#and I get cultural changes being necessary. THAT is part of localizing

[goldentigerfestival]

I think the BEST way to explain it would be just to watch the scene because it explains itself best (I can message it to you if you're interested in/okay with that!), but basically... the context itself was altered in the dub to make Yuri sound aggressive and more like "I'm right and I know it". He presses Flynn about it as if Flynn is in the wrong and he's right. I feel personally that there are a lot of cases where Yuri just sounds rudely presumptuous toward Flynn when he's not supposed to be, but Nordopolica was the chaotic worst of it.

In JP Yuri is speaking in a more pleading tone that gives off vibes of "please tell me this ISN'T what I think it is", and the whole "cat got your tongue" was actually a desperate, pleading "say something", because Yuri wanted Flynn to say something to let him know he wasn't right or at least be able to defend what he was doing. He didn't want to be right. His voice starts shaking and he reminds Flynn that what Flynn is doing is what they used to hate. The whole thing was Yuri effectively pleading with Flynn and hoping he'd see reason if it turned out that yes, Yuri was right. He wasn't solely angry, just... deeply upset and struggling to understand how Flynn would be doing this.

The dub just kinda... yeeted that out the window because they for some reason have severe cases of Yuri acting like he has a stick up his dubbed ass, so he ends up more angry and aggressive (especially toward Flynn in several cases, when he's either completely relaxed and not at all angry in the original context, he's heartbroken, or he just wants Flynn to take responsibility for his errors and eases up immediately when he does). Their relationship is a lot more nuanced in the original context and Yuri is really not angry at him even half as much as the dub for some reason wants him to be.

What happens during this scene?!

No really its been a decade since I've played the game past the Blade Drifts and I keep meaning to go back but I have a problem with leaving games unfinished - anyway. I don't remember. I can picture the scene in my head and it probably isn't too far off but I've lost context for the story beat.

[useless-catalanfacts]

Happy 600th birthday! Per molts anys!

Giants are one of the most iconic figures in Catalan culture. Each town, city, or neighbourhood has their own couple of giant hollow figures that usually represent the mythical founders of the town or characters from local legends. People join the group to carry them and make them spin and dance on the streets on the days of local festivities, to the sound of live traditional Catalan festive music.

Giants don't exist only in Catalan culture, they're also present in other parts of Western Europe like Belgium, France, Portugal, Sicily, Southern Italy, the Basque Country, and some parts of Aragon and Castilla (Spain).

But this year, we are celebrating: the earliest ever written document anywhere in the world that mentions a giant figure dates from 1424 and talks about the Barcelona giants that danced in the Corpus festivity. This assures us that giants have been part of Barcelona's festivities for at least 600 years. Then, the giants were King David and the Giant (characters from the Bible), but with time they changed a bit and by the 1500s they were a king and a queen, who came to be identified with the king James I and the queen Violant of Hungary, the most iconic and important monarchs in Catalan history.

However, since they symbolise people from Catalan history, the giants were repressed by the Spanish fascist dictatorships of Primo de Rivera and Francisco Franco. These regimes had the aim of exterminating Catalan culture. They banned and persecuted the Catalan language and identity and many cultural celebrations of Catalan people, such as banning some songs and holidays. For this reason, the giants were forced to be renamed Isabella and Ferdinand and pretend like they represented the Catholic Kings, two key figures of Spanish history. When the dictatorship ended, they became Jaume I and Violant again.

The figures of the Barcelona city giants used nowadays aren't the same ones as 600 years ago, of course. The figures get copied into new ones when it's necessary. The ones used now were made in 1991 copying the previous figures, made in 1921.

Giants are adored by kids, and the Barcelona city male giant (gegant de la Ciutat) and the giant from Santa Maria del Pi parish of Barcelona (gegant del Pi) are also the main characters of one of the most popular traditional children's songs in Catalonia.

We love to see them continue being as popular as ever. Yesterday, they celebrated their anniversary with a meeting of giants from all the neighbourhoods of Barcelona and well as from other cities and towns. More than 600 giants gathered in Barcelona to dance together for the Barcelona city giants anniversary!

[justalittlesolarpunk]

I've been feeling climate anxiety lately. I think it's really necessary to change everything and progress towards a postcapitalist future that doesn't endanger our planet, our Pachamama. But I don't see how that will be possible. What do you think about this?

Hiya, thanks for getting in touch and sorry it’s taken me so long to reply. I get a lot of asks like this so I think I might make this another masterpost. Here’s climate anxiety solutions according to me:

1) Accept your feelings. Recognise that fear, grief, rage and despair are all normal, healthy, human reactions to paying actual attention to what is being done to our planet right now. You aren’t wrong or sick or overreacting by feeling them. Sit with the emotions, allow them to wash over you, cry, smash plates, punch a pillow, journal, write poetry, yell at the news, scream in the woods! Trying to repress these feelings will just make them harder to deal with.

2) Recognise that the paralysis of climate anxiety is not a good place from which to make a difference. Try to let horror, guilt and self-blame go, and lean into the love for people and planet that motivates all eco-anxiety. Start consuming good news stories and keying into activist spaces so that you can learn how others are claiming agency to fight this problem, and how you can emulate that. Remember that despair absolves you of responsibility and that true solidarity with the most affected means letting your emotions drive you towards action.

4) Educate yourself through reading, listening to podcasts, attending talks, seeking advice from elders, and more - whatever works for your particular life and circumstances. The more informed you are about these issues the more you’ll feel able to address them.

3) Make as many changes as you can in your personal life. Are you eating a high-carbon diet? Try to reduce that. Are you consuming a lot of water or energy resources? Look for green and low-intensity alternatives. Examine your transport habits and prioritise walking, cycling, trains, low or zero emission buses, sailing, and replacing longer-haul journeys with remote options. If you live in a throwaway culture, try to prioritise reuse and repair over consumption. Consider how your livelihood impacts the planet, and if it’s negatively and making change is possible for you, start the process of moving towards an occupation that lets you make a more positive difference.

4) Fight! Join a campaign group, write to your elected officials, attend a protest, donate money to causes if you can, commit civil disobedience if you feel willing and able. Put pressure on governments, businesses and the public to change their ways.

5) Prioritise joy and connection. Spend time in nature, watching animals or foraging for plants or swimming or walking or just letting it all wash over you. Link up with other people to talk through your worries, go hiking, lobby for climate justice, safeguard ecosystems and pass down your local heritage. Sometimes, take a day or two to check out of all these issues and problems and just spend time drawing, cooking, playing games with loved ones, or whatever it is that relaxes you. There are enough of us that you can take the time to avoid burnout.

I hope some of this was helpful, and do please get back in touch if you have any other questions or queries. You’re part of a huge global community of people who love and revere the earth and want to build a better future for all life upon her. Hold onto that.

[tarisilmarwen]

"But another natural thing is that the cultures are changing along the time passing. If they do not adapt into the changes, they dissappear. Like the morning mist."

....I'm not sure I like where this is going.

"The very nature of the Jedi has changed. The small temples all around the Galaxy were meant to be stations for the Jedi. Them staying there and doing their duty: protect the people of the Republic. Being part of their community, rising their young, and really protecting the locals. But their number had dwindled and they no longer were capable of do the similar tasks that they had been doing earlier. But as the Jedi were desperately trying to stay in the center of Power, Coruscant, they did abandon the rest of the Galaxy."

*rubs temples* I guess all that fighting they did on the front lines of the Clone Wars out in the Outer Rim counts for nothing, huh?

