#and I am still an intolerable hipster at the end of the day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

violetsystems · 5 years ago

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#personal

I think life would worry me more if weird weeks consistently ended on a sour note. As far as weird weeks go, this week was pretty strange. Between my home and my office is still a bit of an adventure. I live in a major city that the news always complains is shrinking. If you were to survey the psychic war of personal space at any given time you’d see different results. But we live in a society. More so I live in America in a city as close to Gotham as it gets. If you wanted to drill down to the essence of the terms, I’m about as incel as it gets. Except I’d just tell you I’m celibate by choice. Why I’ve chosen to refrain from intimacy for years isn’t something people really want to listen to. Surprisingly I have lashed out at society any number of times on my commute. Not unlike Robert Pattinson’s shirts people are often “on my dick” in the parlance of our times. Most of this I’ve begun to realize is better to ignore than react to. I look scary when I’m angry. At least I see myself that way. Twisted and scrunched up in pain. I’m more like the hulk. My secret is that I am always in pain. I’m too tired from core strength training and yoga to give a fuck. The penultimate hipster. A smug left leaning liberal with a conscience. I wouldn’t argue with any of those by definition. But people who’ve come to know me here understand it’s not so simple. The more patience you develop the more problems you are aware enough of to avoid. I wrote a Nike survey for their training app the other day. I described how pleased I was that it gave me the confidence to quit the gym. A gym that I noted in the survey where I experienced constant sexual harassment and intimidation. Ironically a summer later focusing on soccer routines in my apartment got me in better shape physically than I’ve ever been. And yet here I am. Lonely old man on the internet. Lonely old handsome man on the internet. I’m not trying to hit on anyone. No new friends. I write these mostly for my friends and the people I care deeply about. The results used to be mostly apparent online. These days it bleeds into the streets I walk daily. Sometimes that is very hard to interpret but it’s easier when I’m open to receiving it. People have heavy expectations on me. This I’m fine with. We live in a society after all. And yet there are often times I want to lash out. Mostly these days there are times I draw the line and set the boundaries. I’m mad as hell and can’t take it anymore. And my resistance to things looks far different than that of a Joker or even a Batman. But I’m still just like you. Often horny but never inappropriately so. At least not in public. That’d be fucked up. And yet we still live in a society where men feel bothered by that very concept. Their libidos enslaved and their expectations denied. Who entitled these clowns to anything? It’s called involuntary celibacy for a reason. What makes people uncomfortable is the modern white male heterosexual’s expectation for sex. Therein lies a problem to be engineered and solved in your life not a complete mental fucking breakdown. This is why we can’t have nice things. Thank you Mr. Incel.

My longest relationship lasted a decade. It ended in a complex ball of fire where I crash landed in total ash. There were times when it was amazing. I don’t think I would have put so much into it at the time if it weren’t. Never want to go back to that particular shit ever again. But for whatever reason from there I spent a long time blaming myself. Mostly feeling sorry for myself and drinking alone. That evolved into drinking alone on the other side of the planet in places like Korea and Japan. Then I definitely decided to quit drinking. A decade later I’m pretty much a virgin again. Whatever the fuck that means really. It doesn’t make me any different from anybody else. I’ve liked a girl for what seems like forever. But it’s only been this last year where I saw myself in any sort of orbit. If society is already so claustrophobic I often just want to be silent and alone. People who can’t stand to be alone often hate themselves secretly. I’ve been there. The lowest possible place you could be for a single white heterosexual male. I’m sure some of my audience revels in those kinds of statements. Serves the straights right you know. I ain’t mad at you. Why should I be. It’s mostly those communities that have voiced the most valuable criticisms about toxic masculinity. And yet however good I am there’s still people out there who can’t stand to see me winning. That’s called saving face. And I guess the joker does it with a shit ton of clown makeup. I do it with a daily moisturizer for oily skin. It is true that society as a whole shares the blame. So instead of lashing out why not just drop out of society entirely. Or build society 2.0 the internet portal. Society in orbit around the planet in the ISS. You feel like you can take on the entire weight of the planet. The joker is not Galactus. These pieces of shit know they’re worthless and weak. They run on reaction and pure adrenaline. They want to end with the most hurt incurred possible. They want people to feel how bad they feel inside. And I’ve been there. And I realized nobody would want to share a side of my bed with that kind of attitude. So I slept alone night after night and thought about healing instead of suffering. Still fucking horny. It never ends. Do I project that onto people? Act gross on the internet or in public. No. And year after year people have grown to trust that I may not exactly be part of the problem. Things start to feel romantic again in the strangest way possible. What does it mean to be sexy and what does it mean to be repulsive? I don’t think having expectations on other people is sexy at all. You treat people like objects that way. Objects can’t love you back. And you lash out in pain that you can’t mature enough to see people as human first. You become a twisted Frankenstein in the mirror. You’ve had it up to here. Nobody will ever love me. Nobody has time for me. Nobody around here anyway. I’m glad honestly because I’m saving all my love for you. People don’t get that. I do. And I see it reflected back at me in the streets. A different kind of expectation. A different kind of trust. A different take on being a man. A different kind of joke entirely.

And so here a troubled Conan sits on his throne seemingly without a queen. What does he do? Wage war on the struggles he was built upon? Search for peace? Go back to being a Barbarian and a thief probably. That’s what I’d do. Politics these days is the closest thing to dark sorcery. And Conan hates dark sorcery. I’m the one walking around in the streets being called a witch. My only witchcraft has been inclusiveness. And that includes me. I’m as sexually frustrated as anybody else out there. Frustration isn’t exactly sexy in all cases. Just do something about it. And what men mostly do with it has been ugly. You’d think with so much failure out there it’d be easy to see the successes. Male frustration is something people have grown to actually fear with good reason. Systemic racism, homophobia, transphobia, religious intolerance, controlling behavior and whatever else you want to throw onto the heaping trash pile of toxic white male American Heterosexual identity in 2019. I’m supposed to tell you I’m different. Trust me babe. If I know anything about America and the English language people love to talk about what they do. How they’d build that time machine and save Anne Frank. Sometime after brunch or expensive coffee. The mind fuck is you have to do something about it. And it’s more likely for me to solve the problem of toxic masculinity for myself and thrive than to just talk about it. Solve it for the world when the world doesn’t listen. I’ve been talking about it on the internet lonely for years. Now people won’t stop hassling me in the streets. I’m surrounded by an army of Pink backpacks at all times. Cloistered together like bandits in the morning. Some sort of tribal reaction to an assault on the very fabric of society. You wake up one day and realize you are on the other side of the movement. You didn’t expect to be but you deserve it. And instead of lashing out you’ve worked to build a society that includes you. That understands your frustrations and appreciates how you work to perfect them. I’ve spat at the ground more times than anybody knows this summer. I’m crying as I write this. And I know it won’t get any better if I act like a child and kick over the sandcastles we all built together. And yet society doesn’t stop fucking with you. Nobody is happy. Nobody goes out and takes life by the throat gently. If they do they’re pathological, sociopathic and gross about it. There’s no Crom above to judge them. And the rich get richer. And the scandals get deeper. And people run around with shirts that I made from the trash and try to sell me guitars under the el tracks by my house. Sounds like a great place to plant a garden or raise a family. Maybe one day we can take a family picture in the joker face paint. Let’s just hope our child doesn’t get expelled from public school because of it. At least then I won’t be an incel. For now everybody else in the parlance of our times. “Stay off my dick.” <3 Tim

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skkgagnon · 5 years ago

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Handle With Care, an all-new romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting is coming August 27th, and we have a sneak peek!

HE WANTS TO LOSE CONTROL.

Between his parents’ messed up marriage and his narcissistic younger brother, Lincoln Moorehead has spent the majority of his life avoiding his family. After the death of his father, Lincoln finds himself in the middle of the drama. To top it all off, he’s been named CEO of Moorehead Media, much to his brother’s chagrin. But Lincoln’s bad attitude softens when he meets the no-nonsense, gorgeous woman who has been given the task of transforming him from the gruff, wilderness guy to a suave businessman

SHE’S TRYING TO HOLD IT TOGETHER.

Wren Sterling has been working double time to keep the indiscretions at Moorehead Media at bay, so when she’s presented with a new contract, with new responsibilities and additional incentives, she agrees. Working with the reclusive oldest son of a ridiculously entitled family is worth the hassle if it means she’s that much closer to pursuing her own dreams. What Wren doesn’t expect is to find herself attracted to him, or for it to be mutual. And she certainly doesn’t expect to fall for Lincoln. But when a shocking new Moorehead scandal comes to light, she’s forced to choose between her own family and the broody, cynical CEO.

Pre-order your copy today!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2VGJ83p

AppleBooks: https://apple.co/2VXTyvK

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/HandleWithCare

Nook: http://bit.ly/2FmIv9x

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2M09aKC

Google Play: http://bit.ly/2RRkyh8

Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/2C9AeCB

Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2FgCXxX

Excerpt from Chapter One

Chapter One

What Have I Gotten Myself into?

Wren

I slip onto the empty bar stool beside the lumberjack mountain man who looks like he tried to squeeze himself into a suit two sizes too small. He’s intimidatingly broad and thick, with long dark hair that’s been pulled up into a haphazard man bun thing. His beard is a hipster’s wet dream. His scowl, however, makes him about as approachable as a rabid porcupine. And yet, here I am, sidling up next to him.

He glances at me, eyes bleary and not really tracking. He quickly focuses on his half-empty glass again. Based on the slump of his shoulders and the uncoordinated way he picks up his glass and tips it toward his mouth, I’m guessing he’s pretty hammered. I order a sparkling water with a dash of cranberry juice and a lime.

What I could really use is a cup of lavender-mint tea and my bed, but instead, I’m sitting next to a drunk man in his thirties. My life is extra glamorous, obviously. And no, I’m not an escort, but at the moment I feel like my morals are on the same kind of slippery slope.

“Rough day?” I ask, nodding to the bottle that’s missing more than half its contents. It was full when he sat down at the bar an hour ago. Yes, I’ve been watching him the entire time, waiting for an opportunity to make my move. While he’s been sitting here, he’s turned down two women, one in a dress that could’ve doubled as a disco ball and the other in a top so low-cut, I could almost see her navel.

