually don't have a closet in my current place! My room used to be the laundry room. I am OK with this because it has a door leading directly outside. 2:Do you take the shampoos and conditioner bottles from hotel? >No. I'm picky about which shampoo, conditioner, soap, etc. I use. 3:Do you sleep with your sheets tucked in or out? >One side in, one side out. 4:Have you ever stolen a street sign before? >No. 5:Do you like to use post-it notes? >I used to love them, but these days I've switched to the Errands app. 6:Do you cut out coupons but then never use them? >I forget about coupons all the time. 7:Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of a bees? >I'd rather not think about either of those things. 8:Do you have freckles? >Some. 9:Do you always smile for pictures? >Yes, although it doesn't always look natural because I get self-conscious. I do want to take more pictures of myself, though. 10:What is your biggest pet peeve? >Self-righteousness, probably. There have been times when I've really wanted to reblog something here but decided against it because of the "if you don't reblog this, you're a terrible person" crap. 11:Do you ever count your steps when you walk? >Not personally, but my current phone has a pedometer and I've been really enjoying using it. 12:Have you ever peed in the woods? >Yes, while hiking. It was gross and I don't want to do it again. 13:What about pooped in the woods? >No. 14:Do you ever dance even if theres no music playing? >FUCK YES. 15:Do you chew your pens and pencils? >Apparently not as much as I used to! 16:How many people have you slept with this week? >None. 17:What size is your bed? >Queen! It came with the room I'm renting. 18:What is your Song of the week? >Most of the songs in the Moana soundtrack. 19:Is it okay for guys to wear pink? >It should be more socially acceptable. 20:Do you still watch cartoons? >A lot of cartoons that are primarily marketed to kids seem to be of higher quality than a lot of adult TV and movies. 21:Whats your least favorite movie? >At the moment, Passengers. I'm just so mad that they had this amazing concept and did something so crappy with it. 22:Where would you bury hidden treasure if you had some? >I'd probably just hire a safe for it. I don't want to risk some other fucker finding it and taking it. 23:If you're a girl, bra size? If you're a guy, pants size? >18D, I think. 24:What do you dip a chicken nugget in? >I tend to eat foods like that at buffet restaurants, so I'd pick whatever sauce looks nicest there. Or maybe in the broth of some of the other foods on my plate. 25:What is your favorite food? Potato chips. 26:What movies could you watch over and over and still love? >Mostly childhood favourites, like Miss Congeniality, Legally Blonde, Teaching Mrs Tingle, Center Stage, Bring It On, etc. 27:Last person you kissed/kissed you? >My mum. 28:Were you ever a boy/girl scout? >No. (Incidentally, it's Pippins, Brownies and Girl Guides for New Zealand girls. Not sure what the boy organisations are called.) 29:Would you ever strip or pose nude in a magazine? >No, and it's almost entirely because of the stigma. I'd love to do comedy nudity like Air New Zealand, though. 30:When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper? >To my grandmother, shortly before she died in 2015. 31:Can you change the oil on a car? >I can't even drive a car. 32:Ever gotten a speeding ticket? >See #31, but my brother did when following my dad home in separate cars, and my dad apparently instructed the cop to make my brother squirm a little. XD 33:Ever ran out of gas? >See #31 34:Favorite kind of sandwich? >The meatball sandwich at Subway, with onion, green pepper, jalapenos, pickles and chipotle sauce. 35:Best thing to eat for breakfast? >The *best* thing is a nice egg, bacon, etc. breakfast when I eat out, but when I eat at home I just eat cereal. I eat it dry and drink milk on the side because I hate the texture cereal gets when it sits in milk for more than a couple of minutes. 36:What is your usual bedtime? >10ish. 37:Are you lazy? >No. 38:When you were a kid, what did you dress up as for Halloween? >We didn't really do Halloween all that much. We have a *bit* of trick or treating in New Zealand but it's not celebrated to the same extent as America. 