#and it didn't make it into my school's literary magazine

[abrokenherocomplex]

in communion

The demon had beaten her to the church. He lounged in the pews, just behind the pulpit. Emy paused her stride, footsteps falling silent on the marble floor. She used to try and beat him to the church, maybe find her normal spot in the pews and send up a prayer that she held fast to her strength. She’d given up on that hope a while back. 

Emy glanced up to the familiar wooden cross suspended by near invisible chords above the lectern at the center of the sanctuary. It was light oak-toned, like the pews, the pulpit, the lecturn, like everything else in the cavernous space. 

“I thought demons couldn’t trod holy ground,” she called out. Her voice echoed through the sanctuary, as if it were attempting to preserve her words by bouncing them from the polished floor to the high-domed ceiling. 

The demon smiled slightly at the familiar greeting, inclining his head in greeting as she crossed the room. She brushed passed the water rippling softly in the baptismal font, glimpsing her wavering reflection.  

“You call this holy?” the demon responded, drawing her attention back to him. 

“Well,” Emy replied. “After these few years.” 

 “That is nothing in an immortal lifetime.”

Emy was inclined to disagree. 

When they’d first met, she’d naturally had a million questions for him. Beginning with who are you? why are you here? and going all the way down to why does your suit ripple like moonlight? why can’t I see myself in the irises of your eyes? 

She hadn’t grown exhausted of his non-answers, per say. They’d become a ritual. And besides, she answered nearly all of them with her own.  

Emy settled in the pew beside him. He wasn’t too off-putting, though his appearance never changed, nor did he age. As always, he looked sort of in-betweenish. Not too old, not too young. If anything, he embodied the tall, handsome stranger that came to sweep the young lady off her feet in fairytales or mass market paperbacks. It wasn’t a displeasing look, if you were into that kind of thing. 

“So, you’ve thought about my offer,” he began, gaze rolling over the sanctuary around them. “I have a pen if you don’t have your own-”

Emy frowned. “You really think I’m here to sign?” 

“Then why are you here?”

“Why are you here?” Emy knew it was juvenile. 

“To tempt you. As usual.” 

“Right.”

A smile played at his lips. “Well, it’s only my job. I, too, fell once. Fair and square. Now I do this.” 

 “Satanic foot soldier is one hell of a title,” she remarked. “Especially for someone who loves playing God.” 

The demon raised his hands in mock surrender. “I am just a messenger. Comparing me to either God or Satan is a false equivalence, which I unequivocally resent.”

“Right.”

“So,” the demon said after a moment. “Temptation.” The word rolled off the demon’s tongue as if he could taste it. He probably could. 

“Or as you might call it, signing on the dotted line,” Emy pointed out. 

“Or eating an apple,” the demon replied. “Which is, of course, my point exactly. It doesn’t take much to fall. A bit of debauchery. Eat an apple. Have sex. Commit a murder.”

“Oh, is that all?” Emy scoffed.  

“Commit a murder…” he echoed, pondering. “Kiss a girl, maybe. It’s all the same really.”

“Is it?”

“Well,” the demon conceded. “For you.” 

The water rippled softly in the baptismal font. 

“If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t worry about my soul as much as I do,” Emy said after a moment.

“Probably?” he echoed, amused. “All I do is present you with a choice. What you do next it up to you.” 

“But it isn’t really. Not when you’re here.”

The demon gave her a knowing smile. 

Emy settled back into the pew. “Besides, it’s not much of a choice, is it?

 “Meaning?”

“Well, if one of these days I give into debauchery, you’d claim that’s a choice I’ve made. As if your definition of debauchery isn’t…”

“Isn’t…?”

“Unreasonable,” Emy decided. “The rules are unreasonable. And if I’m to be Judged for them either now or later-” 

“I don’t make the rules, you know that by now.” 

Emy didn’t respond. She trailed her fingers along the familiar spine of a hymnal tucked into the pocket of the pew just in front of her. The binding was blue and worn. It matched the rest of the hymnals carefully placed along the pews. 

“It’s much harder to ascend then?” Emy asked. “To Heaven?”

The demon nodded, even though they’d covered it all before. “Well, we both know what happened to the carpenter. What he sacrificed.”

Emy nodded. “Deal with the devil then. Is that the solution to escape all this?”

The demon straightened to look at her. “Is that a yes?”

“No.”

“Huh,” the demon his arms, “You actually want to try for ascension then? I find that hard to believe.”

 “Not at all. Well,” she amended. “Not right now.”

 To Emy’s surprise, a smile played at the demon’s lips. “You can’t keep choosing this, you know.”

 “Is any of this a choice? To keep living?” Emy said. “To rack up my good deeds and my debauchery, day after day. Build up my ledger.” 

“Deeds and debauchery?” The demon sounded skeptical. “Day after day… until?”

 “Judgement day? You’ll be there, right?” She elbowed him in the ribs. “You can vouch for me. ‘Emilia Boseman did not give into devilish temptations at the mere age of nineteen,’” she mocked. 

“I can’t promise that,” he said. It sounded too honest. 

“Sounded earlier like you could promise anything.”

He shrugged. “Besides, you talk as if you’re not judged every day.” 

“I suppose that’s why I’d want to escape,” she mused. “Go with you and have all debauchery I could ever want, for only the small price of damnation. Becoming a demon. Taking a spot with you among the legions, though with remarkably less suave and probably a bit more anxiety about it all.”

 “Oh, the suave is learned, don’t you worry.” 

Emy laughed at that. “And the anxiety?”

He shrugged. “We were all human, once.”

They both glanced up as the cross above them swayed slightly in an invisible breeze. 

“Have you said a prayer recently?” the demon asked, breaking the silence. 

Emy cut him a glance at the question. “Yes.” 

She’d never thought to ask if demons could sense a liar. 

“Hm,” was his response. 

“Do you use that line on all the girls?” Emy ventured. 

“If I had a universal line for all the girls, I’m sure I could come up with something much cleverer. Possibly on the subject of apples. Or ribs,” he responded thoughtfully. “It’s different for you all. Debauchery.”

The tall echoes of the sanctuary caught the last word, bouncing it about, as if it didn’t quite want to let go of the girl and the demon who had beaten her to the church, brandishing a dotted line and the words:

It’s different for you all. Debauchery

Emy knew. By God, Emy knew. 

[jellogram]

Ok I am getting asked several times a day about this so I am going to break this down into steps and then pin this post.

How I Got a Job as a Travel Writer (aka the ten steps I took that eventually got me hired in the writing world)

I started writing unpaid for a magazine when I was in high school. I got a leg up because I knew someone whose parent knew the editor of an indie mag and gave me an email address. Unless you are lucky enough to find a connection like that, I suggest reaching out to indie mags and local publications to see if anyone will let you write for them for free.

Got a college degree (cultural anthropology)

Did an unpaid marketing internship one summer in college (it was at night so I could work during the day)

Did all the copywriting and marketing for a club on campus

Graduated in spring 2020, worked a bunch of dead-end jobs

Eventually ended up unemployed and directionless, lived off the government and savings and was generally lost and unhappy.

Decided I wanted a copywriting job but couldn't get hired. Spent months and months applying, never even got an interview.

Saw that several related jobs requested experience in stuff like SEO, html, Google Analytics, and WordPress. Took free online classes to learn those things. Also picked up some copywriting gigs from Upwork on the side to make some money and beef up my portfolio.

To practice WordPress and make myself seem more professional, I started a blog that functioned as a literary journal and published submissions from other young writers.

Found an opening at a copywriting agency and wrote some SEO articles on contract. This didn't pay enough to live on, but it was fun and made my resume way more impressive.

Eventually the agency work dried up and they didn't have any assignments for me, so I went back to Indeed with my new beefed up resume. I saw a job for travel writing and applied. I got hired.

[junedenim]

2007

beneath the boardwalk, part 5 (series masterlist)

my mistakes were made for you

warnings: angst, fluff, smut, robert, etc.

word count: 12.3k

I had my hair cut just above my shoulders but it was not a bob, I am adamant about this. I got a light fringe that I never wore full-frontal on my forehead. I was inclined to pull the two sections apart like a curtain or, regrettably, have them as side bangs.

After New Year's, I returned to London and left many things behind in Wakefield, most notably my journals. I was starting fresh and wanted to claim independence. Stacey gifted me a stack of Moleskine notebooks for Christmas that I wrote in and I began babysitting two girls (5 & 7) who lived in the building with their single mother, Lee, who was 6 years older than me. Georgia and I refused to turn on the heat because we weren't overflowing with cash, especially after my father and I agreed I would start paying rent after the three-month grace period he gave me. 

The other reason was we felt more like struggling artists, piled under blankets, wearing two pairs of socks, and heating meals in the microwave because they had grown too cold too quickly. Georgia would write poetry in her room then meet me in the living room and recite it. I was without an editor since Alex and I's parting. So, I began to share my writing with Georgia.  After we traded pieces, we would crack the window open and smoke cigarettes out of it. 

I was aware I was using Georgia to refill the Alex-shaped hole in my life. What Georgia and I were doing was what I dreamt for Alex and me. I had overwhelming happiness for Alex but I felt disappointed (and certainly jealous) that we didn't experience the struggling artist phase together. But Georgia was what I needed: a friend.

Madeline Critchley, who helped me submit to Granta, got me a position with the University of Greenwich's literary magazine, Anthology. It felt dumb to start at the magazine a few months before I was finished with school but she told me it didn't matter how much time I put into it but what I got out of it. It was cheesy but it ended up being true. I wrote endlessly, trapped inside that building. I was overcome by some being and she never let me stop.

*

I was invited to a secret gig at The Leadmill in February. Arctic Monkeys's tour director emailed the invitation. I thought about going but used the excuse of babysitting and RSVPed no. Georgia, her new girlfriend, Kyle, Dianna, Robert, and I went and saw Amy Winehouse instead. Obviously, I don't regret the decision.

Not speaking of Alex seemed an unspoken rule but I couldn't help but think of him when Amy came on stage. Not because I related her songs to Alex and our relationship but because the bastard got to meet her and didn't fucking introduce me to her!

Robert's place was a close distance from Astoria so we all, except Dianna, went back and crashed at his place instead of taking a 40-minute ride home on the underground late at night. Georgia and Kyle would sleep on the pull-out and Robert would share his bed with me.

Before we went to sleep, Robert and I smoked a joint in his room. It didn't do much for me, only making me tired-eyed. Robert was in a constant state of haziness. He wore leather pants and a turtleneck. His hair was overgrown and every movement he made bounced his curls. 

"Heard about you and Alex." It was the first time we had seen each other this semester. I had only told Georgia, she informed everyone else for me.

"Yep."

"Sorry 'bout that."

I shrugged. It wasn't something I wanted to talk about.

"Sucks we can't get free concert tickets now."

I huffed a laugh. "I didn't think you were much of a fan anyway."

"Well, you know, it's a good place to pick up girls." He eyed me. It was obvious.

"I didn't pay attention to that kind of thing."

"Oh, come on, like you weren't watching every girl there who could steal your man."

I shrugged again. I was never threatened by that idea or maybe I was just uncaring towards it.

"Your ambivalence is a man's greatest dream."

"He never did anything for me to not trust him."

"What about me?"

"Oh," I exaggeratedly rolled my eyes. "I'd never trust you."

We shared a laugh and the joint had reached its butt. He put it down. "So, shall we just get to fucking?"

I pushed off the wall and walked over to what had been deemed my side of the bed. "God, Robert."

"Come on. It's been a long time coming. We're here. We're single. It's our last year. We're never gonna be here again."

"You just want to get yours wet."

"So, you're wet? And hell yeah."

"Shut up."

"Let me kiss you."

"I'm going to bed."

"Fine. Me too."

We laid side-by-side for a minute before I kissed him and then we fucked. I don't remember much. I wasn't that drunk or high. It just wasn't very memorable.

*

Robert and I had a transactional relationship. Before we began hooking up this was the case and now that we were spending our nights together, we shared awful things with one another, none of which were words. Drugs seemed to be the biggest thing. A joint after sex was expected and by March, Robert and I were snorting coke with one another. It was quite enjoyable. For the time.

We ended up in Regent's Park one night. We sprawled across the vast grass. He called people—they weren't friends—on his Motorola Razr and switched between rambling with them and rambling at me. I brought my notebook and thought about writing but he was too loud.

I searched through my bag for something I never found and remembered when I came with Alex. I hated the infection of him but something about that night and picturing him on a bench next to me made me smile. 

I thought of guards changing. My first trip down to London when I was 10 and how Stacey and I stood, faces squeezing through the gates of Buckingham Palace to watch the New Guard replace the Old Guard. I couldn't understand how anyone would want to stand outside on sentry duty for hours. The relief when the New Guard showed up must have been such an enormous relief as their bladders ached and their shoulders begged for mercy. I wondered about the relief Alex felt as the New Guard replaced him. Or did he wish to continue to stand still by the palace's side? But the Old Guard becomes the New Guard eventually. They all just go spinning around. 

I wrote about the places we attribute to people. The corners of the world that just belong to them. (Alex, unbeknownst to me, had already done the same [505]). I left Alex's fingerprint out of the piece but it had him all smeared over it. I wrote about the Guard and Stacey's little head nearly trapped in between the metal bars. It was my favourite piece I wrote for Anthology. 

I sent it to Alex. He responded:

Buckingham Palace still has guards???? Are people still trying to actively kill the Queen?

I responded:

Diana's ghost.