“You could say that,” he slurs. He props his cheek on his fist, eyes almost slits. I can still make out the vibrant blue hue despite them being nearly closed. They move over me, assessing. I’m wearing a conservative black dress with a high neckline and a hem that falls below my knees. Definitely not nearly as provocative as Disco Ball or Navel Lady.

“That solving your problems?” I give him a wry grin and tip my chin in the direction of his bottle of Johnnie.

His gaze swings slowly to the bottle. It gives me a chance to really look at him. Or what I can see of his face under his beard, anyway.

“Nah, but it helps quiet down all the noise up here.” He taps his temple and blurts, “My dad died.”

I put a hand on his forearm. It feels awkward, and creepy on my part since its half-genuine, half-contrived comfort. “I’m so sorry.”

He glances at my hand, which I quickly remove, and refocuses on his drink. “I should be sorry too, but I think he was mostly an asshole, so the world might be better off without him.” He attempts to fill his glass again, but his aim is off, and he pours it on the bar instead. I rush to lift my purse and grab a handful of napkins to mop up the mess.

“I’m drunk,” he mumbles.

“Well, I’m thinking that might’ve been the plan, considering the way you’re sucking that bottle back. I’m actually surprised you didn’t ask for a straw in the first place. Might be a good idea to throw a spacer [CD3] in there if you want tomorrow morning to suck less.” I push my drink toward him, hoping he doesn’t send me packing like he did the other women who approached him earlier.

He narrows his eyes at my glass, suspicious, maybe. “What is that?”

“Cranberry and soda.”

“No booze?”

“No booze. Go ahead. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

He picks up the glass and pauses when it’s an inch from his mouth. His eyes crinkle, telling me he’s smiling under that beard. “Does that mean Imma wake up with you beside me?”

I cock a brow. “Are you propositioning me?”

“Shit, sorry.” He chugs the contents of my glass. “I was joking. Besides, I’m so wasted, I can barely remember my name. Pretty sure I’d be useless in bed tonight. I should stop talkin’.” He scrubs a hand over his face and then motions to me. “I wouldn’t proposition you.”

I’m not sure how to respond. I go with semi-affronted, since it seems like somewhat of an insult. “Good to know.”

“Dammit. I mean, I think you might be hot. You look hot. I mean attractive. I think you’re pretty.” He tips his head to the side and blinks a few times. “You have nice eyes, all four of them are lovely.”

This time I laugh—for real—and point to the bottle. “I think you might want to tell your date you’re done for the night.”

He blows out a breath and nods. “You might be right.” He makes an attempt to stand, but as soon as his feet hit the floor, he stumbles into me and grabs my shoulders to steady himself. “Whoa. Sorry. Yup, I’m definitely drunk.” His face is inches from mine, breath smelling strongly of alcohol. Beyond that, I get a whiff of fresh soap and a hint of aftershave. He lets go of my shoulders and takes an unsteady step back. “I don’t usually do this.” He motions sloppily to the bottle. “Mostly I’m a three drink max guy.”

“I think losing your father makes this condonable.” I slide off my stool. Despite being tall for a woman, and wearing heels, he still manages to be close to a head taller than me.

“Yeah, maybe, but I still think I might regret it tomorrow.” He’s incredibly unsteady, swaying while standing in place. I take the opportunity for what it is and thread my arm through his, leading him away from the bar. “Come on, let’s get you to the elevator before you pass out right here.”

He nods, then wobbles a bit, like moving his head has set him off balance. “That’s probably a good idea.”

He leans into me as we weave through the bar and stumbles on the two stairs leading to the foyer. There’s no way I’ll be able to stop him if he goes down, but I drape one of his huge arms over my shoulder anyway, and slip my own around his waist, guiding him in a mostly straight line to the elevators.

“Which floor are you on?” I ask.

“Penthouse.” He drops his arm from my shoulder and flings it out, pointing to the black doors at the end of the hall. “Jesus, I feel like I’m on a boat.”

“It’s probably all the alcohol sloshing around in your brain.” I take his elbow again, helping him stagger the last twenty feet to the dedicated penthouse elevator.

He stares at the keypad for a few seconds, brow pulling into a furrow. “I can’t remember the code. It’s thumbprint activated though too.” He stumbles forward and presses his forehead against the wall, then tries to line up his thumb with the sensor, but his aim is horrendous and he keeps missing.

I settle a hand on his very firm forearm. This man is built like a tank. Or a superhero. For a moment, I reconsider what I’m about to do, but he seems pretty harmless and ridiculously hammered, so he shouldn’t pose a threat. I’m also trained in self-defense, which would fall under the by any means necessary umbrella. “Can I help?”

Read the rest of Chapter One: http://bit.ly/2ZBt0RL

About the Author:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She's writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.

Connect with Helena: Instagram: http://instagram.com/helenahunting Twitter: https://twitter.com/HelenaHunting Facebook: http://on.fb.me/Zt1xm5 Facebook Fan group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/385795934890523/ Website: http://www.helenahunting.com/ Never miss an update! Subscribe to Helena's mailing list: http://bit.ly/2MlRKq6

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anitabyars · 5 years ago

Text

Handle With Care, an all-new romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting is coming August 27th, and we have a sneak peek!

HE WANTS TO LOSE CONTROL.

SHE’S TRYING TO HOLD IT TOGETHER.

Pre-order your copy today!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2VGJ83p

AppleBooks: https://apple.co/2VXTyvK

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/HandleWithCare

Nook: http://bit.ly/2FmIv9x

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2M09aKC

Google Play: http://bit.ly/2RRkyh8

Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/2C9AeCB

Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2FgCXxX

Excerpt from Chapter One

Chapter One

What Have I Gotten Myself into?

Wren

“That solving your problems?” I give him a wry grin and tip my chin in the direction of his bottle of Johnnie.

His gaze swings slowly to the bottle. It gives me a chance to really look at him. Or what I can see of his face under his beard, anyway.

“Nah, but it helps quiet down all the noise up here.” He taps his temple and blurts, “My dad died.”

I put a hand on his forearm. It feels awkward, and creepy on my part since its half-genuine, half-contrived comfort. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m drunk,” he mumbles.

He narrows his eyes at my glass, suspicious, maybe. “What is that?”

“Cranberry and soda.”

“No booze?”

“No booze. Go ahead. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

He picks up the glass and pauses when it’s an inch from his mouth. His eyes crinkle, telling me he’s smiling under that beard. “Does that mean Imma wake up with you beside me?”

I cock a brow. “Are you propositioning me?”

I’m not sure how to respond. I go with semi-affronted, since it seems like somewhat of an insult. “Good to know.”

This time I laugh—for real—and point to the bottle. “I think you might want to tell your date you’re done for the night.”

“I think losing your father makes this condonable.” I slide off my stool. Despite being tall for a woman, and wearing heels, he still manages to be close to a head taller than me.

He nods, then wobbles a bit, like moving his head has set him off balance. “That’s probably a good idea.”

“Which floor are you on?” I ask.

“Penthouse.” He drops his arm from my shoulder and flings it out, pointing to the black doors at the end of the hall. “Jesus, I feel like I’m on a boat.”

“It’s probably all the alcohol sloshing around in your brain.” I take his elbow again, helping him stagger the last twenty feet to the dedicated penthouse elevator.

Read the rest of Chapter One: http://bit.ly/2ZBt0RL

About the Author:

Connect with Helena:

Instagram: http://instagram.com/helenahunting Twitter: https://twitter.com/HelenaHunting

Facebook: http://on.fb.me/Zt1xm5

Facebook Fan group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/385795934890523/

Website: http://www.helenahunting.com/

Never miss an update! Subscribe to Helena's mailing list:

http://bit.ly/2MlRKq6

#helenahunting #handlewithcare

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bxnseki-archive · 7 years ago

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// stole this OC questions sheet from here! super fun ya’ll should do it :’0

if you want to do it pls do i want. to kno abt ur ocs. you dont need to do all 100 bc i sure af didn’t

1. What is your OC’s name? Kimiko Ijichi 2. What is your OC’s gender? DFAB - Cis - she/her 3. What is your OC’s sexual orientation? Demi-asexual! 4. How old are they? I typically rp her as 16, but I like to imagine her in her late teens or early 20s 5. What species are they- human, animal, alien, robot, none of the above? Human 6. What is their family like? Do they have one? Yes! She’s an only child with a mother and father. Gengyo is a very loving and passionate father, though tends to be neurotic, paranoid, and spoils his daughter to no end. Ritsuko is also a loving mother who puts compassion for others as a first priority, but has been struggling with her dysthymia and thus has been a less enthusiastic parent in Kimiko’s life. More info on Gengyo here, and more info on Ritsuko here! 7. Who is their best friend? Why? Her designated best friend was and forever will be Isaki Matsuna. Kimiko refuses to refer to anyone else as a best friend. Isaki had been with Kimiko since early elementary school. Her typical form of expressing affection was through taunting, and while that did seem odd to Kimiko, Isaki truly did care for and look out for her. They were complete foils of each other; ultimately, they were perfect contrasts. 8. Do they have a partner/significant other? Why are they together/not together? Zak & I are working on a ship, but we have yet to really rp the start of it -- so no. 9. What is their most prized possession? Why is it so important? A ribbon from a beginner’s level riding competition! It was the only competition she rode in, and she only got 7th place (they gave ribbons to all the competitors), but Isaki was there to train her, to cheer for her and put it in a really fancy frame. The framed ribbon is nailed right above her desk at home! 10. Do they prefer to be warm or cold? She prefers to be chilly. 11. If they could only eat one food for the rest of their life, what would it be? No way would she settle for this. 12. Is there anything they’d like to change about themselves physically? She really wishes she had long hair like Isaki’s. Down to the butt. But she would never be able to manage it. 13. Who is the most important person in their life? Isaki was and always will be her inspiration; but from someone who is living, her father! Although he’s eccentric, he’s the light of her life, as is she to him! 14. Are they a cat person? A dog person? An okapi person? Birds!! She’d love to have an African gray parrot when she retires! Calm, friendly cats seem like nice companions, too. 15. What sort of books do they like to read (if they like to read)? Mystery, thriller, crime, autobiographies and memoirs, and books on psychology mainly. She doesn’t strictly stay with these genres, though. 16. What’s their favorite thing to do on a rainy weekend? Turn on the news channel or turn on the radio and listen to the police scanner. Arrange her blossoms from her flower pressing into little designs to frame. Study, ofc. And go shopping. 17. Where were they born? Hiroo, Shibuya 18. Where do they want to live? She wouldn’t mind staying in Japan, but doesn’t need to stick with where she’s living now (Ikebukuro). She does prefer big cities, though. 19. Do they have a job? As a student, no. But during college she’d probably get a part time job as a waitress or something before getting her internship. Then she’d intern at a therapy facility only to start work as a psychologist & therapist. Slowly but surely, she’d move her way on to more difficult, struggling people involved with touchy cases. But that wouldn’t be until she’s in her mid-30s. 20. If they could work anywhere, where would it be? Chicago. A big city full of crime. 21. Do they use any sort of weapon? If not, what would they want if they could have one? When she starts to work as a criminal psychologist with rather dangerous people, authorities would prompt her to keep a taser on her.