"This is how the Jedi had become myth even when they excisted. And when they were finally wiped out by the Sith they become a legend. Something that was not real. A myth. Perhaps the Jedi become too attached on themselves. Maybe it really was the time for the Jedi to come to an end. Maybe it was time for the Jedi to be reborn."

Sooooooooooo you realize that you're inadvertently saying that the near-total genocide of the Jedi was ultimately a good thing.... right? That it was ultimately beneficial to them, that them getting wiped out man, woman, and child was necessary for them to "change"? You DO realize that, right? That under your flowery metaphorical language that's what you're advocating for?

Cultures can transform and change without being mass killed. So yeah. Not a good look my dude.

[gemsofgreece]

Hello!

This is a genuine question tangentially related to the response you posted:

Do you think the characteristic of the God of the dead in Greek myth as someone comparatively more positive of a person (as close as a God gets to being one, at least) is something based in cultural/historical/archeological/mythological evidence or the absence of it? As in, when you view him through a more positive lens, do you base your opinion on any particular local idea of him, or on the lack of "negative" myths about him?

I know there are certain parts of the general cluster of info on him that point towards his positive traits (some epithets, seemingly positive take on H/P in Lokri area, and so on), but what do you think is the main reason for him to be viewed positively? What is your reason?

I do agree with you, by the way, that there's a lot of weird... hypocrisy in how people now treat different Greek Deities. So, my question is more to ponder with you on the topic, don't consider it a nuanced attack or anything. Thank you in advance!

Hello! This is a great question.

I do have a reasoning and it is based on the general information we have about him rather than the lack thereof.

First of all, Ancient Greeks generally did not like Hades and avoided mentioning him but this was not because of some presumed cruelty or flaw of his character. They simply thought of him superstitiously and feared that too much engaging with the worship or even thinking about Hades would bring - what else - death upon them. (This superstition is huge even nowdays - don't mention / analyze something bad or unfortunate or it will come to you). This avoidance and the fear are perhaps the reasons why there are relatively fewer myths about him compared to some other gods.

However, it seems they were also aware of this avoidance and in the back of their minds they were concerned that it would anger the god and have the opposite result (bring them death out of spite / vengeance). I believe this is why they also developed positive traits about him (the most important being that he was also the god of wealth - Pluton). The fact that this name and domain of divine authority was attributed to him a little later in time supports the hypothesis that they were trying actively to make his worship more palatable in order to appease him.

But I think there's another reason why Hades had generally positive traits and this is that... he was the God of the Underworld!!! OK, hear me out! Unlike the major Olympians, Hades was the only one who was not ruling over living beings. The other gods domineered life and all of the nature with its elements. They domineered over things that underwent changes constantly, sometimes unexpected or violent. So their personalities reflected that constant change and this unpredictability - be it in nature, in the sky and the sea, in the animals and humans themselves and the livings they led. On the contrary, Hades ruled over the dead, the unchanging eternity, the ultimate silence. It didn't make sense for him to be a noisy, lively or volatile god because this is not what death is. I bet this is also the reason why he was the only one who was viewed as mostly monogamous and interested in longterm romantic relationships - he was not a god who contributed to creation and procreation, he was associated to the exact opposite. It would be jarring for the dead to have a god that constantly has sex and has babies and births life. I believe the few partners given to Hades and his few children (three and three respectively) were likely even serving some necessary concepts Greeks had to attach to some symbolism (i.e Persephone and nature), otherwise Hades might as well be portrayed as celibate. Him ruling over the eternity of death made him stable, consistent, more sensible, generally quiet and calm and capable of more profound, undying emotions.

Hades was also responsible and decent. There are some insinuations in the myths and their variations I think that he wasn’t all that happy for being assigned to be a ruler of the underworld. He accepted his fate with dignity however, even though he was the oldest brother, out of respect for his younger brother Zeus saving all of them from Cronos and perhaps out of wisdom for deciding it’s not worth it to argue it out with super strong Poseidon for the seas. After that, he ruled the Underworld with dignity, total responsibility and great care. I think this might be some symbolism associated with the solemnity, decency and sacredness people treat their dead.

Furthermore, he was viewed as just. This also makes sense because upon observation Greeks could guess that Death is just. It comes to all, lucky, unfortunate, rich, poor, privileged and loved or marginalized. No one ever escaped or returned from death. Death was fair and absolute. Surely the Greeks would also like to imagine the Underworld as fair and equal towards all the souls of the dead [with a special treatment for extreme wrongdoers - Tartarus, rarely for normal human beings - and rare glorious legendary heroes - Elysian fields - and then all the average souls together in Hades (the place)]. Hades (the god) also employed three srict but good judges to determine how a soul was to be treated in the afterlife, based on how they had fared once alive. Despite being generally good and fair, he was stern and cold because how could the god of the dead be joyous or overly expressive and animated? And he was adamant at keeping the souls to his realm, greatly guarded, because who ever came back from the dead?

So this is why I think Hades was viewed as quiet, consistent, just and reliable. Because this is what death is - reliably it will come to us all and we will all receive the same treatment.

And now, sorry, but I have to do this:

[deepdisireslonging]

Nautical November Part 7: Against the Mast

The Reader uses the ship’s funds on a little treat for herself. Captain Winchester makes her pay it back.

Pairing: Captain! Dean x Reader

Warnings/Promises: handcuffs/shackles, public SMUT (on the deck, out at sea), voyeurism, edging, ruined orgasm, overstimulation

Word Count: 2820

Note: The reader gets into a little trouble in this one. I look forward to your comments and reactions. Happy reading!

Part 6: Halfway There

They finally let you off the ship at the Spanish port of St. Johns. It bustled just as much as Savannah’s, but since you were able to step into the center of it, you were overwhelmed. Spices, and a cultural mix of foods wafted their scents through the air. While exotic birds, local voices, and merchants from every nation lifted their sounds to the heavens. Since he stayed aboard at the last port, Sam led you around. He occasionally leaned down to your ear and pointed out the hidden enterprises happening in the shadows. And participated in a few of his choosing.

But you had a job of your own: helping take care of the crew. The task was nothing lewd. The Spanish colony had been successful in growing citrus fruits. You bought a barrel full of the green, squishy orbs with the ship’s money. And, stopping by an apothecary, you bought a small supply of medicine. One of the crew had come down with something. When Dean suggested he stay ashore, the crewmate argued the best cure was the spray of the sea. But sickness can spread quickly in the small confines of a ship. Dean quarantined him to one corner of the hull and sent you out for the necessary goods.

When you and Sam arrived back at the ship, the barrel of citrus was just being delivered. Dean waved at you, pleased. “Well done, Miss. How was your other venture?”

You held up your box of goods. And you handed Dean the change.

His eyebrows rose. “Damn. How much did you haggle, woman?” He pocketed the coins and muttered, “maybe we should keep you with us all the time.”

“Ah, but,” you wagged your finger at him, “you would have to approve of more shore-time, Captain. And you and the first mate have stricter rules for me than the rest of the crew.”

They weren’t letting you stay ashore overnight. The shore-leave crew had been granted their usual day and night. Because of the sick crewmate, Sam had to come back early as well to take over the man’s shifts in the crow’s nest. They weren’t going to let you stay on land without at least one of them as an escort.

Dean shrugged and tipped the citrus delivery man. “If you stay, maybe we can come to a better future arrangement.” His brow furrowed. Looking to one side, he growled. The delivery man hadn’t moved since you stepped aboard. Dean gave him a swift kick to the rear to send him on his way. “And there’s a heavy emphasis on that ‘maybe.’”