Alex never sent me any of his work. I dreamt of a book one day appearing on my car roof. But my car stayed in Wakefield and Alex stayed nowhere. It was a rotten daydream.

*

In April, days before Favourite Worst Nightmare was released, the band played the Astoria for two nights. I hadn't heard any material yet, besides the recently released single "Brianstorm" and its b-sides, I had heard none of the album. It was unsettling not to know the songs. To not have the entire setlist memorized, front to back. 

My goal was always to be friends with Alex and going to the concert felt like solidifying this notion. Georgia found my need to befriend Alex so quickly after we had ended bizarre and unnecessary. But it had been months and I was ready to rip the Band-Aid. Georgia came with me. Robert insisted too. 

It did end up being bizarre. I was unacquainted with going to an Arctic Monkeys concert and not talking to Alex beforehand. When they came on stage, their appearances were much like when I saw them last. Alex hadn't changed one bit, but his demeanor had. He was stiffer, not in a good or bad way, just an indistinguishable way.

New additions met my ears well with the bass of "Balaclava" ringing through me for days to come. I shifted around "Do Me A Favour" as details became obvious that the subject matter was concerning us and our teary eyes. It made me fidget but I loved it so I couldn't quite complain about the feeling of irk I got. My opinion changed when it was followed by "Mardy Bum" where I knew all of this was a conscious choice. It was an attack on my heart whose walls were still susceptible to incursion.

I found myself relating to songs that weren't written for me like I was the average listener. "Leave Before the Lights Come On" had a different meaning standing next to Robert. I felt ashamed for that and that made me enraged by Alex because without moving a muscle I felt like he was dictating my life through my hippocampus only. 

After the show, we waited outside for the band. Georgia also found this insane. Robert said it was tragic but in a poetic way. I said they could go but both refused. 

Jamie came out first with Katie who wrapped her arms around me which could be deemed as a threat to my life if it wasn't so loving. She did the same to Georgia and I laughed at the way Georgia flailed her arms around.

The rest of the band followed with Alex's eyes wide and looking between the floor and me, unable to process the sight in a simple glance. "Alright! We're heading back to Robert's place!" Matt shouted. His eyes on Alex became clear he was teasing him. 

Regardless, I chuckled and hugged Matt. "No. I was hoping to join wherever you were going if you don't mind the intrusion."

"Never," Nick said, giving me a hug. Nick and I didn't know much about each other other than what Alex told each of us. I liked him because he had always greeted me with a wide smile, welcoming to all. He often seemed like he was just happy to be along for the ride wherever that ride took him. I like that quality very much.

As we walked out further into the street, the paparazzi snapped away, more at the band than the 3 dimwits following them, nevertheless, Robert began a potent rant against the invasion of paparazzi and how it was Big Brother and flexing that he had read 1984 as if it wasn't required reading for everyone in high school. He continued this the whole ride until we arrived at the pub.

It was premier service for a place that felt so unchic but I knew nothing about how the status of celebrity worked. Alex and I didn't go out enough for me to witness it. I had no qualms about using the complimentary service for my drinks. 

In the booth, Robert sat with his arm around me. Our displays were often limited to his flat but when he stood to go use the restroom and kissed my cheek I knew what he was doing. I had to laugh, it was impossibly amusing.  

I left for a cigarette. Alex followed a minute later. My back was against the wall as he approached. "Hi."

"Hi." I unconsciously handed him one. It was second nature.

He blew a puff out and asked, "You got a review for me?" That was also second nature.

I chuckled and shook my head, looking down at the floor. "Excellent as usual."

"Dry as ever, come on, Janie, you've got to give me more here."

I gave what I could. "I liked the new songs."

It seemed less jokey now as his laughter fell but he smiled at me sincerely. "Thanks."

"I'm sure the album will be great." I never doubted that. Even if he wrote the most scathing things about me, I would love it because he’d word it in such a way that I simply could not hate it.

Our conversation was like hitting a tennis ball back and forth but each time one of us hit it the other wouldn't hit it back. I thought about going inside. Then, he asked me, "You and Robert together?"

His bluntness had taken me aback and I focused on my cigarette to process the question. "Does Robert strike you as the boyfriend type?"

It made Alex laugh, which was the only relief in the world I would need. "I suppose not. Kissing you on the cheek and all—I'm sorry, not my business."

He was flustered, which made me laugh. He was small and cute when he was flustered, messing with his hair and shaking his head. "You know, he gets a kick out of making you jealous."

"Really?" Alex chuckled at the idea. I think Alex, for many years, viewed himself as the underdog, even if he was more famous, richer, cuter, and kinder than nearly anyone else I knew. 

"I think you make him feel insufficient. I'm not sure why but he's always felt a need to overcompensate when you're around."

"So, he doesn't do stuff like that usually?"

I never liked lying to Alex. "No. But in full transparency, we are doing the hook-up thing or whatever."

He verged on saying something but closed his mouth and scuffed out his cigarette. I joined him in dropping mine. "Lucky him."

I pushed him light-heartedly. "Shut up."

We returned inside and Robert's arm returned around me. Later, when we were saying our goodbyes for the evening, he was loud in his exclamation that we were leaving together and returning to his flat. I had to hide my laughter. Robert's usual too-cool-for-school conduct faded at the sight of Alex. It made it funnier when Alex pulled me aside while everyone was saying their goodbyes.

"Are you coming to the show tomorrow?"

I shook my head. 

"Come."

"I can't. I've got to babysit."

Matt interjected, "They let you around children?"

Before I could say anything, Alex told him, "Will you shut it, Matthew?"

When Matt moved away, Alex grabbed my hands. "Just come tomorrow. Another night of free drinks if you want."

I giggled at his earnestness. "I would if I could."

"Cancel. Come on."

"Al."

"Look, how many nights am I in town for? Come on, Janie."

His eyes wide, his mouth saying his name for me, and his hands clutching mine. I didn't say no.

*

My arms are crossed and my head is shaking the first time I hear "505" because I don't know what to make of it and I don't know what to make of this. Alex was dressed in a sky-blue Lacoste (this will be more relevant in a few years) and he pressed down on the keys as he pressed down on me.

I was having a hard time wrapping my head around it. I wasn't sure if I should cry or smile. The song left me uneasy and I felt I didn't know what was true anymore. That wavelength between us had been severed and I imagined Alex felt sad about our break-up but I never thought he was rethinking his actions and pining for that hotel room again. I had been the one to lament over our break-up and send it to him. He had stayed reserved in all his opinions and hid away his emotions. It wasn't a new thing by any means. But I did feel a sense of betrayal when I heard the information with 2,000 other people instead of under blankets and sheets, whispered in the dead of winter.

But I didn't want to talk about it so after the show I didn't bring it up. His mannerisms shifted from his awkward movement to more deliberately positioned as he hugged me after the show like he had done so many times before, sweaty.

"Drinks?" I asked him.

He moved back and forth between his left and right foot. "I was thinking I could see this new flat I keep hearing about." 

Everything was intentional and obvious. "It's not very fabulous."

He waved me off. "I'm sure you've gushed the place up."

"Gushed the place up?" I questioned his verbiage.

Alex rolled his eyes and squeezed my upper arm. "Come on. Let me see the grounds."

Off we went on the underground to my flat, just the two of us. He kept jumping in his seat on the way over, citing excitement. "It feels out of place that I haven't seen your place," he said.

"Yeah. I know what you mean."

On our way up the stairs to my flat, Alex tried to challenge me to a race but my feet hurt and I couldn't believe he still had enough energy after performing concert after concert. My back was slumped and Alex was standing up perked as I unlocked the door. 

"Georgia home?" He asked as we made our way through the door.

"With Kyle."

He nodded, tight-lipped. I could see the scene unfolding before him in his mind as we stood in the living room/kitchen hybrid. He looked around the room like he had actual interest in it before his eyes landed on me with a smile.

"Do you do this in every city?" I asked.

"Huh?"

"Al. You're easy to read."

He stuffed his hands in his coat pocket as he tried to fight that grin bursting across his face. "I wanted to see your place."

I rolled my eyes and walked toward my bedroom. "Yeah, sure." He followed behind like an obedient puppy.

He was attentive in looking around the room, nearly all those trinkets he had memorized from my old room had been replaced with new ones. The poster flier from one of Georgia's poetry readings, the Amy Winehouse ticket stub, and the dumb joke from Alex's Christmas cracker were pinned on my mini bulletin board. The paper crown and mini deck of cards sat displayed on my desk. A slight upturn came to Alex's cheeks at the sight.

His gaze moved back to me. "A lot smaller than your room back home."

"Yeah. Rent's expensive and I'm paying rent now."

"Out from under your dad's thumb." Seeing him as pleased with this as I had been was a happy sight. Those long chats in hidden coves where we'd be independent together. But as always Alex was happy for me even without having him as codependence. 

Alex faked looking around my room more as I sat on the edge of my bed. He'd bend down to look at things like he was at a museum. His hands stayed in his pockets the whole time and he examined the corners and details of everything as if he'd be quizzed on it.

"Are you looking to see what you're going to steal from me?" I asked him.

He chuckled. "No, sorry. Just curious." He picked up the mini deck of cards, tossing it in his hands. "Round of Gin?"

"Alex." I wanted to be clear. "You came over here to play cards with me?"

His eyes were stuck on the deck's package, fiddling with the cardboard lid. "I just..." He shrugged multiple times and bounced on his feet. "I guess, I missed you, you know."

"Yeah." It was an easy sentiment to agree to because I feared I'd miss him for the rest of my life.

"We were in Tokyo a few weeks ago and I wanted to go see that Buddha you wrote about that, that, that—"

"Kamakura Daibutsu."

"Yeah." He looked down solemnly. "Wasn't there long enough to do it. I don't know. It just had me thinking about you and I know the relationship thing has sailed." 

I didn't believe that. I didn't want to believe that. I had held on to those hidden beliefs that after all the madness we'd return to each other's side and all would be well. An abyss grew in me that Alex didn't believe that too.

"But," he continued. "But just all that shite that I'd done to make it worse and I vowed I'd never do that and I'm sorry for being a total dickhead."

"I did things too that I knew would hurt you."

"You did nothing."

"I slept with someone in Aruba."

He froze, his stare on me as he processed the information. "Uh, that's fine."

I shook my head. "Don't do that. I don't want to start acting like my parents."

"I don't want tonight to be this depressing," he laughed wetly. 

"What did you want tonight to be?"

"I, I, to be—to hang out, to be with you."

"We could have done that at a pub. Why'd you want to come to my flat?" We looked at each other, both knowing the answer but waiting to see if the other would verbalize it.

He put the deck back on my desk and sat beside me. He stared forward at the wall for a moment before falling on his back. He rubbed his face as if to scrub it off, not wanting me to see the sight of it. My eyes never stopped following him. I was afraid to blink.

"My plan was to be all cute, tha knows."

"Aren't you always?"

The comment seemed to drop his guard a bit as he placed his hands on his chest. He took a deep breath and looked at me. His smile slowly grew as if it was being watered by the sight of me. "If you want to kiss me, you can."

I rolled my eyes and turned away from him but my smile was unavoidable.

"Come on." He tugged on my wrist. "You wouldn't let me endure one of the most embarrassing moments of my life."

I slapped away his hand's grip. "Quit mocking me."

He sat up. "I'm not mocking, Janie. I'm making the bad good." His face was right next to mine and it felt like the best move was to kiss him because kissing Alex could never be wrong even if he was leaving tomorrow and I would be left here.

So, therefore, having sex with Alex could never be an issue even though I slept with Robert the night before and I would sleep with him tomorrow. I wanted relief. The only solution was Alex in me. It was memorable.

*

His excitement worried me. "You're graduating in a few months. You could join us for festival season. It'll be in all those incredible places you want to go with beautiful weather. It'll be perfect. Where do you want to go? We'll go."

Lying in his arms had always been a comfort but now I felt this inevitability of hurting him with the false hope I had given. We lied on our sides, looking at each other, his hand draped over my waist.

"I don't know what kind of job I'll have after school. I might have to stay in London."

"We should hire you. You'll be our on-the-road journalist." His smile was infectious and I wished to have similar sentiments that once the obligation of school was done then we'd be fixed. But I wasn't going to kid myself.

I fell onto my back and clutched the bedsheet to my chest. "I think I'd be a bit biased. I don't want to be a journalist anyway."

"What do you want to be then, Janie?"

I shrugged. "I'll know when it's here."

Alex propped himself up on his elbow and quickly hovered over me. "You can't lie to me, Janie. You're a writer."

"Everybody's a writer," I argued.

He bit back a chuckle and shook his head. "Don't give me that shite for 4 years ago. You're a writer. I've seen it with my own two eyes."

"Well," I bite my lip, "there's this magazine, Granta, that I've submitted pieces to. I don't know if I want to do the whole freelance writer thing but I like writing what I want to write."

"Do it," he urged. "I'm not just saying that because you'll be able to come on the road with us."

I side-eyed him. "Sure."

"Have faith in me. I'm always looking out for the best for you. I'm always in your corner, Jane Cavendish."

It hit me. I knew it was the truth and he had always rallied for me so deeply even when we were far away from each other. "Ditto."

Alex rolled onto his back and looked at the ceiling. "Plus, you'll be able to see us headline Glastonbury."

I laughed but he didn't correct himself. I looked over and that smug bastard smirked at me and slowly nodded his head. "Fuck off. You're joking." He wasn't. Obviously.

*

Alex left for Liverpool at 6:30 AM. He shook me out of sleep saying he'd see me in a few weeks and kissed me.