22. Do they have any sort of special power/what power would they want? Nope. Wouldn’t want any.

23. What’s their fashion sense? Form-fitting comfy young hipster librarian with pastels.

24. What do they think of snakes? Interesting, but keep them away from her or so help me God.

25. What is their biggest pet peeve? Regarding someone as a bad person for mistakes they have made in the past.

26. What is their greatest fear? Not being recognized for her work in her department, and that she won’t be able to help any of her clients or the police force.

27. Do they have any sort of disability, disorder, or health issue? I am thinking about her having dysthymia like her mom, or some other form of depression, since trauma can be “passed down” and she’s gone through a lot. Still trying to figure out where and how that’d fit though. She’s also lactose intolerant if that qualifies here.

28. Who is the person they hate the most in their life? She tries not to hate, and she doesn’t truly hate anyone, but her ex-boyfriend Hoitsu Mifune is someone she really, truly, strongly dislikes.

29. Is there anyone they want to be more like? Isaki. She was always super cheerful, fun-loving, spontaneous, and very go with the flow.

31. Their home is on fire- what do they do? Get out of there according to the fire escape plan she and her family have practiced.

32. Do they like children? Yes!! While rowdy ones tend to annoy her a bit, she still likes them all the same!

33. Would they rather take a short cut or take the scenic route? Depends on where she’s going. If it’s a lazy day with no plans, scenic route always.

34. What’s their strongest belief? If you don’t care for others, you’re not human; you’re a monster.

35. What’s their opinion on lying? It can come in handy from time to time, so long as it’s not meant to harm anyone.

38. Which family member are they closest to, if any? Her father as of lately.

39. Do they ever want to get married and/or have kids? YES. YES. YES. YES. yes.

40. What was the hardest decision they ever had to make in their life? Going to see Isaki’s father in the hospital while he was on his death bed.

41. What was the happiest day of their life? Not sure.

43. How did they meet their last/current/future significant other? Or their best friend, if non-applicable? She met Isaki in elementary school when they were partnered up together to do a report. They were inseparable after that. After Isaki’s death, Kimiko met Hoitsu when she was 15 through a teammate on the tennis team. They were together for nine months before she ended it.

44. If they were a class in a fantasy RPG, what class would it be? Probably a cleric.

45. Do they have any birthmarks or scars that they’re embarrassed by? She does have some birthmarks running up her legs and some on her chest, but she’s not embarrassed by them.

46. What’s their favorite color? Lavender

47. Do they have any piercings or tattoos? Do they want any/any more? Her ears are pierced, but that’s it. She’s content with that.

48. Have they ever tried drugs or alcohol? Nope!

49. Are they an idealist or a realist? Idealist

50. Are they more introverted or extroverted? Extroverted!

51. What is their main goal in life? To become a criminal psychologist.

52. What are they willing to sacrifice to accomplish that goal? Her time, her well being, her friends.

53. Would they ever kill somebody (what would they consider a justifiable reason to kill someone?) Nope! Not at all.

54. Have they ever kissed someone? Do they want to? She kissed Hoitsu a few times, though he was uninterested by it. She likes romance, so I guess she wants to?

55. Have they always been comfortable with their sexual/gender identity, or is it something they’ve struggled with? No, she doesn’t even know she is demi-asexual. She just thinks she’s uninterested because she isn’t ready to be sexually intrigued by someone. Which is technically true.

56. Do they have any special ability or marking that sets them apart from others of their species/race? Why is it so remarkable or strange? Nnno?

58. If they had a Tumblr, what would they blog about? TBFH. she’d probably be either a studyblr or post about psychology and self care.

59. Any kinks or fetishes? Rich-Looking People.

60. If they only had one day left to live, what would they do? Say her goodbyes to her friends and family, then cry.

61. If they found a wallet with the equivalence of 200 dollars in it, what would they do? Find the ID and report it to the police to be given back.

62. If they live in a world without magic/without mainstream magic, do they believe in magic? Excluding Kiyo, no she doesn’t believe in it.

63. If they could have any pet ever, what would it be? AFRICAN GRAY PARROT. PLEASE.

64. Who is the person they admire most? Why? Isaki; go back to #7 and #29

65. Do they think they are attractive? Yes!

66. What is their biggest regret? Not asking for Isaki and her family to stay home the night of the crash.

67. What would they do for a klondike bar? she’d kill a man

68. The most important person in their life has been bitten by a zombie/whatever qualifies as a zombie in their world. Do they put them out of their misery, or try to find an alternative? Find an alternative. If it resulted in having to kill her father, then she’d kill herself afterwards.

69. Is there anyone in their life they just can’t say no to? Why? Her mother; she knows she’s struggling with a lot of things and can’t seem to balance all she needs to, so she wants to help her in any way possible.

70. Are they more math, science, or art oriented? Science!

71. Is there anything they like that would be considered geeky in their world? Forensics??? Maybe? Just knowing and spewing weird trivia about it?

72. Did they/would they leap at the call to adventure, or were they/would they have to be dragged along? If asked, she’d happily tag along, so long as safety is guaranteed.

73. Do they think there is more to life than whatever they are doing right now? Oh yeah.

75. What’s their most positive trait? She’s utterly compassionate.

76. What’s their fatal flaw? She’s utterly compassionate -- to the point where she needs to baby those who are struggling, which in turn sacrifices her well being and ultimately doesn’t help those she’s caring for. Savior complex tbh.

77. What do their friends/family/teammates find most annoying about them? She’s loud, most jokes go over her head, she’s blunt, and she probably is nosy about their lives. She just has to know if they need her.

78. What are their biggest strengths? She knows how to remain calm and rational during a panicked event; compassionate; ambitious; does her best not to be judgmental.

79. What are their weaknesses? She has a savior complex; very invasive about personal lives; self-sacrificial; depressed; spoiled. Fun fun.

80. What is most memorable about their appearance? Uhh either her height or her eyebrows?

82. Do they dwell on the past, or live in the moment? OH BOY. She preaches about living in the moment, and accepting and learning from the past to progress in The Now. BUT. She dwells.

83. Why is their main goal so important to them? What set them on that path? Becoming a criminal psychologist interested her at the age of nine; it was said to be an exciting job that paid very well. But after Isaki’s death and evidence to show that she was involved with drug use/dealing and underage gambling, Kimiko changed her mindset. She now wants to become one since she knows criminals are still people. She wants to help them in any way she can, to help them lead healthy lives again.

84. Do they believe that people are inherently good? YES. She’s adamant about it.

87. Is there any other fictional character you would compare them too, personality or appearance-wise? tbh I did start to design her with traits from Ishimaru and Kirigiri. So I guess them?

89. What sort of music do they/would they like? Pop! Soft pop about romance is typically what she listens to when she’s doing her work.

90. What do they consider the worst evil in the world? Abuse, cruelty and neglect to children, as that traumatizes them and sets them up for a difficult life, only to repeat the abuse to their children.

91. What’s the closest they’ve been to dying (or, if they’re already dead, how did they die)? She attempted suicide soon after Isaki’s father died in the hospital, as he was the last of her immediate family who was living. She attempted by hanging, but her knot was lousy and undid itself.

93. Do they like their name? Is there any name they’d rather have? She does! Ijichi is a name rather well-known since her father’s family has an attorneys practice starting with her great grandfather Ijichi.

94. What is the significance of their name? Kimiko ( 君子 ) means “noble child”; Ijichi ( 伊地知 ) I cannot find the meaning of for the life of me. Italy, earth, knowledge? idk

95. Have they ever been bullied? Have they ever bullied anyone? There’s always bullying in the school yard; she’s never been horribly bullied, nor worried too much about it. Isaki was the one who would usually torment others, so Kimiko was just her henchman.

96. Are they a light or heavy sleeper? Average?

97. What do they dream about when they sleep? idk, random things. Dreams are weird.

98. Do they prefer an urban or a rural setting, or something else? She does like rural settings to stay at for a while, but ultimately she’s a big fan of urban settings.

99. Is there any moment or event that they feel defines their life and who they are now? Isaki’s death.

100. Why is this character important? To you, and/or to their world? Oh man. When I get an idea for an OC, it’s always in a short spurt, so pretty much all my OCs are really under-developed. But for whatever reason, I stuck with developing Kimiko. RPing her also helped SO MUCH in terms of figuring out why she is the way she is and adding new traits and perspectives to her. idk. I just love her a lot and I’m glad my pals here like her as much as they do. ;;;

#// there is mention of her sui.cide attempt so ;;; careful w that #|| memes #|| headcanons #|| backstory #|| OOC : out of interest

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detourque · 5 years ago

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Friday, January 3rd 2020

Excited to start playing games again! Got up at 6:30 AM. I’ll probably have to get up earlier for work now, since the holidays are over and traffic will be back to normal. Got to work. I’m actually running on more sleep, so I actually didn’t doze off on reading the contracts as much. Told everyone that today is the day for ice cream lol. Since I brought ice cream in yesterday but didn’t have the time to take it out. Today’s a better day anyways since its Friday.

Oh and Helen recognized I had the Passion Planner right away! Turns out she has one too. So uncanny lol.

Around 11AM Coach asked if we wanted to go to Ike’s. Quang and I tagged along. Was surprised to learn that Coach listened to rap in the car, and Doja Cat’s Juicy was playing LOL. Learned that Coach’s son first attended UC Santa Cruz and then transferred to my university and studied business and econ. He’s a pilot in the Navy currently. He said he spoiled his son growing up, got all the latest games, private tutors, a new Hummer in high school, MMA lessons. But he said his son turned out well.

