#also probably because almost everyone in my family has been rig workers
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gaygalaxys · 5 months ago
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cannot believe the guardian article saying that it’s hard to care about the protagonist of still wakes the deep. Maybe it’s because I’m Scottish but I got so attached to every single minor character in that game from the get go. Found myself wishing it was like until dawn where you could keep everyone alive if you tried really hard
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lokilickedme · 3 years ago
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The Queen of Springtown
I’m going to tell you a story.  It’s a true story.  There’s a bit of conjecture here and there to fill in empty spots, but not a lot.  It’s a story about my grandmother - my paternal grandmother, not my maternal grandmother - I feel the need to specify who exactly it is because mom’s mom has a bit of a story too, but that’s for later.
This one’s about the one I’m going to call Elizabeth.  Elizabeth was her middle name, it was a family name, it belonged to her mother and her grandmother I believe, though I didn’t know any of those people so I couldn’t swear by it.  The family records are long gone if they ever existed.
Elizabeth’s last name was one of those romantically ridiculous names that still clung to old families at the turn of the century.  It had a lot of extraneous letters at the end, a handful of unnecessary and partially silent sounds that looked beautiful in the flowery handwritten script of the time, a noble sounding -eaoux that did little more than tag a fancy sounding o onto the back end.  A lot of fuss for such a little piece of sound.  And when Elizabeth’s grandfather moved his family from France to Ireland and signed the manifests upon arrival in the new old land, he dropped the -eaoux and shortened the family’s name to four tiny letters and a single syllable.  They were Irish now.
Elizabeth’s father carried the new name and the new heritage, and when he was of age he went and married an Irish beauty named - yep, Elizabeth.  They say she was redheaded and blue eyed and fair skinned, though no pictures exist to prove it.  All that exists is my grandmother, who supposedly looked just like her mama.  She didn’t remember Ireland...she was too young when her daddy moved his family to a new land just like his own daddy had done, and she never really told anyone she was Irish.  No one actually knew, once her parents were gone.
But you could tell.  She looked it - flame red hair, china blue eyes, fair skin.  She had the bones of whatever French nobility had been in her lineage from way back, but her colors were the Emerald Isle all the way.  A beauty like you’d see in the movies, petite and ladylike and perfectly put together.
But my god that woman had a wild streak that dated right back to the Celts whose blood made up half of what she was.
(continued under the cut because long story)
So Elizabeth grew up in America, the daughter of an Irish mother and a French father.  She had brothers and sisters, quite a few, though I never knew any of them.  I believe I met two of them when I was too young to remember much about the encounter, but I’ve always found it hilarious that one of her sisters was named Bill.  Bill, like the man’s name.  I never found out why and I’m not entirely sure there was ever actually a reason.  It was just one of those things.
The newly American family settled in Texas.  And when Elizabeth was very young - probably not yet in her 20′s, though nobody knows for sure just how old she actually was because it’s likely she tended to fib a bit about her age to get into places she had no business being - she got herself involved with the Texas mafia.
Now let me tell you a thing or two about the Texas mafia.  It wasn’t an official operation - not like the Italian Mafioso or the Eastern Syndicates or whatever the hell was going on between Florida and Cuba at the time.  But it was every bit as dangerous and vicious and bloody and corrupt as any of those bigger organizations, and it was led for the most part by a man I’m going to call Big Joe.
This was the early 1940′s or thereabouts.  Elizabeth was a party girl - up for anything, always out and about, girl-gang at the swing club, the works.  And Big Joe saw her in the club one night, it may very well have been his club she was dancing at, and the proverbial first-sight thing kicked him hard in the gonads.  This girl was a looker, and she was dancing with everyone in the place, whooping it up, living life like tomorrow it was all going to take a header into the sea.  He had to have her.
And he did.
Big Joe was likely in his late 30′s, maybe early 40′s.  There’s not a lot of information on him other than a handful of facts mentioned once and only once by my grandmother to my aunt - that Big Joe was a handsome man, big and tough and a snazzy dresser, and he always had enough money in his pocket to take Elizabeth anywhere she wanted to go and buy her anything she wanted to buy.  And Elizabeth, party girl extraordinaire, was all up for that.
So Elizabeth and Big Joe become a thing.  Everybody knows she’s his squeeze - and suddenly not a male soul in Dallas or the surrounding metropolitan areas will dare to lay an eye on her, not even a quick glance, because she’s Big Joe’s girl.  And that means something.  Elizabeth doesn’t know quite what it means because she’s likely not even 20 yet, but Big Joe is fun and romantic and he takes her on trips and buys her nice clothes.  He buys her a ring, a blood red garnet, a ring that I inherit many decades later.  He’s going to marry her, he says.  She doesn’t care much one way or the other, she’s having too much fun dancing every night in his club, traveling with him, going shopping, rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous of the Southwest.  She’s all but a star, protected and adored.  Big Joe’s men follow her everywhere she goes when she’s not with him.  And Big Joe starts going out of town without her a lot, taking care of business that he never tells her the details of.
She’s cool with that.  He’s a businessman, that’s what he’s always told her.  Things to take care of out of town.  The Boss.  He has a lot of operations to oversee, operations that make all that money he spends on her.
She has no idea what he actually does.
All she knows - or cares to know - is that when he comes back to town he ushers her around town in his big fancy black car, buying her furs and expensive dinners, showing her off to society.  When he isn’t slapping her around...but hey, that’s part of the deal isn’t it?  It’s the 1940′s, and Big Joe is very much a man of the era.  Women grew up knowing they’d have to take the back of a man’s hand from time to time, and Elizabeth knew which side her bread was buttered on.  She kept Big Joe happy, put a smile on his face, did the old grin-and-bear-it on the rest of it.
And then one night Big Joe comes banging on her door.  He’s frantic.  He pushes a set of keys into her hand - keys to the fancy black car that takes her everywhere - and tells her to keep it there, at her house.  Don’t drive it anywhere, just keep it there.  He’ll contact her soon and tell her what to do.
He leaves in another car with one of his men, and that’s the last time Elizabeth ever sees him.
A few weeks later she gets a letter from Big Joe telling her to drive the car into Grapevine Lake, on the far side by the shoals.  Don’t open the trunk, he says.  Put a brick on the gas pedal and put it in drive.  Do it at night and make sure nobody sees you.
That night Elizabeth picks up her best friend and they drive the car to Grapevine to do as Big Joe said, sinking it in the murky green water on the far side of the lake.  The two girls - just girls, barely even women yet - stand on the shore watching it disappear into the deep dark.
A week later Big Joe is shot to death.  A deal gone bad maybe, or a competitor moving into the territory.  Nobody really knows - grandmother never said.  Don’t think I haven’t done my research...I know what I know, and according to a nearly nonexistent little trove of newspaper articles microfiched in a tiny little library in Azle Texas that isn’t even there anymore, odds are very likely that Big Joe went down in a shootout with the Dallas Police Department.
Elizabeth never opened the trunk of that car.  At least she said she didn’t...it’s one of the many things that nobody ever knew or will ever know, because once she shut the door on that part of her life and moved on, it might as well have never happened.  Getting this much out of her was outrageously difficult.  Thanks to my very tenacious and very persevering aunt, what I’ve just told you managed to survive.  It’s very likely my aunt was the only person she ever told, and it’s very likely I in turn am the only person my aunt ever told.  And now my aunt is in her 70′s and in poor health, and this little unknown family story has started poking around at the back of my skull.  I don’t want it to be lost.  I don’t like the idea of soon being the only person alive who knows it.  It’s not a spectacular story, but it’s testament to the fact that extraordinary things happen to ordinary people, probably more often than you’d think - and that those ordinary people sometimes take it all to the grave with them.
Elizabeth - my dad’s mom, my grandmother, the one I look like and act like and laugh like, the one whose cheekbones and eyes and hair and size I was born with, passed away twenty-something years ago.  She lived through some extraordinary things.  After the demise of Big Joe she married an oil roughneck, one of the semi-transient oilfield workers that were prevalent in the Texas Panhandle at the time, and had two children with him - one of whom was my father.  The roughneck was the epitome of the James Dean romantic brooding bad boy type, handsome and manly, but unfortunately also a scoundrel who had a second family in another city that he went to every other month when he traveled to another rig for work.  She left him when she found out.  It was almost unheard of at the time, a young mother taking her two little kids and leaving her husband to be on her own, but she did it.  And when my father was 12 she met and married a very tall, very handsome, very Cary Grant-esque railroad worker who loved life every bit as much as she did.
They were together for the rest of her life.  I’ve never to this day seen two people more in love than Elizabeth and Jesse.  I spent many summers in Texas with them and not a night went by that I couldn’t hear them giggling in the next room after lights-out, talking and laughing quietly until granddad’s wallshaking snores echoed through the house.  It just about killed him when her heart gave out.  But she was old, and she’d lived a life worth living.  There was nothing in her face in those final moments that could ever convince anyone she wasn’t ready and willing to go when the time came.
I’d been married for a couple of years when she died, and my husband and I traveled to Texas for the funeral.  The first night there, as my aunt brought out grandmother’s jewelry box and told me to take whatever I wanted, the story was passed from her to me.  And when it was all told I opened a little drawer in the bottom of the jewelry box and pulled out an old garnet ring that I’d seen before, when I was a small child snooping in grandma’s stuff.  I’d always been fascinated with it...it just looked like it had a story to tell.  That’s it, my aunt said.  That’s the ring he gave her.  That’s all she ended up with.
It was the only thing I took.
The church was so full the next morning you’d have thought it was the final sendoff for some local celebrity.  Everybody loved my grandmother, everybody, but this was sort of astounding.  Some of them I knew from my childhood, from many many summers spent in the Panhandle, but people came from all over to say goodbye and nobody in the family knew who a lot of them were.  They just showed up, some of them cried, some just stood in the back of the church all stoic in black suits.  Some were very old.  And when it was over and I turned around to watch a group of distinctly important-looking old gentlemen quickly and quietly leave the building, I looked over at my aunt and pointed at them.  She arched her eyebrows in that way she always did, that way, the way that said What did I tell you?? - and I wondered if maybe all those years ago some of Big Joe’s men hadn’t pulled that car out of Lake Grapevine and found the trunk empty.
I mean...this is Elizabeth we’re talking about.
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eleventhdoctorsangel · 5 years ago
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Can you hear me screaming please don’t leave me
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Summary: Bobby Nash and his niece were always really close. But on one fateful day he and his team were called to her house after her suicide attempt. After saving her his niece decided to go in the same line as work. 
The summer went by fast. Within that time I have passed all of my tests to become an EMT. Only Uncle Bobby and Athena were there the day I passed my test and got my assignment to the 118 of course. Uncle Bobby made sure that I was put with the 118. Still no one beside him and Athena knows. I have also been spending time with Buck, Hen and Chimney. Just like Buck promise he and I went to a concert. We went to see Falling In Reverse (RIP Derek Jones I’m going to miss you.). When the mosh pits started Buck protected me as if life deepened on it. I just laugh my head off and Buck thought I lost my mind. I was used to mosh pits and I guess Buck wasn’t but he face was still priceless. Within all the time that I’ve spent with Buck so far he told me about his family, his sister Maddie, and his girlfriend or ex-girlfriend he wasn’t so sure about that situation. Anyways I’m currently on my way to the station to surprise everyone and tell them the news. I wasn’t the only new member that joining the 118. There’s a new guy named Eddie Diaz. I really only knew his name since that was all that Uncle Bobby told me.