Hours later, when I woke up, I would've figured I'd dreamt it if he hadn't written a note and placed it on my nightstand.

Come to Leadmill on the 21st & 22nd. I want a formal review. —A.T.

A couple of days later, Favourite Worst Nightmare dropped, including my—to this day—only songwriting credit on "Fluorescent Adolescent." I sent a text to Alex calling him a plagiarist. He told me to look out for the royalties check.

My relationship with Robert had remained unchanged but he gave the impression he knew what I had done with Alex. We never talked about it and when I left for Wakefield on the 20th he told me to tell the band he liked the album. I kissed his cheek. He was an annoying piece of shit but he was my friend. Few people understood it but we related to one another in a way I've never related with anyone. We were twin flames and it's why I couldn't handle him for more than a night at a time. We lit each other's fires but a fire is still a fire even if it keeps you warm on a cold night and burns you the next.

In Wakefield, my parents informed me they were moving. It had little to no effects on me other than sentimentality and having to clean out my childhood room. Stacey, however, would be uprooted and for that, I hurt.

My parents' guilt-tripped generosity allowed Stacey to attend The Leadmill show—her first Arctic Monkeys concert. She was slightly aware of the ambiguity of Alex and I's relationship and over the winter had prodded me for more. No one can claim to be a bigger fan of Alex Turner than Stacey, not even myself.

I wore my Arctic Monkeys tour T-shirt purchased at the London shows and Stacey wore the one I had purchased for her (I bought them at the merch table because it felt too awkward to ask Alex or the band for one. I used to just steal them. I decided to not hold the poor merch girl at gunpoint for a shirt). I drove my car there so Alex couldn't persuade me into drinks after. Stacey's coming eliminated any funny business. I wanted to get through school before starting anything up with Alex again. If I was even going to do that. I wasn't sure yet.

The setlist had a few new inclusions and Stacey jumped around freely. It was a beautiful sight of youth to see. It's the first time I really felt old at the thought that used to be me. Then, I felt stupid. I was a fresh 21, I had no clue how old old would really feel.

After the show, we congratulated the band on a good show and said good night. Alex told me to come to his parents' house before the show tomorrow. I accepted. I missed David and Penny. They would also be a good prevention buffer.

Up in his room, we sat on his bed and talked like the old days. There was much that had happened to talk about. Alex took the news of the house selling harder than me. I guess my sentimentality had rubbed off on him but I never viewed that house in the rose-coloured view that Alex did. But moments in my room I've locked away in my heart for just him and me. Things for only my ears to hear, my eyes to see, and my flesh to feel and vice versa for him.

After the show, we sat in my car.

"I feel like we're back to being 18," I told him.

"Why?"

I laughed to shield the seriousness with which I was speaking. "These trysts of ours."

"I already told Miles so." He had come out and performed "505" with them that night.

I rolled my eyes and chuckled. "Of course you did."

He shrugged helplessly.

"I'm still—well, I continued my thing with Robert. I'm not gonna lie to you."

"I kind of figured."

"I don't know how I feel about starting this again. Always being so far."

Alex sighed and leaned forward on his elbow on the center console. "After you've graduated that might not even be an issue."

"I'm not gonna follow you around like a puppy dog for years, Alex."

"I don't expect you to. But it could be fun this summer. After that, there'll be a break and we'll go wherever you pick. Swear it." He stuck his pinky out.

I bit the inside of my cheek and looked at his sweet face, always seeing so much with those big eyes. I loved him to pieces. Through all the struggles, there was that sweet face. So, I wrapped my pinky around his.

*

Alex was in Orlando when I graduated. He sent me a long email that is too long and personal to be printed in full here but here's an excerpt.

I think you should be a food reviewer that way we get into all the best restaurants that I'm not elegant enough to get into. Or you could just bat your eyelashes. Either would work I'm sure.

Be whatever you want. You'll be the best at it. Unless you want to do my job then stick to your day job otherwise I'll be out of one. Call me after, whenever you can. I wish I was there so imagine I am. It'll make me feel better.

He sounded like a dad. Some version of Atticus Finch morphed into a buffoon. I thought for hours about how to respond to the email. My eyes began to hurt so I just sent him photos from the day that Georgia had taken. 

Georgia hid her discrepancies with me over abandoning the flat to "run off with Alex" as she said every time I brought up my summer plans. I sublet my room with full intentions of returning in September. 

Robert was messier. We mutually seemed to agree that our sexual relationship would come to an end in May when we graduated. Robert held plans of going to New York and being a vagabond and I felt settled in London. Our activity had grown sparse after my trip to Yorkshire but didn't cease.

Two nights before graduation, I told him of my plans for the summer. He nodded along but laughed when I finished. "Whatever, Jane, be a fucking groupie all your life."

"I'm not."

He laughed maliciously at me. "I think you're scared of what comes after uni so you're clinging to this rich, successful ex-boyfriend. Play second fiddle to him. That's fine."

He was jealous. But I worried he was right.

*

I met up with the band in Dublin, which seemed fitting. It was easy to fall into the old habits of 2005 when I joined the band during the summer. However, Alex and I's relationship hadn't returned to what it had been. I slept in his bunk due to lack of space but that wasn't difficult. We struggled more with communication.

Their two shows in Dublin were messy and fanatical in the crowd. I stood backstage and listened to people singing along to a song I wrote. It didn't feel as out-of-body as I imagined and I wondered if Alex felt the same way when he heard the crowd singing along with him. 

In between their first and second show in Dublin, Alex and I escaped to Wicklow, much to the annoyance of his management who worried the whole day that he had ditched the show. We returned in time, although we did cut it close.

We hiked the Glen Beach Cliff where the ocean kissed the mountains and I knew Alex wanted to complain the whole time but he didn't. His shoes were old, the seams nearly ripped open as we hiked the 3 miles. Below us, on the beach, were seals. It felt like a different world compared to the one we had experienced last night.

As we walked downhill, Alex wrapped his arm around me and despite nearly tripping several times and knocking me down with him, I refused to let him remove the arm. 

"Are we dating again?" He asked.

It had been a largely neglected topic, mostly because I hadn't made my mind up about it. It was easy to be with Alex but being with Alex when we weren't actually with each other was frustrating. My biggest worry had always been ruining our friendship over the failure of our romantic relationship. Still, I wasn't sure of anything. "I guess."

He lightly chuckled. "That was enthusiastic."

"I'm sorry. I guess my question remains about what will happen after summer." The wind swirled around us and I tried my best to keep my hair out of my face.

"That's more a question for you than for me. You know what I want but I'm going to be happy for you whatever way you go. You know that right?" Alex has always been insistent on making sure I know he's steadfast in his support of whatever direction I decide to head and he has held true to that (mostly).

"Then, I'll need time to think about that. See what opportunities come my way this summer."

He nodded and tugged me closer. "This is over in December and then I'm all yours. Besides, I've already called you me girlfriend so you can't go back on it now."

In my sarcastic nature, I tossed my head on his shoulder, sounding, "Ugh! Don't be presumptuous, Al."

*

I got my favourite pair of sunglasses stolen at Glastonbury and I will hunt down the thief until the day that I die. Not that sunglasses were required for much of that day. The sky was dim, the ground was muddy, and it rained the whole weekend. We got there a day early to settle and like any night before a big show, it was spent drinking and horsing around late into the night.

Alex and I didn't get to bed until way past midnight and even then we had left Jamie, Matt, and other mates still fucking around. As we got ready for bed Alex had grown quiet, slow in his movements, and shrinking down into the small bed.

We laid down together and silence was awkward and he felt stiff. "You nervous?"

"Yeah," he laughed out in an effort to mask his nerves.

I curled my arm around and hugged him. I did my best to comfort him the way he always did for me. I held him tight and tried to possess a shoulder to cry on the best I could. "You know, I'll still love you even if you make a fool of yourself."

"Thanks." I leaned back to look at him as he struggled with a smile. His hand reached up and pushed my hair behind my ear. He held my cheek and it felt like his muscles had finally relaxed. "I'll try my best not to. I know you don't want to be stuck with a fool." 

"Aren't you already?"

He rolled his eyes and was relieved with a laugh. "Maybe only for you."

"That's so cheesy. You should be put in jail."

"As long as you were there."

I slapped a thunk onto his arm. "Stop it, you. I'll imprison you. Shush!"

He resisted my push away from him, wormed his arm under me, and landed the other over me. He wiggled us close and he felt like a preheated oven as my bones were left out to defrost. "Are you happy? Excited?"

Alex often needed me to reassure him during this period of our lives, especially after we got back together. That summer our relationship was ambiguous and it was easy for Alex to fear that at the first sign of unhappiness, I would ditch him. He wasn't exactly wrong. I wouldn't have left if Glasto sucked but if I became unhappy with Alex, it was an easy out for me. I've always appreciated easy outs.

"Yeah. I wish I had a camera. Then, I could sell them all to The Sun and make a killing."

"Is all this okay with you?" More questions. Another valid one. An undiscussed topic had often been I, an at-the-time unknown, being pulled into the public eye for my attachment to Alex. It's not like he was some tabloid superstar but it didn't leave me as a virtual unknown, especially with the band only getting bigger.

I nodded, my ear rustling against the pillow. "No stalkers. Except maybe you." He hadn't left my side since we arrived. I couldn't complain one bit. For once, I wasn't the clingy one.

He mused, "What can I say? I love you."

"Stop." Too cheesy, too cheesy.

Alex laughed into his pillow. He softened up and inched closer to me on our tiny bed. "Why didn't you bring your camera?" My photograph production had declined since college but I still held onto the habit.

I frowned. "It broke right before graduation."

"The ol’ Canon finally bit the dust,” he joked. It had been the only camera I ever owned. I used my mother’s old cameras when I took that photography class with Matt. I never bothered investing more in it than what I could borrow. “We can pick up another one."

I sighed. "Too much money. I'm an independent woman now."

"Oh, damn, you need me to be your daddy now."

I pushed him off the bed.

*

We mudded up our wellies the following day to see Amy Winehouse before the rain poured in full force again. I think it relaxed everyone to feel like we went to Glasto just to enjoy it and not actually headline it. We nodded our heads along with the songs and stood with our hands stuffed into our pockets. 

Opposing Alex's nerves, I was wracked with excitement. I went off into my own world during Glastonbury and wanted to enjoy the hippie nature and the history. I loved the whole weekend. The nights after watching The Killers and The Who and I'm pissed with Arctic Monkeys to this day for having me miss Björk to watch their stupid headline set.

Dressed in their overcoats and Matt with his Adidas track pants, their set went off without a hitch and I had fun dancing with Katie and briefly with Dizzee Rascal before he joined them onstage for "Temptation Greets You Like A Naughty Friend." The road had and would be lonely but it was eased a little bit by having another girl by my side. When Miles came out and joined the band for "505" I thought of Eva. I hadn't talked or heard about her since The Little Flames disbanded. I shamed myself for it. I had become a person who held onto objects that reminded you of a person as an excuse to no longer see them.  The thought crossed my mind that Georgia was my only friend and I hadn't talked to her since I joined the band on the road. Then, Katie hugged me to her side and I felt a little less lonely.

I had grown desensitized to the meaning behind Alex's songwriting. I never stopped and thought about how he was singing songs that were rooted in our break-up because it no longer seemed important because we were together and how the past could affect the future. But there was this moment during "Do Me A Favour" where he had seemed rather emotional, furiously strumming his guitar and rushed singing close to his microphone. I felt ashamed for not having the same reaction as him. I felt like I was missing a gene by not crying at "Mardy Bum" or not swooning at "I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor" but I suppose night after night, I just became numb to the meanings of those songs. I wish I hadn't. I wish I enjoyed it more but everything felt fleeting so I made no effort to cherish moments at that age.

When they got off stage the thought had floated away and we were ready for a night of exhausted celebration. The weather was rough and the band had their casual round of press before we enjoyed drinks and party favours in the camper. Alex and I made out against the door of a porta-potty at one point. It was very disgusting.

*

I fulfilled more travel fantasies with this tour. The limitations no longer sat in Great Britain and Ireland as we moved up to Scandinavia, first stopping in Oslo. I was set loose and skipped their concert, instead visiting the Akershus Fortress and seeing "The Scream" at the Munch Museum finally returned to its home after being stolen in 2004 (although, I'm partial to Munch's "Madonna" but that's neither here nor there). In Stockholm, I continued this by going to the Vasa Museum and in the evening hiking up to Skinnarviksberget and watching the sunset, but, sadly, no Northern Lights.

We continued the festival run going through Germany and then Rock Werchter where at this point I should have broken the world record for seeing Lily Allen live as I once again watched her on the Pyramid Marquee before seeing my boys on the Main Stage.

A festival or so later, a day off was given before their Paris show, and, in a way, I finally got my Parisian dream. The hotel was nice and the toilet worked like how a normal toilet works but Alex and I shared a room. Privacy for the first time since his room in Sheffield. We did the obvious, a few times.

It's weird to put it how sex works with Alex and me. It's like a weird recalibrating device. I suspect it's because our relationship started through it that whenever we need to get back on the same page fucking seems to help. It was late and we shared a cigarette after because you can do that then in Paris. I would talk, he would smoke it, then he would talk, I would smoke it.

"You and Katie have become best mates," he said. Katie had returned back to England a few days prior and I once again was the lone girl.

"I like her a lot. She's a calm presence amongst the chaos."