Got back, did some more work, then took out the ice cream. Had a better turnout than I thought. Aida thought there wouldn’t be enough to go around, but there was even some leftover. Surprised Cary even came out, even if only for a split second. I guess it was somewhat of a novelty since it was dairy free ice cream, and made of Coconut Milk. Helen seemed pretty chauffed. And even Quang who is lactose intolerant could eat it too. Aida, Bobbie, Seerit, Quang, Helen, Steve, Coach, and Jose joined in. I asked Erica and Cary if they wanted any.

In typical fashion, Coach rushed to wash all the dishes. Guess I didn’t have to do much work at all.

Sat around the table with Steve, Quang, and Helen discussed ABGs. Helen said her god daughters informed of this new trend called VSCO girls, who have hydroflasks and scrunchies and use reusable straws. Sounds like a good trend at least? Told them my friends say I dress like a Seattle hipster. Quang was confused, but I told him I wear my construction outfits to work since it just stuck with me since it was my first job out of college. Jeans, polo, fleece jacket and work boots every day for me haha.

Got back to work. Ended up being the last person to leave, so I printed out a whole bunch of documents. Felt guilty printing them when everyone was around since I didn’t want to hog the printer. Got home around 7pm. Mom made oxtail soup and dad brought home some Vietnamese pastries. Showered. Coordinated with Brandon on when to meet up tomorrow. Plan on meeting him at his house at 6PM to grab In N Out and then start board games at 7PM. Did laundry. Planned out the day for tomorrow. Its already past 11PM and my laundry still isn’t finished. Didn’t even start my game yet. Well even just playing 10 minutes counts as starting right?

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dargeereads · 5 years ago

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Handle With Care by Helena Hunting

New York Times bestselling author of SHACKING UP and I FLIPPING LOVE YOU Helena Hunting mixes humor and heart in this scandal-filled romantic comedy.

HE WANTS TO LOSE CONTROL. Between his parents’ messed up marriage and his narcissistic younger brother, Lincoln Moorehead has spent the majority of his life avoiding his family. After the death of his father, Lincoln finds himself in the middle of the drama. To top it all off, he’s been named CEO of Moorehead Media, much to his brother’s chagrin. But Lincoln’s bad attitude softens when he meets the no-nonsense, gorgeous woman who has been given the task of transforming him from the gruff, wilderness guy to a suave businessman

SHE’S TRYING TO HOLD IT TOGETHER. Wren Sterling has been working double time to keep the indiscretions at Moorehead Media at bay, so when she’s presented with a new contract, with new responsibilities and additional incentives, she agrees. Working with the reclusive oldest son of a ridiculously entitled family is worth the hassle if it means she’s that much closer to pursuing her own dreams. What Wren doesn’t expect is to find herself attracted to him, or for it to be mutual. And she certainly doesn’t expect to fall for Lincoln. But when a shocking new Moorehead scandal comes to light, she’s forced to choose between her own family and the broody, cynical CEO.

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.

Buy-Book Link:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250183996

Handle With Care Q&A – Helena Hunting

Q: Can you tell us a little about your new release, Handle with Care?

A: Handle with Care follows the story of the reclusive Lincoln Moorehead, who has done everything he can to separate himself from his family and their massive media corporation. Upon the death of his father, he’s forced to come home for the funeral, and then asked to stay on to help transition the company with the assistance of Wren Sterling who has been commissioned to overhaul Lincoln’s image in the public eye.

Q: Lincoln Morehead and Wren Sterling are the lead characters in Handle with Care. Which one of them did you find the easiest to develop? What is each characters best and worst traits?

A: I always find developing the male lead the easiest. I’m not sure why exactly that is, but Lincoln’s character was so easy to round out and develop. Lincoln’s worst trait is that he jumps to conclusions without first getting all the facts, but his best trait is his altruism. He’s very much about giving back, and despite the fact that he can be a grumpy jerk, he’s also an incredibly good human being. Wren’s worst trait is that she can be a martyr for things that are outside of her control but her best trait is her strength of character and her belief in redemption.

Q: What was your greatest challenge while Handle with Care? What was your greatest pleasure and/or reward?

A: Wren is a badass heroine, so I think finding the balance between her strength of character and those hints of vulnerability could be tricky at times. I really wanted to humanize her and make her relatable and I hope readers connect with her. I LOVED writing the banter between Linc and Wren. They are both such strong personalities, and that made putting them head to head so much fun.

Q: Which do you find easiest to write-the humor or the heart?

A: Humor always seems to find a natural place inside the story, but for me it’s about the balance between the two. I love taking a heavy moment and inserting some kind of comic relief before I go for the feels again.

Q: Do you work from an outline while writing your novels? How closely do the finished novels fit your original vision of the characters and storyline before you begin writing?

A: I outline extensively. Most of the time I have about ten thousand words of outline and character development before I even start writing. It’s just how I work most effectively. I need to know who my characters are going in and where I want them to be by the end of the book. I generally stick to my outlines very closely since they are so detailed.

Q: What did you edit OUT of this book?

A: A lot of f-bombs.

Q: Do you listen to music while writing? Does it influence the flow of the scene you are writing?

A: I do. I create playlists for every single book I write, and I often (always) listen to the same playlist while I write the book. This means that I burn out albums and songs for my family on a very, very regular basis. My husbands list of artists he will no longer listen to grows exponentially with every release. Halsey always finds a place on my playlist and the song Joaquim by Oscar and the Wolf was a particular favorite.

Q: When sitting down to write a new book you have a specific outline to follow or does it just flow naturally?

A: The first step in my process is always to write an outline. I need the bones of the story down, where the character arcs will fall and what the conflicts will look like before I start writing the book.

Q: What do you like to do when you aren't writing?

A: I like hanging out with my daughter and craft. Recently we went camping, which was a fun experience, although I grew up with a family cottage so we would spend a lot of the summer there.

Q: Name three things on your desk right now.

A: Broken Knight by LJ Shen, Fix Her Up by Tessa Bailey, Resist by K. Bromberg, Undeniable by Melanie Harlow, The Last Letter by Rebecca Yarros (still gives me the chills when I think about it), Verity by Colleen Hoover.

Q: What did you enjoy most about writing this book?

A: The banter between Wren and Linc and writing a grumpy, jerk hero who really isn’t a jerk but sure acts like one!

Q: To get to know you a little bit better... do you have a pet or something that is special to you that you could share with us?

A: I have two cats, Digit is a 14 year old pure white polydactyl cat who sheds like nobodies business and Pumpkin (named by our daughter) is a 6 year old black cat who often thinks he’s a dog, eat edamame beans and begs for bacon at the table.

Q: You've written many books & bestsellers, in many genres. What has been your favorite to write thus far?

A: That’s a hard question to answer. I love them all for very different reasons, but I will say that I had a lot of fun writing Wren and Linc because of the banter and how much I love writing a strong heroine.

Q: What was your favorite book or series in your youth?

A: I used to love reading VC Andrews books, and Clive Barker, which I realize are very, very different!

Q: What would you like us (the readers) to take away from your story?

A: That families aren’t perfect and people can make mistakes, yet still grow from them.

Q: What is your favorite platform to connect with your reader to date?

A: I have a reader group called The Beaver Den and I love it in there. The readers are always sharing book experiences and it��s a great community! If you want to join my group you can do it here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/HelenaHuntingBeaverDen/

Q: What project(s) are you currently working on?

A: I just finished the third book in the All In Series, which the first book will be releasing this fall. Next I’m starting a standalone, but I also have a new series I’ll be starting soon, and I have a book idea or two for secondary characters in the last two books of The Shacking Up series, as well. It’s safe to say that my writing schedule is planned for the next two years!

Q: Do you believe in love at first sight?

A: I don’t know about love at first sight but when I saw my husband from across the room for the first time I thought, “man, he’s pretty” and then when we had our first conversation the connection was instant. I think people can “click” and be drawn to each other for inexplicable reasons.

CHAPTER 1

WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO?

WREN

“You could say that,” he slurs. He props his cheek on his fist, eyes almost slits. I can still make out the vibrant blue hue despite them almost being closed. They move over me, assessing. I’m wearing a conservative black dress with a high neckline and a hem that falls below my knees. Definitely not nearly as provocative as Disco Ball or Navel Lady.

“That solving your problems?” I give him a wry grin and tip my chin in the direction of his bottle of Johnnie.

His gaze swings slowly to the bottle. It gives me a chance to really look at him. Or what I can see of his face under his beard, anyway. 

“Nah, but it helps quiet down all the noise up here.” He taps his temple and blurts, “My dad died.” 

I put a hand on his forearm. It feels awkward, and creepy on my part since its half-genuine, half-contrived comfort. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m drunk,” he mumbles. 

“Well, I’m thinking that might’ve been the plan, considering the way you’re sucking that bottle back. I’m actually surprised you didn’t ask for a straw in the first place. Might be a good idea to throw a spacer in there if you want tomorrow morning to suck less.” I push my drink toward him, hoping he doesn’t send me packing like he did the other women who approached him earlier.

He narrows his eyes at my glass, suspicious, maybe. “What is that?”

“Cranberry and soda.”  

“No booze?” 

“No booze. Go ahead. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

 He picks up the glass and pauses when it’s an inch from his mouth. His eyes crinkle, telling me he’s smiling under that beard. “Does that mean Imma wake up with you beside me?”

I cock a brow. “Are you propositioning me?”

I’m not sure how to respond. I go with semi-affronted, since it seems like somewhat of an insult. “Good to know.”

This time I laugh—for real—and point to the bottle. “I think you might want to tell your date you’re done for the night.”

He blows out a breath and nods. “You might be right.”

He makes an attempt to stand, but as soon as his feet hit the floor, he stumbles into me and grabs my shoulders to steady himself. “Whoa. Sorry. Yup, I’m definitely drunk.” His face is inches from mine, breath smelling strongly of alcohol. Beyond that, I get a whiff of fresh soap and a hint of aftershave. He lets go of my shoulders and takes an unsteady step back. “I don’t usually do this.” He motions sloppily to the bottle. “Mostly I’m a three drink max guy.”