When I got to the station the rest of the team was out on a call so there weren’t many people there. So I went upstairs and sat on one of the couch as I waited for everyone to get back. I texted Uncle Bobby to let me know when they come back so that I could hide if I needed to. I was playing on my phone when I could hear footsteps approaching me. “So you must be the Captain Niece.” A voice say. I look up from phone to see a very hot guy sitting on the table that was in front of the couch. I put my phone in my lap. “I’m guessing you are Eddie Diaz.” I said. “I am.” Eddie said. “Well I’m Y/n it’s nice to meet you.” I said holding out my hand. “Well it’s nice to meet you Y/n.” Eddie said as he shook my hand. “Eddie huh it that short for Eduardo or Edmundo?” I asked. Eddie looked kinda shocked. “How did you know?” Eddie asked. “I’m observant. So which is it?” I asked. “Edmundo.” Eddie said. “You look like an Edmundo.” I said smiling a little. “Why thank you. So Y/n what made you decided to do this? Because no offense you are really small.” Eddie said. “None taken but I can handle my own. As for why I chose to do this is a circumstance I went through I guess you can say.” I said. “Well I would like to hear all about it if you don’t mind telling me.” Eddie said. I shook my head. “No I don’t mind. It was a few months ago. I wasn’t exactly in the best mind space again. I’ve dealt with depression almost my whole life as with self harm. I tried to kill myself for the third time. I tried when I was thirteen and again when I was sixteen. I know that I can’t change what I’ve been through but I want to help people so they don’t have to feel or go through what I did.” I said as showed the scars that were on my wrist. Eddie took ahold of both of my wrist as he ran his thumbs over them then looked up at me. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that.” Eddie said. “Thank you Eddie that means a lot.” I said. “I guess that makes since now. The captain told me about a lot of people here are protective of you.” Eddie said. “Yeah that would make since. So I told you about myself some now why don’t you tell me about yourself.” I said taking my hands out of Eddies grip putting them in my lap.
Eddie told me about his life that he was in the army and that he has an extremely adorable boy name Christopher and that poor Christopher has cerebral palsy. Eddie even told me about the situation that was going on his wife and how didn’t know what he was going to do about it and how he was going to explain it to Christopher when he does. I told him that whatever he decides that Christopher would understand in time and that he might be the one who might take longer to get over it than Christopher. I made sure that Eddie knew that if he or Christopher needed someone to talk to that I will be all ears. Eddie seemed relieved when I said that. Uncle Bobby finally texted me saying that they were on their way. I smiled as I started jumping slightly in my seat. “Well someone seems excited.” Eddie said. “Well I asked my uncle to text me when they were on their way back because I want to surprise everyone.” I said. “So no one besides the captain knows?” Eddie asked. I shook my head. “Well I hope you have fun surprising them.” Eddie said as he got up. “Are you not going to say to see their reaction?” I asked. “I hope I’m still here. I have to get back home to Christopher.” Eddie said. “I understand that. I hope to meet that little cutie soon.” I said. “Christopher would really like that. So I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” Eddie said. “Yeah see you later.” I said giving him a little wave. 
I stay sat on the couch until uncle Bobby told me that it was safe to come down. When he finally I got up from my spot and made my way down the stairs. “Okay that is a beautiful man.” I heard chimney say. If I had to guess it was probably Eddie that were talking about. “Where’s the lie and I like girls.” Hen said.  “Who in the hell is that?” Buck said. “It’s Eddie Diaz a new recruit. Graduated top of his class just this week. Guy was working a station six for time and a half but I convinced him to join to join us.” Uncle bobby said. “What do we need him for?” Buck asked. Which made everyone laugh. “He severed multiple tours in Afghanistan and he’s an army medic he’s got a sliver star. It’s not like he’s wet behind the ears. Beside he’s not the only new face that going to be around here.” Uncle Bobby said. Taking that as my que I finished walking down the stairs and over to everyone. “Yeah now you guys are going to have to deal with me a lot more.” I said. “Wait are you serious?” Buck asked. “Yup I passed my test last week.” I said. Buck smiled as he hugged me. “Welcome to the team sweetie.” Hen said. “Thank momma Hen.” I said. “Come on I’ll introduce you to him. He likes to be called 8 pack.” Uncle Bobby said as Hen and Chimney went with him to go say hi to Eddie just leaving Buck and I. “Raw Sliver star.” Hen said. “Better drop some more pounds there butch.” Chimney said. Buck looked back towards the locker room and kinda glared at Eddie. “You know I can see the steam coming for your ears. What to share with the class.” I said. “We don’t need that guy around here.” Buck said. “I’m pretty sure they said the same thing when you came around. Just take some time and get to know him Buck. He’s a nice guy.” I said. “How can you be so sure about that?” Buck asked. “Because before everyone got here we talked. Just talk to him Buck who knows you two could become best friends.” I said. “Yeah but you’re my best friend. A best friends that should have told me about this.” Buck said. “I wanted it to be a surprise. Come on admit it you were surprised Bucky bear.” I said.  “Ok fine I was surprised. But you should have told me I would have been there when you took the final test.” Buck said. “I know but Uncle Bobby was there. I wasn’t alone. I have to go change but I’ll be right back.” I said as I left to go to the ladies locker room so I can quickly get change so I can get ready to start my first shift.
 Luckily I was able to get change before we had to go out in a call. “So what kind of experience is my first call going to be?” I asked. “A guy fell on to an air compression butt first.” Uncle Bobby said. “The million to one shot.” I said. I could hear people trying not to laugh even uncle Bobby was trying not to laugh. “Come on get in the rig.” Uncle Bobby said. I nodded and made my way inside the fire truck. Buck was sitting on one side of me and Chimney was sitting on the other side of me. I out the head set on and we made our way to the call. “So sliver star huh?” Chimney asked. “Yeah.” Eddie said. “Did you save a platoon of something?” Chimney asked. “No no. Nothing like that uh just a convoy.” Eddie said. “Eddie you heard about the hot firefighter calendar?” Hen asked. I look at Buck to see him glaring at Hen. I playfully nudge him. “I’m sorry the what” Eddie asked laughing at little. “For charity.” Hen said. “So is your full name Eduardo?” Buck asked. “No.” Eddie said. “People every call you Diaz?” Buck asked. “Not if they want me to repose.” Eddie said. “Something gotta give we got Cap, Hen, Chimney, Buck. We just can’t call you Eddie.” Buck said. “Can’t tell if he’s being serious or not.” Eddie said. “I like to always operate under the assumption that nothing he says is serious.” Chimney said. “Oh come on Bucky bear you know we love you.” I said nudging him. 
When we arrived at Hector’s Rim and Tire shop Uncle Bobby was the first to go talk with the worker while the rest of us got the Medical stuff that we were going to need. We were lead over to a like who had blew up like a balloon. “Okay Hector can you hear me? Alright hang in there buddy. Alright let’s get him on his side maintain pressure on the wound.” Uncle Bobby said as He, Eddie, Chimney, Buck and I helped with lifting Hector off of the air pressure. “It’s a hundred pounds per square inch pumped through his entire body.” Buck said. Hen started to check his heart rate with a stethoscope. “Breathing shallow. He’s heart is racing. Airs filled his stomach, his chest, even behind his eye lids. I’m more concerned about the space around his heart and lungs.” Hen said. “Ok Eddie start a nasal cannula. Chimney get him some morphine.” Uncle Bobby said. “On it.” Chimney said as he went over to Hector’s side grabbing his hand and tried to stick him. “It’s like trying to inject a needle into stone.” Chimney said. “The pressure is pushing everything out. I can’t even get any air through the nostril.” Eddie said trying to get the nasal cannula on. “Jugular venous distention, tachycardia, hypotension, diminished breath We’re looking at tension pneumothorax.” Hen said. “The air pressure is collapsing his organs. We need to get in there and drain the fluid. Buck I need you to get a 14-gauge angiocath. We need to start decompressing the pleural cavity. Y/n I need you to cut away his shirt.” Uncle Bobby said. I nodded as Chimney handed me a pair of scissors the I cut away at Hector’s shirt so it would be easier for Buck. I stood back up so Buck could have room to work. “Alright. Alright.” Buck said. “You want me to help?” Eddie asked him. “I got it.” Buck said. “Hang in there Hector.” Uncle bobby said. “I’d go lower.” Eddie said. “What? Um no. Second intercostal space. Midclavicular line.” Buck said. “The chest wall is thinner at the fifth intercostal at the anterior axillary line. It’s a decrease chance of injuring any vital organs. I’ve treated guys with collapses lungs in combat.” Eddie said. “Do it.” Uncle bobby said. “Please?” Eddie asked as he held his hand to Buck. Buck handed the syringe to Eddie. “Thank you.” Eddie said as he stuck the syringe parallel to Hector’s under arm then undid part of it as the air started to leave Hector’s body. Hector let out a breath as he opened his eyes. “That’s it Hector breathe. Nice and slow.” Uncle Bobby said. Then we got Hector on a gurney and I help Buck pick stuff up and take it back to the rig. 
A/n: I know that I have another way of watching season two. But I usually watch the stuff I need with subtitles and I can’t with the way I've been watching it. So I might have to be this story on hold until either it get back on Hulu or it comes out to DVD
Overall Taglist: @the-broken-halo-writer​
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somerandomg33k · 4 years ago
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I still don’t know who to vote for?
This election is going to be a weird and frustrating one. It is the first presidential general election where I am an Anarcho-Syndicalist. And this election in the darkest timeline has a Fascist as the incumbent. But the candidate that is opposing Donald Trump is Joe Biden. Almost everyone's last pick in the primary. The only worst candidate during this primary was Michael Bloomberg, who was trying to buy his way into the election. Possible to take votes away from Elizabeth Warren and Bernie Sanders, but that is damning with faint praise that Joe Biden is better than Michael Bloomberg.
The most likely results of this election are either the continued reign of a dictatorial Fascist, causes and continuing chaos and mayhem, or just straight up Neo-Liberalism. We are going back to a normal under Obama, which was terrible as well. Just not as awful as under Fascism. And we won't fix the problems that allowed Trump to rise to power. Since those are core systematic problems that the current Democratic Establishment is not interested in correcting. And the Republican party is just worse as they are OK with Fascism. Some of them want Fascism.
And let's not forget, serval people have very good personal reasons not to vote for Joe Biden. Joe Biden helped co-wrote the 1994 crime bill. In some issues, he was to the right of Regan on drug enforcement of the Drug war. He was always the most conservative Democrat in the Senate during his time there. He voted against busing 19 times. That is why many Leftists say that Joe Biden is Republican-lite. He is just the 'correct' color for Liberals and is the candidate the Democratic party chooses. So yea, there are two Republican tickets this election. The difference is one is not Fascist. Liberals know this. They are just in denial or flat out refuse to believe it. Because boy, don't say that Joe Biden and his running mate are anything but Progressive to them. Because they really hate that. "I think it is unfair to Joe Biden to judge him by International standards. I would prefer that he is judge by American Political standards," one Liberal said. Why can't Liberals admit that America's Political standards are shit?
Liberals have to believe that Joe Biden and Kamala Harris are progressives because they can only think of voting for progressives and progressive causes. They can't accept they are voting for a Conservative on the Democrat ticket, because they would have to admit that the Democratic party has moved towards the right as has American's Overton Window. Joe Biden is against Medicare 4 All. On that issue, he is to the right of Boris Johnson and other conservatives of the UK and Canada. Liberals have to believe they are voting for progressives on the Democrat ticket. Because if they didn't, they would lose faith in the whole Ameican Electoral system as well as Reform. It is almost like Capitalist Realism. People can imagine the end of the World before they can imagine the End of Capitalism. Liberals probably have an easier time visualizing the end of the World before they could imagine a different system than the current governance of Liberal Capitalist Democracy.
Let's not forget, something we already know, that Joe Biden is a bit creepy. He is a Patriarch and treats women differently than men. Whenever he meets families at the White House who have sons and daughters, he would say to the sons, "You have a critical job. You got to protect your sister from all of the boys. That is something my Dad told me." The women must be protected, and it is the men who must do the protecting. Joe Biden has a habit of creepily smelling women and girls' hair and touching their bodies on the waist and shoulders. Serval women have said that Joe made them feel uncomfortable. And this was all before Tara Reade allocations.  #IBelieveTaraReade.
As for Kamala Harris, she did put trans women in men's prison, which resulted in one of them getting killed. "Kamala Harris couldn't do a thing." Is something Liberals need to stop saying. What they really mean is, "Kamala Harris choose to uphold an unjust system by blindly following rules instead of using her power and influence to change them." She attempted to block two Trans women's requests to get gender confirmation surgeries. Which, as far as I know, she hasn't really made amendments for. She wasn't good about slowing down The New Jim Crow. She was fierce to Sex Workers too. One of my comrades said, "As a trans woman and a Sex Worker, how should I feel about voting for Kamala Harris." She increased convictions for things like merely drug procession. She also wanted to jail parents for truancy. She has been called the Democrats Top Cop. Someone who is "Tough on Crime." Just like how Bill Clinton and Joe Biden were in the 90s. And that still has devastating effects on Black and Brown communities.