"Yeah, she's done Jamie a world of good. Calmed him a bit." That was undeniably true. Jamie had always been a kind and caring guy but he had an uncontrollable craze at times and a mouth that poured at things that maybe shouldn't have been said. Katie seemed to kick him and keep him in check.

I have always been fascinated with how people change people. Somewhere at our center these people worm their way in and change your hardwiring or maybe they just expose what has always been there. "Have I calmed you?"

Alex chuckled. "Quite the opposite I think."

"Hey!" I became jokingly affronted. "I can be a calm presence. You lot are the ones who are messing around so much."

He continued to laugh at me. Eyes bright and smile light. He reached over and began to pet my hair. "I don't think calm would be the right word." I thought about hitting his chest but that would prove his point. "I just think you've made me more confident."

It was a peculiar thought to me. I didn't feel confident most of the time and I was nowhere near the confidence of going on stage and headlining festivals as a band's frontman. "How?" I asked.

He reached back to stub out the cigarette on the ashtray on the bedside table but he kept his hand steady on the side of my head, rubbing smooth circles. He returned closer and with a soft smile. "In a lot of ways. Your encouragement." I couldn't argue with that. Alex had done the same for me tenfold. "I feel like if you believe in me, even if I fuck up out there, you'll still be here." I wanted to always be there. I hated how life got in the way and people stayed and others went and I just wanted to stay in little corners of the world with Alex forever. But in those early years, it was an impossibility. We tried our best. 

"Plus, you're smoking hot." I rolled my eyes but I was, of course, charmed by the comment (I mean, I wrote it here for a reason. I want everyone to know he finds me smoking hot). "Do you know the power I have by having you as a girlfriend? For god's sake, Robert almost kicked my ass over you."

I pushed away from him. "Ew. Don't talk about Robert when I'm naked."

"Why? You've been naked with him."

Forces froze and I waited to see if he had more to say or if I had anything to say but we both felt chilled by the awkwardness. I slowly sat up more against the headboard and rested back against it. "Were you hurt by that?"

"What?"

"Me having sex with Robert because you don't really have a right to be pissed." I was defensive because I was in the right but I also framed his words as an attack.

Alex was slow in his response, I guess he was trying to find the best way to say what he was thinking without me biting his head off for it. "No. I mean, you're right. There's no reason to be pissed."

I wanted to know his real feelings. I knew he wouldn't shame me for doing it but I wondered if he felt the act of Robert and I's relationship was an attack against him. I played with my fingernails and we didn't make eye contact. We were two planks beside one another. "But were you?"

I peeked over. His shoulders shrugged and he looked down at his hands. We were mirror images of each other. "I don't know. I mean, I don't like the idea of you being with anyone else. Truthfully, Robert annoys me so I guess that confused me or upset me more. But I love you, you know." He looked over. Insistent on this part. "And that's not going away. I figured that out a long time ago. As much as I love the idea that I get to be with you for...you know, I know that I can't get everything I want. But I want you to get all that. I want it more for you than for me. You got that?"

It took me a while to regain control. I was stuck between smiling so wide my face ripped into two and crying until my eyes fell out. I took a shaky breath. "Yeah. But I want all that for you too so you're right back to getting everything you've wanted again because I want that."

"You're always forcing me to take care of myself, Janie."

I hugged him. I needed to touch him. To hold him. I whispered into his neck, "It's 'cause I love you, you know."

*

When the tour went on break I went with Alex to Black Box Studios in Maine-et-Loire, France where he and Miles recorded the first Last Shadow Puppets album. The whole album was recorded in a matter of 2 weeks but nothing about it was rushed. The landscape was lush and the downtime felt like something out of an Eric Rohmer film.

On the last few dates of the tour, we ended up in Sydney. It was the only time during the tour that I got the urge to call my mother. I didn't because my Nokia couldn't call that far but I sent her and my father a postcard and I bought Stacey Uggs, authentic Uggs. We had a day off where we went to Bondi Beach where Matt and I braved the cold water. Afterwards, we visited the zoo where I got to hold a koala. I felt like holding a baby, except with the softest fur imaginable. Afterward, I pouted about not being allowed to own one so Alex bought me a koala stuffed animal.

A week after, the band went to play Summer Sonic in Osaka and Tokyo. I went back home for a week. It wasn't intentional, the dates just lined up that way but it felt best to skip such a rough place. Alex has a habit of embodying the mood of places based on memories. This behavior can likely only exist for a guy who has been to so many places.

I joined The Last Shadow Puppets a few days into recording. When I arrived, Miles and Alex had just returned from riding their bikes together. They looked like twins, shaggy-haired and brown-eyed boys. Alex threw his bike down and tossed his arm over to me like we were two buds, just getting off our shift at work. It filled me with endless excitement. Then, Miles came over and cupped my face, pinching my cheeks. I slapped him away and we went inside and had dinner.

At that dinner table, I could picture a whole future. Ones where Alex and I had Miles over our house, our little stray puppy. Nights where we all went out drinking and he crashed on our couch. Miles and I would both be hungover and Alex would give us painkillers and make us scrambled eggs.

Side-by-side, Alex and I brushed our teeth. It was a greater act of love than a marriage proposal.

*

I had begun to videotape these Shadow Puppets. On the morning of my second day there, Alex and I were lounging around in bed when he told me he had a little present. He came out with a camera, a Pentax 17. 

"For me?" I pointed to myself, holding the delicate thing, cradling it like my baby.

He snorted a laugh. "Who else?" He petted my hair back and he was the sweetest man who ever lived. 

In those two weeks, I didn't have many subjects. Most of the footage and pictures were of Miles and Alex. James Ford, who produced and drummed with the Puppets, made some appearances. I slipped by in a couple too. I began to develop this plan to make a documentary on the band. It fell through, mainly because when they went to do the orchestral parts of the album in December, I couldn't go, and I was also lazy. They used some of it for a 4play documentary but it wasn't the vision I had. Alex says I would have won an NME award (I have desperately wanted to win one solely for the middle finger trophy. Alex has plenty, only one on display for joking sake, but I would beg to win one. It might have been my only chance). It probably would have sucked. I've never worked with actual film to make a movie. I never worked with anything to make a movie because I've never made a movie. I will never make one either. Because I am lazy. But, I guess, I'll get through the rest of this book and stop interrupting the flow of the story by telling you I'm getting ready to write more of this book which you will read now. Or now. Now. Now. Now. Now. Now.

Now, I have filmed much more on that camera other than Miles and Alex skipping through great fields and picking daisies, although I still shoot that too. If I could submit home videos for the NME Awards, I would have won one by now.

Most afternoons we rode bikes around the tiny town. I would occasionally drop into the studio out of pure boredom but I spent the majority of my downtime writing or exploring. One afternoon, the trio of us biked by Château d'Armaillé.  It was a lofty manor contrast to the farms and livestock breeders we usually biked by. I stopped and stared as I usually do.

"Can you believe people lived in that thing?" I questioned, completely mesmerised.

Alex laughed, already pleased with his joke. "Yeah, isn't that the size of your family home?" 

*

On our last night there we had a little dinner party with everyone we had come across at Black Box Studios in the two weeks we had been there. Since this was pretty much the middle of nowhere, there were very few people. But it felt celebratory to end this little project with gloriously catered French food and playing dress-up. It was mainly an excuse for me to wear a vintage dress I had found at a used clothing store in Nantes when I was waiting for a car out to Black Box. 

It was a white drop-waist dress with a little bow on the side of my hip and a skirt with a light lace overlay. It was paired with a cloche hat that I regretfully didn't buy, but I still have the dress. Alex wore a button-down and slacks but Miles and I talked him into wearing a stupid top hat that had been lying around Black Box for the 2 weeks we were there. Alex ended up taking it home with him, although he does not still have it. Miles wore shorts, a grey T-shirt, and a bowtie. 

The food and conversations were far more important with the most delicious potatoes I've ever tasted that were mixed with a sauce that I might forever be wondering what it was but my tongue can still feel the taste. The wine was white and Alex dropped his glass on the floor halfway through the dinner, which he doesn't want me to mention, which means I totally will be mentioning it (obviously).

His arm rested on the back of my chair and our plates had long been cleared and the dessert, Gâteau Nantais (a delicious almond pound cake, soaked in rum, and topped with glaze—I really, really liked these meals), had been picked away at. I was still eating the crumbs of my second slice and Alex drank from his new wine glass. I could see futures, but for the first time, I felt like this was the future. Friends, old and mostly new, surrounded us and we drank and ate and talked and laughed and the warmth of Alex radiated on me. I was in love with everything.

"Will Jane be heading back on the road for North America?" James asked Alex. 

He turned to me with his teeth showing, smiling enough for sparks to come off it. Pride radiated off of him; it still makes me want to cry. "As of this morning, Miss Cavendish has a job with Simon & Schuester." 

When I told Alex, I was cautiously concerned that his worries would overshadow the news, but I never doubted he'd be happy for me. I got the call when he was brushing his teeth. I told him when he returned to our room and he grabbed my hands and made me jump on the bed with him. (Shall I avoid the Monkeys Jumping on the Bed joke?).

The table cheered loudly and drunkenly. "Oh, shit, I know those two boys!" Miles, sooooooo drunk, exclaimed. I bashfully tucked my chin down, avoiding the attention. 

Alex's hand skimmed over my left shoulder. He bent down to kiss my downturned cheek and it was like my crush just kissed the spot—my cheeks flushed red and my heart pounded on the gates of my ribs. 

I waved for the noise to quiet down. "It's just an editorial assistant position."

Alex squeezed my shoulder, looking over at me, and rolling his eyes. "Cut it with that rubbish, Janie. It should have been the first thing we cheers to when we sat down."

He reached for his wine glass and I shoved his arm away. "Stop it. You're flustering me." His breath smelled of Chardonnay and his behavior spelled out drunk—his bubbly drunk phase, which is the most flattering phase. He leaned over kissing my cheeks repeatedly making the table erupt in noise again. I took a grip on his face and tried to push him away.

"I've made you all red," he boasted. Alex's face was all red too but it was likely more to do with the alcohol than me. "It's time to cheers, Janie." He motioned toward my almost empty wine glass. I shook my head. "Time to cheers, Janie," he insisted. 

"You sure you aren't going to drop your glass again?" I teased.

"Oh, shut it, you," he said, but he laughed and tugged me close to him. I almost thought he was going to give my head a noogie.

He drank all the wine out of his glass before raising it. "To Jane Cavendish, Simon & Schuester Editorial Assistant."

*

I started on a Wednesday and I did little editing in my editorial position. But Helen, one of the editors, gave me old drafts they hadn't published and the book and told me to pick all the differences out and she would be quizzing me on it the next day. I went out drinking with Lee and Georgia and came in hungover the next day. Helen said I was the first editorial assistant she had that didn't fall for the quiz prank. That endeared her to me and she became my mentor.

Alex was off doing interviews about virginity for the Virgin Fest and I had never been more thankful I didn't lose my virginity to him. I used to wish that and tell Stacey when assuring her not to lose it so young. But it's probably best since I'd associate the time I lost my virginity with an interviewer from AXS Uncut asking Alex to name virgins.

I had moved back in with Georgia and her new girlfriend, Kyle, who was always a sweetheart, even if she didn't do the dishes. They weren't the annoying kind of couple to live with. They weren't loud and I never felt like the third wheel around them. It was easy for my mind to drift to Alex. I would relive the way Black Box felt. While the majority of it felt like a vacation, at its core, we were coming home each night together. The home is what we lacked on the road and the togetherness is what we lacked at home. I just thought of him being in my bed, sleeping. I always liked the way he looked sleeping.

Alex called more than he did on the last tour. I guess he had learned a lesson. Being in North America was a bit easier than when he'd been in the Eastern Hemisphere since he was only 6 hours behind. He'd call me when I got off work before he'd perform his concert and we would talk of the monotony of my day. A couple of hours later, usually while I was sleeping, he'd text me about how the concert went. It was usually only one word: "Good." "Great." "Best." "Sucked." "Wanker." "Drunk." 

We had fallen into a pattern and although it seemed dull, it was successful. My heart still ached and sometimes the sight of Georgia and Kyle made me want to stick my head in the oven, but he was there when I needed him, even though he couldn't be here.

Working felt comfortable and, for once, I eased into that comfort. I got after-work drinks with editors and fellow editorial assistants. I'd joke around with superiors at work and I'd go home to Georgia and Kyle, who had made dinner for me. Georgia was working various gigs, but still heavily focusing on poetry. Kyle worked as a set developer, which meant our living room looked like a craft store had exploded. I didn't mind. I spent most of my off-time in my room and would only venture to the living room when we watched TV together.

However, when the North American leg finished at the beginning of October, Alex dropped by, and with a clicking of his tongue and the shaking of his head, he said, "Oh, Janie. You've got glitter everywhere." He said this in front of Kyle, so I hit the back of his head and dragged him to my bedroom.

Alex's stay at our flat during October was never agreed upon, he just showed up and I'd never turn him away. A week in, however, Georgia asked me when it was just the two of us in our kitchen, early in the morning before I headed off to work, "So, is he like living with us now?"

I shrugged. "No. I mean, he'll be back on the road before the end of the month."

"How do you feel about that?" What a good therapist she would be.

"Better than last time. I'm occupied now. I don't have to worry about lying around all the time thinking of him."

"You're a big girl now, Cavendish. But if he stays past a month, he will have to pay rent."

I laughed out loud. "I doubt he'll be living here with us."

"All I’m saying is rich rockstar can pitch in on groceries."