For the first time on the trip, you had the night to yourself. Sam was in his perch. And Dean took position on the deck to keep out drunkards and rival pirates. Delighted, you took the evening to give yourself the deep clean you’d been craving for a while. The pitcher that the boys cleaned themselves from was fine. But you borrowed hot water from Benny’s kitchen and gave yourself a good scrubbing. Despite Dean’s praise for receiving so much change back from your ship purchases, you hadn’t been truthful with him. Or Sam.

While Sam had been mid deal, you’d wandered into a shop. And spent the crew’s money on a small bottle of perfume. You were back before Sam noticed, and he didn’t say anything about the box you held under your arm. It wasn’t the thin, watery French kind. Instead, it was a thick syrupy consistency that would help the scent linger. You perfumed your bath water with it. You perfumed your hair with it while it was still damp. And you dipped the ends of your dress ties in the scent. And then you went to bed squeaky clean and deeply satisfied.

The next morning, the ship was once again underway towards Tortuga. There was always a lot to do, so the brothers were busy. It took them several darted trips into the cabin and into your space before they noticed something was different. And when they did, they couldn’t pin down what had changed.

A few days later, Dean finally figured it out. He flopped into his cot, half flopping over you and half dozing after steering the ship through a rough patch of the Caribbean. As he rolled over, he sighed deeply, fully inhaling the air over the pillow where your head had just been.

His eyes popped open.

Dean caught your hips when you tried to scrabble out of the bed. “Have you been hiding something from us, Sweetheart?” He buried his nose into the place behind your ear. “Mmm. I thought Sam never let you out of his sight.”

You swallowed thickly. “He didn’t. There was just a window in the way that one time.”

“Hmm.”

He hugged you close and went to sleep, making you think that was the end of it.

Halfway through the night, Dean tugged you out of bed. He stripped you down to your shift. Laughing at your shock, he dragged you out onto the deck, pinning you to the prow-face of the center mast. He conquered your mouth. Dazed, you didn’t notice how he dragged your wrists up until the shackles clamped around them. He stepped back with a chuckle as you struggled.

“Do you know what we do to crewmates who steal from the ship?”

You froze. A sea breeze picked up, brushing over your feet and baring your ankles to its chill. The shiver that went down your spine wasn’t from the breeze.

Dean stood away from you with his arms crossed over his chest. “Each crewmate receives a portion of what we…ah, earn. But another portion is added to a separate purse. It helps pay for repairs and for supplies shared by the crew. Like food, water, and fruit to keep away scurvy.” He dipped his head. “I trusted you, a non-crewmate, with this fund. If you had been a crewmate, the usual punishment is lashes. With the amount decided by the rest of the crew depending on how much was taken.” He let a patch of silence spread while you processed his warning.

“I can pay you back.” You gripped the shackles as best you could and thought about the gifted trinkets sitting in your small trunk. “It was just a small bottle of perfume. Only spent a few small coins and-”

“And you did save us a bunch when you haggled a good price for the fruit.” He stepped close till he was nose to nose with you. “Sam told me about what a good job you did. And how much everything cost that you brought back. The maths weren’t difficult. I’ve already paid back the difference for you from my own pocket.”

You slumped against the mast, sighing with relief.

“But now it’s me you’ve got to repay.”

Closing your eyes, you hid your smile by turning your head into your shoulder. This wasn’t a punishment. It was a power struggle. One that you would gladly lose for the evening. Dean used a light grip on your chin to pull you back. “I’m sorry,” you said. You looked up at him with as much regret as you could muster.

But that damned sea breeze picked up again. The perfume still lingering in your hair was carried on the wind in Dean’s direction. He buried his face in the crook of your neck. With a groan, he ground the juncture of his thighs over your hip. His body heat pressed into you, pushing way the chill of the night air. His hard length pressed into your body too.

“I promise,” you whispered, “I’ll pay you back. Captain, I-”

“That you will.”

Dean tugged up the hem of your shift. He was warm all over. And you were beginning to shiver, unused to being on deck at night. With a chuckle, he pressed his cheek over your chest while he reached around to grip your ass with both hands. “Aww, are you cold, Baby?” He shook his head. “It’s too bad that you stole from us. Or we could have been doing this in my nice, warm cabin.” He kissed between your breasts. After fumbling with his ties for a bit, he ran his cock over your slit.

“We… we can still do it in your cabin.” You hastily kissed across his face. “I can pay you back so much better there. I promise. I can-”

Dean pressed his hand over your mouth. Despite your shivering with cold, arousal, and the fear of this dangerous side of the pirate captain, your sex dripped for his probing fingers. He shook his head. “My brother is of the opinion that your punishment should have been a public one. The only reason why we’re not doing this during the day in front of the whole crew is because you didn’t know the risk beforehand, I’ve already paid the difference, and because only Sam and I know what you did. But, I can’t make you scream loud enough from the cabin for him to hear you up in the crows nest. Not without waking everyone up.” He looked up, smirking.

Part of you wondered if he’d told his brother he was doing this, or if Sam was going to be pissed about having to listen you while he couldn’t participate.

You looked up too after he removed his hand. But it was too dark to see anything past the web of rigging. The thought of Sam watching you from on-high sent a wave of heat rushing through you. It soaked Dean’s cock as he rubbed it over your sex.

That was when he struck.

He filled you quickly, muffling his own sounds on your neck while you cried out. He filled you completely. Then, he stayed there. Pressing you into the mast. He grunted as you tried to roll your hips and make him move.

“Nuh, uh. Not tonight.” He groaned against your skin as your velvety walls squeezed around him. “I would say you’re not supposed to enjoy any of this, but we both know you can’t help it.” He slid his hands up your waist to your breasts. Smirking, he watched you pant as he kneaded them. “Go on, Sweetheart. Make sure he can hear you.”

It wasn’t difficult to follow his order. And if, maybe, some of your cries were from relief for having a less dangerous punishment from stealing from a pirate crew, who could have thought less of you. Certainly not yourself. So you screamed. You moaned. You cried out as Dean took turns filling and leaving you devoid in quick succession, only to sheath and still while you writhed. He licked his thumb and circled it over your clit. But only when he was moving. When his cock stilled to resting inside you, his thumb stopped it’s circling. You never knew when he was going to start up again. Or when he was going to stop.

You couldn’t touch him. You couldn’t cling to him and plead for mercy. You had to beg while your hands clawed the salty night air high above your head.

And, oh, how you begged. Dean smiled and leered at you as you whined for him to fill you. Or to let you have a break. He always did as you asked, but on his terms. And taking his sweet time to get there, dragging out your delightful torture for a few more seconds before overwhelming you with the combination of too much and not enough. You tilted your head up, resting your cheek on your upstretched arm. Was it a trick of the stars? Or could you see Sam watching? You cried out louder, hoping he could hear how sorry you were. And how thankful you were that Dean had arranged for you to pay it all back like this.

When your voice began to feel hoarse, you started to hear Dean over your own sounds. How he panted against your skin. The soft pop of his lips where he kissed over your cheeks. The shackles were a blessing in a way. They held you upright when the sound his cock thrusting through your slick threatened the strength in your knees.

Each thrust rose your desire. But each rest stole away your release. Each cycle kept you on edge. Over and over again you thought Dean would finally let you cum. But at the last second, he would pull away or stop moving, stealing your release.

“Please, Dean. Captain. I’m sorry. But please, please let me cum. I won’t steal from you again. Just- oh. Please.”

He laughed. “I know you won’t. But I’ve got to be doubly sure.” He kissed your sweaty forehead. “You ready, Baby?”

“Yes. Please, Dean, please.”