So many people have many good reasons not to want to vote for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. And Liberals want to think that they simply "have their flaws." Again, I think it is just all to make it easier for them to be excited to vote for them. All of those issues, including their voting record on increasing Military spending too, are "merely flaws." And they will also shame people into voting for Biden/Harris with, "It is the lesser of two evils." Which again, is more of an indictment of the system we have. "But we have an election, and we should all vote." So we can't talk about changing the system right now during an election. So when can we talk about change this entire system? And Just like with 2016, "A vote for a third party or a no vote is a vote for Trump."
Further shaming us into voting for Biden/Harris. "Do you want four more years of Trump?" FUCK YOU AND SHOVE THAT DISINGENUOUS QUESTION UP YOUR ASS!!
Merely bringing up all of these complaints are being associated with supporting Trump. Another by-product of the binary way of thinking with the Two-Party system and First Past the Post voting. Liberals have 'accepted' Biden/Harris is the ticket. And they honestly wish we do too. And since we are vocal with our complaints, they hate us for not 'accepting' Biden/Harris is the ticket. They hate us for not 'accepting' the way the system is as it is. "I have accepted all of this. Why haven't you?" This can explain how so many Liberals would go "URG" at the thought of Joe Biden as President back in January during the Primaries to skipping to the polls to vote for Biden for the General Election. "Well, he won the primary." "I get to vote Trump out of Office" is more what it is about and not how great Biden is. They tell themselves how great Biden and Harris will be as a recon.
And with all of the shaming us into voting for Biden/Harris, instead of voting for the Green Party or not voting, it completely ignores the fact we did vote for Hillary in 2016. She 2.8 million more votes. But it is the Electoral College that gave Donald Trump in the win. Plus, in Washington State, my state, four of the Electors didn't vote for Hillary Clinton when they were 'supposed to.' Washington State is likely to go blue again. So I don't know if it is essential for Me to vote for Biden/Harris. The fivethirtyeight poll from Sept. 22 shows Washington voting for Biden at 58% vs Trump at 36%. A 22 point difference. I think I can safely vote for Howard Hawkins and feel like I didn't help Trump win. But that won't be what Liberals think.
Now with all that said, Donald Trump is still a Fascist wannabe Dictator. He is almost the worst. His administration is just letting massive amounts of people died because of Covid-19. He is encouraging people to shoot BLM protestors. He told the Proud Boys to "stand back and stand by," at the first Presidential Debate.  He said there wouldn't be a peaceful transferal of power because there won't be a transferal, but a continuation. Donald Trump has sewn doubts about voting by mail. He will doubt any kind of election results where he doesn't win. So Liberals argue we most vote in such high numbers to show that it is the will of the people they want him out of office. To which he can easily say "Fake News." He did doubt the 2016 popular vote results claiming 3 million "illegals" cast fraudulent votes.
Another convincing argument is we most show that Trump's ideas can't win elections. Because if it continues to win elections, more people will adopt Trump's views and policies. It is sort of convincing. But since a Qanon supporter will win a seat in the House of Representatives, becoming a rising star in the GOP Party. The GOP Party has backed Trump throughout his time in office, Trump's views and policies will continue whether he wins or not. Even if Trump loses, we are not out of the woods yet. Not by a long shot. Trump base will still be here in this White Supremacist CisHetro Patriarchal Ableist country of the United Corporations of Imperialism. Who will always vote for the GOP and are not going away. Many Democrats will even speak highly of them. Nancy Pelosi prays for the Republicans. Liberals believe having an opposition is part of a functioning Democracy. Will the GOP no longer be Fascist? I doubt it.
"We have to get rid of Trump at all costs." I understand that urge. But the system gave us Trump and protected him. So how is voting and participating within the same system supposed to help? I know that Liberals think voting is very powerful because "So many people had to fight for their basic right to vote." And that is all true. The GOP only wins because of dirty tricks like gerrymandering and voter suppression. Hence, Trump is encouraging his base to watch the polling stations for "suspicious people wanting to commit voter fraud" and "rig" the election. It is straight voter intimidation and is happening already in Virginia. Part of the convincing reason to get Trump out of the White House. Biden will not encourage White Supremacist of all types to commit acts of violence against "The Radical Left terrorists" and "Antifa."  Antifa is not an organization; it is an idea. Even Biden got that right.
Knowing how terrible Trump is, brings me back to Biden and how bad he is. Not as bad. Trump and Biden aren't the same. Trump is a Fascist while Biden is a Neo-Liberal, and Neo-Liberalism isn't Fascism. Neo-Liberalism just leads to Fascism, as we have already seen with Trump. I simply see Neo-Liberalism worse than how Liberals see it. Not enough to make a false equivalent, but still. Remember, if Trump loses, he could pull a Grover Cleaveland and run again in 2024. Imagine that.
What bothers me the most about Liberals changing their opinion of Biden, by the mere fact he won the primary, is that Biden is granted votes from Democrats and Leftists. I am sure Democrats do love old Uncle Joe. There were a lot of memes from the Obama years. And many Liberals just love Obama. Even though they fully well know about his War Crimes. It is that acceptance that I don't have in me. "Well, he is the candidate. So I will support him to get rid of Trump." And what makes it worse, Biden isn't really offering anything as well. He is against the Green New Deal. He is against Medicare-4-all, even during a Pandemic. What is Biden/Harris offering? Even Biden, when asking these questions and about his record, says, "If you are questioning whether to vote for me or not, you ain't black."
So Leftists will get nothing and will receive all of the blame for of Trump winning if we don't vote for Biden. "If you are questioning whether to vote for Biden or not, you must want Trump for four more years."
Remember, I live in Washington State. A super blue State. If I live in any battleground state, even within a ten points difference, I would vote for Biden/Harris. But since Biden is ahead by 22 points in my state, and I don't see that changing anytime soon, I am considering voting for a third party. Howard Hawkins of the Green and Socialist party is closer to my position. I would prefer there is no State at all and no President at all. Especially no single person having that much power, especially being the 'leader of the "Free" world' by virtue of being the President of the United Corporations of Imperialism. If the President of the United Corporations of Imperialism is the 'leader' of the 'free world,' then how come the World doesn't get to vote in this election. The UCI, Imperialtopia bombs the hell out of the middle east so much, I think the middle east has a right to have a say in our elections.
I do have to acknowledge those platform holders, people with a Youtube channel, a Podcast, or have a large following on Social Media, feel the need to tell people to "to out and vote. Vote as if your life depends on it because for some, it actually does matter." Although for some people, much won't change materially for their lives, like the impoverished and the disabled. For some, it is life or death. For others, it is a shit show, regardless. But platform holders want Trump out of the White House. They don't know who lives in what state. They don't know if their audience's votes matter or not. Since they are speaking to a vast audience, and they must keep it simple, they have to say, "VOTE! VOTE! VOTE!"
But, I am thinking, if they acknowledge that some votes are more important in some states than others, they will have to admit the whole in the United Corporations of Imperialism is unjust. Votes are weight more heavily in some states than in others. The whole system has to change. But that can't happen in a year. However, folks can vote on Election Day. So, it is easy to encourage people to vote instead of organizing to abolish the Electoral College. It would take too long to do it. It would take a lot of effort. So even bother trying. Liberals would rather pretend that isn't the case and just badger and shame people into voting for a candidate they have 'accepted' won the primary, even though Biden was one of the worse candidates in that field. Everyone's tenth or so pick.
With all that said, vote for whoever you want to or whoever you feel comfortable voting for. I won't vote shame anyone. Except if you vote for Trump and the GOP. Then you are a Fascist because you are voting for a Fascist and the Fascist party. Pure and simple.
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allthingsfangirl101 · 5 years ago
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Chapter 4: The Support Group
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Masterlist
Abby's POV
It's been two weeks since Caleb and I Skyped, and I haven't had a proper night's sleep since he left. I was sitting at work, going through files and answering the phone, when I felt my cell phone buzz. I looked to see my boss was preoccupied before looking at the text.
Felicia: Hey, honey. Sydney has to make dinner to earn her Homemaking badge for girls scouts. Want to come over? (If it's bad, I promise I will order pizza.)
I laughed at her text before quickly typing a response.
Me: Sounds like fun. Can I bring anything?
Felicia: Just your cute self. ;) Felicia: Oh, and a dessert. See you tonight? Around 6:30?
Me: That I can do (to both). I will see you two gorgeous ladies tonight at 6:30.
The rest of work went by like normal. Before I knew it, I was at home changing out of my pencil skirt and into a nice pair of jeans.
I drove to their house, the apple pie I picked up from the grocery store in the passenger seat. I parked my car on the street and headed up their driveway.
I smiled as the door swung open. "Abby!" I laughed as Sydney wrapped her arms around me.
"Hey, Syd." I smiled as I hugged her back. "How's my favorite kid?"
"I'm good," she shrugged, pulling out of the hug.
"Just good?" I asked.
"I miss my dad," she said, softly as she looked down at her shoes.
"I know," I said softly, making her look up at me. "I miss Caleb. And I know that they miss us too." I kissed her forehead before walking with her into the kitchen.
"Hey honey," Felicia greeted as we walked into the kitchen.
"I brought a pie."
Felicia looked up at the grocery bag in my hand and smiled. "Store-bought. My favorite," she teased. She laughed before adding, "I actually love that brand. Whenever we have to take food to a party, I buy that brand and say I made it myself."
I laughed at the wink she sent me as we walked into the kitchen. Throughout dinner, as Syd talked about school and her friends, I noticed Felicia watching me. Closer than normal. Almost like she was studying me or seeing right through me.
After dinner, we watched a movie before Felicia made Sydney go to bed. "Night, Abby." She said, giving me a hug before jogging up the stairs.
"Night, Syd," I called up after her. I walked back into the kitchen to see Felicia pouring two glasses of wine. "She's a strong girl."
She looked up at me and smiled. "Yes, she is. I'm proud of her."
I hesitated before asking, "Do you ever hate that Mike leaves you guys every couple of months? It can't. . . It can't be easy on you or Sydney."
"I'd be lying if I said it was easy," she said as she handed me a glass. We walked into the other room, sitting on the couch as we continued to talk.
"It's never easy saying goodbye, but day-to-day you get used to it. You get used to not seeing him every day. You adjust to talking once every few weeks–if that. You get used to going to sleep and waking up alone."
"That's the hardest part for me. Going to sleep just to wake up in a cold, empty bed," I muttered under my breath as I lifted my glass to my lips.
She watched me as I took a sip. "How are you doing with all of this?" She asked gently.
I bit my lip, knowing that if I lied she would see right through me. "The first time is always the hardest," she added.
"I try to be strong, for him. But, it's hard. The other day when we Skyped, he told me that he didn't think it was worth it. He didn't think that what he was doing was worth being away from me."
"What did you say?"
"What was I supposed to say?" I asked, letting out a forced laugh. "I told him that it was. That it was the first week and it would get better. Easier." I sighed as I tucked my knees up under me.
"I miss him, Felicia. So much. All day, I'm terrified. Every time I come home and there is a message on the machine, I fear the worst. I fear that one day, I am going to answer the phone and it will be someone telling me there was an accident. I am constantly terrified that I will never see him again."
At this point, tears were streaming down my cheeks. Felicia reached over and grabbed my hand. "It's going to be okay, sweetheart," she said gently. "It'll take time, but it'll get easier."
She hesitated before adding, "What are you doing tomorrow night?"
"Nothing," I shrugged.
"There is a group, a support group, for loved ones of workers on the rig. They meet once a week at the church down the street. We get together and talk about our fears. It may seem silly, but it has helped me a lot. Being in a room of people who are also terrified, helps. Come with me. They are always welcoming newcomers."
I thought about it for a second before sighing. It couldn't hurt to go just once, right?
"Sure," I said quietly. "I'll. . I'll come."
She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze as she sent me a smile. "It'll be good, I promise."
                       * * * * *
I sat in the cold chair, subconsciously playing with the seam of my shirt as I avoided eye contact. Felicia was sitting next to me, talking to a woman she knew.
Part of me felt silly sitting in this group. As I looked around, I noticed it was mostly older women, a few men, all in their late thirties to early forties. I was the only one still in their twenties. And it showed.