“I think losing your father makes this condonable.” I slide off my stool. Despite being tall for a woman, and wearing heels, he still manages to be close to a head taller than me.

He nods, then wobbles a bit, like moving his head has set him off balance. “That’s probably a good idea.”

“Which floor are you on?” I ask.

“Penthouse.” He drops his arm from my shoulder and flings it out, pointing to the black doors at the end of the hall. “Jesus, I feel like I’m on a boat.”

“It’s probably all the alcohol sloshing around in your brain.” I take his elbow again, helping him stagger the last twenty feet to the dedicated penthouse elevator.

He rolls his head, eyes slits as they bounce around my face. “Please.”

I take his hand between mine. The first thing I notice is how clammy it is. But beyond that, his knuckles are rough, littered with tiny scars and a few scabs, and his nails are jagged.

“Your hands are small,” he observes as I line his thumb up with the sensor pad and press down.

“Maybe yours are abnormally big,” I reply. They are rather large. Like basketball player hands.

“You know what they say about big hands.”

I fight not to roll my eyes, but for a brief moment, I wonder if what’s in his pants actually matches the rest of him. And if he’s unkempt everywhere, not just on his face. I cut that visual quickly because it makes me want to gag. “And what do they say?”

His eyes crinkle again, and he slaps his own chest. “Something about big hands, big heart.”

I bite back my own smile. “Pretty sure you’re mixing that up with cold hands, warm heart.”

His brow furrows. “There’s a good chance.”

The elevator doors slide open. He pushes off the wall with some effort and practically tumbles inside. He catches himself on the rail and sags against the wall as I follow him in. I honestly can’t believe I’m doing this right now.

He doesn’t have to press a button since the elevator only goes to the penthouse floor. As soon as we start moving, he groans and his shoulders curl in. “I don’t feel so good.”

Please don’t let him be sick in here. If there’s one thing I can’t deal with, it’s vomit. “You should sit.”

He slides down the wall, massive shoulders rolling forward as he rests his forehead on his knees. “Tomorrow is going to suck.”

I stay on the other side of the elevator, in case he tosses his cookies. “Probably.”

It’s the longest elevator ride in the history of the world. Or at least it feels that way, mostly because I’m terrified he’s going to yak. Thankfully, we make it to the penthouse floor incident-free. On the down side, now that he’s in a sitting position, getting him to stand again is a challenge. I have to press the open door button three times before I can finally coax him to his feet.

In the time between leaving the bar and making it to the penthouse floor, the effects of the alcohol seems to have compounded. He’s beyond sloppy, using the wall and me for support as we make our way to his door. There are two penthouse apartments up here. One on either side of the foyer.

He leans against the doorjamb, once again fighting to find the coordination to get his thumb to the sensor pad. I don’t ask if he needs my assistance this time since it’s quite clear he does. Once again I take his clammy hand in mine.

“Your hands are really soft,” he mumbles. 

“Thanks.”

 The pad ashes green, and I turn the handle. “Okay, here we go. Home sweet home.” 

“This isn’t my home,” he slurs. “My cousin’s family owns this building. I’m crashing here until I can get the fuck out of New York.”

I scan the penthouse. It an eclectic combination of odd art and modern furniture, like two different tastes crashed together and this is the result. Aside from that, it’s clean to the point of looking almost like a show home.

The only sign that someone is staying here is the lone coffee cup on the table in the living room and the blanket lolling like a tongue over the edge of the couch. I’m still standing in the doorway while he sways unsteadily.

He tries to shove his hand in his pants pocket, but all he succeeds in doing is setting himself off-balance. He nearly stumbles into the wall.

“Thanks for your help,” he says.

He’s back in his penthouse, which means my job is technically done. However, I’m worried he’s going to hurt himself, or worse, asphyxiate on his own vomit in the middle of the night, and I’ll be the one catching heat if that happens. I’ll also feel bad if something happens to him. I blow out a breath, annoyed that this is how my night is ending.

I heave his arm over my shoulder and slip mine around his waist again, leading him through the living room toward what seems to be the kitchen. There’s a sheet of paper on the island, but otherwise it’s spotless.

“What’re you doing?” he asks.

We pause when we reach the threshold. “Which way is your bedroom?”

He looks slowly from right to left. “Not that way.” He points to the kitchen. It’s very state of the art.

I guide him in the opposite direction down the hall, until he stumbles through a doorway, into a large but simply furnished bedroom. Once we reach the edge of the bed, he drops his arm, spins around—it’s drunkenly graceful—and falls back on the bed, arms spread wide as if he’s planning on making snow angels. “The room is spinning.”

“Would you like me to get you a glass of water and possibly a painkiller for the headache you’ll likely have in the morning?” I’m already heading for the bathroom.

“Might be a good idea,” he mumbles.

I find a glass on the edge of bathroom vanity—which is clean, apart from a brand new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste. I run the tap, wishing I had a plastic tumbler, because I’m not sure he’s in any state to deal with breakable objects. I check the medicine cabinet, find the pills I need, shake out two tablets, and return to the bedroom.

He’s right where I left him; sprawled out faceup on a massive king-size bed, legs hanging off the end, one shoe on the floor beside him. I cross over and set the water and the pills on the nightstand.

I make a quick trip back to the bathroom and grab the empty wastebasket from beside the toilet in case his night is a lot rougher than he expects.

I tap his knee, crossing my fingers he’ll be easy to rouse. “Hey, I have painkillers for you.”

He makes a noise, but doesn’t move otherwise.

I tap his knee again. “Lincoln, you need to wake up long enough to take these.” I cringe. I called him by name, and he didn’t offer it to me while we were down at the bar. Here’s hoping he’s too drunk to notice or remember. His name is Lincoln Moorehead, heir to the Moorehead Media fortune and all the crap that comes with it. And there’s a lot of it.

One eye becomes a slit. “Every time I open my eyes, the room starts spinning again.”

“If you drink this and take these, it might help.” I hold up the glass of water and the pills.

“’Kay.” It takes three tries for him to sit up. He tries to pick the pills up out of my palm, but keeps missing my hand.

“Just open your mouth.”

He lifts his head. “How do I know you’re not trying to roofie me?”

I hold up the tablet in front of his face. “They don’t say roofie, so you’re safe.”

He tries to focus on the pill and then my face. I have my doubts he’s successful at either.

His tongue peeks out to drag across his bottom lip. “The cameras in the hall will catch you if you steal my wallet.”

I laugh at that. “I’m not going to steal your wallet, I’m going to put you to bed.”

“Hmm.” He nods slowly and opens his mouth.

I drop the pills on his tongue and hand him the glass, which he drains in three long swallows. “Would you like me to refill that?”

“That’d be nice.” He holds out the glass, but when I try to pull away, he covers my hands with his. His shockingly blue eyes meet mine, and for a moment they’re clear and compelling. Despite how out of it he is, and how much he resembles a mountain man, or maybe because of it, I have a hard time looking away. “I really wish I wasn’t this messed up. You smell nice. I bet your hair is pretty when it’s not pulled up like that.” He flops a hand toward my bun. “Not that it’s not pretty like that, but I bet if you took it down, it would be wavy and soft. The kind of hair you want to bury your face in and run your fingers through.” He exhales a long breath. “I haven’t had sex in a really long time, but I feel like I would have zero finesse if I tried right now.”

I smile and turn away. In the time it takes for me to refill his glass, he’s managed to get one arm out of his suit jacket. He’s made it most of the way onto the bed, feet still hanging off the end, but he’s on his back, which is not ideal.

I set the glass on his nightstand, along with a second set of painkillers, which I’m assuming he’ll need in the morning, and give him another nudge. “Hey.”

This time I get nothing in the way of a response. I poke him twice more, but still nothing. He can’t sleep on his back with how drunk he is. He needs to be on his side or his stomach with a wastebasket close by.

I can’t in good conscience leave him like this. My options are limited. I shake my head as I kick off my shoes and climb up onto the bed with him. This is not at all what I expected to be doing when I brought him back up here.

I stare down at his sleeping form. His lips are parted, they’re nice lips, full and plump, even though they’re mostly obscured by his overgrown beard. His hair has started to unravel from its man bun, wisps hanging in his face. He has long lashes, really long actually, and they’re thick and dark, the kind women pay a lot of money for. His nose is straight and his cheekbones— what I can see of them—are high. With a haircut, a beard trim or complete shave, and a new suit that actually fits, I can imagine how refined he’ll look. More like a Moorehead than a mountain man lumberjack. I shake my head. “I need you to roll onto your side, please,” I say loudly.

Nothing. Not even a grunt.

I pull on his shoulder, but he’s dead weight. Leaning over him, I make a fist and give him a light jab approximately where his kidney is. “Lincoln, roll over.”

And roll he does, knocking me down and turning over so he’s right on top of me. We’re face-to-face. Good God, he’s heavy. His bones must be made of lead. He shifts, one leg coming over both of mine. I push at his knee, but his arm swings out and he wraps himself around me on a low groan, pinning my arm to my side. He’s like a giant human blanket.

“How did this become my life?” I say to the ceiling, because the man lying on top of me is apparently out cold.

I try to wriggle free, I even yell his name a bunch of time before I give up and wait for him to roll off me. And while I wait for that to happen, I replay the conversation with his mother, Gwendolyn Moorehead, that took place forty-eight hours ago and put me in this awkward position underneath her drunk son.

I’d been standing in Fredrick’s office, still digesting the fact that he was dead. It was shocking that a massive heart attack had taken him, since he was always so healthy and full of life.

Gwendolyn, his wife—now a widow—stood stoic behind his desk, papers stacked neatly in the center.

“I’m so very for your loss, Gwendolyn. If there’s anything I can do. Whatever you need.” The words poured out, typical condolences, but sincerely meant because I couldn’t imagine how my mother and I would feel if we lost my father.

Gwendolyn’s fingers danced at her throat as she cleared it. “Thank you,” she whispered brokenly and dabbed at her eyes. “I appreciate your kindness, Wren.”

“Let me know what you want me to handle, and I’ll take care of it.”

She took a deep breath, composing herself before she lifted her gaze to mine. “I need your help.”

“Of course, what can I do?”

“My oldest son, Lincoln, will be returning to New York for the funeral, and he’ll be staying to help run the company.”