I told Alex of this conversation and he took me to the store to point out all of Georgia's favourite food goodies and bought them for her. Georgia felt bad after that until she had Jelly Babies. Then, she insisted Alex buy groceries every week.

On Alex's last night at the flat, he bought takeaway for everyone and watched I'm a Celebrity...Get Me Out of Here! with us. Several jokes were made about Alex doing the show, but I don't think Alex could eat a bug or be stuck with Katie Hopkins for a month. After dinner, Georgia and Kyle left for a "late-night poetry reading" or more likely avoid-the-lovebirds game.

Alex and I showered, changed into pajamas, and brushed our teeth together. In two parentheses, curled to bookend one another, Alex brushed his hand down my side. I told him, "I hope you get a good tan in South America."

"I'm too pale for you, Janie?"

"Maybe your butt," I giggled. It was some form of drunk-in-love. I felt rush through me every time he looked at me. It was like taking a hit.

"Wish you could come with us," he said. He was sober in his tone but his eyes were glazed over.

"Me too, but I'm happy here. I love my job and it sucks to not be with you but—"

He smiled—beamed bright and overwhelming. "But you're happy." He curled into me. My manners had transferred to him as he curled his arms around me and dug his face into my neck. "I'll be back for a week in November."

"And you'd come back here?" I questioned. There was a touch of uncertainty in everything we did that year, mostly because we had never even said we were back together and the other part was the reason for our break-up.

Alex lifted his head, his smile still showing. "Yeah." He sounded so happy and sunny. It was a cocoon of bliss. The young love I had always wanted. His fingers traced over my shoulder, making little finger drawings. His eyes looked down on his creation, avoiding my eyes. "And then we've got two shows here in December and then that last show in Manchester, which I thought maybe you could take off work and come up for. It's on a Monday so understandable if you can't."

I smiled at him but I'm unsure if he saw it due to his shy gaze dodging my face. "I'll try my best. I'll definitely be at the London ones."

His face was aglow but attentive to his finger tracing. "And then I was thinking, maybe—I don't know—maybe I'd come back to London."

I lightly chuckled. "You're not banned from the city. You're always welcome here. Georgia and Kyle like you a lot."

"I like them too but I was thinking we could stay somewhere else."

"What? Like a hotel?"

He finally looked me in the eye. "No, maybe we move in together. Like, get our own place. Maybe. It was just a thought."

It pleased me to no end. The thought wrapped its way around me the first time we slept together and over three years later to encounter the reality of it, I couldn't believe it. "A flat for just the two of us?"

"Yeah. I know you like it here but maybe we could find somewhere that I'm not finding specks of glitter all over my clothes."

I giggled all over him. "Yeah, yeah. I'd like that too. I'd like anywhere as long as you're there."

Alex shook his head with a big smile like he couldn't believe it. He hugged me, kissing my cheek, and then...then we did other stuff, you know.

*

People have asked me if Alex plays songs for me. They've imagined a world in which Alex sings me a lullaby every night. And I guess the answer is "yes" but I'd say more of a "sort of" situation. Alex would often strum his guitar to me but not in a dedicative format. It was something he would have done if I was there or if I wasn't. So, I would say he never did it for me.

Except once.

He was back in London and he had arrived late the night before. I was in my jammies and my slippers when he arrived and he made fun of me for my pajama pants that had Christmas elves printed on them. 

I was waiting on my bed for him to return from the bathroom. He came back, chilly from the lack of heating; Georgia and I weren't turning it on again this winter. He paced around my room before he asked, "Can I play you something?"

I furrowed my brows. "Like a song?"

He nodded and picked up his guitar. "I'm gonna do it on Radio 2 tomorrow. Like a little teaser for what's to come."

"So, this is a song for the next album?"

He shrugged. "Maybe." We never talked about the next thing, which was a problem and not a good choice for our reunited relationship.

Alex adjusted his guitar on his lap and sat in front of me, playing "Fire and the Thud" to me. He had never been that overtly romantic in a song before. Songs on the previous two albums never felt like love songs, but rather songs of longing or infatuation. But it felt like he had written this song for me as he played it for me. 

It would be one of the sweetest things anybody has ever done for me if he didn't go on to do even more songs for me. Not to brag or anything.

After he put his guitar down, I curled my arms around his neck and yanked him down with me to lay back on the bed. "You like it?"

"Loved it. I love everything you write."

"Yeah, but you really loved this one right?"

"Sure."

*

A few weeks later, when Alex and I returned from the final show of the Favourite Worst Nightmare tour, we moved into a new flat. Together. I had picked the flat out. Alex said whatever I liked he'll like and I wasn't going to argue being the sole picker. 

We moved in at a record speed, mainly because I had very little stuff and Alex had nothing, everything still back home in his childhood bedroom. My parents had officially moved down to Bath and I had received scathing phone calls from Stacey. I still feel sorry for that poor teenage girl.

Alex and I got a studio, which I liked because it felt artsy and a total adult thing to share a studio with your boyfriend. Later, it would be the start of many fights between Alex and me because I never had any privacy.

We had our bed in one corner, the kitchen in the other, and a small bathroom down the hall. Plus, it was in Clerkenwell, which was closer to work. We had his record player on the floor and a shared dresser. It was a greater act of love than sex or writing songs. It was his things mixed with mine.

We weren't there for very long. We each went back to our family's homes for Christmas, which suddenly was no longer the same area. Our time apart was short and when we returned we cleaned up the rest of our shared apartment and decided to have a New Year's Eve party.

It was wild debauchery from start to finish. Though we provided liquor, it seemed like every guest came with their own stash. I hadn't realized how many friends Alex had in London. His number of guests heavily outweighed mine but it didn't have much of an issue. Everything was communal and it was truly a night where everyone seemed free. Maybe it was the New Year's part or maybe it was being in the start of our early 20s. When I look back on this time, I forget how young I was. 17 and slutting up the streets at Barnsley and how in 4 years, I had obtained an establishing job and lived in London with my boyfriend. It was a dream book experience and like most things it was a small portion of our lives. But I felt straight out of a movie with this ending to the year I had received. 

Katie and I hid in a corner to talk close together to avoid all the noise. We shared a drink and both drowned in heavy alcohol consumption but we loved each other very much and I knew we'd be friends forever (I was very drunk when I thought this and slurred this to her but time has held this statement to be true. Drunk words are sober futures). "I'm going to marry him," I told her. We were watching Jamie attempt to throw Alex over his shoulder, fireman-style. Alex was a sweet ragdoll, laughing about and swaying.

Jamie was the loyal rescuer. "I'm going to marry him too," she slurred back to me. "We'd be like band sisters-in-law."

"Aw," I cooed. "I don't have a sister-in-law." (I mean, I do, my brother's wife, but I was referring more to Alex being an only child and I was wildly drunk. Forgive me, Cecilia).

"Then I can be yours!"

Before midnight, only a minute or so before, Alex and I huddled up in the kitchen with our closest friends of the bunch. Matt and Jamie were arguing about who had drunk more and we all watched on laughing. I was burrowed under Alex's arm. He was the cave I chose to hibernate in this winter.

"Don't forget the beer you had before coming here," Alex egged Matt on.

"Yes! And the beer I had 'fore coming here!" Matt sloppily shouted to Jamie. 

I pulled on Alex's hand he had thrown over me. "Don't they know I'm the drunkest?"

Alex chuckled. "Yes, with that breath you probably are." He was quite sober compared to the rest of us. Mostly because he knew how drunk I would be getting and somebody had to make sure our new place didn't get destroyed. 

I pulled back, offended. "It is not that bad."

"Yes, it is," he laughed.

"So bad you won't kiss me at midnight?" I hung off of him. You'd think we were in some basement in Wakefield.

He moved his hand down to the arch of my back to steady me. "I could never not kiss you."

My eyes snapped over to him, and I raised my eyebrows with a smirk. "Really? I don't recall that being the truth."

He laughed again. "Fair enough." But then he leaned in and kissed me until way after midnight, making out in the kitchen. It was disgusting and I loved the whole thing.

Nick knocked into us as he moved through the kitchen. "I'd tell you to get a room but we're all in it." He laughed, pleased with his joke, and moved to grab another beer.

Later in the evening, Nick threw up on our bed. Nick was the drunkest. 

Somewhere around one in the morning, I sat on Alex's lap and his arms were around me, holding me close to him as I talked to Georgia on one side of the couch and Alex talked to Miles on the other side of the couch. We held separate conversations about separate lives but he held me to him and he held me tight.

*

a/n: sigh, this is all i can think about writing as of late. i am a series girl after all.

[renthony]

Hi! Could you talk about what it’s like being an independent media researcher and how you became one? Did you go to school for communications or media studies? How do you make money?

I’m about to graduate college and I really want to go into the media studies field but I haven’t really figured out what the best way for me to do that is. I have a lot of similar research interests as you (animation, censorship, media analysis, queer media) and I’m disabled so I’ve been worried about not having the energy for a traditional 9 to 5 sort of job, so I’d love to hear more about how you’re able to do the research you’re passionate about!

Honestly, I got here by accident, and I'm still figuring things out as I go. I don't make much money and right now I feel like my work is in a period of transition. I have plans, but some days it feels like I'm barely making baby steps.

I started writing when I was pretty young, and I read every single "how to write" guide I could get my hands on via the library or bookstore. I wrote constantly. Short stories, various false starts at baby's first novel, even newsletters for school activities and community clubs. I was most focused on fiction at first, but I learned a lot about nonfiction as well.

I got involved in online writing communities back when forums were still a big deal, and I joined Twitter back in 2009 when it was still new and there was a massive author and freelancer community. (Anyone else remember before retweets were a thing? We had to copy, paste, and manually type out "RT @[user]" like barbarians.) I learned an absolute fuckton about the craft and the industry by talking directly with other writers, literary agents, editors, and various other people in the field. From the time I was like 14, I was interacting with professional writers, sharing my work for feedback, and racking up rejection letters from magazines and literary agents (which was a badge of honor in the communities I was hanging out in, because it meant you were working hard and refusing to quit). When I was 17, my best friend even scraped together money from their shitty fast food job to pay for us to attend a major writing conference in Denver, where we participated in all kinds of classes and panels with industry professionals.

My mother was also writing at the time, and I got a lot of support from her. She had a blog that got a decent amount of interaction, because this was right around the rise of the Mommy Blogger and my mom wrote from the perspective of a socially-isolated tattooed punk mom who never planned to have kids (which was unusual in a landscape of perfect housewives with perfect photogenic babies with weirdly-spelled Mormon names they chose when they were kids). Eventually my mom started writing for a website owned by Yahoo, to supplement the household income while staying home to care for my little siblings. When I decided I wanted to take a whack at freelancing, she gave me a lot of advice on how to get started. I also had a writing class at school taught by a teacher who made it a class project to submit to magazines, so I basically got a head-start on freelance life. I wrote a lot of random articles for a website that's since gone defunct, and I submitted a lot of short stories to contests and magazines. Didn't really make a lot of money, but I learned a ton and got a lot of experience.

When I made it to college, I studied anthropology and French. I'd planned to study history, but switched my track after a single semester because anthropology suited me better. I took a lot of AP classes in high school and did well on all the standardized testing, so I managed to get a full academic scholarship and skip right past a few of my gen eds. Unfortunately for me, I had a lot of difficult life experiences during that time period, and I started to struggle in pretty much everything that wasn't directly related to my degree. I failed Latin so bad I didn't bother to go to the final exam, because even a perfect grade wouldn't have saved me. I fucked up my algebra grade beyond salvation. Those two classes alone tanked my GPA enough that I lost my academic scholarship, and I wound up dropping out entirely. Grades in my required courses were solid, but the scholarship requirements meant I had to do well across the board or lose my funding.

My mother still has debt from getting loans to pursue a master's degree, and I knew damn well I didn't want that kind of student debt piling up on me, so I opted for dropping out. Sometimes I regret it a little, but I honestly think it was the best option. I was having so much emotional upheaval on top of the academic stress that I needed time away to figure myself out. I graduated high school early, so I was like two years younger than everyone around me, and I didn't have many friends. I lived at home and came to campus just long enough to go to class, so I had nothing in common with my classmates who lived in dorms and participated in campus activities. I missed orientation because I registered late, the administration sent me to the transfer student registration day instead of the new student registration day, and I didn't get any "here's how you navigate university life" support. I didn't know I was supposed to have a one-on-one academic advisor for a year and a half, and when I finally met him, his only comment on the matter was, "wow, I wondered why you hadn't come to see me yet!" without any sort of inquiry into how a fuckup on that scale was allowed to happen in the first place. I wasn't set up for success by university administration, and I burnt out hard. I dropped out.

My wife encouraged me to do what was going to be best for me mentally instead of letting finances dictate my next step. She had a steady job, and even though we were still pretty broke, her support let me drop out of college and focus on recovery. A lot of people gave me shit because their perception was that I was dropping out of college to become "just a housewife," and they couldn't fathom why. From my perspective, I'd been given a lifeline.

I took care of our shitty little one-bedroom apartment. I read a lot of books and played a lot of Minecraft. When I felt up to it, I did some more freelancing. My wife was working unholy hours in a factory and we didn't get to spend much time together. I started doing tarot reading as a side hustle, and we started making vague plans to move somewhere better for us, but saving up was hard.

Things felt stagnant for a long time. I didn't write very much, I wasn't really doing anything related to my studies. I wrote when I had energy, and I kept scraping together extra cash doing tarot readings while my wife started working a new job in a lumber yard. Her support is the only reason I was able to recover and figure myself out, so big shout-out to my beloved working woman wifey. God, I love her.