"Hello, everybody." Said an overly cheery voice. I followed the voice to see a woman, around Felicia's age, in a brightly colored dress with over the top red lipstick.
I tried to pay attention as we went around the circle, but I noticed that the more stories and worries shared, the more my fears intensified. I should have been comforted with how everyone else in the circle felt the same way I did. But, I wasn't. The reassurance was replaced with justification.
"What about you, sweetheart?"
I looked up to see everyone looking at me. I glanced over at Felicia to see her sending me an encouraging smile. I cleared my throat and nervously played with my fingers, subconsciously spinning my engagement ring.
"My name is Abigail Peterson. I'm engaged to Caleb Holloway, but you guys probably know him better as Hollywood." I smiled as a few people around the circle laughed.
"He's the youngest on the rig," I continued. I paused, unsure of what to say. "And. . . I'm scared. I don't know what to expect. I don't know what they do. I don't know if it's dangerous. I don't know the risks."
I paused, trying to stop the tears. I took a deep breath as I continued, "He's my best friend. We've known each other since I moved to town. It was junior year, so everyone already had their tight groups of friends. I spent months eating lunch alone, walking to my classes by myself and not talking to anyone. Until one day, something changed."
I smiled as I remembered that day. "Caleb broke the nonofficial seating chart and sat next to me in our Chemistry class. Not just next to me, but in the seat that made him my partner. It started with him sitting next to me, saying "hi" every day and then went to him sitting with me at lunch, asking if I could help him study, and inviting me to parties. By the end of that year, we had become close friends. Senior year, some girls were bullying me. Well, they had been bullying me since my first day at that school, but senior year they got worse."
I bit back the tears as I looked back down at my hands. "When Caleb found out, he was furious. He started walking me to every class, immediately waiting for me as soon as the bell rang, and whatever else he could do so he was always there. When they tried to bully me again, he instantly stood up for me. He told them to stay away from me and, surprisingly, they did. That's when it all changed," I said, my voice breaking.
"That's when he changed. He started acting differently around me. He would sit closer to me, started putting his arm across the back of my chair, even holding my hand as we walked down the hallway. When prom came around, he asked me to go as his date. That night, he told me he loved me. We've been together ever since."
I looked up to see everyone smiling at me, some woman even had tears in their eyes. "He's always been by my side and now that he isn't. . ." My voice cracked. I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. "For as long as I have known him, he's talked about working on the oil rig. So, when he got the chance, he jumped at it. Because I love him, I supported him. How could I not? But, when we woke up the morning he was leaving, he was hesitant."
I looked back down at my hands, tears slowly starting to stream down my cheeks. "He debated whether to go or to stay home, with me. As he went back and forth, I knew that if I had asked him to stay, he would have. But. . . I couldn't, right? I couldn't ask him to give up his dream for me. That's not what love is. Love is supporting each other, through everything. Through anything. I hate the saying, "if you love someone, let them go". I didn't use to hate that saying until I fell in love with Caleb. "
"All I want is to live a life with Caleb. I want to marry him, have a family, and grow old with him. But, this rig risks that dream. I have tried to be strong and brave for him, but. . . it's hard. It's hard when every night, I dream of losing him. It's hard when every time my phone rings, I'm almost too scared to answer it. It's hard when I barely talk to him. It's hard having the man I love be so far away."
I took a deep breath, officially out of things to say. I looked up at the group and shrugged. "I'm scared of losing him. I can't help it." I gasped when I felt someone grab my hand. I looked over to see Felicia smiling at me as she gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.
"Abigail," the woman in charge said softly. "It's okay to be scared. We have all felt the worry, the constant fear, the anxiety as we sent off our loved one to a dangerous job. Especially the first time we sent them off. We just have to remember one thing; take it one day at a time."
As they wrapped up the meeting, I kept thinking about the one thing I was supposed to remember. It was definitely easier said than done.
After the meeting, people stayed to eat the refreshments and help clean up. I lost count of how many people came over and said one of the same six things.
"You're doing great."
"You are so strong."
"You will get through this."
"Just take it one day at a time."
"Hang in there, sweetie. It'll get easier."
"I'm proud of you for coming here and telling us your fears."
The woman in charge said all six to me within ten minutes.
"They can be a little intense." I looked over to see Felicia walking over to me.
"Yeah," I said letting out an awkward laugh. "A little."
She pulled me into a side hug. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "The first time is always like that, but you did great."
"Thanks," I sighed.
"Do you want to go get coffee?" She asked, looking at me knowingly.
"No thanks," I said softly. "I have work in the morning. I'm just going to go home."
"Okay," she said hesitantly. I started walking out of the building but stopped when she said my name. "If you need anything, let me know."
I nodded as I sent her a forced smile.
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penny4yourthot · 6 years ago
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Never Have I Ever
Request from @answer-the-sirens : Any chance for a Happy X Reader, where you're new to the shop and everyone assumes your sweet and timid but you go to a clubhouse party, and get involved with a drinking game, dirty version of "never have I ever" and nearly every round you and happy drink and everyone's like da fuq, maybe at the end he comes over to you all impressed and... I love your blog! Phenomenal writer!
This will be two parts. The second part will be all smut! hope you like it and thanks for the request!
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It had been a completely normal day for you. Get up at 7 am to get ready for work, get dressed, make your coffee, and head out the door. It wasn't until you went to start your car that things quickly went to hell. Your car wouldn't start. You were screwed. Your boss was such a jackass and told you that you couldn't miss any more work. You had gone through some health issues a month after you started this job and had to miss quite a few days for various doctor appointments. You had moved to Charming a few months ago and had no family around that could come to pick you up.
Grabbing your phone you called the nearest mechanic. Teller-Morrow was the first one on the list. Had your mind not been going a hundred miles an hour, you probably would have thought to call a different one. You were well aware that this is where the local motorcycle club called home.
Of course, you had heard of the Sons of Anarchy and had seen them riding around but you were sure to keep your distance. Hearing all the horror stories of what the club was involved in from your neighbors you tried to stay away, although you knew that your neighbors were very dramatic so you couldn't believe everything they said.
It only took ten minutes for the tow truck to arrive at your house. It wasn't until the bald man, covered in tattoos, stepped out of the truck that you realized you had called the mechanic shop where the Sons worked.
“Car won't start?” the man asked you were shocked when you heard how low and raspy his voice was. You had seen him around town before but never have spoken to him or any of the Sons before.
“Uh, um, yeah,” your voice came out hardly loud enough for the man to hear.
“I’ll get it on the rig, can I give you a ride somewhere?” He looked at you when he spoke and he immediately saw the fear in your eyes.
“No, that's okay. Thank you,” your voice barely above a whisper.
“Are you sure? You look like your headed somewhere important,” he said as he pointed at your clothes. You were currently wearing a pencil skirt and a long sleeve blouse. Your office job required you to dress up professionally, which you hated.
Shit, what other option did you have? You would get fired for sure if you didn't show up to work and there was no way you were walking five miles in these heels.
“Well, I'm just headed to work. I guess I could use the ride,” you quietly spoke as you watched him get your car hooked up to the tow truck. You could feel his eyes on you when you looked away towards your house.
“Okay it’s all set, ready?” he questioned as he hopped in the driver's seat. You walked up to the passenger side door and opened it before climbing in. You put your coffee in the cup holder while holding your purse in your lap.
“I can pick you up too, your car should be done by then. What time do you get off?”
“Um, I get off at 6.” So far this man seemed nice enough to offer you a ride home, so why not? Your co-workers were a bunch of assholes who wouldn't give you a ride so you were grateful for the offer. After telling the man, whose name you had learned to be Happy, where you worked, he headed down the street knowing exactly where to go. This town was small enough to know where everything is.
Quickly arriving at your job, you thanked Happy for the ride and then walked into work somehow only being ten minutes late.
The day went by so slowly. Your boss got on you for being late and constantly gave you the hardest clients to deal with all day. You couldn't be happier when the clock hit six and you got to leave. You saw Happy sitting in the tow truck in the parking lot of your job and you got in and sighed heavily as you sat down.
“Rough day?” He looked over at you as he started the car
“Just my boss being a jerk, nothing new.” You buckled your seatbelt in as Happy drove off.
“Fuck bosses, they suck. Want me to kill him for you?” Happy laughed. You couldn't tell if he was joking or not so you just laughed in response.
“We're having a party tonight if you wanna join, lots of booze so you can forget your shitty boss,” he said as he looked over at you. He saw the look that washed over your face, one of uncertainty, almost fear.
“Look, I'm not sure what you have heard about us but-”
“I know your part of the motorcycle gang.”
“Club, Motorcycle club,” he corrected, “and whatever you heard is a load of bullshit. People are just afraid of us because we ride motorcycles, wear leather and carry guns. They know the truth though, we keep this town safe.” His raspy voice held confidence in it.
“Alright fine, I'll come to the party but just cause I had a shit day,” you laughed and noted that you were felling a hell of a lot more daring than usual today. “And because its Friday and I'm off tomorrow,” you added with a smile.
It had been so long since you hung out with anyone. Too busy with your job to make any friends. You were desperate to get out of the house for a few hours. You didn't even care about the rumors you had heard about the Sons anymore.
Pulling into the Teller-Morrow lot, you looked around seeing all the motorcycles parked in a neat line. You suddenly felt a bit nervous. There were a few men in the garage looking like they were putting things away to close up.
Happy parked the truck and got out. You followed him into the larger building opposite from the garage and as soon as the door open you were hit with the scent of weed mixed with booze.
“I didn't expect the party to be started so early,” you told Happy as he held the door open for you.
“We take Fridays very seriously,” he laughed, “some of them have been drinking since they got out of bed”
“I can see that,” you chuckled as you looked around and saw various stages of drunk men.
Happy lead you to the bar and you both started to drink.
Two hours passed quicker than ever. You had four beers and four shots and were currently up dancing around to the music with a few of the other girls that were there. You had kicked your heels off earlier in the night, no way in hell were you going to be dancing with them on.
“Heyyy let's play never have I ever! We used to play that in college alllllll the time!” You yelled to the other girls who all agreed.
“Guysss, come on, let's play!” One of the crow eaters yelled at the group of men who were standing around playing pool. Most of the men were so drunk they would agree to anything. One of the girls turned the music down as you all sat around on the couches and some of the guys on the floor.
“Okaaayy, so this is how you play. You say never have I ever and then say something you have never done! And if anyone else has done that thing they take a sip of their drink!” one of the crows said loudly enough for everyone to hear.
“Okay, I'll start,” another one of the girls said. “Never have I ever done it with someone twice my age,” she drunkenly said with a laugh.
“So I guess we are playing the dirty version of this game,” you laughed as you took a sip of your drink. Looking around most the other women took a drink as well.
“Okay, okay. I'm going next. Never have I ever done it in public,” one of the crow eaters said, which shocked the hell out of you considering not ten minutes ago she was dancing almost naked on the pole. You sipped your drink and looked around the room and caught Happy’s eyes as he looked at you with wide eyes clearly shocked that you have had sex in public. Earlier today you were almost too afraid to talk to him he thought you were really shy and so did the rest of the guys.
“Dammmn you’ve had sex in public? You seem so damn shy, you hardly talked to any of us tonight,” Jax yelled drunkenly at you. This caused a deep blush to run up your face as you nodded yes.
“Okay, Jax your turn!” the blonde crow eater who just went said.
“Okay fine, ummm never have I ever had sex with one of my teachers” he laughed as he lit a cigarette and took a sip of his beer.
You looked straight at Happy when you took a large gulp of your beer. He about spit his sip out when he saw that. He gave you a look, one that you have never seen on him. Almost like a look of want and need. You winked at him which caused him to growl lowly in response.
“Okay, I’ll go! Never have I ever been chocked out during sex,” the red-headed Crow eater that you were dancing with before said. And once again you had to take a sip. Half the men were watching you at each turn. They were shocked that someone who seemed as innocent as you had done all this stuff. It could also be because you were new around here and no one had taken a claim on you yet.
“Never have I ever had sex over texting before,” Chibs said with a laugh.
“That's because your too damn old to know how to text old man!” Opie joked as he and the rest of the ‘young’ people, including you took a sip of beer.
“Okay, your turn,” Happy said looking over at you eager to hear what you haven't done.
“You first,” you quirked back at him.