A hot feeling crept up my spine. I’d heard very little about Lincoln. Everything from Armstrong’s mouth was scathing, Fredrick’s passing references had been with fondness, and my interactions with Gwendolyn had been minimal as it was Fredrick himself who hired me, so this was first I’ve heard of Lincoln through her. “I see. And how can I help with that?” I could only imagine how difficult Armstrong would be if he had to share the attention with someone else, particularly his brother.

“Transitioning Lincoln.” Gwendolyn rounded her desk. “You’ve managed to turn around Armstrong’s reputation in the media during the time you’ve been here. I know it hasn’t been easy, and Armstrong can be difficult to manage.”

Difficult to manage is the understatement of the entire century where Armstrong is concerned. He’s a cocksucker of epic proportions. He’s also a misogynistic, narcissistic bastard that I’ve had to deal with for the past eight months on a nearly daily basis—sometimes even on weekends.

My job as his “handler” has been to reshape his horrendous reputation after his involvement in several scandalous events became very public. It wasn’t a job I necessarily wanted, and I was prepared to politely reject the offer, but my mother asked me to take the position as a favor to her since she’s a friend of Gwendolyn.

Beyond that, my relationship with my mother has been strained for the past decade. When I was a teenager, I discovered information that changed our relationship forever. Taking the job at Moorehead was in part, my way of trying to help repair our fractured bond. The financial compensation, which was ridiculously high, also didn’t hurt. Besides, Gwendolyn is on nearly every single charitable foundation committee in the city, and since that’s where my interests lie, it seemed like a smart career move.

“Since you’re already working with Armstrong and things seem to be settled there for the most part, I felt it would make sense to keep you on here at Moorehead to work with Lincoln. He’s been away from civilized society for several years. He’s nothing like his brother, very altruistic and focused on his job, rather than recreational pursuits, so he should be easier to manage.”

I fought a scoff at the last bit, since “recreational pursuits” was a reference to the fact that Armstrong couldn’t seem to keep his pants zipped when it came to women.

Gwendolyn pushed a set of papers toward me. “It would only be for another six months. And of course, your salary would reflect the double work load, since you’ll still have to maintain Armstrong in some capacity while you assist Lincoln in transitioning into his role here.”

“I’m sorry, what—”

Gwendolyn pulled me into an awkward hug, holding onto my shoulders when she stepped back. Her eyes were glassy and red-rimmed. “You have no idea how much I appreciate your willingness to take this on. As soon as your contract is fulfilled, you have my word that I’ll give you a glowing recommendation to whichever organization you’d like. Your mother told me you’re interested in starting your own foundation. I’ll certainly help you in any way I’m able if you’ll stay on a little longer for me.” She dabbed at her corner of her eyes and sniffed, then tapped the papers on the desk. “I already have an agreement ready and an NDA, of course. Everything is tabbed for signing.”

I’m pulled back into the present when Lincoln shifts and one of his huge hands slides up my side and lands on my breast. At the same time, he pushes his nose against my neck, beard tickling my collarbone. He mutters something unintelligible against my skin.

I’m momentarily frozen in shock. Under any other circumstances, I would knee him in the balls. However, he’s not conscious or even semi-aware that he’s fondling me. Thankfully, now that he’s moved, I have some wiggle room.

I elbow him in the ribs, which probably hurts me more than it does him. At least it gets him to move away enough that I can slip out from under him. I roll off the bed and pop back up, smoothing out my now-wrinkled dress. My stupid nipples are perky, thanks to the attention the right one just got. Probably because it’s the most action I’ve seen since I started working for the Mooreheads eight months ago.

I hit the lights on the way out of the bedroom, pause in the kitchen to grab a glass of water and check out the sheet of paper on the counter. It’s a list of important details regarding the penthouse, including the entry code. I nab my purse, snap a pic, and head for the elevators.

I have a feeling this is going to be a long six months.

permission from St. Martin’s Paperbacks.

#new release #out now #Helena Hunting #Handle with Care #Shacking Up world #am reading #reader #romance #book love #bookaholic #book nerd #book obsessed #bookworm #book blogger #I love books #romance books

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journalistgeocultures · 7 years ago

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Welcome to the first edition of the Geek Talk series. It should come as no surprise that today’s topic is related to Harry Potter…

Anyone who know me even a little is well aware that I’m a hardcore Harry Potter fan.

Harry Potter and I, We Go Way Back…

My first day in junior high school, I proudly walk into my class with my HP backpack, my HP school planner, my HP ruler and my HP pencil case. Of course, I was utterly unaware that my deep love for the Harry Potter saga could entice some mockery (read bulling) from my fellow students.

I was eleven, naive and very much in love with J.K Rowling’s universe. Suffice to say, I went through hell during that first year, and let me tell you, the level of cruelty kids can ditch out knows no bound. But even today, as I am past my mid-twenty, I can honestly say that I don’t regret any of it.

Credit and source: @hipster-vintage-and-indie.com

Like a surprisingly reduced part of the HP fandom, I discovered the books when the very first came out, in 1997. I was eight. From that moment and to this day, Harry Potter and every single characters of the wizarding world grew up with me, evolved as I evolved and followed me into adulthood. For the lonely kid that I was, it was like having fifty new family members, and some of them became my inspiration because their dreams and sufferings pushed me to try harder in life.

I could relate to most of the characters and I felt like I understood the strengths and weaknesses of Hogwarts’s four houses. I was enchanted by the magical world J.K Rowling depicted and overwhelmed by how much love and sadness a book series could make me feel.

Credits and source: @wetraveled.tumblr.com

Constantly reading the Harry Potter books while growing up was a great way to grow up right, grow up with a little light of happiness, especially when the rest of my days were so dark.

When you’re a child or a teenager, everything always feels so extreme. Everything is “all or nothing”, everything is drama. My view on the events happening in those books was no different during that time:

I hated the Dursleys.

I felt a lot of pity and affection for Hagrid.

The idea of four houses into a school always felt wrong to me. Divisive much?

I was flabbergasted by the injustice and the condescending treatment Harry had to endure from the adults around him.

I felt betrayed by Dumbledore when I realized Harry was an horcrux and he knew it.

I called bullshit about the reasons he gave for not telling Harry about the prophecy.

I was devastated by Sirius’s death.

My feelings for Snape were forever oscillating between an intense dislike and a crushing pity.

While I liked Ron, I never fully trusted him to stay completely loyal to Harry due to his jealousy, and I felt that way until the very end of the series.

Hermione Granger equally inspired me a great deal of admiration and exasperation.

I loved Fred and George.

I always thought Percy Weasley was treated unfairly. I’m not overly fond of the “black sheep of the family ” concept.

I hated Bellatrix.

I adored Luna Lovegood.

I wanted to see more characters’s developments among the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws students, not just the unnecessary crap about Cho Chang, Zacharias Smith and Justin Flinch Fetcher.

I did not like Remus Lupin. But I loved Tonks.

And finally,

I think that there is something deeply unrealistic and wrong about the way the Slytherin House (in general) and Draco Malfoy (in particular) were depicted and imagined.

Source: i-am-aesthetica.tumblr.com

So let’s dive into that.

— ⊗ Μ ⊗ —

Draco Malfoy, The (Almost) Perfect Poster boy For Evil Spawn…

Now, there is no mistaken the fact that Draco Malfoy was an awful little brat during the six first books of the series.

Only child of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, he was obviously spoiled by his parents, spoiled with everything he truly did not need. A lot of money, extravagant gifts, tooth-rotting sweets, expensive clothes… nothing material was out of reach for him.

His father gifted the Slytherin Quidditch team with brand new and expensive Nimbus brooms once Draco became their seeker. His mother send him sweets and chocolate via owl every week.

So, yes. Draco Malfoy was spoiled but it became very obvious in the Chamber of secrets book that he was not as loved or as cherished as he would have liked his fellow students to believe. The scene between father and son that takes place in Borgin and Burkes shows that not only Lucius is not proud of his son but their relationship seems to be cold as well.

In the books, it’s very obvious that Draco worships the ground his father walks on. In terms of an accomplished, respected and even feared wizard, Lucius was the perfect, the only example that Draco had. He was raised from the cradle by a blood purist man, he was taught to despise everyone and everything his parents told him were inferior to him and as a son, a child sheltered from everything that could alter this twisted view of the world, a son desperate to please his parents, Draco never questioned it.

As the result to this, of course, he lacked the empathy and the compassion that characterized Harry. Draco had not being raised to experiment his own sufferings and therefore had no idea how to relate to the sufferings of others. He only grew up feeling like a failure to his father’s eyes and he had to strive to fix it. This is why the relationship J.K Rowling created between Harry and Draco is so interesting and well-played: She made that feeling of being a failure, of being worthless grow every time Draco lost to Harry in the books.

Credits and Source: @thanatosdementor.tumblr.com

None of this excuse the fact that Draco was a bully, cruel to others, a blood purist, ignorant, intolerant and manipulative. His father’s son.

The thing is, even as people despised his character, they started to relate to him more than they did to characters like Harry, Hermione or Ron. Why?

Because at the beginning of the books, he was the lowest of the low, the snake, the bully, the proverbial school nemesis of Harry Potter, and inside this tailored box, he struggled to become more. He struggled to beat Harry Potter at Quidditch, he struggled to make his father proud, he struggled to beat muggles-born at exams. Despite his more than dubious intentions and his selfishness, he fought again and again. While he was sometimes described as cowardly and actually behaved like it, he never gave up trying to overcome his shortcomings.

And that is what people root for in someone. The drive. The ambition. The determination to never stay down, no matter how much humiliation you endure, no matter how much it hurts.

Draco Malfoy: The Bitchy Underdog

Which brings me to my second point: people loves underdogs. I’ve got to admit it, it’s a little astonishing that such an awful character managed to provoked so much sympathy and even pity which in time definitely transformed into fondness and love for some fans. J.K Rowling certainly did not expect or want that.

But it happened.

No matter how awful of a villain you creates, if you keep beating him up, metaphorically or otherwise, if you introduce to the audience his inner struggles, his deepest insecurities and his tortured psyche, people will humanize him enough to break that black and white straight jacket you planned to trap him into.

