#and are always very struck by his failures and laziness once I point it out

[itspileofgoodthings]

one of the things that continues to strike me on reread is how much the character of Darcy, and Austen through him, finds Mr. Bennet dead. And how much Elizabeth, in growing and changing and discarding her past blindness, has to move past her way of seeing her father and thus of seeing reality, because the two are connected! Darcy’s letter exposes her father’s flaws to Elizabeth in a way she’d never been able to see before. Most especially the way his laziness and neglect of his own gifts have hurt his family and that ultimately he doesn’t. care. Not enough to change. It literally says that she comes home from Hunsford and tries to laugh at her sisters’ and mother’s folly (the way she used to; the way her father has taught her to by example for her whole life) and she can’t anymore! It sticks in her throat. She is grieved by the failures that she sees in him, all the more so because she IS his favorite and she loves him! And the thing about Mr. Bennet is he never changes. The Lydia/wickham situation exposes to him sharply his own conduct and the consequences and he feels it! Because he is neither stupid nor unfeeling. But he, like everyone, has free will. And he chooses not to change when the opportunity presents itself. He even jokes about how quickly his feeling bad will pass and how soon everything will go back to normal, to his laziness and his selfishness. He is set in his ways and he serves as a contrast to Elizabeth’s personal journey because he embodies a version of a person she could have become and was in danger of becoming if her only goal at all times was to laugh at and judge people from the sidelines.

[asterekmess]

1-4 What the fuck is a true alpha? A recurring joke? A convenient plot armor? A desperate attempt to make an irrelevant character look ‘relevant’ despite canon showing otherwise? Scott/Posey Stans think that Scott McCall has a right to command and dictate everyone’s life because he is a tWuE aLpAhA; Scott has a right to play judge, jury & executioner with his “inferior” friends, and he has a right to determine what is wrong or right based on his own benefit and bigoted black and white mentality.

2-4 If you think that this sounds an awful lot like the Divine Right of Kings, you are absolutely right. An unearned (and undeserved) mystical superiority or blessing, a fabricated sense of purity, goes a long way in ameliorating Scott McCall’s Failures and Fuck-ups. And like kings who rule by Divine Right, he can do as he likes. Which is why Scott can patronize and lie to Allison and Kira to control them, assault Isaac and Jackson due to his own pathological jealousy and possessiveness,

3-4 use Hayden (Liam’s girlfriend) as bait against the Dread Doctors without her consent to play the hero, dehumanize Stiles and accuse Stiles of being a violent, dangerous, inhuman monster and serial killer for daring to accidentally kill his abuser in self-defense, sell Derek and his Pack to the hunters, refuse to tell his girlfriend Allison the truth about her mother’s death to look ‘good’ in her eyes,

4-4 plot/conspire with Gerard Argent and Deaton behind everyone’s back to violate Derek Hale’s boundaries, bodily autonomy and consent for his own benefit, claim that the Argents had a reason to slaughter the Hales (including HUMANS and CHILDREN) in front of Derek Hale and of his comatose uncle – and then Scott/Posey Stans will consider everyone kicking Scott’s whiny, toxic excuse of an ass to the curb and not giving an utter crap when Scott died in Season 5 as an act equivalent of treason

I put all your asks together so I didn’t get confused (which is v likely to happen) and I thank you for numbering them for me. <3

The concept of a true alpha...sigh. Look, I see the intention, okay? I see the goal, the idea that you don’t have to kill someone to become an Alpha. That there can be “Good” Alphas who haven’t killed anyone. But I also think it’s lazy writing. This is one the few instances where TW hadn’t actually shot themselves in the foot yet. They gave us so little information on werewolves that they never actually said that the only way to become an Alpha was by killing another Alpha. They could very easily have said “Also, you can become an Alpha this other way” (Be it by passing the Alpha spark down to children willingly, or being beaten in a special kind of combat, or through a ritual of some kind)

But they didn’t just want another way to be the Alpha. They wanted a way that didn’t take any effort. It would be too hard to introduce another Alpha that would give up their spark to Scott, or to have him put in the effort to do a ritual. They needed a way to make Scott an Alpha without any additional effort. Part of me honestly wonders if they did it because they knew they’d lost a lot of Scott fans by the end of Season 2, what with all of his betrayals and lies and what he did to Derek. They needed a way to reaffirm that Scott was the good guy, so they made up the True Alpha thing and said “Look! He’s so pure and goodhearted and he has so much good will, that he can’t even help but become an Alpha”

They demonized werewolves by reducing them to murderers who had to kill for power (In Derek’s case it was survival, and i’ll fight for him.) and then held Scott up as a saint because he managed it without killing.

Except that he had killed. Or at least tried to kill. How could he be this pure person they claimed if he spent weeks poisoning a cancer patient, lying to everyone around him, and he took Pleasure in it. He was Proud of himself for his lies and his tricks and for getting back at Derek by hurting him. That’s the kind of behavior we expect from Stiles, who is established as a morally gray character. You cannot have Scott do something like that and then make the claim that he is morally pure.

Once Scott finds out from Morrell that killing someone will take away his True Alpha status, he goes out of his way to avoid killing people even when it puts others at risk. This ISN’T an Avatar moment, okay? He doesn’t summon the power of his ancestors and render the villains completely incapable of harm. He just fucking lets them go! Deucalion gets his fucking eyesight back for fuck’s sake. He was MORE dangerous than before and they let him go! (I know Derek was part of that, but I’m pretty sure Derek was possessed by a pod person by that point)

He never said he’d behave. No one checked on him or watched to make sure he didn’t hurt anyone. They just let him leave. He could’ve just rebuilt a new Alpha pack. Could’ve killed dozens more people.

Jennifer would have too, had Peter not killed her.

Even better, he brings Ethan and Aiden into his pack. They walked right up to him and told him “Everyone is hunting for us because we killed a ton of people” and he just took them in? Gave them protection from the families of the people they’d slaughtered? All because they followed him around for a bit and said “We’ll only kill for you from now on.”

And this is why I get so frustrated about the blue eyes. The concept of ‘taking an innocent life’ is so fucking vague? Scott is indirectly responsible for countless deaths throughout the show. Whether by inaction or because the people doing the killing were acting on his orders, or whatever the fuck else I can’t think of at the moment. It doesn’t matter if he hasn’t intended to kill anyone. He should not still have his True Alpha status. Period. But he does, so apparently Scott can kill as many people as he wants, actually, so long as he doesn’t do it with his own claws and teeth. Or maybe he just can’t kill a human who hasn’t killed anyone else? Who the fuck knows.

I’ll say it again. If The Alpha spark can be used to heal someone, why didn’t Scott use it to save Allison? She wasn’t cursed. She was stabbed. He could’ve done the same thing Derek did. Peter even said that it can be done on accident. All it requires is that he do the pain drain and not stop when it starts to hurt.

To be quite honest, I don’t blame Scott’s True Alpha eyes for his entitlement and his belief that he can do no wrong. He held that same notion way before his eyes ever turned red. The eyes are to blame for no one else calling him out for his actions. You’re told by the only fucking person who seems to know what’s going on in the supernatural world that this kid’s eyes turned red all on their own because he is meant to be an Alpha. That it’s because he is good and pure and it’s a sign of his worthiness. He literally was just gifted extra power, apparently because he’s the only one worthy of it. How the fuck are you supposed to deal with that? Are you supposed to be the one person who tells fucking Werewolf Jesus (technically Derek is Actual werewolf jesus what with the evolution thing, but before that Scott’s as close as it gets cus’ Peter’s just a zombie.) that he doesn’t know best? That he’s doing something wrong? If the Powers that Be made Scott an Alpha, what will they do to the one who tells him he fucked up? Everyone is just supposed to trust that Scott must be in the right. That his reasons are good enough. That he knows what’s best. Because if he doesn’t, then why the sudden Alpha eyes? Peter questions Scott often and happily, mostly because he doesn’t care if he gets struck by lightning or something. It’ll always be worth it to get that last quip in. Eventually Stiles starts to argue too, because he’s reached the point where he doesn’t care if he dies so long as everyone else important to him stops getting hurt. That’s when Scott starts cutting him out. When he stops believing Scott knows best.

And honestly, it’s like the first post I made that sparked this whole ranting binge. Scott cheats. He cheats and he uses his abilities to his advantage without ever thinking of what it does to other people. Except this time he’s not cheating at lacrosse. He’s not taking credit for bowling six strikes in a row. For some reason his eyes turned red, and everyone else is taking it as a sign that he must know better and he should be in charge, and he never disagrees.

Sure, he complains. “Why me? Why does it have to be my responsibility?”

Guess what buddy? It fucking doesn’t. If you stopped fucking ordering people around and admitted you don’t know what you’re doing to someone besides your MOM and you want someone else to take the lead? THEY WOULD. But because he will not admit any kind of weakness or that he isn’t sure what to do, he puts the weight on himself. He blames everyone else for the lead weights he tied around his waist. He doesn’t want to have to do the work, but he hates the idea of someone else being in charge. Of not being important. We’re told right off the bat that Scott wants to be important. He wants to be on first line not because he loves the game, but because he wants to be popular. He wants Allison to go out with him. This is just another way he wants to be important, and he won’t ever let go of it. He gives orders and makes calls on who gets to know what and who is worthy and won’t take responsibility for the failures, but happily takes credit for the successes. When he fucks up by not talking to people or by lying to them or making a bad call, he doesn’t admit it. He doesn’t tell anyone. He lets them think that he’s blameless so that when he actually says shit like “I lost them” someone will say “They’ll come back because you’re their leader” No. He’s not. He lost them because he pushed them away. It was his fault.

Whatever. I’m salty. *pouts* Anyway. True Alpha is dumb, and I’ve read a couple theories about how Deaton made it up, and tbh, I’d follow that logic. If you’re curious, I think I tagged it ‘true alpha’ or ‘deaton’ on my blog.

[goblin-alchemist]

Do you have any tips for getting a hang of characterizations? You always do so amazingly, especially with Gabriel!

Thank you!

I have talked about this with a few friends prior, so I'll see if I can put it into words again.  This might be redundant to those who remember discussing this with me before, but here we go.  I'll focus upon Gabriel since he seems to be the trickiest for people to write.  I'll also reference some of my stories to give examples.