Eventually we packed up and moved to a different state so we could be closer to my family. I got a job baking for a coffee shop. I wrote whenever I could. When I got laid off from the coffee shop, I realized there was no way in hell I could keep working a regular job without sacrificing my health, so I went back to writing full-time. (The Queen of Cups was written during this period.)

At some point I started getting back into anthropology and history research, just for fun. I didn't have money to finish my degree, but I had enough academic experience to know how to track down and evaluate good sources. I wasn't really trying to do anything for career purposes, I was just incredibly bored and wanted to study something again, so I got really, really into studying local history. Once I read everything I could about that, I jumped to another topic I was interested in, and then another. Media studies became my biggest focus as a natural outgrowth of my interests in speculative fiction, animation, and the history of the entertainment industry. I studied anthropology in school because I loved learning how and why humans do the things we do, and media studies always felt like an obvious facet of that. It's part of why I was always obsessed with cave paintings and paleolithic sculptures--people make art! It's what we do! It's what we've always done!

Anyway, I now live in a university town that has resources available to the public, and I have friends who work in various university libraries or as professors. I started making use of whatever I could get access to. I read a lot of nonfiction books from independent researchers pursuing their own passion projects, I got really into video essays on YouTube, and I had the epiphany that you don't actually have to finish college to study and write about things as long as you put in the quality research and source all your information. At some point I started calling it my "DIY academia," which my university-employed friends found utterly delightful.

Honestly, I credit my formal-academia friends with a lot. They've all been an incredible source of support and reassurance, and have helped me track down quite a few sources I was having trouble getting my hands on. Everyone do yourself a favor and make friends with someone who works in a university library.

I started a Patreon several years ago (in like 2017 I think?), primarily for my fiction writing, but there's plenty of other things that have shown up there over the years (art, cosplay, essays, etc.). As I started getting more into my DIY academia, folks started expressing interest in seeing me write about it. My tumblr posts about media generated a decent amount of attention, I'd managed to build up a platform, and it wasn't hard to say, "okay, screw it: I have freelance experience and I know how to write a paper, does anyone want to pay me for it?"

I haven't been submitting to existing publications like I used to, mostly because I don't have a decent portfolio assembled. My old freelance work in high school and college was for a platform that closed down a decade ago, and no matter how popular they get I can't bring myself to include tumblr posts alongside professional credits. My current plan is to build a portfolio on my website showing off the commissions I've been taking, and then start submitting to magazines and newspapers again between my other work. I'd love to eventually write for something like Polygon or IGN.

It's hard. I love research, I love writing, and I love sharing information with people, but having to DIY everything is really, really hard. I often feel like I'm just throwing nonsense into the void in the hope someone will like it and leave a tip in my Ko-Fi. I don't have formal academic credentials beyond "I was planning my senior thesis about the ethics of investigating ancient burial sites, but then I dropped out." I just have a neurodivergent brain, a handful of special interests, a wife who works the graveyard shift in a lab to pay our bills, and the ability to hyperfixate on research for absurd lengths of time.

The most common advice I used to get about freelancing is that you just have to keep throwing things at the wall to see what sticks. It's been years since then, but I think the advice still applies. Read a lot, learn a lot, and write about the things you're most interested in. Search around and look for magazines and newspapers and websites that accept unsolicited freelance submissions. Read the other articles they publish to see how your work stacks up. Submit, submit, submit. Rake in rejection letters and keep them as a reminder of how hard you're working. If you're up for it, start a Patreon to post the things you don't submit elsewhere. The worst thing that can happen is that people don't give you money, but maintaining it still helps you lay the groundwork for a portfolio and a reader base.

I deal with a lot of hellacious impostor syndrome. I worry a lot that I'm just a hack who doesn't actually know what they're talking about. Like I said, I got here totally by accident, but whatever I'm doing seems to be working for me. I'm broke, but my work is being read, and opportunities for more work show up when I least expect them. I'm not sure what's next for me, but I'm excited to figure it out. Money's tight, but I keep enduring despite the chaos. I throw things at the wall, I see what sticks, I clean up whatever flops and then try it again later. Wash, rinse, repeat.

It's hard, but so is everything else. I like it better than a lot of other things I could be doing.

[gamerknight7310]

So, dear @celestiall0tus and I were talking a night ago and decided to share our own top ten favorite ships after seeing someone else's list, so here are mine while theirs will be on their blog.

10. Stelex |Steve x Alex|. It's one of the few ships I remember liking from back in middle school and it was later confirmed they were dating in a magazine. Can't remember why I obsessed over these two, but I love them all the same.

9. M&M |Moxxie x Millie. What can I say these two are adorable together. In a show literary in hell, these two are so wholesomely cute and I can't get enough of them.

8. RoyalFlush |Husk x Lucifer|. I know a lot of people ship Lucifer with Alastor, but I think these two are cute together. If written well, these two would make a cute couple.

7. Lukanette |Luka x Marinette|. I think these two should've been a couple over Adrinette, but that's just me. With Luka, she isn't a creepy stalker and it seemed love-wise, she didn't have any trouble unlike with Adrien, and I think they look cute together.

6. Adrigami |Adrien x Kagami|. Like with Lukanette, I think these two should've got together. With Kagami, Adrien would've had more courage to stand up against his father and love wise these two were cute plus Adrinette, in canon, can go SUCK A ...!

5. Magic Girl |Adrien x Sabrina|. I have to thank L0tus for this ship. These two together are adorable and the ship's name comes from the Bloody Bug au where both of them have magical girl-inspired outfits, but overall these two are cute together.

4. Munchies |Shaggy x Beelzebub|. A ship that I came up with at 2am while talking to L0tus and it's been my favorite crack ship ever since. Something about these two together makes me giddy and I like to share that wonder with y'all right here.

3. Lukadrigaminette |Luka x Adrien x Kagami x Marinette|. I think all of the love troubles in canon would've been solved if these four got together. They complement each other

2. Hiccstrid |Hiccup x Astrid|. I love watching the HTTYD series, minus the latest one, and these two are hands down one of my favorite ships. They support each other and have been with each other ever since.

Spuddies |Me x Potatoes|. By far MY favorite ship in the entire world. Something about that potato goodness is so appealing to me that I can't think of anything else. Honestly, it is a perfect match though that might be my opinion :3

[justagalwhowrites]

Thoughts, for some reason?

*CW Mental health, suicide (I'm fine!!), general existentialism

I'm not entirely sure WHY I'm writing this but it feels like something I wanted to do so... I'm doing it? I guess? I dunno. This will probably be pretty boring so don't feel like you need to read this at all!

For some reason, I always spend this time of year being oddly introspective. Maybe it's the seasonal depression! Maybe it's the end of the year! Maybe it's the fact that I'm another year older! Who knows. Regardless, I feel like I usually spend this day in particular wishing I weren't here anymore. Just thinking about how incredibly little I've done with my life, how I know I'm just a bit too much of a person to be anything but at least a mild annoyance to everyone around me, how foolish it is to feel like these are major concerns when there are so many people who are actually suffering.

But one thing I learned this year was that I found a lot of identity in who I was to other people and to the world. I lost a huge part of my identity when I changed careers, I had the worst PTSD trigger of my life so far earlier this year that sent me into such a spiral that - for a bit - I wasn't sure I'd still have my identity as a wife, either (turns out, when your fight or flight makes you take off and cut contact with almost everyone for days it scares the shit out of your spouse and that makes it so you have some stuff to work through - who knew?)

Another thing I learned? This whole writing thing makes it better. I've always been a writer but I've never put it out there. I wrote novels that have done nothing but sit in notebooks or Word documents, just so they'd exist somewhere outside my head. In some ways, the fact that those characters didn't exist anywhere else was good motivation to keep living, even when it felt like I didn't want to. I may not have felt like real people would particularly miss me but if I died then the people in my head would die, too, and isn't that sad for them?

And then I started writing fic this spring. Until I shared my first fic on AO3, I could count on one hand who had ever read my fiction writing (besides a short story here and there that got put in a school literary magazine or something.) It was never something I really counted as a serious part of myself, it was just on the same level as other things I do for fun. I never really felt like a writer. Turns out, sharing the writing helps me feel like a writer! I think it would still help if no one read it but you lovely people have made it even better. And it's nice to have an identity that feels like it belongs to just me. No one can take it away from me. I'm in control of it and I think that's been part of what's making stuff feel better than it usually does right now.

Anyway, this isn't to try to just throw my mental health stuff out there - which feels very weird to do even though I don't feel like I've tried to hide it or anything like that? I don't know. I think I'm just doing this to say sharing these stories means a lot to me? That identity means more to me than I really understood before now? That it's been nice to find this part of myself?

Regardless, I'm happy that things are feeling better this year. I'm happy I have stories to tell. And, even if no one ever reads another word I write, I'm happy you're here, too.

Love you!! ❤️

[scotianostra]

On December 26th 1780 Mathematician and scientist,Mary Somerville was born in Jedburgh.

Before Mary Sommerville came around, the word "scientist" didn't even exist!!

Born as Mary Fairfax wasrelated to several prominent Scottish houses through her mother, Margaret Charters. The family moved to Burntisland when Mary was still a child, probably due to the navy connection, her father was William George Fairfax, rose to be a Vice Admiral in the Navy.

What makes Mary's later feats all the more remarkable is that when her father returned from the sea, he discovered 8- or 9-year-old Mary could neither read nor do simple sums. By this time I assume he father had started rising through the ranks as he could afford to send her to a boarding school, Miss Primrose's School in Musselburgh.

Miss Primrose was not a good experience for Mary and she was sent home in just a year. She began to educate herself, taking music and painting lessons, instructions in handwriting and arithmetic. She learned to read French, Latin, and Greek largely on her own. At age 15, Mary noticed some algebraic formulas used as decoration in a fashion magazine, and on her own she began to study algebra to make sense of them. She surreptitiously obtained a copy of Euclid's "Elements of Geometry" over her parents' opposition. In 1804 Mary Fairfax married—under pressure from family—her cousin, Captain Samuel Greig, a Russian navy officer who lived in London. They had two sons, only one of whom survived to adulthood. Samuel also opposed Mary's studying mathematics and science, but after his death in 1807 she found herself with the opportunity and financial resources to pursue her mathematical interests.

She returned to Scotland with her surviving son and began to study astronomy and mathematics seriously. On the advice of William Wallace, a mathematics teacher at a military college, she acquired a library of books on maths and began solving math problems posed by a mathematics journal, in 1811 winning a medal for a solution she submitted.

She married Dr. William Somerville in 1812, another cousin. Somerville was the head of the army medical department in London and he warmly supported her study, writing, and contact with scientists the family moved to London in 1816 where their social circle included the leading scientific and literary lights of the day, including Babbage and the Herschel Brothers

Mary began publishing her work and was winning acclaim across Europe, so much so she was awarded a pension by the Prime Minister Robert Peel in 1834. Scottish scientist David Brewster said of her she was "certainly the most extraordinary woman in Europe - a mathematician of the very first rank with all the gentleness of a woman".

William Somerville’s health deteriorated and in 1838 the couple moved to Naples, Italy where she stayed for almost all of the remainder of her life, working and publishing.

In 1848, Mary Somerville published "Physical Geography," a book which ended up being used for 50 years in schools and universities; although at the same time, it attracted a sermon against it in York Cathedral. In 1869, Mary published yet another major work, was awarded a gold medal from the The Royal Geographical Society, and was elected to the American Philosophical Society. In 1868 aged 87 she was the first person to sign

By 1871, Mary Somerville had outlived her husbands, a daughter, and all of her sons: she wrote,

"Few of my early friends now remain—I am nearly left alone."

In 1868, four years before her death aged 91, she was the first person to sign John Stuart Mill’s unsuccessful petition arguing for women’s suffrage, in her autobiography Somerville wrote that "British laws are adverse to women".

Mary Somerville died in Naples on November 29th, 1872, just short of reaching 92.. She had been working on another mathematical article at the time and regularly read about higher algebra and solved problems each day. Her daughter published "Personal Recollections of Mary Somerville" the next year, completed mostly of before her death.

There’s a wee biography on the link below delving a bit more into Mary Sommerville’s life.

http://dangerouswomenproject.org/.../mary-somerville.../

[violetasteracademic]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals and followers ❤️

@intairnwetrust thank you for this! What a sweet way to get to know everyone!

Hmmm five things that make me happy...

1) Walking. I love being outside and putting on some music or audiobooks and just being out in the world. It is really grounding to me. I have finally moved out of the suburbs and into a walkable neighborhood with coffee shops and groceries and parks nearby and it has been incredible for my mental health. Walkable communities should be a priority in development, in my opinion!

2) Writing. My career began as an actress, but even as I was earning my performing arts degree I was always filling my extra curriculars with writing classes (even though I didn't need to since I tested out with AP. In the States, that's basically a class you take in high school and if you test at a certain level, it fulfills your college credit! I'm in my thirties now so not sure if this is still a thing.) Screenwriting, creative writing, poetry, ECT.

I really started writing aggressively while pursuing my acting career. I was frustrated and struggling to find pieces that felt like a perfect fit for auditions, so I started writing my own and it really took off. A short sci-fi film I wrote for fun wound up turning into my first 120k word novel with plans for a trilogy! So the move from on stage/screen to the page was really organic. And fun fact- my first published prose piece is coming out in a literary magazine this May! I have no idea if I'll ever forge an actual "career" as a writer, but it is my dream and joy and fills up all my free time. I've been loving writing fic for you guys. So much. Having readers enjoy my work is so meaningful to me 😭

3) Thrifting and vintage shopping. I have a very nerdy obsession with 1940's tweeds and jackets.