Credit and source: @foolforfelton.tumblr.com

However the most interesting (and worthy of notice) thing about Malfoy is not who and what he was. It’s what and who he became, it’s how he evolved.

We all remember how Draco’s world crumbled and shattered in the sixth and seventh books. With Voldemort living in his home and forcing him to tortured people as a punishment for his obvious lack of murdering tendencies, Draco suddenly learned in the worse way what it felt like to have everything taken from you, your safety, your sanity and your freedom.

And we learned a lot more about him in those two last books, didn’t we? Much more than in the five previous ones. Stripped of his bully mask and false pride, what truly characterized Draco Malfoy?

His fear and his love.

Between the lines and the glimpses of his anguish, it’s a beautiful, terrible thing, the way his love is described in those books. Without restraint, without boundaries, without moral. He opened Hogwarts to the devastation that was the Death Eaters and Greyback. He did it because it was somehow more bearable than to have his parents killed. His love for them is made of devotion and annihilation. It’s almost the love of a slave. Lucius is certainly undeserving of it. The jury is still out for Narcissa.

His fear for his family and for himself, his fear of the Dark Lord and to a certain extent of Dumbledore is what ironically kept him safe. He did as he what told to do, no matter how tainted his soul became, no matter how much he did not want to. He made the deliberate choice to do wrong because he could not stand the consequences of doing the right thing. It became clear at the middle and the end of the Half Blood Prince that Draco knew he was in the wrong. He held no more disillusion about Voldemort or his father. But he could not stop.

Already tainted with the Dark Mark on his arm, already used to cast “Crucio” on his victims, Draco finally became the son Lucius always wanted while we learn who Draco Malfoy truly was or rather who he wasn’t:

A murderer. A monster.

harry potter spells + meanings (3/3) Source: lillypotter.tumblr.com

Instead he became a victim and at that, one that inspired the most bittersweet pity.

Draco Malfoy: The Fated Loser

At the end of the series, most people just described Malfoy as a loser. After all that how J.K Rowling spent the last seven books describing him. He constantly lost to Harry, to Hermione, even to Ron. He failed at pleasing his father, he failed at pleasing Voldemort, he even failed at accepting the flimsy and half-ass attempts of protection Snape and Dumbledore awkwardly offered him.

On Pottermore, J.K. Rowling described the entire Malfoy family as always involved in some evil and nefarious deeds. Apparently even the Malfoys from several generations removed were evil doers, somehow forever involved or even responsible for some awful and devastating events in the wizard or even muggle history. They were never ones to help people, they were completely unrepentant.

Oh, how I loathe that.

Credits: @LADYMCBETHS-DEACTIVATED20161110

The idea of that someone can never change. The idea that they are doomed to follow a dark path and will automatically end up bad, or hurting people because it’s in their blood. I hate that idea so much, that black and white judgmental tunnel-vision crap. Worse, the idea of an entire family always and forever rotten to the core?

That leaves me nauseous. What the hell?

That is not the real world. That is not how people work. Of course doing the right thing is never the easiest road and very few take it, especially if their entourage is urging them to do bad… but I believe that most people fight to overcome their worst selves and go against the current and try to better themselves, especially if they have suffered. Most people change.

I think the way J.K Rowling depicted the Malfoy family’s background as inherently bad and always following a dark path is why she suffered so much backlash from some parts of the fandom. Nobody is born evil. Nobody is born bad.

Yes, it would be harder to grow into your heart and into your soul if you were raised in a family that lacks the fundamental empathy you need to properly love the world but it is certainly not impossible. Nobody is predisposed to failed.

House Slytherin – Credits and Source: aly-naith.tumblr.com

The idea of houses in Hogwart is extremely divisive. Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Slytherin… Why on earth can you not be Brave and Cunning? Why should you only be clever and not loyal? Why can’t you be both? Why can’t you be courageous and ambitious and smart and honest?

Nobody is solely one thing, and while I perfectly understand why J.K. Rowling chose to create those houses, how interesting it is plot wise, I always thought it was kind of horrifying… kids striving under a hierarchy slash rivalry and growing up with a mob-like mentality in addition to the permanent certitude that there is always a “them” and a “us”.

Credits and source: @cruciatuz.tumblr.com

That cliche mirror effect… Rich vs Poor, Dark Wizard vs Light Wizard, Villains vs Heroes, Malfoys vs Weasleys, Draco Malfoy vs Harry Potter… It definitely wasn’t to the taste of everybody and I think it definitely help building up the defense of Draco Malfoy and his evolution from poisonous brat to cinnamon bun in the last two decades.

I’d like to point out that I always find it sarcastically ridiculous when some overzealous fans conveniently forget that Draco was an awful little bully and does deserves some of the hardships that fell upon him. Why would you want to paint him as the white dove, the poor, sheltered little darling who didn’t know better? He did know better.

If you truly want to understand and therefore appreciate the character, you have to accept his flaws. Who he was is relevant but who he became is what truly matters. That’s what is worth reading, what is worth noticing and appreciating. I like a good character’s growth…. Don’t you?

Which brings us to the latest installment of the Harry Potter series: The Cursed Child.

Yes, It is Exceptionally Lonely, Being Draco Malfoy… But It’s OK Too.

I went to the UK, in June 2016 to see the play of Harry potter and the Cursed Child in London Palace Theater. It was with the first original set of actors ever playing those characters in theater. Draco Malfoy was brilliantly played by Alex Price and he managed to make it painfully obvious how far Draco went in terms of personal growth.

Most importantly, with this play, J.K Rowling finally listen to the unhappy fans and gave to Draco what he never had in the first seven books: A win.

I told you earlier that Draco was described and then tagged as a loser in the books; He never won against Harry and suffered many humiliating moments, some deserved, some not so much.

However, in the Cursed Child, there is one area where Draco is definitely better than Harry: Parenting.

Credit and source: @awanqi.tumblr.com

Despite the fact that he had Lucius as a father, Draco, while having a lot of trouble expressing his affections for his son, is definitely a better father than Harry is.

Granted, Scorpius is less of a pain in the ass than Albus, but the credit goes to his upbringing. Draco and Astoria did everything they could not to repeat the past. Harry unknowingly made Albus believe than nothing was more important than the past. Scorpius is nothing like Draco was at his age and while Harry is busy trying to relate to hi son and basically wants to control him, he just managed to make everything about himself, which is something Albus hates. Draco wants Scorpius to be leader, not a follower, like he was. He refuses to see his son influenced by others, which does create some father/son issues between them but ultimately, it’s very clear that what he wants the most is to see his son happy. He is determined to make sure Scorpius is happy.

Draco is a widower, he is forever under suspicion due to his past, there is no escaping it. he is heart-broken, he is lonely and yet when realizing that Scorpius made friends with the son of the person he loathes the most, he simply tries to keep them together when Harry is determined to separate them.

When confronted by the awful rumors that his late wife, the love of his life, might have had a child with Voldemort, Draco defended her honor and let’s face it, would have own Harry in that duel match if Ginny had not interrupted.

He doesn’t hold a prestigious position in the ministry like Harry, he is not the minister like Hermione, but he is definitely playing at their level magically and maybe even above since he studied and mastered basic alchemy, like Nicolas Flamel did before him.

He flirts with power but never cross the line. He grew up. He matured for the better and while it doesn’t sound like his life will ever be free of pain and sadness, while he will probably always somehow pay for his past sins, he had managed to let go of everything inside him that wants to hate and destroy, and he kept on loving and protecting.

Now… isn’t that the mantel of heroes?

Credit and source: @awanqi.tumblr.com

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why it’s OK to like Draco Malfoy.

— ⊗ Μ ⊗ —

I hope you enjoyed this first edition of my new series Geek Talks. Let me know what you think of Draco Malfoy and the Slytherin house, which house are you? Which house would you like to be?

I’ll see you’all soon for a new talk!

Stay excellent.

Featured Image Header: Credits and Copyright: @moon-leviosa.tumblr.com

Draco Malfoy: From Poisonous Brat to Cinnamon Bun – A Study | Geek talk Series Welcome to the first edition of the Geek Talk series. It should come as no surprise that today's topic is related to Harry Potter...

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101percentindia · 7 years ago

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What It’s Like To Date A Musician

A tone deaf girl’s experience of loving and living with a musician.

Growing up, `Almost Famous’ was a cult film for anyone who considered themselves artistic. For most aspiring writers, William was a role model because he was the culmination of two wonderful worlds - writing and music. For me it was Penny Lane.

Perhaps as a result of this lingering fantasy, or mere coincidence, or both, I landed up right in the middle of the so called ‘Indie music scene’ in my city. And it was enthralling. From being an outsider and a fan, I suddenly became an insider in the veritably cool scene overnight. It was like a long jump into the quintessential ‘hipster kids club’ and as the fascination with messy hair and superfluous joint rolling skills grew, the childhood dream of finding a well-behaved surgeon or engineer began to seem increasingly boring. I started dating a musician. Let’s face it, at 21 all I was thinking is how to have the best time of my life. Besides the only friend in Kolkata who wasn’t dating a musician was a Marwari!

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Dating a musician

There was also demographic at play here. There are four kinds of people in Kolkata. The first three are either aspiring doctors and engineers or writers and intellectuals or the B.Com MBA clan that my Marwari friends dig. In the case of all three, moving to another city or country is essential, which leaves us with the fourth kind - the non-conformists, the musicians. So technically if you are spending your college years in Kolkata and looking to date, there are 60% chances that you are going to end up with one of them and 90% chances you will meet them at Someplace Else (a pub on Park Street). Unless you are ok with long distance and/or vegetarian dates. Of course, there are exceptions to the gross stereotyping I have done, but you know what they say about exceptions…

That was my destiny in 100 words and the route to finding love.

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At my boyfriend's gig

Dating is hectic, but dating a musician is a whole other ball game. The initial years are great. It’s heart-stoppingly exciting to see someone you love on stage, while a whole crowd of swooning women/men can’t seem to stop screaming (and possibly imagining them in bed). It’s thrilling to be a part of this world, even if vicariously; to know what gigs are coming up, to know the set list, to be able to sing along to songs that are being played live for the first time because you have spent so many hours at their jam pads running cigarette errands, rolling spliffs, connecting cables and disentangling lead wires. After a few years, the excitement wanes, as it always will, and that’s when the problems begin.