Gabriel's primary motivation, in my mind, is Emilie.  I default everything back to Emilie.  If Gabriel gets absorbed in something and forgets his grief/goals, etc, I have him suddenly think “Man, if Emilie were here we would be able to watch Adrien experience these milestones together” or “I wish I could hold Emilie's hand like Adrien is doing with Marinette”.  And then he gets sad again.  It's an instant grounding focus for him, and thus leads to renewed determination.  “I am doing this because the ends justify the means.  I just want Emilie back.”  I kind of play with the sunk-cost fallacy with Gabriel, too.  At this point, he's put in so much to being Hawkmoth that he can't back out now.  (Until I slam something in his face that gets him to stop abruptly, like him discovering the heroes' identities).

So that's his primary motivation.  But now to address a lot of the rest of his personality.

The fandom likes to emphasize that Adrien is the face of the company and he has to put on a mask, and only when he's Chat Noir does that mask slip and he's allowed to be his “true self”.  I feel Gabriel is also in the same boat.  He's the head of his company.  He's expected to maintain certain social graces just like his son (if not more so).  He's quiet and reserved and polite, but he's not very forthcoming because of fears of industrial sabotage, or revealing a weakness to competitors that can be used against him, or getting taken advantage of (all of which as an adult, he should have experienced at one point in his life).  His stoic poker face was developed as a result of his life experiences.

However, we're shown he's not really reserved and in control.  Just like Chat Noir, we have canon evidence that Gabriel is as ham-fisted, emotional, and pun-filled as Chat Noir.  We see it in every single Hawkmoth monologue, in every time Hawkmoth transforms and gets giddy with excitement that he might win, and with every anger-fueled declaration of vengeance.  (The argument of 'are those Gabriel's legit emotions or does the butterfly miraculous emphasize those emotions from his victims?' is a nice angle to play with in fiction as well).

But as Gabriel, he's not excessively impulsive (Miraculous-stealing opportunities aside).  He lets people speak their case before forming judgment (more on this in a moment), but once the judgment is formed, it's hard to get him to change his mind.  He's stubborn.

So if I'm writing the story or scene from a third-person-perspective, like Marinette, I can't delve into his thoughts on paper.  I have to show the audience what he's thinking through other cues.  Since he's a man of little words, I'll have him silently scan a room before speaking.  He allows people to speak and give them the opportunity to screw up in his presence before he says a word as to his opinion.  Once that opinion is formed, however, good luck getting him to change his mind.  I have to show this using his glowers, frowns, squared shoulders, and clenched hands.

If something pops up that's great dramatic irony (when he was secretly overjoyed that Marinette designed a Hawkmoth-themed dress, for example), I'll show it as flashes of amusement in his eyes, twitching of lips, the relaxing of his posture, and the crinkling of his eyes.  The key here is to show subtle ways of expressing emotions without outright stating that's what's happening, because Gabriel schools himself and his emotions in front of others.

But when I write directly from his POV, that's where the fun begins.  There, I can describe his internal monologue, which is inspired by his actions as Hawkmoth.  I can have Gabriel sit silent, glowering at anyone who approaches while he observes and dryly comments on everything around him.  He won't say his sarcastic thoughts aloud, but he'll be thinking them, and here's my opportunity to channel the exasperation.  Somethings things will just slip out because honestly, is everyone around him an idiot?!  He'll recover and glower away any funny looks aimed at him, because his intimidation is as much a weapon as his silence is.

Frustrated exasperation is what I usually write Gabriel as a lot of times.  As Hawkmoth, he releases that frustration.  As Gabriel, it has to be kept bottled up inside and it only comes out in internal sarcastic remarks.

If I feel Gabriel strays too much into the OOC/cracky territory (which happens a lot in my stories, I admit) when I channel a bit too much Hawkmoth through his civilian form, I stick Nathalie in there as his straight man. She displays even less emotion than Gabriel and ends up being a really nice balance when I go a bit overboard on Gabriel's emotional outbursts.  A few pointed phrases or deadpan replies that juuuuuust touch upon inappropriate for an assistant to talk to her powerful boss, but she helps ground Gabriel into more of his realistic canon personality instead of complete OOC crack.

He's a man of few words as Gabriel, and he's used to being in a position of power, surrounded by yes-men (Nathalie and the Gorilla).  He isn't used to having anyone challenge him.  So, he doesn't need to explain his reasons to people.  When Marinette was rambling on about why he of all people was bidding on her dress design, he halted her mid-ramble and merely said “I like it.”  The end.  He keeps his cards close to his chest, and the only time I've actually seen him let down his guard is oddly, to Nooroo.  I'm certain this is just a narrative device for us, the viewer, but the fact is Gabriel is weirdly forthcoming to Nooroo and pretty much lays out his thoughts, plans, and analysis on the situation at hand.  I use that to my advantage in my stories when writing the Nooroo/Gabriel relationship, and how subconsciously, Gabriel might view Nooroo as a mentor (even if he disregards all of the advice Nooroo freely gives).

He's the head of his multi-million euro company.  He didn't get there by being lax and lazy.  He has super high standards, and isn't afraid to verbally rip apart his peers if it's warranted.  However, he's not entirely unfair, I don't think.  He allowed Marinette to defend her hat design in Mr. Pigeon before coming to a judgment on it.  He allowed Nino to propose his last-minute plan in Bubbler to throw Adrien a birthday party before he denied it (and then interrupted Nino and got angry with him only after the boy continued to push the point).  He allowed Marinette to explain how she stumbled across his Miraculous book before saying anything to her.

To me, the fact he actually went and met with these people in the first place shows a lot about his character.  He's willing to hear people out, but he makes fast judgments and doesn't budge from them. People have to get into his good graces right away or it's hard to change his mind later.  He has flashes of anger, but its not sustained, because he's already moving onto finding a solution to the problem (like in Volpina when he got that phone call about an issue with his designs).  Sometimes, I wonder how much of his anger and irritation is a result of his real thoughts and emotions, or just him seeing an opportunity to akumatize someone by riling them up further.

In this manner, he's calculating, very calculating, and if something reflects him in a poor light its probably for a reason (staging his 'temper tantrum' in Collector).  I ignore the canonical inconsistencies toward his waffling degrees of intelligence and treat Gabriel as very smart, but oblivious and arrogant.

I see him actually as very much like Marinette, only bitter and jaded.  She's clever and creative, and so is he.  The only difference between the two is that life has struck him down with angst.  He's lost his soulmate.  He's experienced the lows of being a starving artist.  He's encountered failure. Marinette has yet to go through any of that.

I could probably go on further and delve into different aspects of different scenarios (his wish, etc) but I think I've rambled on long enough and seems like I've jumped erratically between a bunch of different points  :)  Let me know if you have any additional questions and I hope this has helped at little at least.

[bossbyname-blog]

Growth Hack

Blogging is one of the best ways to get your message out as a small business. I have known this for some time, yet it is a frontier I have yet till now. My head starts to spin on this subject, and though I have read how to and what makes a successful blog, I have come to the realization that just starting is the best way to develop one's skills. Easier said than done. The fear of sounding well no other way to say it "Dumb!" about sums it up. 

So for me, I think I'll start where it began.  In a strange, probably algorithmic way, I began to find what would-be mentors, and here is where my dreams of business started.

I have always had dreams but lacked vision and inspiration to reach for the stars. It started on social media and with Bill Gates, and his story spoke to me.  It was Bill and Melinda Gates, and it didn't begin with  Microsoft; it started with the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation.

I learned about their story and how the richest man in the world became a philanthropist and how he had given seventy billion dollars if memory serves me correct. What struck me was not the money but the causes that they were committed to global health care, poverty, and education. Later I would learn about Melinda Gates and her pioneering work for global equality. 

I could go on, but the moment struck me, and my eyes were open. I want to say that I was off to the races and touting insider information that, in a sense, was true but not how my mind conceived it. What it did do is lay a foundation to where I wanted to take my dreams as malformed as they were at the time the fire of imagination exploded. 

I would later find gatesnotes.com, and I began to see the world, and though I think thinking globally though was always in my DNA, I now had just dipped if even a finger into global awareness, and I loved it!

I was on twitter one night, not my best showing by far, and I remember what Malinda Gates said, and I may be paraphrasing, "Until we are blue in the face, we believe poverty is curable." That has stuck with me, and even in the most doubtful hours, it rang true in my heart.

I would later learn that much hard work lay ahead, and that brings me a quote by Bill Gates 'I choose a lazy person to do a hard job. Because a lazy person will find an easy way to do it.' Now that spoke to me, not for a reason cited but that it would become evident that a dream without action is just an idea without depth and weight.

The point I am getting at is I had the lazy part down. Somehow in my mind, I thought I could figure it out, and it should work. Wrong! That laid a long road and dismal learning curve. I don't recall that anything was attached to that quote that said unskilled dreamer and yes lazy would be his choice but I in the distorted reasoning in my mind not so much conscious or deliberate but never the less a long road was to follow. Yes, I have learned a lot, but mostly what not to do is the take-a-way.

Mentors are the driving force of what brought me to an awakened state. I need to say that I am a believer in faith and God, who does some of the greatest miracles through people. This is one of many attempts at blogging. Yes, in the past, I have blogged in it's most primitive terms but now is about how I see and how I came to this point and time.

 I think its important to show how you tripped and fell to finally be able to write about what you are finding the keys to success. 

Mentors is a great way to start! Now a word of advice, it does no good to find a mentor that ignites passion and dares you to dream what was once impossible but currently somehow reachable if you don't listen and apply the insight and knowledge.

With that being said, my first action, and still I'm guilty of it is oh-okay like, follow everything and anyone of success. Now you are talking total overload, and for me, that underpinned the big elephant in my mind. All go, and no know! What I would eventually learn is that all my mentor's men and women's common identifiers that I found intriguing and would later learn that if I want what they have and I'm not talking from a material standpoint.

Yes, it is good to find attributes that identify characteristics, but what I found s that the most critical fact that I overlooked was that again, yes, they were big picture people most are visionary but that they had discipline over the details as well. A quality I was lacking. This, I believe, unconsciously is what I was really seeking or and desperately needed. 

So here we are, and to become aware of this is vital in addressing the problem. Now the solution is known as the key to success but only if you use it. So again, my blog is in a very realtime scenario, and I wish I were spewing forth pearls of wisdom, but in reality, it is how not to utilize your mentor. Never the less no need to cry over spilled milk that would indeed be a sob story but rather to inform others the mind fields we set for ourselves.