39:What is your Chinese astrological sign? >The Rat. 40:Are you horny? >No. 41:Do you have any magazine subscriptions? >No. 42:Which are better legos or lincoln logs? >We don't have Lincoln Logs in New Zealand. I enjoyed playing with Lego, though. 43:Are you stubborn? >When it comes to personal things (as opposed to activism, where the rights of oppressed groups > the feelings of privileged groups), I tend to want to know *why* you want me to do something differently or see something differently, and I want you to not treat me like I'm defective or otherwise make it about my character when it's not appropriate to do so. If you're good about those things, I'll often consider what you're asking for. I still have some absolute non-negotiables, but I'm often willing to be flexible if I understand the reason and am being treated respectfully. 44:Who is better...Leno or Letterman? >Those are talk shows, right? I don't even know what kinds of talk shows we have in New Zealand (if any), but I do enjoy Jimmy Kimmel's Mean Tweets segments. 45:Ever watch soap operas? >I might watch a New Zealand one like Shortland Street, but it's more because I want to watch more of our own stuff. Local entertainment is vastly outnumbered by overseas entertainment, especially from America, and while I enjoy a lot of that stuff, I want to see my own country in the stuff I'm watching. 46:Are you afraid of heights? >I won't bungee jump but I don't mind just being up high. I like roller coasters and looking straight down from the Skytower, and I have used the words "That was the best turbulence I've had in a while." 47:Do you sing in the car? >If I drove, I totally would. 48:Do you sing in the shower? >If my flatmates aren't home. I also sing while cooking sometimes. 49:Do you dance in the car? >Again, if I drove, I would absolutely do this. 50:Ever used a gun? >I think we might have done rifle shooting at my school camp when I was 10 or so. 51:Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer? >When I taught English in Japan and they did yearbook photos. This was almost 10 years ago. 52:Do you think musicals are cheesy? >NO THEY ARE AWESOME. 53:Is Christmas stressful? >It used to be, because I had all the stress of buying presents but didn't actually get to see my family. Last year was my first Christmas after coming back to NZ and when I did my Christmas shopping I was stressed because my mind hadn't adjusted. But then I got together with my family on Christmas and it was great. I don't think it's going to be so stressful next year. Still a little stressful because I have to make time for Christmas shopping during my industry's busy season, but not nearly as much as before. 54:Ever eat a pierogi? >No, but it'd be cool to try one. 55:Favorite type of fruit pie? >Apple or cherry. 56:Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid? >I didn't. I went from not knowing at all, to knowing I wanted to do something with Japanese (confession: when it came to choosing between Japanese and German, I think my choice to go with Japanese was influenced by a crush on the teacher...and it worked out! Like, obviously I didn't end up with her because non-creepy teachers aren't attracted to 17-year-olds, but I ended up in a good career.) Anyway, so I went from no idea to a moment of total clarity with what I wanted to study at university, then I went from no idea to a moment of total clarity when I decided that I wanted to be a translator. 57:Do you believe in ghosts? >Not really. 58:Ever have a Deja-vu feeling? >There have been a couple of minor occasions. 59:Take a vitamin daily? >Yes. 60:Wear slippers? >No, I don't like how they feel on my feet. 61:Wear a bath robe? >Only when I need to cover up in front of my flatmates. 62:What do you wear to bed? >Nightgown in summer, pyjamas in winter. 63:First concert? >A 90s revival concert just a couple of months ago! 64:Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart? >Over here, our main big box store is The Warehouse. It's pretty good, I go there quite often. 65:Nike or Adidas? >Nike's stuff seems to have caught my eye the most often. 66:Cheetos Or Fritos? >CHEETOS. When I used to get my friend to send me American chips, I always asked for Cheetos and Doritos. 