“Fine. Never have I ever had sex with a dead body.” Everyone laughed as they looked over at Tig who was the only one in the room to take a sip.
“What? It's not as bad as you think,” he said as he drunkenly downed the rest of his beer.
“Your turn.” Happy looked back over at you waiting for you to go.
“Never have I ever been tied up during sex before, unfortunately,” you were shocked by your quickness to reply and even more shocked that you held eye contact with Happy the entire time you spoke.
He got up from his spot on the couch across from you and sat down right next to you, putting his hand on your thigh.
“We can change that,” he whispered in your ear and then proceeded to take yet another sip out of his beer. You felt the heat rise in your face as you debated on whether or not to take him up on that offer.
 Never Have I Ever Part 2
Tag List: @gemini0410 , @utterlyhopeful , @rebelwriter95 , @genius2050
Happy tag list: @redwoody-incorporated
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countjason · 5 years ago
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Jason’s 9th Annual Post/Pre-Year Review/Goal
It’s that time of year again, the only reason I have a tumblr account is this annual reflection and goal setting exercise I do each year.  This represents the 9th year I’ve done this in some form or fashion so let’s kick off the goals from last year and where I stand:
Get a new job – This one is important since 90% of my waking existence is at a job.  If I’m not happy there, it’s too my core and I’m not happy in general.  I wish I was better in this area since Caitlin works in the funeral business and has a better appreciation toward the little things but it’s still a thing since it is 90% of my waking life and I’ve worked since I was 16 yrs old.   I would obviously like to get paid what I feel I’m deserved too – not just get a job to get away from another job.  
(Accomplished) – As I recall, this was 90% expected to be achieved at the time I wrote last year’s goals since I was actively looking but this happened REALLY early in 2019.  I remember trying to get a raise as a program manager at Aero Simulation Inc after being a project scheduler (most…boring…job…ever!) and being told I need at least 10 years’ experience in the simulation industry before even being considered.  They handed me an annual raise, sent me off on the 2-week shutdown vacation and the wife and I went to Ashville.  
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Upon my return, I got notified that I was hired to start at Smartronix – this hands down was the best timing and possibly the best move I have ever made.  I’m so happy working at Smartronix and working as a real program manager after what felt like an eternity working at places and either doing lesser jobs, jobs I didn’t have any interest in doing all for the sake of paying for my family, being bored to tears, or underappreciated and under paid.  
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Vacations – I have a cruise planned in May which is almost paid for and I would like to eventually go to Las Vegas.  I wouldn’t want to go to Vegas without a little money in my pocket, but we’ll see.  I also have the Bristol night race in August which represents the final bucket list race I could want to do with my Dad.  Does that mean I’m done after Bristol? Probably not but I could certainly wish my Dad off should he die knowing I got him there, Talladega, Daytona, Homestead, and Atlanta.
(Accomplished) – I did go on the cruise and that was fun.  It would have been better with the drink package which is just a lesson’s learned for cruising next time but it was a fun experience considering I missed cruises in the past.  I did not go to Vegas and that’s still a hard sell with my wife considering she doesn’t want to go as much as I do.  Maybe I can convince her one day considering all the other vacations we’ve had that were compromises.  
Bristol was everything I expected and more.  
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Adam told me that Dad wasn’t doing so well and this race, in all likelihood, represents the last race I go with Dad.  So for this, I booked suites which was the best!  I think Dad and Adam were happy.
School – I got a long way to go for a DBA but I’d like to get the main classes started in 2019.  I gotta wait until money isn’t so tight or there are options like tuition assistance but I’d like to get started in that.
(Failed) – This goal trailed off early after it became apparent I had to still pay for Caitlin’s school.  Now, to be clear, that’s not the only reason, I was sorta going down the DBA route at first because it was something to do since I was getting bored but may get at it again in the future just not now.  I don’t really have a pressing reason for a DBA career wise and there are other fish I could fry which I’ll discuss shortly but let’s put it this way, what I am about to do to cure my boredom is not something my wife is thrilled about….
Find more friends – A lot of my friends 8 years ago I don’t really relate to now.  I’m simply not the same person. Those people, in most cases, are the EXACT same people and we don’t relate.  Going back to 90% of my day with work, I need to find work friends but certainly not at my current job where everyone I work with me is 20 years older than me or are unsociable.  I mean it can’t get any worse than now where I have a co-worker literally 5 feet behind me and insist to communicate primarily through email.  Even if it’s not “work” friends, I need friends that have the same goals, likes, and what not.  That’s why I like people like Eric or James– they have ambition in areas I like today. I still need to find a NASCAR buddy too but that’s surprisingly hard.
(Failed) – I wouldn’t say I gained more friends.  I have the same friends as I previously did and while I get along with people I work with, I wouldn’t go so far as considering them “friends”  
Health – Anyone that says getting older doesn’t suck can blow me.  I know less than 5 years ago, I could run in the morning and had gym buddies which motivated me.  Granted I was walking around like I was crippled half the time afterward, but it was fun.  I really don’t have that same motivation these days.  I still go to the gym periodically but not as I used too.  I joke about my fat head so maybe in 2019, I’ll find that extra gas in the tank and while I’ve accepted not being 180 lbs again, maybe just looking better which will make me feel better as well.  
(Not accomplished but not failed) – I would say it’s improving. Since the wife got pregnant and she had to stop drinking, to support her, I did the same and already lost 20 lbs. I’m pretty sure the rate I’m going I’ll lose another 20lbs by May so while my health improved, early this year, I really didn’t try that hard and my weight reached a point where I started to become self-conscience. This goal always ends up on my list and will likely again.
Financially working in the right direction – To get my house, I had to use retirement money.  To fix the carpet that got destroyed in Caitlin’s library, I had to use more.  I have quite a bit of old debt and new debt that is higher than I like but there’s always been this assumption that I’m just waiting for the right job to pay me what I deserve, AND Caitlin will finally pull her weight since I support her. Once one or both those things happen, we will be able to work off that debt and maybe see the chances of retirement….eventually.  
(Accomplished) – The new job helped out SIGNIFANTLY!  I finally am getting paid what I’m deserved and as such, I feel much better financially.  I still have some debt to pay off and Caitlin is STILL in school but overall, this goal has moved rather well for the things I can do and control.
Potentially Move? – Given the job prospects, I’ve been looking at opportunities to leave Florida. I am so over “hot, humid, high of 100” every-freakin-day.  Part of the upcoming North Carolina trip is to expose Caitlin to the cold. If she tolerates it, the option to move up north is more present. I mean hell, our house is an igloo anyway.  Even still talking about moving north, moving east in Florida has the same possibilities. I know 2019 may be too soon given the dependency I have with Caitlin but given the right situation, it’s entirely possible.
(Failed but…) – With the new job and it being in Tampa, I did not move.  Don’t get me wrong, I still hate the “hot, humid, high of 100” every day but the current salary and baby situation (more on that), changes things a lot.  
Help Caitlin – I could jokingly say “well this is a huge project” but I don’t mean it like that.  She’s been fighting her demons and I’ve been helping.  I would also foresee myself assisting in her passing her classes and exams she needs to take but that’s really all on her and if she asks for it. In all, I just hope to continue to be a good(ish) role-model and help when I can.
(Accomplished…I guess) – Depends on who you ask.  While I did try to help her study from time to time, it wasn’t consistent and it really was something Caitlin should address more than me.  With drinking and the baby, I stopped drinking, as I said, to support and help and I think that’s helping her as well.
Iracing – 2 more to 10…geez, we’re hitting the bottom of the barrel now.  This is just a hobby, be it an expensive hobby I built up, but I hope to continue doing well in the game and not get bored with it lol.  It’s just too expensive to not.
(Failed) – I play it but I haven’t played it like I think I meant to with this goal in mind.  I did get bored with some of it but not for the lack of desire to race, on the contrary, it made me want to race for real.  
House Upgrades – I would like to upgrade the floors in the man cave and the bedroom in 2019.  
This is a lot of work and shifting of things since I have the master bed which is huge in one room and the racing rig and desk in the other.  I have the supplies sitting in the corner collecting dust waiting to be done, but I would need to shift so much around to do it, I’ve told myself it can only be done if we move.  We’ll see, not putting a lot of hope in this one but it’s number 10 on the list.
(Accomplished) – I did complete the floor in the man cave and the bedroom.  
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***
Now for 2020 goals and this one has significantly different legs than the last couple years.  
Be a good dad – That’s right all, after 38 years of life, the wife and I decided to become parents.  
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At the time of writing this, my wife is 10 weeks pregnant and we’re expecting “baby bat” in July 2020.  We won’t know gender until later but we’ve already started thinking about names (Dante if it’s a boy or Nadja if it’s a girl).  I hope that regardless, we can do this which I think we will.  We’re currently planning on converting the library (Caitlin’s space) into the baby room and starting initial baby stuff now.
Begin my race car career – wait what?  That’s right, after playing iracing for awhile and getting a decent raise at work, I decided to purchase a Legends car and will start my racing career in early 2020.  I started “Head2Bed Racing” as the name of the race “team” in honor of Dad and I look for this to be my new hobby/equivalent to a bowling league.  
youtube
http://head2bedracing.com/index.html
My goal is to be in the top 10 in points at season conclusion. I don’t have a goal to win just yet, I’m more concerned with racing and keeping the car under me.  I would hate to damage the car to the point that would end my racing for a while.  I already know I won’t be able to make all the races scheduled and I don’t know how I’m going to drag my wife into this (I hope she does and doesn’t want to leave me – lol). Wish me luck.
Vacation – This is ambiguous.  I don’t have hard plans just yet but I know my window of reasonable opportunity is closing fast with a baby on the way.  I need to talk to Caitlin about this one more but I’d like to find something we can do either before she gets too big and becomes the boulder from Indian Jones... 
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or, if we can pawn the baby to one of our parents, do something post pregnancy.  Caitlin’s mom probably wouldn’t mind the later.  
Health – The goal for 2020 given the wife is pregnant and not drinking is get my weight to 225 lbs.  This is for a few reasons – 1) I looked pretty okay at that weight looking at older pictures 2) That will inevitably have impact to racing a Legends Car as my parents so kindly pointed out 3) It’s a reasonable goal that I should be able to accomplish relatively early in 2020.
Professional Development – I state it like that because I don’t exactly know the exact goal to accomplish this.  I don’t want to restart the doctorate program just yet, I don’t know if I’m eligible for the PgMP certificate yet and even if I was, I haven’t committed myself to studying to the level I need to and even if I got it, I don’t know the career impact.  I’ll leave this open ended for now and see what I have to say next year.
Pay off Debt – With the new job, I “should” be able to clear off a lot of debt.  This will help in the goal later in getting Caitlin a new car and a new house before the kid hits 3 years old.  
Friends (again) – I would like to find more friends.  This, in theory, should occur because of the phases in life after getting out of the Navy.  The first phase was my hair-on-fire party all the time phase.  That ended shortly after settling down with Caitlin. Then there was the “retirement” period (I don’t know what to call it) where I stopped going out and the friends I did have before sorta just went away so it was just myself and Caitlin.  With me getting a new hobby here in actual racing, I’m hoping to meet friends that way and with the kid, we may somehow meet other parents and meet people that way too.  Bottom line, I need to be better at these whole “friends” thing.  
I normally try to shoot for 10 but I’m coming up short and I don’t want to set goals for the sake of setting goals.  I already failed several last year so if I focus on what I have coming, I’ll be better suited to accomplish the goals.  So here we go, 2020…another decade.  Let’s do this!
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megbox · 7 years ago
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2017 Year in Review
Previous posts: (2016) (2015) (2014) (2013) (2012) (2011) 
Oh, 2017. I wish I could bottle you up and take sips of you when things in the future get sad and grey. What a wild ride you have been. These posts continue to get longer and more self-indulgent, and I’ll warn you upfront that 2017 will be no exception. I find sometimes that I’ll explain a story from this year to someone and they’ll blink back at me like... what. I find myself thinking that sometimes. 
I have decided to deem 2017 the year of spontaneous recovery. Not without a few setbacks but really, what kind of recovery ever goes smoothly? Certainly not mine. It was more like gradual-and-then-sudden recovery. Simple recovery. Recovery you do not even really notice until you’re far enough removed from what sucked in your life. 2017 has seen me go back to school, work 60-hour weeks to afford a spontaneous Europe trip to spend time with a boy I’d only known for a month, have a threesome, total my car, get an STI (unrelated to the threesome LOL), figure out what I want to do with my career and really go for it, and take the best vacation of my entire life. So without further ado, let’s jump in. 