If you have experienced any level of what I am conveying, then know the more essential and crucial lesson is never to give up! I've tried that too. The problem with that is you are always starting over instead of building upon, and if you are like me, you know you're not going to quit, but it costs you time. I got stuck in a cycle where I ended up in a perpetual state of starting and stopping but never complete anything. 

Today I'm trying not to finish what I start, and if I need to revamp better, that then has nothing to show for your effort. My mindset is that I would rather have completed failures than having nothing ever finished. I can fix the failure, but the unfinished work seems to just lye there and stagnate until I decide time and time again to start over. 

The five questions I ask myself about why I choose this person as a mentor.

What attracts me to this person and do they inspire me to be better. 

Am I willing to take action, or is it simple admiration?

What specifically is it that I hope to learn?

Am I in alignment with there goals and values?

Am I openminded to suggestions even if I don't understand why?

For me, these are key questions that I have asked myself, were usually in retrospect. Now I try to keep these questions at the forefront of my mind when looking to learn from someone.

I have many mentors, and each represents what I call an unrealized aspect of self that I hope to become.

So here is the abstract version of people (mentors) that what I hope to one day aspire to.

The mind-Bill and Melinda Gates through philanthropy has brought global solutions through a scientific approach to healthcare, vaccinations, education, and gender equality.

 Funnybone-Ellen Degeneres her humor yes, of course, but she is by far my favorite! She gives in a way that is, by definition, the heart of a cheerful giver. She taught me about finding acceptance in who I am and not being ashamed, and the sickness is in keeping the secrete.

Spiritual-Oprah Winfrey is a truth seeker and a light bearer, and she, with a host of others when I was barely sober and still not in my right mind, opened the door back to God and life.

Charisma, leadership, family values-President and First Lady Barack and Michelle Obama has all of the mentioned aspects of personality rolled into one. If there is one thing they taught me is empathy! I could list many attributes, but this quality above all and to say anything else would diminish the importance.

The power of faith and God-Joel Olsteen-and to live in the promise. Here is where I learned how to approach God and to believe in my dreams.

Attitude-Steve Harvey, I simply get his story and his answer and how he made his dreams come true.

Never Give Up-Larry Kims blog and posts are my favorite and always helped me never to give up!

Speaker of truth-Dr. Martin Luther Kings' words speaks to the humanity of man and has the strength of God in his words. To not stand in silence even at the risk of losing one's life.

The whole purpose of mentors to me is that I want to become the best version of myself, and I look outside myself to grow beyond the current version of self. It doesn't remove the work but points you in the right direction. The rest is up to me and a lot of hard work. 

I certainly have a long way to go, but at least I know I am going in the right direction.

[zamancollective]

The Constructive Agony of Talking Politics at Shabbat (Or How to Survive a Debate with Your Relatives) 

By Gabriella Kamran  

Illustration by Sophie Levy

I wasn’t yet 20 years old and I had already forgotten what it felt like to join my relatives for Shabbat dinner and eat brisket without a side of political commentary. Was that a new phenomenon? Was I too busy spitting tomatoes into napkins as a child that I didn’t notice the moral axioms being thrown above my head? Regardless, charged conversation after charged conversation gradually emerged from background noise while I chewed to a dynamic that captured my interest and charted the course of my intellectual development. 

It seems accurate to say that I entered the fray around the same time I started buying my own clothes. These were the early teenage years: I was testing the waters of feminism, experimenting with political Facebook posts, and learning that not everything I believe to be true is, in fact, the truth. Every young person has a moment of realization that adults can sometimes be profoundly wrong. Mine took place gradually over a series of weekly dinners, as my male relatives argued and I felt an arsenal of my own opinions weighing in my chest. 

I will say with no qualifiers that it is difficult for a fourteen-year-old girl to wedge herself into a conversation with several adult men. First, there is the issue of a quiet voice, not yet amplified by the support of social affirmation. Then there is the matter of being taken seriously — that is, the unspoken surprise that I was not in the living room talking to my girl cousins about nail polish. 

(The aunts, for their part, either ladled soup in the kitchen or listened at the table, inserting a comment when appropriate. For a long time, I interpreted their disinterest as ignorance or resignation to gender norms, but with maturity one gets better at recognizing weariness. I remember once my jaw dropped when a cousin’s grandmother expressed a political opinion out loud- something about Hillary’s foreign policy. I hated myself for being so shocked that she’d have something to say.) 

I learned quickly that family debate is rocky terrain. The post-meal discussion usually unfolded as follows: 

Man 1: This ObamaCare is going to put doctors out of business, I’m telling you. 

Man 2: Just awful. The liberals are pushing us towards socialism. Aunt: We’re just giving more and more money to the lazy bums. Me: What about the majority of poor people who aren’t lazy and were born into poverty? I don’t think anyone genuinely wants to be on welfare. 

Man 2: Oh, no. We send our kids to the conservative schools and they still get brainwashed by liberals. 

Man 1: Question everything your teachers tell you, Gabs. They have an agenda. An agenda. 

Alternatively, the “elders” card was pulled and the conversation stopped short: 

Me: I don’t think you should call people _____ 

Relative: You can’t speak to me like that. How can you disrespect your family?

The more politically conscious I became, the more these dinners began to wear on my nerves. At school, I was learning so much I could almost feel my mind growing into itself. The classic teenage practice of finding oneself was in full force for me as I wrote school newspaper op-eds in my successive editor positions and defined myself in the lines of my rhetoric. Dinner with relatives sucked this pride out of my chest and pulled the plug on my budding confidence. I oscillated between righteous indignation that prompted me to sit firmly in place when the political debate started during our meal and outright fear that anyone would ask me at any point in the night about something of more import than my week’s activities. Family dinners became a matter of fight or flight.  

I took refuge in journalism and books. They seemed to possess more certainty than my relatives’ armchair sociological analyses. I read Betty Friedan, Ta Nehisi Coates, Ari Shavit… and the fact that I considered these all to be radical texts is indicative of how intimidated I felt in political terms. My progressive ideals were no longer inclinations; I could use words like “neoliberal” and “reactionary” to match my relatives’ rhetorical skill. Vocabulary aside, however, a gulf persisted between me and some of the men in my family.

What was this gulf, exactly? Was it a generational gap? Surely an ideological divide existed between every new crop of cousins, fathers and daughters, uncles and nieces. Common wisdom dictates that naïve youth will always be more progressive and open-minded than their older counterparts. It seemed to me, though, that something more was at play here. These Shabbat dinners meant more than a blasé tidal shift in opinions, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. 

The time came for me to go to college, and I was surrounded for the first time by a collection of politically conscious people who had enough intellectual acuity to rigorously critique the elder generation’s values. 

I met friends who told me their grandparents were “hella liberal” and still smoked weed on the weekends, and I beheld these friends in awe. This must have been the diversity they extolled in admissions brochures, the expansion of horizons — but which one of us was living in a bubble? Then there were the students who seemed to have swallowed their relatives’ platitudes like pills, rolling their eyes when they passed a student protest or snickering at T.A.’s requests to state our preferred gender pronouns. These students made me the most uneasy.  

Mostly, though, college brought me a network of friends who shared my experience. By this time we had all developed standby strategies to deal with opinionated table talk: some blocked out the rhetoric and ate their khoresht in peace, and some, like me, often ventured back into the weekly scuffles like moths to a partisan flame.  

But, of course, it was more than righteous indignation that pulled me back into the tides of argument. The supposed radical leftist hegemony on college campuses gave my relatives plenty of dinner table fodder on the nights when I made the ten-minute journey from my dorm to their dining rooms. They particularly liked to raise an issue with my chosen minor, Gender Studies, which they denounced as man-hating. As they prodded me about my professors in order to attack their liberal agendas, I felt the familiar nagging anxiety: Was the leftist haven I found in college making me tone-deaf, insular under the pretense of high-minded morality? I felt obligated to listen to every dismissal of Hillary Clinton, every racial slur, and every condemnation of Islam. This was my internal protest at their accusations of narrow-mindedness. 

I still wondered what was really new in our political conversations. Topics had changed — Obama and McCain became Hillary and Trump, Al Qaeda became ISIS, gay became LGBTQIA+ — but the emotions I had as a young progressive facing several elder conservatives were constant. What were we all feeling during those semi-heated exchanges? We one-upped each other and attacked arguments at weak points, but what was the seed of all this debate? Perhaps it was a sense of familial betrayal. 

We swear to keep family and business separate but there is no such promise when it comes to politics, although we know they are equally divisive. “The personal is political” is also true in reverse — to disparage someone’s worldview is an affront to their world. Political standpoints are currents that run deeper than the surface waters of opinion. Debate is healthy and insult is not, and the line between them is fine. 

One August night before my freshman year of college, one family member reminded me once again to question everything my professors would tell me.  

“These are a different kind of people. Really liberal. They don’t think like us.” 

I wondered briefly what he meant by “us,” considering our often radically divergent opinions. He had been at the dinner table all these years — could it be that he never truly listened to me? 

My cousin leaned toward me, interrupting my thoughts. 

“Or you could come back from college a flaming liberal, and we’ll still love you.”

 I was struck by the resonance of my cousin’s joke, and I still think about it often. By the very merit of calling one another family, we make an implicit promise to stand by one another and love unconditionally – that is, regardless of ideology. When we sit across the dining room table, embroidered white tablecloth stretching between us, and launch attacks intended not to teach, not to strengthen, but to change, there is a sense of combat that doesn’t belong in a family. These mealtime political debates are not a leisurely pastime but a battle driven by an attempt to win, and to win means to vanquish. Hovering over the platters of chicken and tadig is an intention to change one another, and the promise of loyalty feels contingent upon your next comeback.  

Isn’t that what families do, though? We change each other. Any amateur psychologist will tell you that our personalities begin at home. Parents, and to an extent other relatives, are charged with the responsibility of edifying their children. It takes a village, and a large part of this is the admonitions and proverbs of the villagers. Perhaps my relatives feel this weight of social obligation propelling them forward as they critique my beliefs. They crave my confirmation that they are succeeding in their efforts. Maybe when I push back and hold my own, they feel some kind of failure. 