67:Peanuts or Sunflower seeds? >They're both yummy. 68:Ever hear of the group Tres Bien? >No! Google isn't bringing up anything definitive either. 69:Ever take dance lessons? >I did yosakoi in Japan. It was alright, but I prefer dancercise, where the moves are very simple. I don't like learning a lot of moves. 70:Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing? >No. I try not to stereotype people based on their profession. 71:Can you curl your tongue? >No. 72:Ever won a spelling bee? >We didn't have those in New Zealand in my day. I heard on the news that a New Zealander qualified for the Scripps one year, but I think it's still not a part of our school culture and I kind of wish it was. I did do foreign language contests when I was in high school, though! I won a bunch of times and placed high a bunch of other times. 73:Have you ever cried because you were so happy? >Mostly when reading reassuring messages. 74:Own any record albums? >No, but my parents do and I own the mp3 versions of some of their stuff. 75:Own a record player? >No, but my parents do. 76:Regularly burn incense? >No. I have a stuffed toy whose smell is comforting to me, and incense would change its smell. Also, my boss's neighbour's house burned down because she lit candles and knocked one over or something. 77:Ever been in love? >No, but I've had a crush and it was fun. 78:Who would you like to see in concert? >Really any of the artists I like, as long as it doesn't take a lot of effort for me to go. Like, if the tickets sell out in an hour, no. If I have to queue for a long time, no. This revival concert had assigned seating and didn't sell out too quickly. 79:What was the last concert you saw? >The revival concert. 80:Hot tea or cold tea? >None. 81:Tea or coffee? >I will sometimes drink a very milky/chocolatey coffee, like mochaccino or latte, but I mostly prefer water.   82: Sugar or snickerdoodles? >Both sound really good! 83:Can you swim well? >No. 84:Can you hold your breath without holding your nose? >You mean underwater? No. 85:Are you patient? >Moderately. I can generally turn it on if I need to when I'm dealing with people, but if my computer's running slow, then to quote The Wolf of Wall Street, it's "fuck" this, "shit" that, "cunt", "cock", "asshole". 86:DJ or band, at a wedding? >Probably DJ, but unless it's my wedding, I don't really care. 87:Ever won a contest? >Multiple foreign language contests in high school, multiple colouring contests in my early to mid teens, including a PlayStation that my brother was ecstatic about (I liked colouring before it was cool!) and I also won a huge hamper of beauty products a few years ago. I ended up donating most of the beauty products to a DV shelter, though, because I didn't use them. I still use the towel and placemats that came with it, though. 88:Ever have plastic surgery? >No. 89:Which are better black or green olives? >I don't think I've tried green olives. The black ones are alright, but I'm not a huge fan. 90:Can you knit or crochet? >No. 91:Best room for a fireplace? >The lounge...of a house that somebody else is responsible for. Like, if my live-in landlady or one of my family or friends got one, I'd think it was cool, but I don't want to be solely responsible for one because I'd be scared of setting the house on fire. 92:Do you want to get married? >Probably; it seems to carry certain legal benefits that I'd want to have in a long-term relationship. 93:If married, how long have you been married? >Not married. 94:Who was your HS crush? >My Japanese teacher, who was younger then than I am now. 95:Do you cry and throw a fit until you get your own way? >No, but I cry over things that seem inconsequential because there's deeper stuff going on below the surface. For example, last weekend I tried to go to the gym but my key didn't work. I cried when I got home, not because I couldn't handle waiting until Monday to speak to the staff about it, but because I felt like I'd somehow done something wrong that I needed to be embarrassed about. I used some anxiety techniques to deal with that, then had a reasoned conversation about it during their staffed hours. 96:Do you have kids? >No. 97:Do you want kids? >No. 98:Whats your favorite color? >Pink. 99:Do you miss anyone right now? >Nope!