You screamed, arching as best you could as he speared you. The pace he set was brutal. But you smiled at the stars and Sam’s perch. Dean wasn’t stopping this time. You were sure of it. Grateful, you allowed yourself to tumble down towards the end.

But just as your body seized, Dean pulled out.

“No!”

Dean cupped his hand over your mound, feeling your pussy flutter and your hips pulse as you came around nothing. Your whole body shivered with the denial. “What? I thought you wanted to cum? And now you have.”

Pitifully, you whimpered, “no. Dean.” Your head lolled to your other arm. Against the mast, your wrists were beginning to ache. Your eyes were hot with tears that threatened to spill. “I wanted to cum… on you. With you. Why- why did you-” Gasping, you knew why.

Finally evenly met in thefts, Dean reached up and released you. He massaged your wrists. When you shuddered, he frowned. He warmed your chilled shoulders and arms in his warm hands. A wet spot spread on his shirt as you cried softly onto his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. Had to make sure the point got across. Now come here.” His lips were tender. Forgiving. They tilted and met you until your sobs melted into a fresh bubbling wave of need. His arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer than you’d been able to stand while tied up. Having him pressed against you rewarmed you from head to toe. And it revealed that he wasn’t fully satisfied either.

You palmed over his length, breathing a laugh as his hips jolted. “Let me take care of you.” You nosed along the bottom of his jaw. “Please.” Gently pushing on his chest, you moved to kneel.

But Dean spun you to push you against the mast. His teeth skimmed over the back curve of your neck. “You sure? I’ve got a lot here to take care of.” Despite the offer, he was already shoving your shift out of the way and running his length over your denied sex. His groan stuttered as you rocked into him. You muttered something close to a “yes” and he slid home. The pace was the same: completely controlled by him. But instead of toying with you, each thrust and pause was for his benefit. He had to pause when his cock was fully enveloped by your walls. His hot exhale washed over your neck. Then, with only a sharp intake of his breath as a warning, he pulled out only to thrust quickly back into your pussy. Over and over, he filled you, uncaring if anyone could hear you or not. He was pounding you for his own pleasure. The lingering reminder of your perfume washed over him in return, making him pause while his cock twitched.

He cursed something that sounded like Spanish or Latin. “Vado ut impleam te.”

“Dean?”

He filled you. You screamed out his name, and continued doing so as you came. Dean continued to rut into you, uncaring of your over sensitive whines. His speed picked up as he chased his own release. When it finally washed over him, he cried your name into your hair. His cum spilled into you, some of it leaking out around his cock. Dean pulled out with a groan. He kept a hand between your shoulder blades so you didn’t fall over when he stepped back.

Next thing you knew, you were off your feet and in his arms.

“Alright. Let’s get you back to bed.”

It wasn’t until you were halfway to the cabin that you realized there was someone else on the deck. A crewmate stood steadfast behind the wheel.

“Dean? Do you think he-”

“If he knows what good for him, he didn’t hear a thing.”

In his cabin, he helped you into bed. You squirmed, sliding your sticky thighs together. “So much for being clean,” you muttered. Before Dean could retort, you were asleep.

---

The next morning, Dean brought you a bucket of hot water so you could bathe and use your perfume again.

***

Part 8: Retaliation

Masterlist

No Cum November 2023

[coffinup]

Burial Vaults, who needs ‘em anyway?

During discussion of all of the various funeral expenses that start to add up, a big question I hear a lot from families in arrangements, as well as curious people out in the world, is “Why would I need a burial vault? Isn’t it just another thing that cemeteries charge for? And if it doesnt prevent a body from decaying, then what’s the point?”

We’re at a point in history where, while funerals are expensive, we’ve at least narrowed down a lot of things that are necessary, and all funeral homes in the US are beholden to certain consumer-protection laws that require them to state what is optional and what is not.

So vaults. If you’re unfamiliar, a vault is an outer casing that goes in the grave space that surrounds the casket. Actually, the industry term is “outer burial container”, and that also includes grave liners. A grave liner is simple: it’s a concrete box with a lid that the casket goes into. A vault is described as “having sealing properties”. Technically you can’t legally define a casket or vault as being “sealing” because technically it doesnt completely seal out the elements, and it won’t prevent decomposition. But vaults are a little more sturdy, and are often closed with epoxy or an “air seal” where the air pressure of putting the lid on actually shuts it.

Here’s a basic image from Trigard:

Now they argue that a vault is “better”, and in a sense yes, it will be better at preventing the casket from becoming damaged. But they both serve the same general purpose.

Which we’ll get to now.

Outer burial containers serve a few different functions:

-They prevent the ground from sinking over time, which is good for the cemetery but also protects the surrounding environment from erosion.

-They keep the casket in the same spot and prevent it from shifting over time. I’ll explain more of that in a second.

-They “protect casket investment” which is a marketing term for “the expensive casket you bought won’t be as damaged by impact, environmental factors, and time”. You have to determine whether or not that’s important to you. To some, it’s very important! Especially if you are ever considering moving the person to a different cemetery (a good example would be if you’re waiting for a space at a national cemetery for veterans) an intact casket is easier to move, and it prevents you from having to buy a new one.

Vaults are something that have a long history dating back to ancient times, but vaults as we know them come out of the victorian era (as with many things. The victorian era really changed western culture dramatically). Grave-robbing was rife, and vaults meant that your precious loved ones wouldn’t be stripped of all the valued possessions they were buried with, not to mention, you know. Having their remains desecrated in the process. But people don’t really rob graves anymore, do they? In a simple answer; no. Most corpse robbery nowadays happens way before burial. But the vault remains, because people figured out that actually, they served an important purpose not just environmentally, but also historically.

Going back to the second point, I’d like to recount a brief anecdote from my local city to kinda hone it in. Back in the very early days when my city was still a small, waypoint town where people stopped on their way west, many travelers were buried in unmarked graves because of time and resource constraints. To this day there are times during construction where ground is dug up and ope! Some unmarked skeletal remains! I guess… just put them in a communal plot in the old cemetery and call it a day?

We have no idea who these people were, beyond carbon dating to place WHEN they were. And that’s part of the reason why vaults are useful. They help keep people’s remains where they were buried and help identify them. Most vaults now include a plaque with vital statistics. So we know exactly WHO is in there. Now that might be important to you, or it might not be.

Vaults are optional.

But that doesn’t mean they’re useless.

Another example is during a natural disaster like a flood, hurricane, earthquake, etc, buried remains can be displaced. Vaults help prevent that! A cemetery can provide a wealth of knowledge about what the history of a place is, what demographics of people comprised the town or city, and what their cultural values were.

Again, I’ll reiterate, if that kind of thing isn’t important to you, then you don’t HAVE to get a vault for yourself or loved one, and theres no shame in it. I personally want a direct burial! During arrangements, a good funeral director will explain the benefits of a vault like I’ve described above. But at no point should you feel pressured, especially if money is an issue. Again, a concrete grave liner will also do a great job of protecting your loved one.

I hope this has helped those curious to understand why we use vaults still, and the benefits of using one!

-Memento Mori-

[kaiasky]

lots of people in my local sphere are praising bushwell's self immolation as a brave thing to do and it does kinda fuck me up. In my worst moments there is no greater comfort than the fact that if I killed myself in a specific way at a specific time then I could turn all my suffering and pain into something commendable and people would love me for my death in a way they never could in life. I think that's a little incoherent but you get what I'm saying right? I don't want to live in a world where that is an "necessary" or "beautiful" or "brave" sacrifice to make but when people refer to it as that- I'm forced to confront the fact that I do live in a world that thinks like that. That I live in a world where I really would be of more use dead. Again I'm being a bit incoherent but I felt the need to say something and get it off my chest I understand it's a complicated and touchy topic for everyone.