There’s a Jewish parable in which a sage, faced with a crowd of scholars who disagree with his judgment, asks God to determine who is correct. God declines to comment. The wise men debate and eventually move forward with a decision. From heaven, God laughs with joy: “My sons have defeated me!” 

The goal of true mentorship has never been indoctrination. Young people look to their beloved elders to create some kind of safe space to learn to walk, to stumble, to mess up. The goal is that eventually, the pupil becomes the teacher. A student who recites their teachers’ talking points is a student lost.  

Through the ages, a 7 p.m. roundtable over plates of freshly-cooked dinner has been the family’s classroom. The curriculum is set by the routine inquiries of “What did you learn at school today?” and, “How was work?” Some families study in groups of three, and some are lucky enough to learn alongside dozens. I should hope that men in my family take enough interest in my growth to stretch my mind and challenge my thinking. So, too, should they hope I prove them wrong sometimes. 

[calleo-bricriu]

Aberforth is the FUN Dumbledore.

(( Another one I meant to consolidate into one post ages ago and forgot about until, oddly, I got to the part in Hogwarts Mystery where you meet Aberforth Dumbledore.

Sadly, I'm pretty sure @theotherdumbledore​ has disappeared; they were away once for a few months and came back, then disappeared again. :(

Of course, if they ever do come back, I'd love to pick this one back up.

Edits for spelling, grammar, clarity, etc...have been done where needed.

Somewhere in the distance, I’m sure @lamentedhope​ either has another massive headache or is just doing the screaming internally thing.

The start ))

“Look mate, I’m next door. I heard you. Your… noise. Last night.”"

“Oh! Right, sorry about that; it all went a bit sideways at one point and I lost the silencing charms, two windows and about a third of the Southern wall,” Calleo laughed, “I’d call the fire damage minimal, but I keep finding bits of it everywhere so I can’t necessarily get an accurate gauge of that right now.”

“It’s probably all right–ah–did I wake you, then? Reckon I owe you a drink if I did.” Smooth. Offer the man who owns an entire pub a drink.

Aberforth frowned and looked at the other man, both curiosity and vexation in his eyes. “What were you even doing? Some experimental magic or what?” he grunted, lifted his wand and stepped inside the room.

He started to repair the damage while waiting for an answer, waving his wand in circles to gather up the pieces of broken window.

“I thought that you could use a hand. And you don’t owe me anything. I was just… Worried” he grunted again, shrugs like it was no big deal to him. Like he actually didn’t care.

“Exactly that!” Calleo replied with a grin, “It’s one hell of a hobby. Usually doesn’t go too badly, sometimes causes something or other to explode, light up, or melt. Wood melts into liquid if you screw it up badly enough. Or succeed. Which it is would depend on how you look at it.”

He waved his own wand, both to check for remaining fire and to clean up bits of debris, “I’ve never really liked calling anything a failure, though; it usually isn’t, it’s just a success in a way you hadn’t considered as a possibility before seeing the result.”

“Failure,” Calleo picked up a few books that had fallen, “is just a way to talk yourself out of a path that might be potentially more interesting. Unexpected success is a much better turn of phrase.”

He tilted his head slightly at the mention of worry, and met it with a smile and a shrug of his own, “Ah–right, well, I never do mind a hand, but there really is no need to worry. I am careful, despite what the room might indicate at the moment. Haven’t died yet, at any rate.”

Calleo stopped to consider his last statement, “Been close a few times–closer than I’d generally like to be, to be honest–that that’s bound to happen.”

If any part of him had stopped to consider that maybe he could be a bit reckless at times and should probably take some steps to control that sort of impulse, it faded quickly and he very cheerfully asked the other, "Do you? Experiment with magic, I mean.”

“Failure is when you screw up so badly that you get yourself homeless. Or killed. Failure means you should slow down and give another thought to the whole project. And this,” Aberforth gestured to the room, “was a failure.”

“Are you sure this experiment is worth your life?” He sighed and lifted up couple of fallen paintings. “ I can’t even imagine what this spell of your should have done if this was the unexpected solution. What you were trying to do?”

When Calleo asked about his history with experimental magic, Aberforth chuckled a little. “Well, actually, I have made couple of spells and brewed some unique potions during the past few decades.” He smiled a little smile, feeling proud of himself.

He also resumed repair the wall, rocks banging together when they land back to their places. “It was a long time ago but I really enjoyed it. It made me feel smart, you know? Maybe…” A hesitation. “

“Maybe I could help you out? I’m not very good but I’m sure that I won’t blow down your house or anything.”

Aberforth silently hoped that Calleo would say yes. He had been lonely for the past couple of weeks, customers were gone and Matey was sick so the goat slept a lot and Abe didn’t want to disturb him.

“That–is also an accurate interpretation of failure, though, in fairness, homes can be rebuilt or moved. Death is slightly more permanent, but still not technically a failure. I view it more as a potentially unexpected shift in priorities of where one spends the majority of one’s time.”

“I’d prefer not to die, if given the choice, but if it happens it happens,” Calleo added with a lazy shrug.

“This,” at the question of what he was trying to do, Calleo perked up noticeably, “was not technically experimental magic but more experimental tying together of two existing spells; I have a slight problem with being told something is impossible and often like to try and prove that it isn’t.”

“What I was trying to do was to tie a chaser to a curse that’s legitimately not anything I’d ever use against someone; just wanted to see if I could couple the two and get around that ‘requires line of sight’ limitation. And to see if it’d work.”

“It took it just fine, oddly enough, it was more that I…didn’t. I mean, I did, but only for a few seconds before it required a bit more control to remain under control, if that makes even the slightest bit of sense,” he laughed, “Pulled the chaser off and managed to grab control of it again before it fully hit the wall we’re currently repairing. If I hadn’t, honestly, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world but it would have been the end of that wall.”

Calleo waved his wand again, sending more pieces of debris back to their proper places, “Took less than five seconds total, despite how long winded I just was about it.”

He stopped speaking entirely when Aberforth mentioned that he used to experiment a bit and offered to lend a hand.  It was, if nothing else, an interesting proposal and the other Wizard hasn’t just called in authorities, which was also a nice bonus. Never fun to deal with the Ministry when experimental magic went off the rails. Despite his position there, and that it was in the Department of Mysteries’ Research Wing, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement could still be a bit of a hassle.

“I would, I think, enjoy that immensely!  I can’t promise that I’ll listen if you tell me I’m doing something stupid or high risk, but I will take it under advisement and give you full rights to say, 'I told you so.’ if the outcome is a bad one.”

“Could be fun, dragging that ’used to’ out of retirement, yeah?” This time the grin was significantly more playful than cheerful.

“Oh!” Calleo snapped his fingers as a sudden thought struck, “If cursing’s not really a thing you’re into, just let me know; it’s easily avoidable."

Aberforth listened while the other Wizard talked and thought to himself, "How the hell he is able to talk so much?" It’s not a bad thing, he just wasn't used to it. His pub was more a quiet ‘let’s-just-drink’-kind a place.

Calleo's babbling made him smile, though. It reminded him of home, of Ariana’s talking while they were feeding the goats.

He looked at the repaired wall and nodded to himself before he started to clean the candle wax off the floor. He was pretty sure that some of them had been on that wood before the accident happened. Calleo seemed to be that kind of a Wizard who would burn the candle at both ends when his mind was on something.

“You don’t have to avoid anything. I have seen and done much  worse things that you could even think of.” he sighed and waved his hand.

“I may be little rusty, it has been so long I have done everything experimental but it would be nice, yeah. Tying two spells together doesn’t sound so difficult, though. It depends on the curse, right?” he looked at Calleo over his shoulder before turning to face him.

“Let’s try it again. I want to see what we are working on here. You need a proper target to your tests, I can make a counter spell. Maybe we can figure out what went wrong.”

Maybe this was the new liquor talking, but Aberforth was really enjoying this. Talking with someone who didn’t seem to care about his reputation or his brother, making something new with them outside of those two all too common contexts. Before this Matey was his only experimenting partner and his ideas and opinions were hard to understand.

“Yeah?” Calleo answered cheerfully, “Ever hit a living thing with Nihilus? I have–not a person, just a rat that a friend of mine found in his office at work.”

“Still,” he shook his head, still smiling somehow, “can’t say I’d recommend it. It’s also why I cap myself at maybe two drinks. Turns out if I throw all inhibition out the window I don’t much like what I’m capable of doing in that state.”

“BUT,” Calleo clapped his hands together once, “we’re not dealing with that curse and I wouldn’t trust it on a chaser anyway, it’s hard enough to control by itself. This time I was just toying with its messier cousin,” Calleo busied himself tidying up again. It seemed almost impossible that he could be either still or quiet.

“Aside from one time I hit a mouse with Excidium, I wouldn’t use it on anything living; wouldn’t even hit the mouse again if given the chance again. All the punch of Nihilus with meat bits splattered so widely across a room that it takes weeks to find it all. Same end result, though,” he shrugged.

Now and again, Calleo glanced over at Aberforth, not for a reaction so much as it was just to see if the poor man was trying to get a word in edgewise.

“Usually, it’s just a line of sight sort of curse, right? It doesn’t even take aim very well unless you’ve got one hell of a grip on it; I use it for practicing maintaining high levels of control and it’s started to be a bit too easy. Always goes where I tell it to go, doesn’t even try to wrench away anymore.”

“It’s a lot harder to force it to attach to a chaser and follow a moving target; the chaser itself can’t get a strong enough attachment to direct it, so there’s an element of manual control. Lose that, the chaser snaps off and goes out, and that particular curse doesn’t just keep on the path it was on, it tries to circle back to whoever cast it. The only reason I caught the mouse was it was running in a fairly straight line.”

“I can catch it if it breaks loose again–or at least before it hits anything; the last one didn’t hit anything hard enough to go completely off, I just caught it and detonated it mid-air, which is what made most of the noise,” he added sheepishly.

“Ah–if I’m talking too much just hit me with a silencing charm or something. Can’t promise I won’t brush it away and keep going, but it might help get the hint across.”

Aberforth had to sit down while Calleo explained his tests and studies so he could keep up with the train of thoughts. It all sounded so magnificent and interesting but, as he had said, the last time he had done any experimental magic had been long ago.

If he was being completely honest with himself, he had hardly used any magic in months.