[abigailslover]

1-65 😘

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you?Literally all the time it drives me crazy like what if everything I care about isn't even real 2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you?2, I'm not fussed about the dark unless I've just seen a horror or something's freaked me out 3. The person you would never want to meet?Donald Trump ew4. What is your favourite word?Ryan because it's the name of the person I love. Lmao soppy but I also can't really think of anything 5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be? One of those tall ones with the thin branches which kinda looks like its about to fall apart but somehow never does 6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought?Ah shit I didn't take my makeup off very well last night 7. What shirt are you wearing right now? A gryffindor pj top I got for Christmas. Kinda makes me feel like a traitor to my only true house hufflepuff 8. What do you label yourself as?Sexuality wise bisexual 9. Bright room or dark room?Bright room, then I can see everything and just yeah 10. What were you doing at midnight last night? Watching Friends 11. Favourite age you've been so far?Any age without responsibilities 12. Who told you they loved you last? Ryan before he went to sleep 13. Your worst enemy? Tarah because she's hurt me more than anyone 14. What is your current desktop picture? One of me and Ryan from Christmas a year ago, outdated but still so cute 15. Do you like someone?You'd hope so16. The last song you listened to?Stressed Out-twenty one pilots 17. You can press a button that will make one person explode. Who would you blow up?Donald Trump and hope that all his advisors are with him18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?My brother but only if he's done what we aren't sure of 19. If anyone could be your slave for a day who would it be and what would you do?Taylor Swift but she wouldn't be my slave we'd just spend the day together and go shopping and just have the best time 20. What is your best physical attribute?My eyes 21. If you were the opposite sex for one day what would you look like and what would you do?I would look awful as a guy omg. I'd probably have weird brown hair and just look very average but not like I'm supposed to be like that. I'd masturbate because come on, have sex and just enjoy a ton of male privileges like getting paid more for the same job etc 22. Do you have a secret talent? If so, what is it?I can't think of any 23. What is one unique thing you're afraid of? Being alone. It's not unique but I'm genuinely afraid of being left all alone one day with no one with me24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Each sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposalSo I'd have a baguette with chicken and ham, melted mozzarella and sweetcorn with BBQ sauce 25. You just found $100! How will you spend it? Either use it as spending money on holiday next month in Spain with Ryan or save it for uni next year 26. You have a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world but you have to leave immediately. Where do you go? To see @awkward-is-a-life-choice of course ❤27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. "Be brand-specific" it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don't drink booze there's something you can figure out...so what's it gonna be?Defo jägermeister 28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place?Real equality for everyone29. What is your favourite expletive?Fuck, you can use it in so many ways 30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don't worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what's the one thing you're going to save from that blazing inferno? The bracelet my uncle got me for Christmas 4 months before he died 31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? The time when I was more depressed than ever 32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-travelling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super powers...check out this cool shit...you can move anywhere else in the world!I'd go to America and be an outlaw with @awkward-is-a-life-choice it'd be ace 33. The Celestial Gates of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn't think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back?Who will I bring back from the dead? My uncle 34. What was your last dream about?Meeting Taylor Swift. It was so cool 35. Are you a good....[insert anything you'd like here]?Who knows 36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital?Nope 37. Have you ever built a snowman?Of course 38. What is the colour of your socks?I'm not wearing any right now 39. What type of music do you like?Mostly pop 40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?Sunrises are prettier but I'm never awake for them41. What is your favourite milkshake flavour?Caramel42. What football team do you support?Literally none I couldn't care less 43. Do you have any scars?A few. A couple of faint self harm scars, a scar on my thigh from work, one on my finger from an umbrella when I was 11, one on the back of my knee from falling on a broken garden lamp, some chicken pox scars and I think that's mostly it 44. What do you want to be when you graduate?I'd love to be a writer when I finish my degree but I know that isn't practical so I want to teach English and Creative writing to college and sixth form kids 45. If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be? I'd love to not have anxiety even though it's a part of me now 46. Are you reliable?When it matters, yes47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be?Are you happy?48. Do you hold grudges?It depends. If you've done something small I'll get over it pretty fast especially if I love you. But if you've really fucked me over then wooow you've messed up because I'll probably never let it go 49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create?I'd mix an elephant and a snow leopard to make an snelephard or something like that and dhdhdhd it'd be so cute 50. What is the most unusual conversation you've ever had?Having to explain to a customer what gravy is when he's never had it or had anything like it and getting v stressed out51. Are you a good liar?Not in the slightest 52. How long could you go without talking?Longer than you'd think. If I didn't see anyone a while. If I saw Ryan I'd really struggle but probably just lay my head on his chest for a while and smile to myself 53. What has been your worst haircut/style?When I had a bob with a box fringe omg WHY. Never again it was such a bad look sjdjdj54. Have you ever baked your own cake?Of course did you even have a childhood if you didn't bake 55. Can you do accents other than your own? Lmao no 56. What do you like on your toast?Usually butter. Sometimes jam, or nutella. If I'm at my Nans honey, and once or twice marmalade 57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of?I doodled a flower whilst on the phone to the bank 58. What would be your dream car? One of the new minis. When I graduate and get a teaching job I'm 100% buying a mini 59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain I always listen to music when I shower it makes me smile. Sometimes I sing but rarely. If I'm feeling really anxious and like everything's on top of me I'll just sit in there and feel the water running over me and remember that I'm alive 60. Do you believe in aliens?Not like we've shown them in films etc but I think that there has to be life out there somewhere. To have infinite universes and galaxies and everything and only have our planet have life on would be really sad 61. Do you often read your horoscope?All the time but I don't take it very seriously 62. What is your favourite letter of the alphabet?S. It just kinda flows and is doing its thing 63. What is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons?Dragons omg the purest coolest beings 64. What do you think about babies?They're so lucky to have their whole lives ahead of them. A blank slate. Also the cutest things I could honestly cry at babies and legit always cry at emotional giving birth scenes on TV. I want to be a mum so so much