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January 
So January actually really sucked. Something I’ve realized about myself over the course of the entire year is that I deal poorly with change and January was full of it. No school to return to, my contract at Graham came to an end, and I found myself sitting around at home, sleeping in until 11:00am just to wake up and apply for jobs that I did not even want and check my calendar to see if I waitressed that night. The post-graduation slump was the real deal. 
On January 8th, I totalled my Jeep on the way to work. I did hit another vehicle but thankfully everyone was unharmed. I’ve only experienced acute shock like that once before and goddamn this time was just as awful. 0/10 experience, do not recommend. The only upside is that while insurance did their thing, I got to drive what I affectionately referred to as “the clown car” aka a 2016 Mini Cooper that was amazing on gas and had rainbow lights inside. 
In an attempt to fill the void that was my life in January, I started doing intake support at the Calgary Sexual Health Centre as a volunteer. It was in my orientation here that I made the decision to apply for the social work program at the U of C. The facilitator found me on break and asked me if I was a social worker and something clicked. I went home that day, heart racing, and started researching it. I realized - what better way to know what you want to do with your life than to look at how you spend your unpaid time? She’ll never read this but thanks Chelsea, you have no idea the impact that one question had on my little life! 
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February 
Another contributor to February’s stress was that my single-job life did not afford me the financial freedom to pay my bills. This was alleviated in February when my restaurant switched from a pooled-tip to an individual tip system and I immediately began making triple the amount in tips (despite being an active resistor to the switch... LOL... I tuned in real quick). Valentine’s Day of this year was one of my favourite shifts serving of my life. They let us dress up so I wore a red dress and lipstick and flower in my hair, carried cinnamon hearts in my pocket and at one time let out a “hell yeah, girl” when a lady requested more garlic bread LOLOL 
Over the long weekend, I went to Kananaskis and stayed in a wilderness hostel for Shelby’s birthday. She’s a good friend now but at the time, Shelby and I were in kind of that peripheral-friend stage. I was super nervous about going since I hardly knew anybody but OMG WHAT AN AMAZING WEEKEND. We skied our faces off, drank Copper Moon pinot noir from a box, played Canadian trivia games, slept in bunk beds and gathered around a bonfire at night. Ali joined me on the second night and ugh I wasn’t even wearing MAKEUP I was just LIVING MY LIFE AND IT WAS SO NICE. 
Okayokay. Now... this might be kind of weird to write in a year in review but February was also the very first time I slept with someone who is not my ex-boyfriend. This is a big deal because it was something I had built up in my mind like crazy... imagining it would be this earth-shattering experience that opened the sexual floodgates. It was not. It was very... normal. I didn’t even tell my friends about it for like ten days (VERY uncharacteristic for me. Usually I get out the metaphorical megaphone and scream it from the rooftops cause I’m so excited). In retrospect though, I do recall slinking back upstairs and running into Sydney in the kitchen. She’s like, “wtf did you sleep downstairs?” I looked back at her... yes... yes that’s exactly what happened... heh so who knows. ANYWAYS. I woke up the next morning feeling literally no different than I had the night before and that is exactly what I needed it to feel like. No big deal. It was important in its complete and total unimportantness. He will never read this but I ended up just shamelessly ghosting this dude after he used the l-o-v-e word WAY too early (another theme of the last like... year and a half) and then he came to my place on my birthday uninvited with a VERY expensive and thoughtful present of a bunch of vinyl records from all of my favourite musicians and I ACCEPTED IT LMAOOOO because I really wanted those fucking records. Wow. I suck. 
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March 
We (so, me and my four best friends from Famoso) deemed it “Mellow March” and attempted to forego drinking and fast food for the entire 31 days of the month. Let me go on record to say that none of us made it (I think Alex literally made it one day... but he had a date so we’ll let it slide) but I made it the farthest which was 17 days. 
I was in a super-into-running phase during March and crushed a 5km fun run on St. Patrick’s Day with my family and my brother’s girlfriend. It was -18 degrees and I’m dumb and didn’t warm up nor cool down. The Bluetooth headphones my brother lent me also died 30 seconds into the run from the cold. I NEVER run without music. I was in pain. It was so boring. I suspect this is the incident in which I injured my MCL. The bright side is that it’s technically a personal best, and my mom won her WEIGHT in Village beer. 
OKAY now for the best part of March. FELIX FELIX FELIX. Felix is a German boy. He was nearing the end of a year-long working holiday visa trip through Canada when I met him at a bar the night I broke Mellow March (which I almost didn’t go to... so moral of the story: ALWAYS go!). I think a total of one hour elapsed from the time I met him to us being in a taxi on the way back to my house. I’m not sure if it was the German accent, the copious amounts of happy hour drinks Mikaela and I had consumed prior to the bar, or his whole carefree-traveler thing that sealed the deal - probably a combination of all three - but I felt ZERO apprehension about the whole thing and it was an amazing and unexpected night. I went to brunch the next morning in the previous night’s makeup, still tipsy and totally elated to share with my friends the adventures of the night before. I took him on a date where I picked him up at his hostel and we drove to Lake Louise and Moraine Lake and talked about everything and shared music. It’s a cool experience to be able to show someone those places for the first time. We came back to my house and made dinner and he taught me how to play Highway to Hell by AC/DC on guitar. Your girl was smitten. 
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April 
April was Felix-crazy month. Seriously. I should take a moment here to thank my former roommates for being so cool about him staying over so much in between his trips. You guys rock. :’) 
April is also my birthday month!!! Felix was in Banff but he took a greyhound to Calgary to spend the day with me. He had flowers and Sea Cider and I was basically just heart-eyes emoji’ing the whole damn day. We rented an Airbnb for the night on the top floor of this beautiful condo building in downtown Calgary, drank champagne, got tacos, and watched the sunset over the skyline. Felix told me it was the best day of his entire Canada trip and it was definitely a day I’ll always remember. Later on the weekend, my brother and I had a joint party which was so much FUNNNNNN we got up on the couch and made a toast and they played “All the Small Things” by Blink 182 just so everyone could yell “NOBODY LIKES YOU WHEN YOU’RE 23″ at me. Tres bien. 
Aaaand then Felix left on the 20th. I drove him to the airport and I’m telling you... it was sad. It honestly felt like a breakup except there was no fight or conflict that ended things it was just like... you live in another part of the world. We have to say bye and we don’t want to and this really sucks. We BOTH cried and for the following week I was just an abysmal shell of a human being. True to form, I could not handle the fact that I’d never see him again and so six days after he left I booked my flight to visit him with NO idea how I was going to afford it. 
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May 
Okay May also sucked. The only good part of May was that I received my formal acceptance to the social work program. 
The rest of the month was spent at work. That is not an exaggeration. I picked up a second job hostessing at this restaurant in my city located within a trendy hotel with a pool patio. At first, I was super excited to be working there because it was fun and a relatively easy job, I had a mild crush on one of my coworkers, and I really needed the money. Then reality set in. This place aims to be a cool, collected place for Calgary’s rich and famous to sip cocktails by the pool and mingle. Unfortunately for this establishment, the people who actually showed up are basically Calgary’s own Jersey Shore. Tans, fake boobs, tribal tattoos, oil-rig money, thong bikinis, cocaine, and $800 bar tabs are what we got. The job went from hostess to nightclub bouncer as soon as the sun was out. It didn’t matter what day of the week it was... these animals would show up at 11:00am on a Monday and be cannon-balling into the pool by 12:45pm having consumed 30oz of our finest rum. I’d work every day there and then hightail it to Famoso to work another 5-8 hours. I was fucking miserable and my only solace was Skyping Felix every morning before I left. 
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June 
The first half of June was exactly like May until the 16th. I was finally free on vacation. I literally took my heels off and ran barefoot down the street to my car after being dismissed from work on the 15th, nearly crying of excitement that I wouldn’t have to return for three weeks. 
The first stop was Stacey and Mike’s wedding at the Burrowing Owl winery in Osoyoos, BC. I HAD NEVER BEEN TO A WEDDING BEFORE AS AN ADULT and this one was in BEAUTIFUL SUNNY OSOYOOS and had an open bar and I was with my best friends. Some remarks: 
Alex and I got ready and were lookin’ super fancy and I needed hairspray so we drove to Shopper’s and when we got out of the car, a lady on the street remarked to her friend, “Oh my god, what a beautiful couple.” We just... our egos soared... we laughed about it the whole day. 
Getting a taxi in Osoyoos is among the hardest things I’ve ever had to do in my life. 
I cried at the ceremony because I am sucker. 
Stacey’s family drama totally enveloped the wedding and I have to admit - her mother was such a total b*tch to us and CLEARLY did not want us at the wedding (what kind of person doesn’t want the brides FRIENDS at the wedding???? honestly) and it made us feel awkward. 
My favourite part of the whole night (aside from the DANK charcuterie board that emerged at the midnight buffet... my god... I almost passed out I was so happy... that CREAMY gorgonzola... I will dream about it forever) was at the unofficial afterparty which was all of us just chillin’ in our fancy clothes in the penthouse suite of this winery. The newlyweds, us, and some of Stacey’s siblings were on the balcony sipping leftover champagne and everyone else smoked a joint while I consumed about a pound of fresh cheese and meats. 
The 19th was my one day in between Osoyoos and Germany. I invited my friends to go out drinking since I hadn’t seen them in so long. And in a move that none of my friends will ever let me forget, I got wasted... karaoke was put into the mix... and long story short, I missed my 7:22am flight to Germany. In fact, Emma texted me a sweet “have so much fun!” text at 7:45am and that is what woke me up. I cannot even IMAGINE how I looked rolling into the airport... still drunk, Lululemons on inside out and backwards, glasses hanging off of my no-makeup face and full of adrenaline and anxiety. I cried, begged, sat on hold for 1.5 hours and offered some vague explanations about “last night” to the Westjet employees and was put on a later flight for a minor fee of $100. It all worked out and I only made it to Germany three hours later than I was supposed to. 
And so then... Germany. God damn, I really can’t summarize Germany. My friends nicknamed it #IBC2017 (aka: International Booty Call 2017) which is kind of exactly what it was. But oh my god. It feels so weird and cool to arrive in a country you’ve never been before and had no intention of visiting two months prior, and have a local at the airport, with flowers, to pick you up. And to BE that person having that stupid reunion. Felix lives in a fairly small-town part of Germany at the very north, so I spent most of my time there and in other small German towns around it. We also drove to Copenhagen, took a day trip to Malmo, Sweden, and visited some of the larger cities in Germany like Hamburg and Berlin. 
Ugh I can’t summarize. I’m just going to list random memories: 
We drank so much DELICIOUS German beer and ate so much bread (seriously the bread game in Germany is out of this world... I didn’t realize how much better bread could get but... wow)
I ate pastries that looked like Pepe in Copenhagen 
Felix gave me a scar from tripping while holding baked brie cheese that was literally just out of the oven and splashing me with this molten lava cheese on my arm
I rode the Drop of Doom with Felix and his two friends at this city festival in Kiel which was like a baby Stampede kind of without the country theme 
I learned that the German word for pug is “mops” which is also slang for “tits” which resulted in the most hilarious inside joke ever
Felix’s mother told me I had been touched by angels (lmao) and I got to tour the broadcasting station for all of Northern and Central Germany and see a live taping of a nutrition broadcast (in German... but still... pretty cool) 
I HAD A THREESOME IN BERLIN LOLOLOL after a wild night of clubbing. Observations post-threesome: sex without jealousy is POSSIBLE and FUN, I am super straight. Super super SUPER straight. The momentary awkwardness in between certain times was actually kind of endearing and normalizing. We invited her to hang out with us the next day but all of us were literally exhausted and hungover and she escaped into the streets of Berlin never to be seen again. Goodbye sweet German girl.
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July 
I was still in Germany for the first week of July. I started to get my work schedule for that horrible job at the hotel and so impulsively I sent a polite but cowardly email to my boss from the Zurich airport notifying them of my resignation. It worked out because it was about 3am Calgary time when I sent it, which I feel added emphasis to the “fuck this job” thing, and I immediately had to board a nine hour flight so I couldn’t check my phone every five minutes for a response. 