“Oh, you’re not talking too much.” he groaned and shook his head. “It’s nice actually.” he almost whispered, smiling to his beard. Realising that he had been staring at his shoes and smiling like an idiot was likely not making the best ‘I-really-can-help-you’-impression, he coughed and stood up, walking next to a crack on the floor and filling it up with splinters.

“Let’s fix this place up so you can continue with your studies.” he nodded to himself and gave Calleo another quick look over his shoulder.

“But you are saying that you need a moving but not-living target for your tests, right? Have you tested it on a patronus or some spell like that or try moving an object with a spell? You need more room as well, I don’t want to have to fix the walls again…” he rubbed his chin and scratched his beard while thinking.

First, Aberforth considered the cellar of his bar. It was quite roomy and quiet and he is certain that no-one would ever come there to investigate magical experiments.

But there was that risk of blowing the ceiling of or breaking the painting of his dear sister or spilling the liquor all over the place. And he had done a lot of work with those bottles. So maybe the tavern is not the best place. But it was the only place he knew and…

Wait.

He knew one another place, with lot of space, peace and quiet. He just had tried to forgot it, all about it.

He lifted his eyes to Calleo. “I think I know a place were we can practise and test those spells of yours without worrying about the Ministry or lack of space.”

Well, he hadn’t been hit with a silencing charm. That was always a good sign. Being told it was nice, however, caught Calleo completely off guard, considering the subject matter and that he’d nearly completely (accidentally!) destroyed a room in the middle of the night.

“Nice is–not exactly the answer I was expecting, but I’ll definitely take it. Beats most of the alternatives!” He added with a laugh.

“Most people mind. Not necessarily the damage, more what caused the damage, and then they start lecturing me as if I don’t know exactly what it is I’m playing with; and it really is playing, it just happens to fall in line with my actual job as well more often than not. I just get paid to play with it during the week. Been told I play ‘too rough’ by more than one person anyway.”

“Moving and non-living would be best, I’m not really ever completely on board with the idea of killing things if it’s not absolutely necessary. I can, it’s just unpleasant, even more so when using something like Excidium.”

Calleo paused and shook his head, “Death is one thing; something dies, it either moves on or remains behind as a ghost, but it still exists. It’s not gone, it’s just somewhere else. Completely removing all aspects of a living thing from existence itself is–another, and not one I’d care to experience again.” Calleo shrugged that line of thinking off quickly, re-focusing on putting the room back together and on the rest of the conversation.

“I haven’t tried it with a patronus, primarily because I’ve never bothered trying to cast one. Never had the need for it which, before you say it, I know damn well isn’t an excuse.”

Calleo finally stopped standing there and just watching Aberforth repair the damage to the room and got to work on it as well, “I should think trying to blast a patronus into oblivion might make it not–return the next time? Or at least not want to.”

And then, came an offer Calleo would never have expected.

It was a jarring enough offer to cause him to stop mid-repair of a section of the wall and just sort of stare at Aberforth in mildly stunned silence for a minute.

Aberforth had a reputation, and it was the sort of reputation that got people barred from the premises sometimes for just looking at another patron the wrong way or mentioning anything about the goat in the building, no matter how benign.

And Calleo had nearly blasted an entire room of the building apart using a notoriously dangerous, very lethal curse, and–had not only not been kicked out, he’d been invited to a presumably better place to continue messing about with it.

That should have raised every possible alarm but, Calleo being Calleo, ignored all of that and flashed a bright grin at Aberforth’s suggestion, “Brilliant! I’m in. So–when are we leaving? If it’s now, just go ahead and grab me. Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s done that and dragged me out somewhere else.”

Aberforth had been sure that this would be the moment when Calleo coughed awkwardly and told him that ‘Well, come to think of it, I think I’m better off alone, but thanks!’ So, when he got excited instead Aberforth’s mouth just popped open.

He couldn’t believe it. Was he actually interacting with another human being successfully?

Weird.

“Are you serious? I mean, we can leave right away if you don’t need anything with you. It has been long time since I have used apparition but I think I can still do it…” he mumbled, putting his wand to his sleeve and walking over to Calleo.

“I’ll try to be careful,” he smiled and grabbed Calleo's arm before he closing his eyes and the two men disappeared from the room, leaving only a cloud of dust in the air.

They reappeared in the middle of an oat field, or at least it once had been an oat field; Golden plants had turned into grey twigs, weeds had used all of the nutrients from the ground and under the weeds are years worth of true grass crops so the ground feels soft and bouncy under the feet.

One could see a wooden house and a little barn in the distance. The house looked abandoned, like no-one hadn’t been there in centuries and the roof of the barn has collapsed, probably because of heavy rains and the weight of snow. Aberforth looked at the house and smiled sadly.

“The neighbour lives couple of kilometres away so we should have peace and quiet.” he said, finally remembering to let go of Calleo’s arm and took couple of steps closer to the barn.

“I think we still have our old buldger in the barn, we could try that… Or I can use Leviosa to some objects if you want to have more steady and predictable target. Don’t mind the fields, they are practically mine so we can destroy them as much as we want.”

“So, do you want to wait the sunrise or start right away?”

When they reappeared, the first words out of Calleo’s mouth were, “No need to be careful with me, mate. My job alone puts me in close contact with things designed to injure or kill, not to mention I occasionally make it a point to make terrible things even worse just to see if it’s possible, and that’s before even getting into the sort of people I end up dealing with on a regular basis! I stopped counting the amount of times on any given day when I should have died but didn’t several years ago.”

“Awful people, for the most part, you should see the records of some of them; but networking is networking.” Calleo casually looked around the area, more to get an idea of what was there than to find out where they were. Where they were was obvious enough: A field with a couple of abandoned buildings. Nice, open, and nobody else around to disturb.

“It’d be nice to live somewhere with the nearest neighbour a few kilometres out. I don’t live in the largest town, but there are still a few hundred people and it’s oddly all packed together for as small as it is. All Muggle too! So, I get to be extra careful. With everything.” Calleo added with a laugh.

“I’ve been told my house is lit up like a prison to anyone who can see the warding. Always disagreed with that, as it’s not designed to keep anything in so much as it’s designed to keep anyone who isn’t invited out.”

Lazily, Calleo flicked his blackthorn wand out and in a sweeping motion, putting up a wide spread of silencing charms anyway, just to be on the safe side.

He then turned its aim toward the ground and spread out a rather large layer of protective warding over the plants, “I don’t want to–hit any of them. Or anything living under the grass. Thing is, plants have–I’m not sure if it’s souls or what, but I’ve got the ghost of one that I’m fairly certain is spitefully hanging about my garden. Knowing that, I’d feel a bit awful if I blasted any of the living ones into oblivion. If the aim goes off it’ll just chew up the warding and not what’s underneath it.”

“There!” Finally, he finished with the cheerful babbling explanation of what he was doing, “Now then! A bludger could be interesting, since those things are pretty well charmed to chase after people. That’d add one hell of an incentive to keep things under control–oh! And you’d get to see the colour change that curse does as it approaches and moves away from living things. Goes from yellow to red. It’ll still hit the bludger either way. Do you mind an exploding bludger?”

For a few minutes, Calleo seemed to be considering the question as to whether to wait or not and eventually shrugged, “Doesn’t matter to me, really; daylight makes things easier to see, but also gives a less spectacular light show when that curse is trailing something.”

“It’s interesting when it gets close; if you’ve ever had a killing curse just miss, you probably know the cold rush of air it leaves in its wake. This one is–” Calleo paused, “It’s different. Colder, and somehow burning hot at the same time.”

“I’m not a fan of Quidditch so an exploding bludger is okay with me.” Aberforth shrugged idly and lifted his wand, turning his eyes toward the collapsed barn.

“Accio trunk!” he yelled and the sound of pieces of the roof to lifting and turning before eventually collapsing again when the heavy wooden trunk dug it’s way out temporarily shattered the quiet.

“I think it would be interesting to see that light show of yours so let’s start right away. We can sleep in the house when the morning comes."

"You can stay as long as you want, nobody misses or needs this place anymore.” he nodded to himself and opened the trunk. He stared at the balls, tightly tied to their own places.

They were covered in dust and splinters but seemed otherwise intact and functioning. The bludgers had already started to struggle, trying to hit the man who was looking at them.

There was other equipment as well such as a helmet, a pair of thick gloves and a bat lying in the bottom of the trunk. Aberforth stared at the pieces from his past and smiled.

“Ever had a killing curse just miss?”  The smiled faded at Calleo's question.

He remembered how it felt. The coldness, the reaper trying to get a grip from the heart. It had felt like a dark, heavy cloud had tried to swallow him. But, the feeling when it missed it’s target was much more terrifying. He felt the pain of looking at his collapsed sister, the numbness and coldness that surrounded him.

The silence was the worst. Not crying, not cursing, just silence. Like the world had stopped to witness it.

“Cold and burning hot at the same time, you say? Hmm… It sounds like the feeling when you try to take the cauldron from the flames: it’s so hot that brains think it’s cold.” he murmured and took the bat from the bottom of the trunk, put the helmet on and crouched next to the trunk.

“We can try the snitch as well if you like. It’s trajectory it’s much more difficult to predict so it would be more difficult to hit as well. Not to mention the size and color difference between it and the bludger…”

Suddenly, in a blink of an eye, the first bludger’s old, rusty chains gave up and let the black ball loose.

It flung itself through the air, gathering up some speed and power before heading straight towards Calleo.

“The scoring system is completely irrational,” Calleo frowned at the trunk, as though it were somehow the fault of the Quidditch balls inside, “If you can only win the game by catching the Snitch, why have goals for anything else at all? Just send everyone after the damn Snitch!”

He laughed and shook his head, “One of my friends at school was on the Slytherin team as a Beater; I once asked him to, after the Keeper had the Quaffle, knock the Keeper through the goal to see if it counted as a point.”

“It did, if you were curious,. I don’t know if that’s in the rules or if Professor Dumbledore just thought it was creative enough that it deserved a point,” he eyed the struggling Bludgers warily. He’d never been hit with one as he’d never played the game, but he knew full well that they were capable of causing some pretty extensive bodily harm. He’d definitely had people sent to the hospital wing at school after asking his friend Braxford to whack someone in the head with it.