[imrunningformayor-blog]

On Welcome to Mooseport and Transcendent Mediocrity

For the majority of the 1990’s and well into the 2000’s, Evangelical Christianity burned a considerable amount of steam in its vendetta against “secular culture” (i.e., anything not created expressly for the praise or service of Jesus)1. Sunday school was loaded with war metaphor. There was a reactionary dread that hung in the air of my childhood church, an urgency to draw lines in the sand, to define an Us, to distance a Them. A lot of what fell on the Them side was fairly obvious, sometimes even a little hack: global warming is a myth, evolution a lie, homosexuality a scheme to allow liberals to call us homophobic. But a bizarre majority of the weight of the Church’s movement fell on pop culture; specifically, the movies and music to be consumed by the Church’s children. I won’t complain too much about this, but Evangelicals wrote many of the rhythms of my adult anxiety, so bear with me.

The media we consumed was subject to extreme vetting. A movie could be violent but not bloody, crude but not vulgar. Songs and films that used words like “damn” and “ass” earned a raised eyebrow, “shit” and “fuck” an immediate expulsion. No content was to acknowledge the existence of sex. Of course, any opportunity to defy these standards was irresistible. My friends and I traded burned copies of indie albums like dirty magazines; I kept Wes Anderson movies under my mattress like a bag of pot2. But this was media to be consumed on the sly, a tough feat for houses late to make the switch from VHS to DVD. This conflict of interests lead to a lot of bargaining between us and our parents—what to watch on a Friday night that could stimulate a 14-year-old brain and satisfy a Reagan-era checklist of Good Christian Content? I’m sure there’s some incident or algorithm to justify the existence of the PG-13 rating, but I’m blaming Born Agains for its persistence.

I can’t remember the first time I watched Welcome to Mooseport, a 2004 romcom starring Ray Romano (his first onscreen role in a feature film) and Gene Hackman (remarkably, his last). I assume it was viewed with my friends and our families, a product of long hours spent contrasting the merits of appropriate viewing content and something actually worth watching. I can remember the dozens of times I’ve seen it since; watching it repeatedly with friends in high school, ready to rip each other to shreds should one of us have laughed sincerely, watching it after moving from New York to Michigan and wishing I hadn’t, watching it stoned in college, trying to relate the brilliance of an over-the-plate extension of Everybody Loves Raymond to a room full of people who would have chosen to do literally anything else. But my first viewing escapes me. I assume this is because afterwards, I sat dumbstruck with among my friends: for 110 minutes, we had sat at the equator of repulsion and ecstasy, remaining so unchanged that somehow, we transcended some unknown threshold: we had just seen the most mediocre movie of all time3.