4) Pittie babies. I lost my fur baby to Degenerative Myelopathy last year and hope when I am settled in my new city to rescue as many pits as possible. They are wonderful dogs and I am very passionate about this since I experienced so much renters discrimination. There are sweet, gentle staffies and pits filling up shelters and no one can rescue them because they will be blocked out of housing. I spent most of my "growing up years" in a city that only recently lifted the pit ban!

5) Elriel. Duh 🤣

[dont-read-this-im-dead]

When I was in 10th grade, I was in the literary magazine club. The club had faded from my school for several years, but I helped some friends rebuild it with my English teacher.

I was never brave enough to submit anything for the publication, but soon before the magazine was published, we hosted a program called Shout Out.

Anyone who wanted to read something they wrote (even if it was not in the magazine), could get up.

I was expecting maybe 3 people, plus the editing team.

But the auditorium was FULL. Students, parents, some teachers.

And I stood up to read.

But before I read, I told my audience, "I just want to let you know that none of the names or events in this story depict real people or events. Everything is completely fictional."

And then I spoke for 30 minutes, reading a short(?) story I wrote about this girl who was systematically and repeatedly raped by her father, her brother, and her best friend's brother, each one unaware of the other two, until one day, a medical condition puts her in the hospital, where she finds out she's pregnant.

I wove this tale about a 16 year old girl who asked her doctors to banish her family from her room, unable to speak the forbidden words that would simultaneously grant her freedom and render her homeless.

I practically whispered the bittersweet ending of a 19 year old with a two year old son that looked just like her husband, because she didn't know how to live alone, so she chose an uneven path, gradually learning how to fall in love with her best friend's brother.

I ended the story with her going to a high school with her son and talking to a health class during their sex ed week, telling her story.

Then I thanked my audience for their time and sat back down, my knees trembling something fierce and the silence so PROMINENT, even I could have heard the pin drop.

While everyone else decided to clap to fill the silence (still not sure why they gave me a standing ovation--it wasn't a GOOD story), my dad, sitting in the seat next to me, leaned over and whispered, "I'm really glad you warned everyone at the beginning that it was fictional, because they would probably be trying to arrest me by now if you hadn't."

When everyone was done reading, a friend of mine found me and said, "first off, how dare you have her end up with her rapist, that's evil, and I hate you for that. Second, I was on the edge of my seat the whole time, and omg, that was SO GOOD. Third, it was good that you said that thing at the beginning, but seriously, anyone who has ever met your dad knows he's basically a teddy bear. But also. WHY DID YOU HAVE HER END UP WITH HIM????"

And I just shrugged, because I didn't really want to answer, but Ive never told anybody this before, so here goes.

The reason I had her choose her non-blood relative rapist to marry, was because I had started getting really bad episodes where I basically wanted to kill myself. But I didn't want to make my family find my body, because ouch, do I hate THEM, or do I hate ME?

But every breath weighed me down until I was drowning, so I wrote this character that I could give my worst to. Someone who had it worse than me, who would need to find a sliver of hope to survive past the current hour. And I gave her my worst. I gave her a life that should have killed her, but she lived.

I gave her everything I hated, and more.

And then, I imagined my dull future of having to simply...*live,* and I gave it to her in the worst way possible that I could think of: by marrying her rapist.

And still, she lived.

And still, she loved.

Because I wanted to see someone be worse off and continue on living. Because that gave me the strength to do it myself.

[moonshine-nightlight]

i don’t know if you’ve answered this before, but I absolutely love your writing style! how did you get into writing?

thank you!!

short version is i got really into reading cool books when i was a kid and then i wanted to read other cool books but they didn't exist so i started just imagining those books and eventually i started writing them down.

longer version below the cut, if ur interested

it's been awhile but pretty sure i got into writing because i got really into reading lol. 4th grade (10 yrs old) is when i started just consuming as many books as i could get (i think something put me off when i was even younger but then i rediscovered books i liked and nothing could stop me) and i always loved imagining cool books or stories in my head (wouldn't it be so cool if i could find a book about x or with a character like y or had z in it? etc).

8th grade (13 yrs old) i think is when i started writing my own stories in spiral ring notebooks, both original stories (something about finding a magical path in the forest that led to colorful dragons i think?) and fanfiction (both my own and with a group of friends--we'd pass around the notebook and each write different parts of the fic).

while i've always had files and scrawled notes of original stuff, aside from some "poetry" i submitted to my high school literary magazine, i mostly posted/finished fanfic because it was shorter, i could get less distracted by worldbuilding, and those got views/comments which was more motivational.

i had a brief writing drought after i graduated college and my Real Job started and i was just very very busy, but i finally started posting again, but still just fanfic. i had started developing more original ideas and trying to actually write and finish some of them during this time, but did not truly consider posting any of it nor was i really making a lot of progress anyway.

then through tumblr, i stumbled upon some of the monster romance original works (@snowkissedmonsters i think was the specific writer i can remember jump starting that) and it kinda kickstart-ed the part of my brain that comes up with story ideas. and with some time, encouragement, and being possessed by the idea for "Nothing's Wrong with Dale", i started posting original works and haven't really stopped since.

i've always been interested in fantasy, sci-fi, speculative fiction etc, but more of my older ideas were YA because i was a YA (my protagonists tend to age as i did lol) and less romance focused, although many had sort of, side character love interests. i had always struggled with writing shorter stories and so i was interested in trying to really write short things both as a challenge to myself but also so i could actually frickin' finish stories that weren't fanfic. that's worked pretty well, even if i'm still not able to write one-shot original stories like some others out there.

i think i've imporoved a lot over the years and am really grateful for all the practice writing via fanfic i was able to do and am continuing to do, jsut on my other tumblrs/AO3 accounts (because i dont think there's a lot of audience overlap with this writing)

that's probably a longer answer than u wanted, but i hope it wasn't to rambling!

thanks again for asking and the compliment on my writing :)

[joannaliangart]

There Are Good Things Yet To Bury (2024) 7.5 x 9 in Case bound book, 84 pages. Photography and poetry.

There Are Good Things Yet To Bury features photos of community gardens and poems on climate grief, gardening, and the purpose of hope. Physically cut into many of the pages are windows, enabling fragments of images and text on the previous and following pages to be reactivated and recontextualized. The book reflects on how gardens nurture during crises, and the futures that hope can bring us.

---

Final project for my VAST class this semester! Agh I really think it’s my new favourite…!!

I was actually struggling with this one for a while, I just couldn’t seem to clarify the concept in my mind clearly enough. I think it was writing the rainbow poem when things really started to pull together, which was tricky as hell making sure it was still coherent through all 7 ‘window’ pages AS WELL AS a full spread! But I truly had SO much fun writing all the poems in this book it was such a joy :’) 

This is a project that I would love love love to be made into multiples and distributed in some capacity... I don't know if traditional publishing would ever take something like this on with how many window cuts there are haha, not that I know how complicated or uncomplicated it would be (but certainly more than if 0 windows lol). The profs on my panel review mentioned that I could look into getting a grant to make multiples but hoo that still sounds kinda spooky to me awaaa

But!! Ever since my Sunlight is moonlight book with that one window cut at the end I've wanted to do more with cutting into the page and having whatever is visible through the window be recontextualized with the flip of a page AH it's so fun and so much potential for poetic play!!!

process photos/more thoughts:

These documentation photos were kinda a pain btw lmao (i mean when are they not) i'm struggle so much with themm.. I'm also trying to be more aware of how much of a poem I'm showing in these photos as I recently learned that most literary magazines etc won't accept submissions if that piece of writing is posted (ie published) online already. I think small excerpts might be okay as long as it's not the full piece???? awagh I don't know I'm still learning AND I don't even know how focused I want to be on submitting poems to magazines... But I figured probably better to keep more options open for future-me just in case...

My mid-term presentation of the project! featuring:

wip mid-term artist statement

hastily printed out photos I was thinking of using in the final book

big bunch of poems to potentially use in the final book that I picked from my poem drafts that I keep in my notes app

that red book with a circle window I made for another class (just to practice case bookbinding) as an example of a window cut into the cover

lil white book in the back that was our class' "Seeded Notebook" assignment which was essentially a moodboard for our project

a mockup that had the idea for a hidden accordion fold page (the concept being that it would spill out of the book unexpectedly while you were flipping through it)!! kinda sad I didn't have time to add that into the final but boy o boy did I run out of time lol

Did u know I was gonna put illustrations!! into the final book as well! and while I had some fun making them and using my ipad as a makeshift light table and using my new fountain pen (oough don't get me started I've been on a fountain pen kick lately)... Ultimately I felt I 1. didn't have time to include them in a resolved enough way and 2. they felt kinda outta place from the photos and poems

Some inspirations during my researchy/brainstorming phase that I got from my school's artist's book collection!:

the cover of Water, Gold, Soil by Sayler/Morris, which got me hooked on the idea of putting a photo slightly embedded into the cover (doesn't it look so good on that book!!??)

Aunt Sallie's Lament by Margaret Kaufman, featuring these wild progression of increasingly smaller pages that change how you read the poem; nothing specific I took from this book tbh but was cool to look at lol

And you know I gotta look at Tree of Codes by Jonathan Safran Foer for a book with window cuts!! I soon realized It's only printed one-sided, which meant they didn't have to worry about how it would affect any text on the verso page. Which is like, fair enough for them they had a whole NOVEL of words to deal with lmao

I made my own book cloth for this project!! sort of!! I feel like I was doing something wrong, the interfacing I got wasn't really sticking to the fabric very well at times ????? Was kinda finicky not sure if I was doing something wrong during ironing... But I got to go into the fabric store and find the exact shade of pink I wanted for the cover C:

Did 3 small cover tests too (as per assignment requirements lol but also they were kinda helpful). Takeaway was that I didn't like how test 2 and 3 looked lol

AND HERE'S ME TRYING TO FIGURE OUT AND GET IDEAS FOR WINDOW CUTS. THIS PHASE WAS ACTUALLY EXTREMELY HELFUL because at the time i was SO stuck for ideas I'm not kidding I'm was STRUGGLING throughout this entire project from a conceptual standpoint. For some reason the thesis, the bones just weren't solidified in my head, and it kinda stayed that way until almost the very end when I was formatting the poems esp the rainbow poem. But I think it clarified completely once I thought of the title, which just kinda stepped into my brain after writing one of the poems (which has the line "there are good things yet to come") and then I was like I need a book title... and my brain did a few hops and there it was LOL and I'm so happy with the title :') it captures the main theme with a lot of nuance in a pretty simple phrase which is HOO boy chefs kiss and hard to come by haha I felt very lucky

Printing was also a pain because the print techs at my school misunderstood what I was trying to do (and I'm extra salty because I was right in the first place and they made me second guess myself cause they said they needed it formatted a different way!!! But in the end I was right the first time!!!) Siigh whateevsss the silver lining was that I did notice some things I needed to fix before printing anyways... Anyways I was trying to format it their way and I fucked it all up lol I was printing a b/w mockup on my own and despairing cause I thought I was gonna have to redo all my formatting (which, with WINDOW cuts which makes every page before/after matter a LOT felt like a nightmare)

But again I was right the first time lol so crisis averteddd just a lil spike in stress levels lol

Used the digital stack cutter on my own for the first time and ohh my goodness... I love my old manual big guillotine cutter but this guy. this guy was pretty cool look at his cool line of light that tells you where the blade is gonna hit

After agonizing so much over the concept and content I was sooo happy to just be Physcially Putting The Book Together, a real turn my brain off and just do him activity yaaay

This was my fun lil set up, I was recently given this bright light stand thingy which was actually so helpful lol; I like my dim cozy room light but it's not the best for Seeing what you're doing for art stuff

So much window cutting... Yes I just freehanded all round edges lol verryy carefully.. Some alignement issues but minor enough to not affect readability ^^

For example in these first two images with the star, I just ended up cutting off the misaligned cut-lines which made the star a lil bigger lol; was trickier with a star shape like that vs like a rectangle though because of how many vertices it had, aka more opportunities to fuck up the shape

Binding time!! look at that satisfying stack oouh yummy.. Also featuring my big slab of marble that's very heavy and works great to weigh down during drying lol. Also yes I put ziplog bags between the end pages and book block to protect against glue dampness because I've gotten spooked by how damp my Hazelnuts Grow on Trees book got when clamping it lmao

Some page alignment issues with the windows after binding but nothing major :)

[b4nanaa]

UGHHHHHH DUMB BIOGRAPHY I GUESS

Zhi Huang Wu, my mother, was born on October 24th, 1973. She was raised in China, specifically in Fuzhou. She was raised by her father, who was an accountant, and her mother a saleswoman, though she would later become disabled in a wheelchair. She would grow up with Chinese being taught as her primary language by her family, listening to them speak with others. However unlike English, Chinese has many different dialects, making every version of the language different depending on where one is. Growing up, she learned multiple tongues, including Mandarin, a Fuzhou version of Chinese, and Cantonese. Even now she continues to utilize her knowledge of various languages to speak with different type of Asians, and remarks that she feels relaxed having that knowledge. "Because I myself have experienced language limitations and could not communicate effectively, so when I can use different languages, I feel happy when talking to others."