Calleo had intended to elaborate on the hot-cold topic and on using a snitch as well when one of the bludgers broke loose and headed at him. Whatever he said must have been some sort of profanity or, at least, was meant as one as he ducked out of the way and hit the ball with a spell just to knock it back. Way back. Back far enough that it wouldn’t be coming at his face in an instant at least, and cast the coupled spells.

The chasing charm itself held no particular look to it or, if it did, it was eclipsed by the vivid yellow of the curse as it began to chase its wobbly, weaving target. For the moment, Calleo kept it just slow enough to not immediately catch it and blast it into tiny pieces; the point, after all, was to make it chase the bludger and keep control of it, so he purposely put some brakes on it.

He kept it close, within a centimetre or two of the ball, but didn’t let it connect just yet.

The bludger, being a bludger, soon circled back toward the two the curse trailing it changed. The closer it got, the easier it became to see that it made no hesitation or attempt to conceal its desire to stop chasing the bludger and slam into one of the two living creatures in its path. In the dark, the colour change was obvious, brilliantly frightening, and lit the entire area shifting from the vibrant yellow, to orange, to–as Calleo narrowly dodged being hit in the head with a bludger–a bright, searing red. As it passed with its target, and more distance was created, the curse slowly shifted back through orange to yellow. In its wake, it left the feeling of nothing.

Cold, but wrong.

Completely wrong.

The sort of wrong that, to Calleo at least, gave the distinctly loud impression that one should immediately leave the area.

And, then, it was back, circling toward them with the bludger. Another streak of light, another streak of cold, and it was gone again.

“When I don’t have this chasing something, I often toss it back and forth in my office like a horrid little ball. It’s much easier to control that way. Just push it back and forth–did you notice how, whenever it gets close, it tries to wrench itself away from the target and come at me?” Calleo laughed, which may not have been the most appropriate reaction, and spoke to Aberforth as though they were back at the pub chatting over drinks instead of--this. Throwing beyond lethal curses to chase old Quidditch equipment, with nothing but respective skill and control standing between either of them and complete destruction.

“It does that in general, you know; this spell is designed to destroy the one casting it if they can’t manage the mental wherewithal to do what they claimed they wanted to do in the first place.”

“Good thing I have no trouble destroying a bludger, I guess!” Calleo let it loop back toward and past them one more time before letting go of the restraint he’d kept on the curse once the bludger was at a distance far enough that being hit with shrapnel was unlikely.

When it hit, it was less spectacular than one might have imagined. The curse seemed as if it engulfed the bludger rather than slammed into it despite the result being tiny pieces of bludger scattered around the field.

“I don’t think I’d want to know the sort of person who could successfully hit another person with that, you know,” Calleo slowly lowered his wand and started toward the impact area, “it was hard enough hitting a mouse, and I still feel terrible about that. I don’t even like mice.”

After a moment of inspecting the debris that was there yet somehow not there at all, Calleo sat down on the ground, leaned back on his hands and tilting his head in a vaguely bird-like manner so he was looking mostly at Aberforth again, “Let the Snitch out.”

The light show on something that moved as erratically as a Snitch would probably light up the remaining night sky better anyway.

[sserpente]

A/N: Request from @pegxcarter. I changed it from Christmas to New Year’s Eve but here we go! Also, I started Season 3 of Lucifer last night, it’s so damn good.

Words: 1590 Warnings: implied smut

“I’m neglecting a case for this, so it better be good.” Chloe Decker appeared stressed out, to say the least, when she arrived at the Lux.

Lucifer’s shit-eating grin widened when she descended the stairs and came to a halt next to the bar. “Come on, Detective, it’s New Year’s Eve!”

“It’s not until I’ve solved this case, Lucifer. A case which you promised to help me with,”

“Yes, I know, I’ll be getting to that but this is way more important. You do remember (Y/N), don’t you?”

Chloe raised an eyebrow, anticipating his next words. “That girl Maze was dating?”

“Is dating,” the demon tossed in, swinging herself over the bar with a bottle of Vodka in hand. “She’s been my girlfriend for a whole year, Decker.”

“It will take me some more time to get used to that. So why did you call me here, what does that have to do with me?”

“I need your help. How exactly do people on Earth get married?” Maze flicked her tongue, wiggling her eyebrows at her.

“Married? You want to get married? Are you going to propose to her?”

“At midnight, to be exact, thought that would be awesome. So what do I do, do I get on my knees, do I…”

“Maze, that’s great! But… you know that marrying someone means you’ll spend the rest of your life with them and don’t have sex with others anymore, right?” Chloe interrupted, her gaze scrutinising and suspicious.

“Yes, Decker, I know that,” Maze rolled her eyes. “We’ve had threesomes before, our relationship is flexible. So what do I need to do?”

Chloe hesitated, ignoring her sexual comment. “Why didn’t you just ask Lucifer, I mean…”

“Lucifer is the devil.”

“Of course,”

“And he doesn’t know how a woman wants to be proposed to. You’ve already been married once, how did Dan do it?”

Lucifer hissed, faking a hurt expression. “Maze, you might have noticed but the Detective’s first marriage was a failure. And I can be very romantic!”

“Yeah, thank you, Lucifer.” Sarcasm was dripping from Chloe’s voice when she continued. “You buy her a ring and at midnight, you get on one knee and ask her to marry you. Are you absolutely sure about this? Marriage is a serious step.”

“Yes, Decker, I’m sure.” Maze nodded, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Then just… be yourself. I’ll be here tonight if you need me. Lucifer, are you coming?”

Lucifer hesitated, his lips parting. “Are you sure she should be herself? It’s Maze we’re talking of.”

The demon only shook her head when Chloe wrapped her hand around his arm and dragged him outside to get that case done.

It wasn’t the first time Maze texted you some last minute instructions as to how you would spend the night. This time, she asked you to wear that ‘fancy black dress that brings out your boobs’ and meet her at Lucifer’s club at 9PM, three hours before midnight.

She’d told you she’d be there earlier to help him prepare everything for a legendary New Year’s Eve party, but since you had some chores you wanted to get done before 2018 anyway, you didn’t bother.

It was rather exhausting, being her girlfriend. Believing she was an actual demon from hell and morally coming to terms with that had been a hell of a huge step for you, especially since Lucifer himself was supposed to be the devil but somehow… you were still here. You had fallen for a demon girl who had stolen your heart.

It had all started with a one-night stand. So many orgasms… you swallowed thickly, putting the last plates in the dishwasher. That wasn’t the point. The point was you had met her again and again and again until you had proposed a relationship and, much to your surprise, she had agreed.

Mazikeen could be adorable if only she wanted to. She wasn’t the kind of woman who would cuddle with you and watch a cheesy movie but rather spent hours finding new ways to have sex, like that one time when she cuffed you to her sex swing but then accidentally lost the keys but she certainly made up for it by trying. Her cooking was getting better and last time she did the laundry, it hadn’t come out in new colours.

A whole year had passed since you had officially started dating, a year full of amazing and adventurous sex and the realisation you loved this crazy demon girl. She hadn’t said it back yet but that was fine—she’d need more time and you were willing to give it to her.

It was almost 9PM when you finally arrived at the Lux by taxi, your black dress barely covering your body. Even in LA it was way too cold for your liking at night and you instantly regretted not bringing your vest.

“Hey, Baby.” Maze possessively grabbed your waist and pulled you close, your freezing forgotten. You hadn’t even noticed her approaching until you felt her hands around you, her lips demanding a sweet kiss before she led you inside.

As usual, the club was full. Loud music roared through the vast room, the bass vibrating in your chest and the many lights blinding your sight for a second. Maze instantly dragged you over to the bar where she handed you a red drink and forced you to clink glasses.

“Maze, I don’t wanna be drunk just yet, it’s barely ten o’clock.”

The demon girl pursed her lips. “Trust me, I do. You look hot by the way.”

“Thanks, so do you.” You absolutely loved her clothing style. Tonight, she wore a black corset with rivets, a tight leather skirt and high heels, with her dark hair was falling over her shoulders seductively. It made you wanting to pounce on her and lure her to one of those empty rooms in the back. Even the restroom would do for a quickie—she really had depraved you somewhat.

“I can’t wait to get you out of this dress though.” Maze continued as if she had read your thoughts, emptying another shot. A naughty grin crept up on your face when you reached for her hand, ensuring you two would have a lot of fun tonight.

It was shortly before midnight you finally found Lucifer and Chloe in the crowd of people dancing like the planet would stop spinning in 2018. Strangely, it seemed like they were both trying to read your expression, awaiting something you didn’t know anything about yet.

Smiling, you shrugged it off. As for now, you wanted to celebrate with this crazy demon girl beside you and when the clock finally struck midnight and the guests in the club cheered and screamed and yelled, clinking glasses and hugging, you turned to Maze to give her a passionate kiss.

“You know, maybe I can get used to it. She looks really happy,” Chloe remarked over the audacity in the club, her arms crossed.

“(Y/N)… I need to ask you something.” Maze started when you pulled away, both your lips swollen and your lipstick smeared across your chin.

“I know I’m not always easy to be around. I hate chores and I hate cheesy movies and lazy cuddling on Sundays.”

“I know that,” you giggled. The alcohol was taking its toll on you but you were safe to say you were sober.

“I’ve been with a lot of men… and women since I came here and it’s been fun, really… but none of them was you.” She continued nervously. You had never seen Maze nervous. Alarmed, maybe but never nervous. What was going on?

“Maybe being herself works out for her after all,” Lucifer murmured, earning him a gentle slap on the arm from Chloe to get him to shut up.

“We’ve been together for a whole year now. I didn’t ever think I could be with the same person for so long but with you I can. You told me you loved me. And I…” She took a deep breath. “I love you too.”

It was then your heart skipped a beat. Mazikeen gracefully got on one knee, pulling a velvety little box from her pocket. You knew exactly what she was about to say when she opened it and presented you the most beautiful ring you had ever seen.

“Will you marry me?”

2018 was going to be the most amazing year yet, full of love, hope and this enormous step you would make—with Maze, your… fiancé.

“Yes! Yes, Maze, yes!”

“Now that’s more like it!” Lucifer shouted when you knelt down to kiss her yet again, allowing her to slip the piece of jewellery on your finger. They all clapped around you—Lucifer and Chloe and the guests who had noticed what was going on.

“That’s such a cliché. Proposing to me on New Year’s Eve…” You murmured when you pulled away, your words drowning out the explosions of the fireworks outside. “I love it, I love you.”