(re this) yeah.

idk, it's... i think we valorize lots of people for dying as a part of broader culture. war heroes, people who were assassinated, every martyred christian saint. including Jesus Fucking Christ. And so in that sense i think it's hard to blame someone for seeing somebody who killed themself and go, this is martyrdom, this is heroic, reblog reblog reblog. it hits you on a gut level.

But then like you said, you think about it and you go, oh yeah, valorizing killing yourself is a terrible thing (both morally, in that it encourages other people to consider killing themself, and politically, in that if all the most devoted fucking adherents to your movement kill themselves who will be around to fucking fight for change??)

I hope and suspect that the people who reblog this kind of stuff are simply unaware of this logic and that through having it gently pointed out to them they'll also come to see what's wrong with valorizing suicides.

Ultimately like, I think the choice to continue existing or stop existing is a decision everybody (gets/has) to make for themself, but we should do as much as possible to tip the calculus in favor of "keep existing" as possible.

It goes without saying and sounds sappy, but to all of you, you wouldn't be of use dead. if you were gone, regardless of how or why, it would be nothing other than a tragedy and a huge, irreplaceable loss.

(Tangentially related, but the only advice I've ever found that like, worked for me (ymmv) for dealing with suicidal thoughts is a post like, "alright, if you're seriously contemplating suicide, then you can do that whenever, there's no rush, it's be a waste to not fuck around before ending it, so you should 1. quit your job and become one of those cool ski bum guys who couch-surfs in the summer and works as a ski instructor in the winter, and try a year or two of that out first." And so whenever I'm doing bad, I think alright, is today the day I pull the trigger on the ski bum lifestyle? And for whatever reason that feels more extreme than suicide and so it snaps me back to "hm, maybe there are less-extreme solutions than those two")

[fentitrbl]

Hi, this is my first story on here, sort of, kind of nervous 😬

Tell Me You Love Me

Jasmine Brooks grew up in a home where love wasn't shown, she struggled throughout her life to love herself, but she never struggled with showing love and affection to those around her. Stumbling around trying to grasp the idea of adulting, she runs into a man at a local bookstore in her new found home of London where she falls way too quickly, way too fast yet again. Along the way she finds out things about the man she would go on to love unconditionally, that would change her perception of true love for the better.

“I don’t regret telling you how much I loved you.”

Word Count: 1,223

TRIGGER WARNING

(The word usage of drugs and borderline verbal abuse, manipulation and emotional neglection will be used)

Jasmine

July 3rd, 2018

Growing up, I never really liked being stuck in a household where the concept of generalized love and affection was swept under the rug. Seeing my parents interact caused us to behave, think and believe the way we did about love.

My stepdad wasn't exactly the nicest person to be around, the yelling and uncontrollable outbursts of anger that came from him made our household frozen with emotions. Anytime we tried to speak out against him, we were seen as disrespectful or in his eyes not worth his time. In other words, My brothers and I were worthless to him if we didn't cave into his dictatorship.

My mom on the other hand stayed quiet anytime there was conflict or tension, she of course would cave into his manipulation and would allow us to be belittled. I felt as though she too was afraid to speak out against him for fear of what outburst might occur. Now, I won't say there aren't times when we have fun and all get along. Of course, there were times when graduations, birthdays, and celebrations came around where the affection was made.

It seemed like the times of despair were greater than the times of happiness in our house when it came to emotional, and physical love and affection.

Sometimes, as children, all we ever wanted was for our parents to sit with us and comfort us when things went haywire, and support us when we were making decisions for ourselves. Not only that but we longed for a real lifetime movie family relationship but because our parents are so strict and headstrong the lovey-dovey stuff was the least of their concerns.

Thankfully, I taught myself the importance of love and educating myself on ways to self-love and love others. At least I think I understand the importance of love.

See at the age of 22 I still struggle with the concept. I have only ever had two relationships, one that I fell in too quickly and had the worst breakup of my life and the other was the healthiest relationship I had been in despite the drugs and borderline toxicity that he had going on in his own life. I unfortunately am a hopeless romantic and fall in love so fast I never see it coming until the flags start to raise.

Of course, I think we all want to find that someone but I have learned that it will take time and patience. Until then, I have decided to pack up my belongings from my family household and move away to another country where I now am a part-time nursing assistant in London.

I originally got the job by signing up online but for some reason since I'm a "foreigner" the process to get in was 10 times harder. Though I am grateful for the job, it has provided me with my now safe place which I call home.

I will say this has been the most alleviating move for me. Yes, I miss my brothers and my mom but I think this move was necessary to start a new life somewhere I had never been before, and somewhere to get away from the toxicity of my family that I want to leave behind.

London has been a breeze, the culture shock has hit me like a bus but I feel like it was worth it. Being here has made me feel so free and so careless about little things that used to bother me. Everyone and everything here has made my experience living here worth every penny, I am almost starting to feel like this is a forever home for m-

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

I snapped my neck up towards the buzzer near the door to my flat as it sounded off in the kitchen. Rubbing my neck in the area I abruptly snapped it in, I start to put my journal and pen down as I walk towards the buzzer confirm button after getting a notification on my phone that my food for dinner had arrived downstairs.

I've been ordering takeout because truly it's all I care for since I work long hours during the week. It was my Friday and I deserved a break from chicken and broccoli meal preps it was beginning to be too healthy for me.

As the food delivery was brought to my door I thanked the man and tipped him before closing my door and walking straight back to my seat on the couch to enjoy this takeout burger and fries that was dripping in grease. Watching some British sitcom, right as I bit into my burger I get a notification.

Text from: Lily

soooo are you down to go to this little cute cat-themed bookstore tomorrow? I really want to find a new romance book to lust over since the last book I read was literally a sob fest and not fun to read at all.. u don't have a choice I am picking you up tomorrow morning and we are going. Maybe we can find you a cute bookstore guy who wears totes and bucket hats like you. ;)

I chew up my food and wipe my hands with a clean napkin before replying, Lily is one of my best friends that I actually met through my job here in London. Without her, I would be lost and wouldn't even have the job I have today if I hadn't met her at the bus stop when I first got here.

Me: hell yeah I am down, I need some new books anyway, the last sci-fi romance book I got was pretty bad considering the characters were literally made from a lab???. I will have you know, I am refraining from cute, intelligent bookstore guys because we all know how I like a guy who can not only dress but reads.*

I get a response almost immediately after putting my phone down

Text from: Lily

I know how much you like those guys that's why tomorrow's mission isn't just to find books silly. I'll see you tomorrow pumpkin

I laugh lightly as I heart her message before I finish up my dinner and head into the bathroom for a warm bath before winding down for the night. After I get dressed in my pajamas and make sure my doors and windows are locked, I climb into my cold bed, finally resting my head on my extra firm pillow excited to start my weekend at an unknown cat bookstore that my friend is dying to take me to.

WHEW.. a journal entry?! I have never done that before but it was exciting to do. next update Jasmine and Lily are going to the bookstore... I wonder what they are going to find. Better yet who they are going to find?