To watch Welcome to Mooseport is to watch the taste of water. It has an almost Buddhist approach to mediocrity, a joy invisible to the West in its utter denial of pleasure or offense. The film is an invitation to feel nothing—it’s the mythic ANTIDEPRESSANT lamented by Elizabeth Wurtzel and Bret Easton Ellis, though it’s certainly not an analgesic. The film rockets toward That Part Was Actually Kind Of Funny before plummeting to I’m Fucking Turning This Off Right Now, never actually crossing either boundary. It almost feels like watching the romcom equivalent of a Talking Heads song, sans any trace of David Byrne’s irony or social critique: Mooseport is an unremarkable utopia in which characters can act without engendering change; they exist free from the prospects of desire and defeat. The sun is a fluorescent tube, and this is good. Ray Romano plays a handyman4. His name is Handy. It’s the only pure thing I’ve ever seen.

Mooseport was generally panned by critics—it holds a 13% on Rotten Tomatoes, a 33 on Metacritic—but that doesn’t seem fair. To assume that something like Welcome to Mooseport has the capacity to appease or disappoint is to misinterpret the function of the film from the start. Its poster features Romano and Hackman squaring off in full Get A Load Of This Guy glory, a vulgar denial of the possibility of catharsis. Their eyes are rolled not at each other, but at the audience. Before you can take the DVD out of the package (and you are absolutely watching Mooseport on DVD), you’ve already been challenged to lower your expectations: What the fuck do you want, the cover asks, you’re about to watch Welcome to Mooseport. Turn off, tune out, drop off. But even that feels far more scathing than I could ever intend to be with this movie. In the only review of Mooseport that I consider to carry merit, Roger Ebert breathlessly compares Mooseport to both a David Mamet play and Win a Date with Tad Hamilton, and he hit the nail on the fucking head. Mooseport is the equatorial locus of modern art, a virgin Middle, purgatory distilled into romantic comedy.

I’m not sure what attracted us to such brilliant mediocrity as teenagers. Maybe we saw a reflection in Mooseport of the banality of those punishingly endless, early-Internet summers, of the second hour itch of what should have been a twenty minute church sermon, of the privilege of boyhood dulled by the suburban promises of the future. Maybe we just found something fun to joke about as we tried to balance spiritually scorching youth group sessions and gay kids at school who really didn’t seem too bad when you thought about it. I can’t say for sure. But I do know that our love for this film is absent of irony. Even still, my best friend Austin—a hilarious guy who makes videos you should watch right now—will text me monthly on a newly unearthed merit of a Ray Romano comedy. The Deeeebrrraaahh Ray, not the Deuces Ray. Welcome to Mooseport persists because it allowed us to find joy in a place we were not allowed to find joy. It tastes sweeter that way.

This seems to have changed over the past few years, and I’m not entirely sure why. Perhaps it was figures like Sufjan stevens and David Bazan putting out folk songs pastor’s daughters could play for the family; I’m sure the Internet played a fair hand, maybe even 9/11. Evangelicals have certainly dropped the act with the election of Trump, favoring the most piggish, vulgar brand of capitalism we’ve seen yet to the shoddy morality of avoiding songs with potty language. But for the bulk of my childhood, the church was prophylactic in my interaction with pop culture. ↩︎

If this seems at all precious, know that I was way into Incubus and Fight Club, too. ↩︎

I bet You, Me, And Dupree comes pretty close to Mooseport. Never really stuck for me though. ↩︎

MooseHeads will be quick to point out that Romano plays a plumber, not a handyman. They are correct and I apologize. ↩︎