“You got me sweating there for a second. I love you too. Damn, it feels good to say it. I love you.”

No one asked where you went when you left the club and hid in one of the rooms you had spoken of earlier. It was easy to guess and—it was a hell of way to start a new year.

[creativitytoexplore]

Everything Old Is New Again: An Interview With Co-Web Editor Adam Soto https://ift.tt/2WdSDbp

Writer and editor Adam Soto has long been a part of American Short Fiction‘s editorial team. As one of our assistant editors, he regularly read submission to the journal, wrote copious feedback for authors, and helped determine which stories would ultimately appear in our print edition. So, when we made the decision to bring on another web editor this spring, Adam was a natural choice for the role. This month, he joins our longtime web editor Erin McReynolds as our website’s co-editor, and together, they’ll determine which stories are published here at ASF Online. I recently emailed with Soto to ask about his work, his approach to editing, and his aspirations for the magazine.

—

Nate Brown: Adam, we’re so thrilled that after having served as an assistant editor with us for so long that you’re stepping up to the plate as a new web editor who’ll be working alongside web editor Erin McReynolds. While we know you around these parts—you’ve been a member of Austin’s literary community and of our team for years—I want to start by asking you about your own fiction writing. You’ve got a novel coming out next year. Can you tell us a bit about it?

Adam Soto: Joining ASF was one of the first things I did after coming to Austin, and it’s really been like being part of a family, so I’m really grateful for all the time I’ve had with organization, all the stories I’ve read through the years, and I’m really moved to have the opportunity to contribute more to what the journal is doing, which is something special. 

The novel is called This Weightless World, and it’s out on MCD/FSG fall 2021. It’s a sentimental sci-fi, a kind of Contact for misanthropic millennials. January 1, 2012, Earth detects an alien signal from a planet 75 lightyears away and a group of characters—a Chicago Public School teacher; one of his students, a musical prodigy; and his ex, a programmer who dumped him for a gig at Google—anticipate a major paradigm shift, an alternative to late stage capitalism, the neighborhood’s cycle of violence, an escape from their own personal guilt. I mean, aliens are supposed to be game changers, right? Habit, human nature, laziness, and fear, however, prove to be a greater obstacle than the 75 lightyears between us and them, and when the planet suddenly falls silent, leaving us alone in the universe once again, collapsing the distance between who we are and who we hope to be feels harder than ever. While the characters sort out their lives, our planet’s biological clock keeps ticking, our dependence on technology distorts our sense of reality, and our most vulnerable continue going mostly ignored. If all of that sounds too depressing, I should add that there are also loving pen-pal letters and lyrical dispatches from deep space woven throughout.    

NB: It’s funny, Adam, but I remember you from back in your Iowa City days, when you and my wife, Thea, were MFA students at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. Was this a project you were working on back then, or is the novel more recent than that? And how does the novel compare to the work you were writing then? 

AS: I remember the two of you as well. I started the novel on January 1, 2012, so, right before the start of my last semester at Iowa. Marilynne Robinson was going to be teaching a novel workshop in the spring, we’d all been in a novella seminar with Peter Orner, so all of my friends had suddenly pivoted from writing short stories to writing novels, and I thought, I wanna get me some of that!

I was staying with my parents for the holidays, and I had a dream featuring an image and a wordless interpretation. I saw this fuchsia-colored planet and felt that not only I but the whole human race was being shunned and shamed by it, like the planet was Earth’s twin and we just weren’t going to be friends. With absolutely nothing else to go on, I set up my laptop in my parent’s kitchen, took a look around the room, and typed the first thing that came to mind. “So, this dude wakes up on Jan. 1, 2012…” Most of my work, up to that point, had focused on alienating readers. They were mainly plotless, kind of nihilistic, and tried really hard to redeem themselves with lots of catchy sentences. It had never occurred to me that I could cut back on my affect and keep alienation as subject matter. It took me three whole drafts (re-written, top to bottom) and four years to figure out what the story was about, three years working with my amazing agent, Marya Spence, to turn an 800+ page sprawling tome into an actual novel, and it’ll be another year and a half before my editor, Danny Vazquez, and the rest of the team at MCD/ FSG and I turn it over to the public.

NB: Did you have any particularly great workshops or instructors at Iowa? What ideas about writing have stuck with you? And for those considering an MFA program, do you have any advice on what they should expect to take away from the experience? 

AS: My very first workshop there was with the late James Alan McPherson. He was so funny, sage, and generous, and my workshop group became my best friends. Peter Orner was also very inspiring. He taught me a lot about teaching and reading. Teaching and writing were the natural byproducts of reading and paying attention to others for Peter, and this has proven vital to me as a middle-school English teacher. Michelle Huneven, however, changed my life. The way I saw it, I was just this kid who got into this really nice writing program for one reason or another, but, somehow, Michelle took me seriously and told me to take myself seriously. There’s no shortage of people taking themselves seriously in MFA programs, so, I guess my advice is to expect to find something out about yourself. A lot of people find out they don’t like teaching; hell, some people find out they don’t like writing that much, at least not enough to spend the rest of their lives trying to get published. Either way, no matter your age, or where you’re coming from, you’ve got to let the MFA years be formative in some way.

Back in the day, there used to be this expectation that you could join a program and graduate with a book deal, or at least a “cushy” teaching gig that’d hold you off until you got a book deal, and because it was more of a rite of passage, these programs could get away with being deeply unfeeling. I felt nurtured and supported, but I know a lot of people who didn’t and who don’t. But I think if everyone comes in expecting more, and if everyone is willing to accept that that something more probably isn’t going to be more book deals—taking on publishing is a whole other nightmare—then I think a lot of the criticisms of MFA programs could be addressed, and not just by faculty and directors but by the student communities that hold them accountable. Because there’s no real promise for what you can expect, especially from program to program, until you start laying out those expectations. For starters, funding and diversity.

NB: In addition to writing, a big part of editorial work is reading submissions. What kind of work grabs you? What excites you? What do you love coming across in submissions? 

AS: I like something that commits. Something that assures me that it wants to tell me something, even if it’s reluctant to, even if it fails to. Commitment is huge. To voice, a structural procedure, a deep study of character, a memory being pulled apart, a woolgathering.  

NB: Our web exclusive stories have long been capped at 2,000 words (though this is changing), and I’m wondering what you think the short form—whatever you may call them: flash fiction, micro fiction, short-shorts—offer that longer works do not? What are the advantages of really short work?  

AS: Whenever I get a new album, I always start with listening to the longest song. With short story collections, I always start with the shortest story. This is something I’ve done forever. Whatever they’re called, I’ve always been attracted to these brief things, and, over the years, reading them, writing them, I’ve come to appreciate their different intended effects. You read one of Babel’s Red Cavalry Stories and the story’s length isn’t really the first thing you notice. Similar to your feelings after a shorty by Chekhov, you’re struck by the wholeness of the experience, the funny asymmetry, the dropped details—as in the details the writer does and does not drop. Compare that to a sprint by Thomas Bernhard, one of Lydia Davis’s illuminating punchlines, or a haunting by Peter Orner, and I think you get a mixture of dedications to singular things, which is rare in our Wikipedic, FOMA world. And the fact that that one thing can be so many different things—grief’s manipulation of time, light’s impression on a memory, an anecdote, extensive alliteration—is really a gift. Such dedication taken to greater lengths is often awkward or dull until it ventures into the obsessive and becomes genius again.      

NB: Are there writers whose stories you find yourself returning to over time? If so, who are those folks, and which stories do you think demand re-reading? 

AS: Mavis Gallant, constantly, and especially her early and long story “The Cost of Living.” I love that long story for its failure to commit, for dragging out what it means to say for pages and pages, for pretty much being a 36-page novel. Leonard Michaels’s Nachman stories and his list story “In the Fifties.” Anything from Joy Williams’s Escapes, but especially “White” over and over again. Andrey Platonov’s “The Motherland of Electricity” (it teaches you how to build a generator), James Alan McPherson’s “The Silver Bullet,” and, more recently, Sara Majka’s “Saint Andrews Hotel,” “Especially Heinous” by Carmen Maria Machado, and Brandon Taylor’s ASF story, “As Though That Were Love.”  

NB: Jesus, there’s so much good work in there. That Brandon Taylor story has really stayed with me. I taught it at Johns Hopkins last semester, and it made a couple of students (and me) cry. Taylor has so much to say about loneliness and the unbridgeable spaces that exist between people, even those who are dear friends. Come to think of it, the Williams, McPherson, and Majka stories you mention are sort of about that, too. Would you say that the tension between isolation and collectivity, between personal spaces and social spaces are of interest to you? Based on what you’ve said about your own novel, that seems central in that work, too.  

AS: Yes, definitely, definitely, the isolated and the collective, isolated collectives, and, now that we’re all getting a taste, the collectively isolated. And that tension, too, I think you’re right, between the singular and the collective, I’ve always been fascinated by where it pops up, how places and moments of intimacy can leave us feeling so isolated, how fractured our alliances and coalitions can be, how hard it is to come together behind a common goal. But most of all, over the years I’ve become obsessed with characters who, against their better judgment, still seek community, and I’m really attracted to the tensions that arise when those seekers interrogate their intentions or test the authenticity of their communities. One of the unique features of our world today is our ability to not only witness but quantifiably measure the efforts being made by ourselves and others as we vie for each other’s communion—it’s something both beautiful and grotesque. And that reality really takes the characters in TWW for a ride, from pulling them out of their recessional depression to overloading them with worldly concerns to leaving them feel completely isolated. 

NB: American Short Fiction has been around since 1991. Why do you think that journals like ours—large and small, from all parts of the country and the world—abide? What role do you think we play in the broader literary culture, and has that role changed over time? 

AS: Like the few healthy corners of the internet, lit journals are places for spaceless communities, folks looking for a common thing; in our case, a certain flavor of fiction. With every issue, you’re excited to share in the discovery of someone new, eager to read someone familiar, and happy to sustain the practice of an old art form. And before the internet, and now through the internet, lit journals have always offered deeply reflective but also relatively immediate reactions to the worlds we live in, which is something I’m excited to play a part in as a web editor. As a utility, we broaden the spectrum of representation in culture, and although our nets require wider and wider casting, what we discover here increases the expectations we have for other literary institutions, as well as the world at large. 