STAY TUNED

I know she is short but its 9pm and I am sleepy LOL

Love u

Comment, Like & Share

[scifri666]

Why The Great Wall (2016) is great

Preamble

It might be exaggerated to say that this movie set me on the path I’m on today, but it is not entirely untrue. I first watched in the tiny cinema in the town I went to school in, when it was released. I had free admission because I wrote critiques for the local newspaper, which at that time cooperated with our school newspaper. (Between us: I wasn’t even a member of the school newspaper). I watched The Great Wall all alone in the movie theatre, and I enjoyed it a lot. I then send my critique to the newspaper and didn’t think about the movie again, until I applied to university two years later. Wanting to impress I included the critique I wrote about The Great Wall in my application, because in it I discussed the costumes and now wanted to study textile culture. My application reached the department’s film nerd, who furthermore was passionate about Asian cinema (though I won't go so far as to say that The Great Wall can be counted as Asian movie, it's a Chinese-American movie, or an American movie with chinese influence). I got accepted as a student. My critique of The Great Wall probably was only a small part of why I was accepted, but I keep rewatching it and still enjoy it almost seven years later.

The Main Part

Some of you will now ask why I keep rewatching it, because at best it’s a mediocre fantasy-history-action film and at worst it’s a prime example of a stupid plot with a cherry of white savorism on top (that topic requires a different kind of brainpower than I have available right now) . I hear you and you’re not wrong, except that there is more to the movie:

The costume design is striking. The colours, the flow of the cloaks, the animals worked into the individual units’ uniforms. Furthermore, the characters clothing is used for storytelling and consistent within the world. Matt Damon’s character William for example starts the movie in a worn down, roughly woven shawl, which General Lin Mae (played by Jing Tian) removes, revealing the soldier’s uniform underneath. In this moment Williams lie of being a lost merchant is revealed by his clothing. As for world consistent clothing, Williams wears the same undershirt for the entirety of the movie. At one point it gets washed, but it is never changed, even at the end, when he wears an archer’s armour of the Nameless Order over it. This seems like a basic thing for a million dollar production to get right, but once you start paying attention to it you realise it not.

Though not very subtly the movie makes a good point of discussing themes of greed and individualism vs. loyalty and collectivism. William’s motivation at the beginning of the movie is to get as much black powder as possible and get rich by selling it. Once he encounters it and is helplessly trapped in the explosions black powder weapons cause, he realises that black powder is powerful weapon and needs to be used only in the direst circumstances. The Nameless Order keeps the secret of black powder to protect the world from the destruction careless use of black powder would entail. The conceptualise Black Powder not as a commodity, but a necessary evil. Furthermore the members of the Nameless Order are never unnecessarily cruel or violent, not even towards their prisoners. This negotiation of necessary violence vs. violence to establish dominance (as often seen in other American Action movies) is one that I greatly enjoy.

Connected to the last point: ✨TEAM WORK✨. Everybody in the Nameless Order has an individual skill and they work together to help each other. It’s nice to see, because there isn’t one leader that always calls the shots and everybody’s expertise is respected and used. There is a whole division of female soldiers, whose smaller stature and lighter body weight, allows for them to kamikaze dive down the wall and kill Tao Tei in a truely athlectic way.

Zhang Yimou (the director) had clear vision and he executed it. Scenes mirror each other and they connect the Tao Tei story line to that of the captive westerners trying to steal black powder and escape with it. In one scene you see the tunnel the Tao Tei dug through the wall, the following scene opens with a shot of a hole in a wall where Sir Ballard stashed his stolen black powder for his escape. Again this is not necessarily subtle, but it is well made and consistent throughout the movie.

The sets are cleverly used. I’m sure the same corner staircase was used in three different scenes, but I can’t be sure, because every time the camera angle is different, so the space looks unique very time.

The score is amazing. It was composed by Ramin Djawadi, the same guy that did the sound track for Game of Thrones and Pacific Rim (that’s an amazing movie too, go watch it after you listened to the sound track of The Great Wall). There are some amazing choir sequences in the score and a lot of the melodies is played by a cello, which is a highly underrated instrument. There is also bombastic orchestra drumming and mandarin singing. I love it and it makes every grocery store trip epic.

Also there is a dude in full armour doing the dishes. Baby.

The End

[gabethander]

While I’m not a fan of shaming tactics, I’ve come to the realization that honking is a necessary part of driving culture.

Most people (in the USA) only ever learn the rules of the road in their adolescence and then are allowed to be a menace to society for the next 60 years and I think the current generation of drivers are responsible for their behavior.

That’s right, WE’RE on the hook for the rise in incompetence among our local road hazards.

The reason? The lack of honking from the average driver. My best guess is the demonization of road rage and the fear of confrontation, but let me just tell you… honking at someone being dumb/dangerous on the road is both a therapeutic experience and a wonderful way to contribute to society.

I’ve decided to do my part and honk at everyone to make up for the difference. Driving 10 under the speed limit? Get honked. Changing lanes without a signal? Get honked. Merging into highway traffic without matching speed? Get honked. Failing to turn left properly? Get honked.

I just started this week and let me tell you… this is the cure for road rage. The responses I’ve gotten have been either visible embarrassment or pure saltiness. These are great responses because embarrassment means the lesson was understood and them getting mad back at you is so funny that I stop being mad myself.

Do your part for society and start honking today, you can thank me later.

[octokinesis]

Dancing until the Way is Clear

I cannot believe it has been so many years since my last post. Looking back, however, it makes perfect sense. I was so engaged with having my art be my life while attempting to recover my spark from an impossible employment situation (that unfortunately provided hours of laughter) that I set aside few, if any hours to document what was happening. And if you know me, you know that when I’m in a perfect storm like that, I find its eye and hunker down to…study.

And I did! You might have noticed the extra sections here on the website about Somatic Activated Healing™. I received my certification in 2022 and have been in service to healing the world through dance ever sice. Don’t get me wrong. I been done been doin dat! This time I do it with a full sense that I am authorized to go forth. For many of us Gen Xers in tradional arts, we would be the erstwhile culture bearer, but our elders and/or mentors are still around living from the fruits of their labor OR, COVID took them before we felt we were fully annointed to walk through th eotherside of the gates, back into community, carrying the sacred bundle. Kinda frustrating.

Now we find ourselves looking for classes to take or a studio to use and there is no longer an acceptance that beocming better in order to great things requires repetition, humbleness, and time. People want to work less, sleep less, weigh less, pay less, save the environment while traveling more, shopping more (hiding that fact from themselves by doing it mostly online), drinking and eating more. They want to be paid a living wage but want to be waited on hand and foot at a discount. In this climate, getting people to bring their earthsuits to a dance class just for the feeling of being there can become tricky business. With this SAH Method™ certification, I can meet you in your lving room via Zoom.

The irony is that I stumbled into the Method because I was looking for a way to address the trauma in the bodies of people I wanted to interview during ART+FACT, a National Performance Network-funded project I helmed twice with my homies, The Earthseed Collective, in Holly Springs, Mississippi. It was great becoming a Southern Artist for Social Change, but it was almost impossible to get to activation phase because of the terror still alive in the memory and flesh of residents of that town. We were looking at 1973 to understand how our parents dreamed the present we were living in 2023 to then create the dreamscape necessary for 2073. Intentionality was going to be supported by deep listening, songs, drums, and dance…except people would come to watch the outdoor West African dance class from the safety of their cars.

In 1973 my little town integrated their public school system during Christmas break, sending a terse letter out to white families that the local high school had no. choice in the matter because “seperate but equal” could not be proven in the district. That Christmas, white separatists and supremacists spent the holiday erecting what became known as ‘seg academies’ all over the region. The parent meeting, rallies and fights that made that moment happen had left their mark in the collective imagination of all. Additionally, white networks of surveillance went underground, but continued to keep tabs on Black and Indigenous people. So while I COULD give an African dance class on the courtyard with live drums, I could also find doors closed in fear, interviews for the podcast cancelled, and local news outlets pretending to have not received our press releases.