Besides speaking of Chinese, she also loved to read. Growing up, one of her favorite past times was reading. Small comic books sold on the road was one of the only ways she could get her hands on something to read. "There was no TV when I was a child. When I didn't know how to read, I mostly went to the roadside book stalls to read comic books and comic books. For one penny, I could read 2-3 books, and if the books were not new, I could read 4 books." Even if she didn't understand a word, the large numbers of pictures gave enough context for her to understand what was happening. Storybooks were also used in kindergarten by teachers to help teach children words.

As she learned more words, her literature expanded as well. When family conditions allowed for it, her family was able to subscribe to the newspaper and sometimes, her parents would bring back some expired newspapers for her and her brother to read. The newspapers came three times a week and were circulated to the whole family. The content of the newspaper was rich, including current affairs, people's livelihood, short stories, some life tips, jokes, and movie reviews. There was also the magazine that published once a month, mostly containing stories, philosophies, excerpts, comics, and bodybuilding content.

Zhi was also provided literature in school. For her, the first nine years of compulsory education was free. Only her father had been able to attend elementary school, whereas her mother never went to school until she was eighteen, when she attended a literary class. She learned some simple words, read newspapers slowly, and would ask others if she didn't know a word. As for her grandparents, who were farmers, it was unlikely they did, especially not her grandmother. In the past, poor families could only ensure that boys received education. Luckily for my mother, by the time she was born, her parents were able to have more stable jobs as an account and saleswoman rather than being farmers to provide her and her brother with more education. 

At the beginning of elementary school, the teacher would ask her class to write a weekly diary to record the interesting things that happened during the week. "In terms of writing, the teacher told us how to observe what happened, describe the process of things, and put forward your own opinions and ideas." Through writing, she was encouraged to analyze what happened around her and develop her own ideas. It's why she still continues to read and firmly advocates for it. In her own words, "Reading can help you broaden your horizons, hear different voices, understand different ideas, and learn from other people’s experiences. Writing allows me to integrate what I absorb from reading into my own. I can integrate and absorb when reading."

Another difference between English and Chinese is that some words are more broad and vague, and structures matter to convey meaning. "I remember the teacher would explain a word to us and use one word to make different sentences to help us understand how the word is used. The relationship between the usage of some words will have different meanings." (ask mom for an example since I forgot what she said).

She attended school up until middle school, something that was normal for most people her age because they couldn't afford to stay in school, and went right into work instead. Eventually my mother was arranged by her parents to marry my father, and they soon moved to America right before the One Child Policy was enacted for more opportunities. Even in a foreign country she barely knew the language of, my mother still kept in touch with reading. She worked at a book store in Chinatown where she could still have access to books and talked to her children in Chinese to make sure they could still understand her, and so they could later on help her with English when they attended school. Eventually she left the bookstore to work at TJ Maxx where English was primarily spoken. She had already taken up some lessons on English and continues to work on it to this day. When asked how she felt about learning English, she responded with, "It feels difficult, but when you find the right method, you will find learning English very interesting." Even though she isn't fluent in English, she continues to work on it everyday, doing Kahoot daily. But besides that, she's always reading. Whether it be at her desk or in bed. She's always absorbing and integrating, expanding her mind's horizons to new ideas and perspectives everyday.

[intolerancecare]

EMPTY

What would the likes of Arjun and Cherry write in their CV? If I'll ask this their daddies would give them something to write right?

I have enough if they'll remove theirs.

Their Pride is that G. man. 13th placer in bar exam. From what local school? How would you compare him to professionals who didn't take the board or bar exam? Who had he raised? Many lawyers in the family? Cherry the computer management grad who claimed that she is a nurse? what is she? worse than a credit grabber? a poser? Inventing ANNA? Other feather in their caps? Aside from bagging the network Executive post? If I'll ask and compare him to someone, are they going to finish us? He is that powerful? Their shows are popular?

Why do people trust them?

I have an older cousin who doesn't have that credential but see if this is not weightier than him. When I met you, he was about to play basketball with Filipino staff. I doubted his skills. I thought he is like kuya jay, not kuya neil. Kuya jay is not a good basketball player, he enrolled at Milo Best Center in their school to practice playing basketball. I thought Kuya Neil is the basketball player, he is just copying him. Sorry, I thought you are him. Kuya is also the first trainer that I know, aside from my mother who is a teacher. He trained student photographers. He made rose a model in his handouts. When you became my trainer, I thought ah he's like kuya.

My kuya is an AB LIM graduate from a green Univ. He shifted from literature he said it's an upgraded curriculum of lit. They taught him photography. My father was a police photographer then (Maybe to hunt Jerry; my Kuya subconsciously hunting him) He became active in the Univ. He joined an Event Org and the literary folio of the school. He worked part time as an event photographer for the company of his ex. He said he lost a video cam and he doesn't want to tell his nanay and ask for help. He worked to pay for the cam. He had his OJT in a TV network, he was referred to be an apprentice of a prominent photographer here in the philippines. He was chosen as one of the student apprentices for Sony during Philippine fashion week. He was so busy juggling OJT, fashion week and thesis Défense. He worked at the marketing department of the university, heard he took a master's degree. He is also a contributor for an asian magazine. He said he's a street photographer. He trained a lot of student photographers. That's what I knew. Like you. He and Kuya Neil and ate Ethel taught us a lot of things. Maybe you'll say that he is not a topnotcher but he is also his family. On his father side, he has immediate cousins who are from UP, Ateneo and Lasalle. One of them took law. One of my sister wanted to be a lawyer too she was a member of a law sorority in UP. Kuya doesn't know that patty was outside during the bar exam bombing at their University. She was a neophyte supporting an older sis who was taking the bar. Unfortunately, I failed to support Patty. At my side of the family, Mostly UP.

I thought most of you there are like them. Why Cherry and Arjun? My kuya worked part time as a student even if he doesn't need to. He tried something that I can't. Those two worked harder than me? What are they if they are here? And who are they if they didn't use a usable name and me? Because of the network thing? Antipolo baby? Not laude? With the credentials that he has, Cherry can cope up right? So make us actors to establish the G name? Make us crazy? one at a time name? Same family? So even if somebody has a credential name comes first? Even if they are just like cherry? who introduces herself like "I'm a girl that's why I chose a girl" want them to follow her luck? Invested in a school to play monopoly? You gave up on me because they are big? Producers? How is it possible that a magna cum laude standing student fail in one subject?

Oh by the way, do you know kuya's older cousins look likes band vocalist of Eraser heads and True Faith? Maybe that's why he joined a band in Highschool. Gone were the days, we are babies compared to them. Ate lai was my lolo's nurse before he died. Me and my ate was just watching her. They have a tita nun in Italy. Do you want me to be like her? Sorry, no. My tita gave me the dress that I wore in Valentine's day. I chose to wear it instead of the coat from their tita nun. Sorry, I didn't follow the rules. I just joined the girls.

[hotchley]

🐨 Hello hello! It’s been a minute! I kinda forgot to send stuff. Let’s see, what’s going on….

In three months, I turn eighteen, and in five months (how is it only five months??) I graduate high school. That is insane and a little terrifying. Like, I’m ready to be done with high school, but at least I know high school, you know? College is an unknown variable and I don’t know what’ll happen. I’m optimistic about it, but it’s hard not to be dreading it a bit.

The poetry is going well! I had another poem accepted by a literary magazine, which I was super excited about. Speech is also going well. I’m giving a speech about heteronormativity, and it’s been really amazing to get to talk about something that I care about so much and have people listen. I’ve tried to explain to so many people so many times what heteronormativity is and why it drives me crazy, so it’s nice to feel like I’m actually doing something, even if it’s something small as a speech.

Oh! Guess what? I won my first ever speech tournament!! We were in another state and me and my roommates stayed up watching late night shows because I love those, and it turns out they do too! And the road trip was chaotic and amazing. Hearing my name called as first place and my teammates cheering and getting a standing ovation (that’s just speech etiquette, but still felt very cool!) was seriously amazing.

I’ve finished all my college applications, so now I just wait. I’ve heard back from a few…all positive so far, but there’s one with a 6% acceptance rate that’s my dream school but it’s insanely hard to get into. I’m thinking I’ll go into journalism. I love writing, and I want to do something that’ll help people/make a difference, so. It seems like a good option. But I have four years of college to figure that out, haha.

I’ve always wondered the difference between a barrister and a solicitor! In America, we have different types of lawyers like attorneys and prosecutors. It can get a bit confusing.

I get to go to a wedding in a few months! My karate senseis. We’ve known they’re getting married for awhile, but we got our official invitations at class last night, so that was cool. I’ve never been to a wedding before, except for one when I was 4 that I don’t really remember. Both the senseis are really awesome people, so I’m excited to get to go and celebrate them.

I was looking through your other blog again…I still adore your writing. Your poetry is so powerful. It definitely inspires me and my writing! And I’m still keeping a Happy Jar on my phone :)

Hi. Hi. Hi. Ummmmm... there is no reason for why I haven't answered asks apart from the simple: I haven't. I have no idea when you sent this but it was an embarrassing amount of time ago. I am hoping it hasn't been three months?

It's always terrifying! I felt the same way because I spent seven years at the school. I was genuinely terrified I wouldn't be able to handle being away from there because they have always kept me okay. But it's been several months since I left and I'm doing okay. Things settled. So be cautiously optimistic, and like I always tell kiddos, your education will always be waiting for you when you're ready. That's how it works. So there's never a rush.

Ah that's so good! I'm so glad you get to do it on something you like. And it's not just a speech. When I was in year eight, I did a speech workshop that was also a competition and I talked for a minute about the value of a human life. People cried. People three years later still remembered it. Our words, whether written or in passing, impact people. Something my friend said months ago that she's forgotten about has stuck with me. It'll be a good speech. It will have impact.

And congratulations on winning!! That's amazing and so cool and you really deserved it!

Journalism is so cool! I mean, you've tried to get in. Rejection is always hard, and if it happens, you need to let yourself feel sad and cry and whatever, but the knowledge that you didn't get in is infinitely better than the sadness of not even trying. I promise.

It's more that barristers go to court and solicitors usually don't. The main reason there hasn't been fusion is because of tradition and also the way people are paid is different- barristers are self-employed, solicitors usually aren't etc.

I LOVE WEDDINGS! I went to two last year, and I also went to the pre-wedding functions which was an experience. One was my cousin- her and her husband are the sweetest- and the other was my dad's friends daughter. That was during my A-Levels, which was chaos, but it was also my first English wedding so that was super cool! Weddings are fun for me because i love love and speeches and the dressing up and aah.

Awww. I think that's the nicest compliment I've ever been given about my writing! The Happy Jar has migrated to a notebook for 2023 and it's much, much easier now so the phone was the way to go!

[britneyshakespeare]

next month on this day, i will have been posting on @creatediana​ for 6 years.

[dasenergi-diary]

I don't know about other 50+ year olds, but there are parts of my life that I have completely forgotten about until something reminds me.

For over a decade there has been absolutely no one in my life to talk about books with. And now I have this brand new friend named @teenakp who has reawakened that part of me. It feels SO GOOD to talk books with someone. That part of me has been neglected for so long.

I was a librarian for 11 years! I loved reading since childhood. When I got my drivers license at 16, the first place I drove to by myself was the library. And my first job after high school was putting book away in the library.

As a Librarian, I was in charge of the teen (YA) services. I quickly became kind of a big deal. I spoke to the California State Assembly about teen library services. I gave workshops at Library conferences (ALA and CLA). I was interviewed by the School Library Journal about Teen Advisory Boards and our teen activities (a literary magazine, library sleepovers, and more). And many other activities.

I was also in charge of getting authors to speak at our library.

One author who came to speak at our library was S.P. Somtow. We became friendly and about a year later the author S.P. Somtow presided over the marriage of me and my wife (who was also a librarian) in the library surrounded by books. An author marrying two librarians in a library. As a wedding gift, S.P. Somtow used our names as characters in one of his books!

Two other authors I became friendly with are Will Shetterly and Emma Bull. They also came out to the library for a reading. One of my favorite memories - the wife and I went to a reading by Will Shetterly when his book "Dogland" was released. (I believe it was at Dark Delicacies in Burbank.) And S.P. Somtow happened to be there too! So after the reading, Will Shetterly, Emma Bull, S.P. Somtow, and my wife and I all went out to dinner together at a Thai food restaurant. Somtow did all of the ordering (he's from Thailand). It was a feast!

I tried to get Tim Powers to speak at the library. It didn't happen. But I did build a friendship with him. We were all part of a small group of fans in Southern California, and we hung-out several times with him and his wife Serena. (I also got to meet James Blaylock at one the gatherings.) Tim and Serena are great conversationalists with so many stories to tell. (Tim and Philip K. DIck were great friends, so I heard a lot about PKD.) And Tim would always work the room to make sure everyone got some personal time with him.

Another author I got to know and spend time with is Karen E. Taylor. We were actually LiveJournal friends back in the day. She invited me to her house and that was the first time I ever had German Potato Salad. It was amazing!!! I've tried it a few times since then, and none have tasted as good.

I also met the author Lisa Morton at Karen E. Taylor's house and we hit it off and became LiveJournal friends too. Check out Lisa's Wikipedia for all that she has done. She is amazing and I'm always happy to see her success. Anyhow, Lisa worked at a bookstore in North Hollywood. One day a turtle (not a tortoise) wandered into the bookstore from the street. It lived in her bathtub for a short while until I could get over there and take it off her hands. That was 2007. And we still have the turtle!

Of course I've met other authors like Ray Bradbury and Neil Gaiman. But the ones I mentioned here are the only ones I've had brief friendships with as a librarian.