Leaving Germany was not as sad as when Felix left Canada. I love my life in Canada and despite a brief moment at the airport where I considered just... not... returning... I soon came to my senses lmao and boarded the plane. And now I’m left with some Polaroid pictures, a few extra stamps in my passport, a beautiful handwritten letter and a million hilarious memories and the knowledge of how to say “i like big tits/pugs” in German. 
The rest of July was just work work work work work. And Stampede. I have to give props to Steven here for going out every. single. night. Where do you get this kind of stamina??? This kind of money???? Dear god. Another good friend of mine had a threesome with two pilots she met at the Cowboys tent this year. Not really a part of MY year but worth a mention nonetheless. The texts in the group chat the next morning... legendary. 
The end of July was also when I moved out of the Brenthood house. There are definitely reasons why they say not to live with your best friends but honestly???? I loved that house in a weird way. I do miss seeing my old roommates every day and having moments like when Emma texted her ex “Good night.” because he wasn’t responding to her (it was like 8pm) and he immediately... and I do mean IMMEDIATELY called her. O m g we were howling with laughter. Brenthood may have been dank and cold but it was also super fun. Miss you, my old bad bois/roommates <3 
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August 
AUGUST SUCKED. AUGUST WAS THE ABSOLUTE WORST. I worked SO much and the only bright side was that I was able to pay off my entire Europe trip in cash by the first two weeks due to that sweet sweet patio-serving tip money. 
Mostly August sucked because I got chlamydia. Yep. Well, technically the chlamydia was acquired in June. But I became aware of its existence on the very first day of August. The infection itself is no big deal. It’s curable, my symptoms were very minimal, and it was really more of an inconvenience than anything else. The drugs they gave me though... oh my god they made me so violently nauseous and I literally felt my insides cramping. ZERO OUT OF TEN EXPERIENCE. NEGATIVE TEN OUT OF TEN. Would NOT recommend. The circumstances surrounding how I acquired chlamydia is what made August sucks so bad though. They sent me tumbling down into a dark place where I really do not spend much time anymore. I was very very sad. There is something to be said for really bad things happening every single time you see a certain person. Like, how many signs can the universe give you? How many ways does someone have to prove to you they are a piece of shit before you finally realize it? Apparently chlamydia will do the trick!!! 
I’m not sure if any of you have ever had an STI but in Alberta they have a very detailed record-keeping system as far as testing and treatment. So when I went through this process myself I learned that the person who gave me the STI had weeks to tell me and never did. They’d been tested and treated before I even got the call from a random nurse. I’m not sure if they were hoping I wouldn’t be able to narrow it down or whatever their motives were... but it feels pretty shitty to know that someone you trusted to wear a condom if necessary didn’t even care enough about you to let you know about an STI themselves. I felt gross and sad and ashamed to be dealing with the same old shit. 
Aaand lastly Steven moved away to Burnaby for grad school. Due to the aforementioned antibiotics I couldn’t even get drunk at his going away party which is a shame because lawd knows the man went buck wild that night. But in addition to being very proud of him it was like really sad because it signalled the beginning of the inevitable MASS MIGRATION of people I know to other places and things. 
September 
The next few months will be short and boring because I started school in September which began to encompass most of my time and energy aside from Famoso. August took a toll on me and I started school kind of burnt out, to be honest. I basically sat in class with my laptop and was antisocial and introverted. 
September was also cool because I started my involvement with the Consent Awareness and Sexual Education club. I love CASE, I love everyone IN CASE, and being a part of it has been a huge part of why I love school so much thus far. 
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October 
On October 1st, I moved back out into an apartment near my workplace with a new roommate. Though much smaller than my old place, it’s more secure, I have my own bathroom, and the smallness of the apartment motivates me to spend less time there. I can also bike to work in the summertime!!! Very excited about this. I also no longer have to worry about utility bills because my rent is at a fixed rate. God bless America. 
I WENT ON A BLIND DATE. This is in all capitals and is being included because previously I would never have fucking dreamed I would be game to do this and the fact that I did is a testament to INCREASING SELF CONFIDENCE AND PERSONAL GROWTH. My best friend started dating this lovely guy and it was her who set up this double-date with one of her boyfriend’s friends. My date also had zero social media so I legit knew nothing about this man. They took us to a jazz show in Inglewood and then to Cold Garden for beer. And I ended up at his place. The details of the end to this night are fuzzy but I do remember crouching down to look at what he had on his bookshelf and seeing some Malcolm Gladwell. And I asked him some questions about it lmao and he had actually read them. And hilariously when he drove me home to my apartment the next morning I forgot to ask for his number so I just hopped out of his truck and went inside LMAOOOOO. It’s okay. He wasn’t weird enough for me. I mean that sincerely. He was too normal. I was like.. in any other scenario this guy would probably be so annoyed by me. I g2g. 
I came down with a horrible flu on what was supposed to be one of the most fun weekends of the entire semester - the CASE retreat in Banff. We went to a hostel and were undertaking workshops and bonding. We had plans to go to Banff Pride and indulge in a drag show and party party party but holy shit the flu hit me like a ton of bricks and I literally had to call someone to come rescue me in his car and take me home. Seriously tragic. 
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November 
Nothing of particular importance happened in November. I just worked and studied.
December 
December december december. A busy month for sure. On the 6th, I drove up to Edmonton to attend a two-day course on responding to disclosures of sexual assault... except they cancelled the training 1.5 hours before it was about to begin. Nothing to do but drive the three hours back. Ho hum. 
I ended my first semester with a 3.9 GPA :) Super pumped about that. 
And of course... Hawaii. Honestly, as I type this, I am still reeling with post-vacation blues because Hawaii was so wonderful and wild that returning to Calgary actually sucked. I went to Honolulu for eight days all by my lonesome which to some seemed like a weird concept. But the last time I traveled solo was to England in 2014 which was possibly the worst experience of my entire life. So at the risk of sounding super lame, Hawaii was somewhat of a chance at reclaiming the big part of me that isn’t afraid to explore. It was a way to challenge my tendency to slip into introvertedness at school and a way to forget about Calgary and be that cool-girl-traveler for a week. 
I’m not sure what it is that happens to me when I’m traveling but I feel like I turn into the best version of myself. I try to be up for anything, I find genuine excitement in meeting new people, I’m not all that worried about how I look. This particular trip was made so wonderful by the people that I met. It was also the first vacation aside from Germany that I’ve taken where I didn’t get my period and didn’t get sick (A+!). But mostly it was the people ;) This cast of characters includes my hostel roommates... Elena from Tuscany (who runs a guesthouse there and said I can stay for free!!!), Mao from China, Rachelle from the states-but-living-in-Aus. And our other friends. Oliver from Denmark, Maurice from the Netherlands, Sebastian from the states. Joe from Australia. Vincent from Montreal. Rachel from Tennessee. I just totally embrace the hostel thing and went with it and it paid off in a major way. I never said “no.” I found myself hiking up to waterfalls with three of the hottest men I have ever met, snorkeling in Hanauma Bay with a super cool Brazilian, hiking Koko Head with possibly one of the worst hangovers I’ve ever had while the sun beat relentlessly down on me and 85-year-old Japanese men told me to get out of the way, rolling to the North Shore in a rented car with Oliver listening to rap music and body surfing in waves that were WAY above my skill level. I listened to my roommate have what I described as “powerful sex” from the top bunk... which was hilarious because when I later did the same thing they played the Lonely Island’s “I Just Had Sex” from Oliver’s stereo to wake me up as payback. 
But there were five of us who spent all of our time together in Hawaii. Rachelle, Maurice, Oliver, Sebastian, and me. Rachelle and I were in room 9 of the hostel and we drank there so often it became known around the hostel as “Club 9″. We partied so hard. WE MADE SO MANY FRIENDS. I walked home by myself from the club, drunk as hell and met a friendly drug dealer who bought me McDonalds and offered to take me for a nice Hawaiian breakfast the next morning. I don’t know how to encompass this trip without just listing random memories, apparently. My favourite night was the last night when I had the best sex of my life on a lifeguard stand on Waikiki beach at 2:00am. Seriously a night I will remember for the rest of my life and the cherry on top of what had already been a bold trip. 
Everyone has different reasons that bring them to a certain place at a certain time. Sometimes it’s just chance and the need for a vacation - like it was for me. But there is something so cool about how a group of people away from their regular selves and lives can form such a unique and hilarious friendship and how traveling brings out such an exciting and welcoming spirit in most people~~~~ Hawaii was the best week of my entire life and I say that with 110% certainty. 
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General Things~*~* 
I think I actually figured out what I want to do with my life. Holy shit. And I made some serious progress on making it a reality and setting myself up for the future. Unlike when I was in journalism I actually feel competent. I love social work because it emphasizes the personal connection you bring to your work and your practice and your research. In journalism you always had to quash that somewhat in the protection of objectivity. 
I have made enormous progress this year in regards to relationships and sex and intimacy. I enjoy these things in a much more mature and realistic way and am more confident in myself which has allowed me to be more confident in casual sex in a legitimate and fun and EMPOWERING form of intimacy. 
Ummm. I finally levelled out and gained the permanent separation from my ex-boyfriend (and his family!!!) Not without slipups but I chalk it up nowadays to just anger rather than desiring the relationship back or his attention. Nonetheless - we live totally separate lives now. Fuck yeah. 
2018 
I NEEEEED to keep riding this wave of happy times and general ~life enjoyment~ in 2018. 
I will do the majority of my social work degree over this year including my first practicum placement (which I’ll be interviewing for next month... holy shit) and I am determined to slay it. 
I really want to deepen my participation in all of my volunteer commitments. I don’t think it would be healthy or sane to take on anything new at this point but like I’d like to get formally trained in admin for Dr. Gibbs at the CSHC or something, and move from a crisis de-escalator to an actual counsellor at Kids Help Phone. 
Alex and I are going to motha’ fuckin Thailand at the end of April. After Hawaii, my desire to explore is at an all-time high. I’m looking forward to returning to Asia with a fresh outlook and an awesome travel partner. Let’s hit that full moon party, boys. I’ll also probably go somewhere next December, too. I’m not sure where that will be yet. Early ideas are Belize/Panama/Nicaragua, or Greece/Croatia. 
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Other than that, 2018 is an open book, baby!!! I cannot wait. 
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aliceviceroy · 6 years ago
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There’s a moment I keep returning to, from the first episode of the new season of Fargo. There’s a triple homicide at a 24-hour diner, and Minnesota state trooper Lou Solverson responds to the crime. A truck driver meets him in the parking lot, and they walk toward one of the victims: a waitress who tried to flee the scene only to be gunned down in the cold expanse of a Minnesota night.
“I left my rig there, I hope that’s OK,” the truck driver says, motioning to the 18-wheeler behind him, at the edge of the lot.
Solverson says nothing, but keeps eyeing the victim in the snow.
“I’m the one that called it in, see?” the driver continues. “Stopped for waffles. With the blueberries -- they come frozen this time of year, I know, but…”
Solverson pinches the corner of a large jacket draped over the waitress, picks it up and peeks underneath.
“I put my coat on her. It seemed only right.”
I love this scene because even though it’s meant to drive the narrative ahead, its obsessive attention to the just-right details also works outside the episode, revealing, in just a few words, the very essence of my people: the corn-eating flatlanders of The Great Middle. There’s the deferential greeting (“I left my rig there, I hope that’s OK.”); the need to fill all moments, even grisly ones, with small talk (“Stopped for waffles...”); and at last the embarrassment and shame over anything unseemly and the compulsion to cloak it (“I put my coat on her. It seemed only right.”).
What Fargo nails, in other words, is Midwestern Nice, the idiosyncrasies of a steadfast populace that appear banal and maybe even bovine to the uninitiated, but in truth constitute the most sincere, malicious, enriching, and suffocating set of behaviors found in the English-speaking world. As a good son of the Upper Plains, I’ll tell you what I mean.  
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What is Midwestern Nice?
We should start with what it isn’t. It isn’t the feigned kindness of the South, where people sipping bourbons at cocktail hour reserve the right to boot-heel you when you turn your back. It’s not the abrasive honesty of the Northeast, where everyone speaks, as Don DeLillo once put it, in the same nasally, knowing cynicism. It is genuine, Midwestern Nice.