We had super cool shit planned for the performance part that woud have accured after the memory and object collection phase. In fact, I just managed to get a Mississippi Art Comission grant to make the crockpot tietravel devices FINALLY. I feel odd because my collaborator had to close their business because the building was sold out from under them….that’s for another post.

So I still practice Somatic Activated Healing™. If I didn’t, I might honestly be dead or at least have had a massive heart attack by now. Getting my unexpressed emotions out, learning to stop giving meaning to every little feeling, and practicing dropping the story and staying with the feeling has radicalized me in wild, wonderful ways. Teaching it as acting technique alongside Stanislavski technique fueled me intellectually as well as psychologically. Giving a session in a corporate environment to groups who are struggling to find their way through tumultuous transformations in the way we do business has been a masterclass. Last November I spearheaded the first World SAH Day experience, showcasing 24 hrs of sessions by certified teachers around the globe via the Lyceum at Rust College. Now I’m launching a business to cultivate a sacred, sovereign space for cultivating imagination, genius, and joy; SAH Method™ is an integral part of this endeavor.

On August 8, 9, and 10 I will have a live offering each evening at Urevbu Contemporary as a soft launch to A Place for Joy LLC. It’s feeling anything but soft. While tickets are available at Eventbrite and Luma, I’m out here in these streets meeting people, introducing them to the Method and the biz, hoping to see them in person on at least one fo those nights. Yes, entrepreneurship is not for the faint of heart. But I have every faith that those who have been searching for the one thing that would make all the difference will arrive through the doors of this beautiful gallery and get their entire life.

Maybe you will be one of them.

[daintymechas]

Oh boy, it's venting time.

So 3 months ago, I took my cat, Little Foot, to my local vet after noticing she wasn't able to pick her head up all the way. After screening her and taking blood samples, the doctor reported that she had kidney disease and was going through renal failure. I didn't know she had that disease when I adopted her from her previous foster parent. She's 17, so at this point, it's to be expected. I had the vet keep her overnight to help her recuperate. Her health improved within a few days, and she was shortly discharged. Now that I was aware of her condition, I paid closer attention to her and changed her food to a renal friendly diet. Her health continued to improve, and she has lasted, honestly, longer than I expected her to. However, lately, she has stopped eating her dry food entirely. Even when I water it down (thinking it'll be easier on her teeth). I quickly switched to wet food, and she was enthusiastic about eating that. But recently, she has stopped eating altogether. Will barely drink her water. Has stopped using her litterbox. And wasn't able to walk on her own anymore. After seeing that she was dragging her back legs... it broke my fuckin' heart. I don't need a doctor to know that she's at the end stage of kidney failure. And that's where my frustration with this whole situation comes in.

I was told in the past that the culture in Japan in regards to euthanasia for pets is vastly different than the US. You'll be hard pressed to find a vet that will provide that service. It's basically a "they must pass naturally" attitude. But after seeing Little Foot like this, I decided to look more into the validity of that. I find a few threads on similar experiences and saw a bunch of people saying, "You need to be direct with the vet and request putting them down. The doctor won't openly suggest that to the owner. It's seen as disrespectful." Okay, now that I know that, I'll take her in and see if my vet will help with that. It's worth a shot. I can't imagine the pain she's going through, nor can I bear to see her suffer like this any longer than she needs to. Even though I'm aware the injection is extremely painful, it only lasts a few moments... I think in comparison, a few moments of pain is better than days of prolonged suffering.

I took her in this morning and asked the receptionist if that was an option they could provide. She said it depends on the condition, and it'll be at the doctor's discretion. It was relieving to hear but also heartbreaking having to wait, thinking this may be it... I'll lose her. I couldn't hold it in any longer and awkwardly cried in the waiting room. After a while we finally get into the examination room, and I speak to the doctor via translator on what her recommendation is. Of course, she refused. Logic being " While her condition is severe, she can still be treated with liquid IVs and thus have a fighting chance and live longer, so euthanasia isn't a consideration." Which comes off to me as a very Japanese way of saying, "We'll euthanize her when she's about to take her last breath."

To be completely honest? It took everything in me to control my frustration after that. I had to focus on staring at Little Foot while petting her to keep my cool. The rest of the conversation was about administering IV shots, and at one point the doctor suggested anti-vomiting meds. That set me off.

"That's not necessary. She hasn't touched her food in two days. She doesn't have anything in her stomach to throw up. And I can't force food down her throat."

After that I only remember bits and pieces of the conversation. I recall acknowledging the difference in culture/opinion, said at this point I'll just take her back home and let her pass naturally since there's nothing more I can do. But while I'm here I'll have her get liquid IV administered. In part to ease the doctor's concern and the other part because she seemed so adamant about the rehydration helping with getting Little Foot's energy and appetite back. Again. Worth a shot, I suppose.

There were two phrases the doctor said throughout this whole visit that just... really pissed me off though.

"Your last visit was 3 months ago. We can't just put her down out of the blue." and "I'm sorry you didn't get what you wanted from this visit."

I get the sense that's an indirect way of saying I didn't do everything I could for her and I'm at fault. That I'm in the wrong for even suggesting euthanasia in the first place. Like, what in the actual fuck do you expect me to do then? This vet advocates letting them pass naturally, which was my orginal intention and reason why I didn't come in sooner. But I'm subtly jabbed at for that. And then once I learn I may have another (more humane imo) option, I'm treated like I'm some killer that they thwarted. You're damned if you do, damned if you don't.

I'm trying really hard to view it from a doctor's perspective. It makes more sense if it's a "I don't want to be the one to prematurely end a life and have that on my conscience" kind of way, that's understandable. I get that, I won't push any further. But at least be fuckin' direct about it so there's no confusion.

All of that aside... we're back home. The liquid IVs didn't seem to help that much. Little Foot can barely move on her own now. She won't touch her food or water bowl when I hold her steady and place them in front of her. She can't get up to pee anymore. Just lays in place. She is starting to cry out... either in pain or for assistance, I can't tell anymore... This is breaking my heart. She's struggling and I can't help ease her suffering. All I can do is coax her to eat/drink, clean her up after accidents and keep her company with an abundance of pets and kisses. This is so fuckin' hard. She is the sweetest little bean, she doesn't deserve to go through all this. I wish she can just be at peace soon. I love her so fuckin' much.

[kvibe-test]

"From Comfort Zone to K-Vibe: My Internship Abroad Adventure"

Interning abroad was always a lingering thought, something exotic and a tad intimidating. The chance to step out of my comfort zone, embrace a new culture, and enrich my professional repertoire was enticing. But making the initial decision wasn't as straightforward as it may seem.

Why Intern Abroad?

It all started in November. I had been considering my options and realized that while companies in The Netherlands are fantastic, I was eager for something more adventurous. My interest was specifically piqued by the film industry. Being in the dynamic space of filmmaking and marketing was my passion. It had become evident - I yearned for a new challenge, and interning abroad seemed like the perfect fit.

I was well aware that this venture wouldn't be cheap. Interning abroad implied costs for travel, accommodation, and possibly higher living expenses. I thought to myself, "I knew it was gonna cost a lot of money. But that's fine." It was a commitment I was ready to make for the experience and growth it promised.

The Initial Research

Scouring the internet for opportunities, I landed on a few mediators, with The Intern Group catching my eye. They offered a plethora of amenities – weekend activities, local events, and the chance to mingle with other interns. It was an attractive deal. They immediately responded to my query, setting up calls to understand my profile and see if I'd be a good fit. Getting to know their offerings made it clear, this was the gateway I wanted to step through.