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Yeah, he only looks at his guitar

Listening to a song is uplifting, listening to the process of a song being composed, practiced and created is the exact opposite of that feeling because what you’re hearing is not a melody. Instead, it’s a string of random chords in different scales and tempos as they attempt to arrive at an agreement about the ‘sound’ in their heads. It’s cacophonous, it’s jittery and on a bad day, it can inspire you to diabolically break their guitars when they’re not looking.

Added to that is their artistic eccentricity. It’s taxing. For example, they will play a song they’ve just finished recording for your feedback. This involves a long drawn and complicated process of first hearing it on headphones (and ONLY their headphones), then hearing it again on monitors. In most cases, you cannot spot the difference, which heralds a longer more complicated process. As someone who is tone deaf, most things sound great to me. But if you fail to point out any mistakes your opinion is not valid. Then they spend another hour doing various things with their guitars and on Cubase - play, sleep, play, repeat. This is where the real test begins because 90% of the time the song still sounds the same to a humble non-musician and you have to rack your brain to come up with something that sounds informed. I usually stick to three responses “I think you should reduce the snare,” “The bass is too much!” “Wow, that intro is great!” And when I'm feeling adventurous, “I love the synth in this!”

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An emotionally abusive relationship ha ha

Things get tricky when both partners are working from home. It’s the cliched relationship - space issue. After our shift to Mumbai, this hit us hard. When deadlines come into play, it becomes a battlefield in our kitchen over who gets the table to work. Ofcourse it’s possible to work in one room, as long as you have a decent pair of earphones. But with musicians, that’s never possible because their work involves making enough sound to not allow even the neighbors a peaceful afternoon.

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They wear shades at night

Let’s talk romance. You can forget about feeling like the ‘the special one’ if you’re with a musician because you can never replace their instrument. Once after a huge fight I woke up feeling empty, but to a beautiful rainy afternoon. My boyfriend held my hands, looked deep into my eyes and said, “The weather is so great today babe…” I had already started thinking of excuses about why I wouldn’t make it home for lunch when he went on, “I am going to play the guitar as soon as you leave!”with a musician because you can never replace their instrument. Once after a huge fight I woke up feeling empty, but to a beautiful rainy afternoon. My boyfriend held my hands, looked deep into my eyes and said, “The weather is so great today babe…” I had already started thinking of excuses about why I wouldn’t make it home for lunch when he went on, “I am going to play the guitar as soon as you leave!”

Now this one shouldn’t be an issue but…music is the answer to everything. A cheque being cleared, depression, a bad day, a good day, a good shit – everything is celebrated by either making or listening to music. Perhaps the worst part of it all is that he assumes I enjoy it as much as him and thinks that it makes for the most ideal way of spending time. The truth is, dating a musician can suffocate you with so much music and music talk, that despite once being an iPod worshipper I have turned into someone who yearns for a few moments of simple, old-fashioned silence!

The other struggle is partying with him and his friends. Otherwise laidback people, their intolerance for genres of music different from the ones they play or like, is appalling. On more than one occasion I had a good mind to ask them to SHUT THE F&%K UP and ENJOY Rihanna twerking because for chrissake it's Saturday, and I couldn’t care less about what a great musician Bob Dylan is because if I wanted to listen to poetry I’d be at a Slam Poetry event not at a friggin' party! But after having been pounced on and shouted down, I have started carrying earphones and taking long loo breaks to listen to my jam.

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A happy ending

Seriously speaking and in their defence, they have it pretty hard. It tends to become a little nerve-wracking when the same people who call you to find out where to score highly overpriced hash from, cringe and make faces when the entry to a gig is anything over Rs. 200. Most people don’t seem to understand that beneath all the happening lifestyle there is a great struggle, there are hours of practice, jamming, commuting, communicating and maintaining equipment. It’s not easy when even playing six gigs a month don’t pay for the pedal you really need and if on a certain month the sound card goes bump, then the word ‘struggle’ truly begins to gnaw at them. A musician’s life is not easy and being with a musician isn’t easy either.

But every now and then after a long day when I let myself into the house and he is just jigging with the acoustic guitar, strumming something he wrote years ago, humming in a low voice, it makes up for all the drama. And if by a great stroke of luck he has also had a bath you end up feeling really special!

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Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are independent views solely of the author(s) expressed in their private capacity and do not in any way represent or reflect the views of 101india.com

By Suman Quazi Photographs by Suman Quazi and Soutrik Chakraborty

#musician #dating #love #muse

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type2diabetestreatments-blog · 8 years ago

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Living with Celiac: Tips, Tricks and Annoyances

New Post has been published on http://type2diabetestreatment.net/diabetes-mellitus/living-with-celiac-tips-tricks-and-annoyances/

Living with Celiac: Tips, Tricks and Annoyances

May seems like such a cheery month -- but it's also Celiac Awareness Month, time for another look at the "killer combo" of diabetes + gluten intolerance. I've written about my own experiences living with this combination in the past, and we've brought you some educational resources including videos and tidbits.

This year, our friends behind the You Can Do This Project have even produced a new "We Can Do This" video focused on celiac and diabetes -- so be sure to check that out!

Meanwhile, our youngest team member, Cait Patterson, is also living with both D and celiac disease, so today we bring you a special personal perspective from a young adult. Take it away, Cait...

Special to the 'Mine by Cait Patterson

I have quite the resume of medical issues. In August 2011, I was diagnosed with type 1 followed by a very invasive celiac diagnosis in August 2012. Needless to say, I avoid doctors in August.

I wasn't shocked by my celiac diagnosis; it even felt like I was "one of the cool kids" for about the first day. I had to follow a gluten-free diet with a new special menu, but that didn't bother me because I was expecting to become this super-healthy and skinny gluten-free goddess overnight.

Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way. Celiac disease is far more complicated and a much bigger annoyance than that. On top of me already having to correct a myriad of stereotypes about type 1 diabetes, I was suddenly explaining celiac to every poor soul who had to share a meal with me. No, I am not allergic to beer, too hipster for gluten, a victim of a government conspiracy to increase revenue for farmers, or going to die if I come in contact with wheat. My body simply doesn't process the binding agent found in wheat, barley and rye, and when I do eat gluten, it damages my intestines over time, with some other not-so-charming health side effects. That's what my lifelong "fad diet" really is all about.

Usually when I first tell people about my gluten-free diet, they think it's interesting and want to try my food, and immediately start thinking they also need to be on a gluten-free diet -- which has its pros and cons. As much as I would love to have more friends and colleagues understand and share in my gluten-free life, it's very difficult when people just want to take the fad for a test drive and then go back to enjoying a life with freedom of meal choice.

Besides the social frustrations, there are actually health concerns about the "sampling gluten-free" diet. About 1/600 of a piece of sandwich bread can cause damage to my stomach, so cross-contamination is a big concern. Going between a gluten pizza and non-gluten crispy chicken tenders in the university dining hall can cause big problems, since switching back and forth can cause contamination through crumbs and bits of food on cooking equipment, cutlery and plates, something my nutritionist warns me about -- even the slightest touch of gluten on my food can ignite a reaction. So while I'm a big supporter of my peers trying "MY" food, I encourage them to please have the knowledge of how to do it without harming me.

And then there's the other side of the coin, where people assume that "gluten free" means "taste free." Yes, it's true, some products are very bland, but for the most part these days, there are lots of tasty gluten free options that are just as yummy as "normal."

I've been told (by those who can still eat the real stuff) that there's not a huge taste difference between gluten-free pizza and normal pizza. And I have never had extra gluten-free cookies, cakes or brownies left over after a social event. So just because I have to eat foods with gluten substitutes does not mean my food is always worse -- it's often just different. And that said: gluten-free is my only choice, so even if it looks like I have sandwich on made with cardboard bread, please fake it and say it looks good.

Even though gluten-free is a constant meal planning pain, it has helped me to become more assertive. When I'm going on a dinner date and the guy wants to take me to a restaurant, I gauge his relationship potential by how willing he is to research gluten-free menus.

If he says: "Well, if you just get a salad we can eat anywhere," he's not going to make it to a second date. If you are paying for me to go out and have a meal, it will not be something that I do not enjoy eating. I should be able to go out for a meal and eat something that I don't typically make for myself.

I have also become more comfortable in asking for products at the grocery store. I'm in college and broke, so as much as I would love to go to the high-end organic store, some days my budget can only afford to do grocery shopping at 7-11. I also shouldn't have to go to three different grocery stores just to do a week's worth of shopping. So, I ask store employees about gluten-free. If I say 'Where's gluten-free?" and the employee replies "Gatorade?" They will not be getting my business. I need to be able to work with my food options, so being educated and knowing your grocery store options is very important.

My gluten-free diet also forces me to be more independent and plan ahead. If I know I'm going to be at a sorority event for hours on end, I remember to pack a protein bar or some kind of meal bar. If it's a potluck type of event, I bring something gluten-free so that I can participate. Then when my sisters are conscious about my celiac needs and make an effort to bring something I can enjoy — I make a big deal about it. If my sisters see how much I appreciate it, they are more likely to want to know more about my condition, and will think about it more for future events.

To help find gluten-free foods you like, without wasting money on those you don't, I would suggest signing up for gluten-free sample boxes. No one wants to buy a whole box of expensive products just to find out you hate it, so sample boxes offer an ideal way to try out products in small quantities and the opportunity to discover new items. Some companies like Taste Guru offer a gluten-free sample box service, where you pay $34 per month for a three-month subscription, or $25 a month for a full year. Other companies like GF Connect offer packages 3 times a year at $29/package.

Overall, I'm lucky I was diagnosed now and not 15 years ago. The fact that the public is aware of the term "gluten-free" is a huge accomplishment. But I still need more to live a happy and healthy lifestyle. I still want gluten/gluten free to be included in every nutrition label. I want to get a meal at a drive thru window. And finally, for the love of all things tasty, can Pillsbury please get to work on gluten-free crescent rolls?

Amen, Sister!

Disclaimer: Content created by the Diabetes Mine team. For more details click here.

Disclaimer

This content is created for Diabetes Mine, a consumer health blog focused on the diabetes community. The content is not medically reviewed and doesn't adhere to Healthline's editorial guidelines. For more information about Healthline's partnership with Diabetes Mine, please click here.

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