I grew up in Iowa but I’ve heard the same line repeated of people from Minnesota or Wisconsin or Nebraska, and always with the unfussy grammar of the plain-spoken: “The Midwest is a great place to be from.” It is nurturing and civic-minded, maybe due to the Scandinavian and German Protestants who settled the land, living by the Golden Rule, and its history is a continuity of compassion: the territory of Iowa in the Antebellum Era refusing to segregate schools, an idea that even Ulysses S. Grant called radical; a president from Illinois who ended slavery; Wisconsin laborers, in the early 20th century, receiving workers' compensation and unemployment insurance decades ahead of the New Deal; Iowa, Minnesota, and Illinois, in the modern age, allowing gay marriage years before the progressive movements in New York and California could do the same. The Midwest takes pride in all this; it would just rather not talk about it, you see, because that would be boasting, and boasting is not nice.  
That humility permeates everything, helping to create the most remarkable facet of Midwestern Nice: the restraint from speaking ill of others, even if others should probably be ill-spoken of. I remember sitting at my grandmother’s table, in the hour before supper on a summer afternoon, watching her read the newspaper. I must have been 10 or so, in the last years before I learned to fully appreciate her -- a woman who grew up in the Depression, survived TB, raised six daughters alongside her farming husband, collected eggs from the chicken coop every morning, and read voraciously each night. She was always cheerful, which isn’t remarkable in the Midwest, but it is worth mentioning because reading one article that afternoon, I remember her eyes narrowing and her lips pursing themselves into an ugly knot that I never saw. She was upset, so upset that she soon read aloud that there had been, if memory serves, a murder in a nearby town. Police had arrested a suspect. She walked over to a dining room window and seemed to almost shake; she occasionally shopped in the town. Staring out at the bright afternoon, she looked in a trance, and even I could see the thoughts racing through her mind. But she just turned back to the dining room, and the one thing she said she half-muttered to the floor, in that flattened-vowel lilt of hers:
“And on a day like this.”
I scoffed, and for a while the afternoon stayed with me, as one more example of Grandma’s earnest, almost Old World simplicity. But as I got older I began to see it differently. Her reaction was about mastering fear, about stoicism and restraint, about not saying something caustic simply because you can, even if it’s about a person who has literally just murdered someone. Grandma’s six words, I discovered, were an anthem of sorts for Midwestern Nice.
And yet...
Of course, the duty to be nice and consider the feelings of others has a downside: the whole universe of things we have to repress. As a kid, there was an almost tactile pressure hovering around the Christmases, Thanksgivings, and birthday parties at Grandma’s house -- so much stuff we maybe wanted to say but couldn’t, even though we were family. The tension beneath the vanilla chitchat exhausted me, and I often left her home relieved that I could relax and be myself.
Here again, though, I was wrong, or at least only half right, and as an adult I discovered the fun of old-fashioned Midwestern innuendo: the way my aunts, say, could achieve the perfect degree of half-smile when extending their barely dead-toned goodbyes to my sister’s boyfriend, which told her how very much they disliked him. In fact, people from outside the Plains think they can mimic us by elongating some O's, but in truth we communicate far more in what we half-say, or fail to say entirely. To live in the Midwest is to experience two realities: the first, all sunshine and bland pleasantries among other potluck-suppering churchgoers; the other, a red-lit underworld where people relay vulgarities through the learned second language of euphemism, eye rolls and loaded silence.
We are the alpha and omega of passive-aggressiveness. It is, like the corn we plant, our contribution to society, and our art. In his hilarious book, The Midwest: God’s Gift to Planet Earth!, Mike Draper, a Des Moines-based retailer who writes under his company’s pseudonym, Raygun, shows how no form of passive-aggression is as finely honed as our own:
"The Northeast Jewish mother takes the most direct approach to her passive aggressiveness: 'Oh, you’re going out tonight, even though you’re only home three nights from school? No, I understand, you’re Mr. Popular. So if you want to leave your poor mother, that’s fine…'"
"The Southern Baptist mother brings Jesus in for backup: 'Going out tonight with those boys? Do you really think that’s what an upstanding young Christian man should be seen doing?...'”
"A Midwestern mom plays it very passive: 'Going out? You sure?'”
Every Midwestern mother is like this. During my junior year of college I decided to grow my hair out. When I called my mom with the news, she said, simply, “Oh.” But the word carried a lot of tones, a note of surprise and then a second beat, which sustained the first while she parsed the news, followed at last by a slight dip and then a leveling out in a lower register, so the "Oh" ended in more a statement than a question: Ooouuwwaah. That one word showed how she both processed my decision and rendered her verdict on it. She was not pleased with me. And she didn’t say anything else.
Two things explain that kind of subtlety. The first is a guilt over our lame attempts at bluntness; even our passivity pains us. Midwesterners never want to be malicious, and so we swallow our great loogies of venom, until the whole viscous thing gags us and forces from our lips, like a reflex, tiny spittles of displeasure, whose trajectory we struggle to control. I saw this most recently when Jonathan Franzen, a product of St. Louis’ suburbs, was asked how Midwestern virtues shape his life and writing. Skip ahead to roughly 3:15 and watch till the end:
The dramatic silences, false starts, and in particular the “Midwestern values” repetition: oh my God does Franzen despise these questions. But the good Missouri boy never says that -- can’t bring himself to, even 30 years after he left St. Louis. Instead he sputters through a state of near verbal paralysis until he finally lands on something that seems bland, but is actually loaded: “It’s no different than anywhere else,” he says. “And yet we all feel that there is something there.” And then, mercifully, the video ends.
Which leads us to the terrible beauty of Midwestern Rage
The thoughts about how our thoughts will be perceived lead me to the second point about our repressed anger: the refinement of its eventual expression. Not for us, the gauche heavy-handedness of Long Island mothers. No, our patois is about saying only what is necessary, and actually even less than that. The Midwestern dialect is so subtle that people not immersed in it for decades can’t hear it. I’ve lived outside Iowa for 12 years now, and two weeks ago, though I felt guilty as I said it, I insulted one of my Connecticut neighbors. I got tired of her preening about her oh-so unique life and job, and I told her -- again, against my better judgment -- that not everyone can make it as a snowflake. She thanked me for the kind words.
This happens a lot, which is ironic because the people who miss the subtlety often consider themselves far sharper than big, dull, flown-over pig-eaters like me. In his book, Draper describes how the Midwestern phone etiquette of, “Well, I better let you go,” a euphemism for “Leave me alone now,” is consistently misread by people outside the region as a way to beg more time out of the conversation. David Letterman, a gap-toothed kid from Indiana, dined out for years on a post-modern comedy that mocked comedy itself, but only became famous when East Coasters picked up on the joke.
Hollywood, it almost goes without saying, almost always misses the duplicity built into our pleasantries and the guilt we feel over our ever-so-slight slights. The one movie that captures it all, of course, is Fargo -- and a single scene in particular, with an emotional range so full and yet so very understated that even the late, great Chicagoans Siskel and Ebert questioned why the Coen brothers included it, though they loved it anyway.
I just never get tired of it. The nervous earnestness of “Ya, you know it's a Radisson so it's pretty good.” How Sheriff Gunderson’s brief moment of displeasure -- “Why don’t you sit over there? I'd prefer that” -- is apologized for in code: “Just so I can see ya, ya know. Don't have to turn my neck.” And then as Mike Yanagita begins to atone explicitly, her “Nooo, noo, that’s fine,” shows that it is anything but.
I could go on -- the way Gunderson reveals her shock over Linda’s death and then immediately masks it because the waitress is there; or the breakdown of Mike Yanagita itself, a gross violation of the tenets of Midwestern Nice, which makes the scene both hilarious and mortifyingly hard to watch. But the point is, with that scene, the Coen brothers, products of the Twin Cities, give away the Midwest’s secret -- something President Obama, of Kansas and Chicago, knows, too, and something that Johnny Carson, of Norfolk, Nebraska, knew every night the stage lights shone on him, and what David Foster Wallace, of Urbana, Illinois, knew in each of his “maximalist” stories, capturing all the conflicting truths of any moment, and then the infinite iterations beyond that: we may seem slow, or at least intellectually sated, but we live on a heightened plane of consciousness that few of you can comprehend. To be from here is, quite simply, to read a room better than fucking anyone.  
And also, yes, to be nice.
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superwholockpottertribute · 8 years ago
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Just...Shit
Haven’t been on in forever, so for those of you who follow this immensely boring account, welcome to my wall of rant. Don’t want to hear it, move on. This is the only place I can vent without pissing off family or getting my ass reamed for my language and life choices.
As much as I love the holidays, Christmas especially, this years sucked ass worse than any in history for me. And thats coming from a poor kid with parents too proud to ask for help and too addicted to their cigarettes to take care of their kids. My grandfather, the man who basically raised me and taught me wrong from right, the man who helped me grow up to be the person I am despite my parents, who loved Christmas probably more than I did because he got to see his family all together, who has supported me through every step of my shitty life, this man this amazing man. He died on December 21st exactly two weeks after his 89th birthday and four days before his favorite holiday. But let’s make it just a little bit harder okay? Since I live in a basement apartment below the house and have for the last EIGHT YEARS to help take care of him, well grandma is panicked and doesn't know what to do so get me and have her figure out what’s wrong. I run up the stairs at 1:30 in the morning because she doesn’t think he’s breathing and he hates when she calls EMS so tell her what to do. Walk into the room, and I already know he’s gone, but hell if I am going to consciously admit it. Call EMS and both sons (my dad and uncle) everyone shows up at once, and I, ME, THE GRANDDAUGHTER!!! ends up making decisions and answering questions because my grandmother has never had to control anything, she is a proper southern traditional housewife. He’s 89 she's almost 80 and they’ve been together for over 63 years, she’s never known anything else. EMS says he’s gone and has been for a while so it’s already too late. So let’s LEAVE HIM LAYING THERE SPREAD EAGLE AND START TALKING ABOUT OTHER SHIT WHILE HE LAYS THERE!!!! I mean I get it, my best friends dad is an EMT, he was there that night but left since they didn’t need two rigs, I know once we have acknowledged he is gone that you have to wait for body release or whatever, but is the living room stepping over his lifeless form to joke around with your co-workers about a bad date you have to talk to now because he’s the only one who can call about the release and then preceding to chat about recent dates and what your plans are like nothings happening really necessary when my grandfather IS LAYING THERE DEAD ON THE FLOOR WITH HIS FAMILY CRYING AROUND HIM? Anyway let’s move on to the fact that I can’t stand to be in my own house. That every time I hear movement upstairs I immediately think of him and if he’s doing something he shouldn’t be before I catch myself. Or that I am afraid to go upstairs because I don’t want to not see him sitting there. How bout the fact that as much as I miss him and want him back, I resent him for leaving because he took my small amount of life with him. I’ll be the first to admit that I am the poster child for social awkwardness. But I did like to get out of my house on occasion to spend time with the people I care about and am comfortable with. Now I can’t leave my house without making sure there’s someone with my grandmother and she hates needing a babysitter because she’s not an invalid but I’m the only family member without a life and since I already live here it’s my responsibility. I hate my life, my choices, and the fact that I resent him for dying. But I also hate that he’s not here. as much as he drove me crazy about some things because of our generational differences aI adored that man with everything that I am and I don’t want to have to wake up and know he’s not upstairs waiting to have coffee in the morning with me, or watching TV with him during the day, or kissing his head when I walk past because it made him smile that I cared. or the fact that every single night without fail he would call down to me to tell me goodnight and that he loved me. I would give anything to hear it one more time. I don’t regret a second of it because he knew how much I loved him, I told him every day, but I still want him here with me. He will never get to meet the guy I fall for and approve, he will never get to see my wedding, never see my kids. My niece was the only great grandbaby he had and that little girl was his entire world for the three and a half years he had with her. he would call to check on her every day and would be upset if he didn't see her at least once a week. The last thing he did every night after telling my grandma and I goodnight was to tell her picture how much he loved her and goodnight. He has 89 years, he was loved, respected, treasured, honored, and will forever be remembered. But I want him back. 
This turned more into a mess of I don’t know what but anyone who follows this already knows I either re-blog fun things or post rants. So you really should have expected it.
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