The next steps happened quickly. "Pretty quickly from there they told me to fill in this form about myself, my experiences, you know, what I had already done in the sphere of filmmaking and marketing." Before I knew it, I had offers from two companies. I chose K-Vibe Studios primarily for their incredible work culture and the opportunities they presented.

Excitement and Apprehension

My first meeting with Joe and Darren from K-Vibe Studios was memorable, albeit slightly chaotic. I was fifteen minutes late because my Zoom meeting kept refreshing. Fortunately, they were understanding and accommodating. The conversation was fluid, covering my interests, ambitions, and the job expectations. Despite the shaky start, it felt promising.

However, the thrill of landing an internship was overshadowed by the realization of the logistical challenges ahead. Visa, accommodation, flights – my mind was in a whirl. "Let's walk through that, shall we?" I decided against staying in The Intern Group's housing and instead opted for an Airbnb in Union City, which was more cost-effective and gave me the independence I sought. Booking the place in mid-January set the countdown ticking as my flight was on February 25th.

The visa process was nerve-wracking and cut close to my departure date. They advised me, "I had to request faster processing to get my visa approved in time." The intensity of last-minute arrangements was stressful, but it was all part of the journey.

Preparing personal belongings was another task. Deciding to take my gaming PC to the United States added another layer of complexity. Figuring out how to safely ship it was essential since it couldn’t fit in my suitcase.

Finalizing the Decision

With each day, as the departure drew nearer, I felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. Friends and family threw me a surprise going-away party, which was both touching and a reminder of the gravity of my decision. "Like we all cried a bit,” indicating how monumental this move was for everyone involved.

The final days before my flight were intense. Ensuring I had all necessary documents, managing insurance intricacies, and bidding farewell to my close-knit family marked the beginning of this unforgettable adventure. Sitting on that plane, squished between an annoying passenger and dealing with a headache, I knew it was just the beginning of what would be a life-changing experience.

Reflecting on this whole process, making the initial decision to intern abroad was a mosaic of excitement for new horizons and the daunting practicalities of leaving home. The unknowns were scary, but the potential for growth, both personally and professionally, was a magnetic pull I couldn't resist. This was just the start, but I was ready for what lay ahead.

[translationwala]

Beyond Words: Navigating Expression in English to Bengali Translation

Over 265 million people speak Bengali around the world. It has a rich literature history and a beautiful rhythm. But people who want to English to Bengali Translation have to do more than just change words. To get to the heart of the message while keeping the unique spirit of Bengali speech is like a dance.

The Nuances of Emotion

Because English is a functional language, feelings are often shown through open speech. Bengali, on the other hand, loves being subtle. One way to hide sarcasm is to use a fun term, while another way to show deep love is to use vague compliments. A good translator understands these subtleties and explains not only the words but also the meaning behind them.

In English, the saying “It’s a nice day” could be a true statement. Some translators might choose “আ঻ বেশ ভালऋ লাগছइ (Aaj besh valo lagche)” instead, which means “I feel pretty good today.” This shows how the nice weather makes you feel, which is a subtlety that is often lost in direct versions.

Cultural References: A Bridge, Not a Barrier

There are a lot of culture connections in English that Bengali speakers might not understand. A translator’s job is to fill in the blanks by finding appropriate Bengali words. It might not be as effective to translate the English phrase “kick the bucket” as it is to use the Bengali saying “পাতায় জল খেয়ে মরা (pataay jol kheye mora),” which means “die after drinking water lying down” but has a more concrete local meaning.

The Power of Idioms and Proverbs

Bengali is a language that is full of phrases and proverbs. These bright phrases give words more depth and taste. These parts can be woven into the translated text by a skilled translator, making it more meaningful to people who read it in Bengali.

Think about how to translate the phrase “the cat killed the mouse.” A direct version wouldn’t show what it means. The Bengali saying “অতিরিকऍত কৌতূহল মীত্যুর কারণ (Atirikta koutol mrithyur karan),” which means “Too much curiosity leads to death,” says the same thing but sounds more natural in Bengali.

Formal vs. Informal: Striking the Right Tone

For a translation to be correct, the source text’s level of seriousness is very important. In English, there are different languages for official and relaxed situations. Bengali, on the other hand, has more layers. To find the right mix, a translator needs to know the situation and the people they are translating for.

For instance, both English and Bengali versions of a business paper would need to have a professional tone. But if you’re reading a friendly email, you might need to use more casual language in Bengali, even if the English is still serious.

The Art of Wordplay

In both English and Bengali, puns, humor, and double entendres are fun to read. To translate these parts, though, you need to know a lot about both languages and cultural themes. A good translator can think of creative ways to keep the fun or meaning of the original text in the translated version.

For example, a pun based on English homophones could be made in Bengali using words that sound alike. This makes sure that the fun tone of the original text stays in the translated text, even if the humor changes.

The Importance of Human Touch

The human touch is still necessary for English to Bengali translation, even though computer translation tools are getting smarter. A good translator knows how to use cultural details, emotional meanings, and the power of words to make people feel certain things. They know how to deal with the subtleties of language and give a translated text that not only gets the point across but also strikes a chord with the Bengali audience.

Conclusion

The process of translating from English to Bengali is more than just swapping words. It’s a journey of getting to the heart of a message, keeping cultural details, and coming up with new ways to say what you want to say. By understanding how important these things are, translators can help people from different countries communicate clearly and effectively.

Source: https://translationwala.wordpress.com/2024/03/27/beyond-words-navigating-expression-in-english-to-bengali-translation/

[holliewestwood]

Policy Reform for the Arts

Much of my research for this project has been focused on what current arts policy looks like - in both the Levelling Up agenda and in the Let's Create strategy from ACE. This week I've been writing about why we see spatial disparities in the arts and culture, particularly in terms of:

London versus the regions

North versus South

Urban versus rural

The disparities in the arts are closely linked to other (more typical) measures of inequality such as health, employment and crime. The levelling up agenda seeks to address these inequalities, as does the Let's Create strategy. At this time, it's impossible to tell whether or not current policy will be successful in addressing these issues. Clearly, in that I am writing this dissertation, I think that current policy may not have the desired affect. Especially not in the short 10-year time frame of Let's Create.

So, what would a better policy look like? I knew I wanted to write my final chapter on alternative visions for cultural policy in England, however, I haven't been sure what shape those visions would take. In fact, I was beginning to doubt whether or not I'd be able to offer anything of worth. Then, I spoke to David Powell.

David was a part of the GPS Culture research collective who wrote on the spatial inequalities in the arts, with a particular focus on Lottery funding, between 2013 and 2019. In fact, we spoke over Zoom almost 10 years to the day since the first GPS Culture report was published. It was a joy to talk to David - he was frank about his views and open to sharing both of his research and experiences of working in the arts and culture sector. (At the end of our discussion, we got chatting about my future plans and he urged me not to become reliant on the Arts Council to survive - something that simultaneously seems impossible and entirely necessary under the current system).

The conversation I had with David Powell has helped being shaping my thoughts on what policy reform will look like. Here is an early draft of those thoughts:

Arts Council reform must be robust. It must be thorough. Complete overhaul?

Local places know what is best for them. Trust them.

A 'new' Arts Council must be open to change (and critique).

A new body to distribute Lottery funding in the arts

Government scrutiny - not control. A clearer understanding of what the arms-length principle means.

These are early ideas and I am hoping to shape them into a snappier sounding framework which will probably be accompanied by some funky infographics (and actual data to back it up).

You can read the GPS Culture reports here: www.gpsculture.co.uk/

If you've got any thoughts please get in touch! Here's to hoping that ACE don't *actually* have a blacklist.