    Adam Soto is a co-web editor at American Short Fiction. He holds an MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop and is a former Michener-Copernicus Foundation fellow. He lives with his wife in Austin, TX, where he is a teacher and a musician. His debut novel, This Weightless World, is forthcoming from MCD/ FSG fall 2021. 

[warnercreations]

“Ignorance is bliss ‘tis a folly to be wise”

These words by Thomas Grey referred to the inevitable suffering that resulted from “growing up”, he urged youngsters to stay innocent as long as possible.

But this is no Neverland, here we DO enter adulthood.

I love reading, but I am also a huge movie fan, and in my personal collection I own copies of “The Matrix” and “Pleasantville”. If there are any who have not watched both of these movies, then I would urge you to make a plan to do so. I was recently inspired to write a blog entry based on “Pleasantville”, but I’ve made dozens of false starts with this entry, and the words have not flowed… Then I realised something the other day, “Pleasantville” and “The Matrix” actually share a common theme.

Let me start closer to the beginning of this story;

I’ve been sorting out my life, reducing the clutter, organising those things that I choose to keep. I’m sure everyone who lived in the era of film photography has a box of photo prints lying around? Mine has been with me since the last photos I had taken somewhere around 2001, many of them have been water damaged during my homeless times, and others were of memories that up until recently retained enough painfulness for me to shy away from exposing them often.

But things change, and I’ve got to the point where I don’t mourn the loss of those “good times” as much as I enjoy the memories of them, so I started organising them into collages, and as I did I took photo’s of some of them and shared them with friends on social media.

Many people responded with “you looked so happy then”

I immediately got on the defensive!

It was my self analysis regarding WHY this got me on the defensive that led to this train of thought.

“You looked so HAPPY then…” ;

These days we have a camera embedded in a little device we carry with us all the time, not only that but the pictures it takes are of a high quality, instantly available and free! Back in the Jurassic Era I grew up in, cameras were not always on hand, film was expensive and so was processing that film into prints, and to top it all off, one waited a week for the film to be processed after handing it in at the newsagents or pharmacy. So having a photo taken was an occasion! And you only really took the trouble to carry the camera when there was a REASON to. And no, we didn’t take a photo to show how miserable we were! So largely old photo’s were a record of the good times! This accounts for a proportion of the apparent “happiness”…

In my reality MANY of the “occasions I refer to above were the times spent with my now ex-wife as we progressed from dating, to courtship and into marriage. She and I were separated by 1,100km (700miles) for the first 7 years of our relationship, not only that, but the cult religion she and I were born into forbid dating among those “not yet ready for marriage”; so for much of that time we conducted our relationship in secrecy. We would spend a few weeks together every six months during school vacations, and obviously these were wonderful times as we made up for the months of pining and misery in-between, and we took photos during those happy times to remember them and each other. We didn’t take photos when we cried during farewells, nor of the stress and worry inflicted on us by the punishment from the church elders for indiscretions like “holding hands”. So many of these photo’s were of short periods of intense happiness separated by months of misery and despair.

But, eventually we married, and set up home together, we progressed in our respective careers, we accumulated material possessions, and took full advantage of the glamour and entertainment available to a pair of yuppies in Cape Town during the 1990’s. We drove sports cars and motorcycles, we lived with a sea view, we dined at some of the finest restaurants in the world, we frequented the theatre, the Opera House and the music concerts. We hobnobbed with the rich and the famous, the beautiful and the talented. There was little reason NOT to be happy!

Some people pursue that lifestyle their whole lives, they sail through mild seas and keep close to the shore, where life is easier and safer, and more secure. They come home to the boring spouse and hide the secret lover, they live cautiously and retire comfortably. There is nothing WRONG with these choices, except that these individuals generally lack the imagination to empathise with what the “other people” go through.

I speak from experience here, I used to judge others harshly, as compared to my own frame of reference. I knew a girl who had had an abortion while she was a teenager, illegal back in the puritan “Old” South Africa, she lied to her parents and the authorities and claimed to have been raped by “a Black man”, which of course ensured a legal abortion. My then Wife and I were extremely judgemental towards her and her morals. I would publicly attack smokers whose smoke intruded into my space. I would proudly assert that our Christian morals and stance against blood transfusions made us immune to the AIDS epidemic of the time. I judged those who were unfaithful to their spouses as hypocrites and sinners. I believed that only those of my Religious Sect would be saved from imminent destruction! Those who were not able to pay their monthly bills were wasteful and undisciplined.

When my wife admitted to having had an affair, I felt somewhat less invulnerable to STD infection. When I was comforted by that same woman who had had the abortion and ended up in her bed, I felt less self-righteous. When the divorce blew down the house of cards of my debt-based finances, I felt less fiscally disciplined. When I got hooked on tobacco during a drunken party I felt ashamed of how I shouted at those whose smoke drifted my way. When I ended up in a relationship with a separated, but still legally married woman, I felt hypocritical.

Unlike Neo in the Matrix, I never made the conscious choice to swallow the Red Pill, someone must’ve slipped it into my drink while I wasn’t watching!

“Spirituality” is somewhat of a fad at present, people wear it like a religion and they believe that “Spiritual Awakening” occurs wearing Yoga Pants, sitting in the Lotus Position chanting Ohmmmm.

In my case it came disguised as depression and self-destruction.

For Me, “Spiritual Awakening” wasn’t building a temple in the mountains, it was tearing down and setting fire to everything I owned so that something new could be built on the scorched earth left behind.

I found a major flaw in much of the teachings of The Law of Attraction, it is this concentration on consumerism. Much of the focus of many of the teachers is on Material Wealth…

Actually, maybe that is all as it should be, because again, I must correct my line of reasoning, The Law of Attraction is of itself not about spirituality, it may borrow from many of the practices of Spirituality such as Meditation, and entering into elevated states of consciousness, but at the root of it all, it is about manifesting change in our lives, rather than about embracing change in our lives. Do you pick up the difference? MANIFESTING change is about making a choice as to what we choose, EMBRACING change is about adapting to changes in our lives.

We live in a global society that has manufactured a set of standards to which we are expected to conform. This I guess is what we refer to as our “civilisation”. Consumerism is the central ideology of this global civilisation, and it is imposed upon us from the moment of birth, some may argue that it begins even before that.

The best neo-natal care and nutrition creates physically superior bodies

The best educational toys creates superior intellectual abilities

The best dental care creates an attractive smile

The best juvenile nutrition ensures a pattern of healthy eating

The best schooling ensures qualification to attend the best Universities and Colleges

The best Universities and Colleges ensures superior earning potential

The best Looking, best educated and higher earning individuals attract the best Looking, best educated and higher earning spouses.

The best Looking, best educated and higher earning couples have the potential to breed superior offspring…

The unfortunate results of the rutting of the less privileged start life with a disadvantage…

And how do we show that we are successful in this civilization? By what we own, by what we drive, by what we wear, by whom we mate with.

A year ago, I found myself in a very dark place. I was chronologically in the middle of a conflict with a family member, what started out as a simple disagreement over taking sides in a couple’s divorce escalated as neither of us was prepared to back down. Insults were traded until eventually he struck the blow below the belt that knocked me for the count… He asserted that I am a failure in life, and while I intellectually knew that to be rubbish spouted by an ageing narcissist, I saw myself through his eyes and that was very painful for me.

For some time now I believe that I have seen through this whole Zeitgeist, I see how we are manipulated into what to wear, and how to act, who to have sex with and where to live, what to drive and where to drive to. I came to understand how we are manipulated into religious, nationalistic, racial and cultural divisions so that we can be controlled and played like the pawns that we choose to be.

Once you understand these things, then clothes become something to keep us warm and protected, covering our nakedness because the alternative is legally and culturally unacceptable. A vehicle becomes a tool, a means to travel and transport goods from place to place. A cellphone ceases to be a status symbol, but becomes a communications tool and portable computer. A dwelling becomes a shelter. A life partner is chosen on merit rather than the standards of physical beauty created by the fashion industry.

But this person asserted that I was lazy, that my “messing around building furniture” was not an acceptable vocation, that my vehicles and my appearance are a disgrace. More than that he announced these things on public forums from where I conduct business.

Now as I said before, INTELLECTUALLY I understand that all of what this person was accusing me of was based on his own desperate clinging to the illusion he believes to be reality.

“Those still invested in the illusion hate those who have woken up” – Kim Warner

But my own self-esteem was fragile enough to take this to heart, and I did!

Healing was a slow process because as ones self-esteem is damaged so things collapse, and no matter what we may or may not believe about the Law of Attraction, when we feeling bad about ourselves, bad things seem to happen to us.

Self-Love is not vanity, that was something I had to teach myself ever since my mother and her Cult indoctrinated me to the contrary. No, Self-Love is vital, it it taking care of yourself first because when you give everything to someone else and have nothing left for yourself, then no one is there to help you. Self-Love is taking a vacation so that you become recharged. Self-Love is spending the money to go to the Doctor and the Optometrist so that you can function better. Self-Love is building something beautiful for YOURSELF

Self Love is making Collages out of your old photos so that you can remember the happy times.

This brings me back to those two movies, The Matrix was about seeing through the artificial, superficial illusion that we are conditioned into believing to be real. Pleasantville is about two modern teenagers who are transported back into the black and white world of a 1950’s television sitcom. In Pleasantville, everything was “pleasant” the Fire Department’s only task was rescuing cats out of trees, because fire did not exist, sex didn’t exist, art didn’t exist, not as a form of expression anyway, music was “pleasant”, everybody was “pleasant” to each other and even the weather was “pleasant” all the time, it never even rained in “Pleasantville”.

As these two teenagers interacted with these “pleasant” people they caused a chain reaction. The girl, played by Reese Witherspoon was a stereotypically sexually promiscuous cheerleader, and she introduced the “Pleasantville” teenagers to sex, Tobey Maguire, who played the nerdish boy introduced the citizens of “Pleasantville” to such concepts as art appreciation and taught the Fire Department how to extinguish a fire…

As people were influenced, they appeared in full colour, some were ashamed of this and tried to hide their “colour” behind makeup and clothing, others flaunted it. Life became less and less “Pleasant” in “Pleasantville”, adultery, rioting, fires, mob-justice, segregation all became part of life in “Pleasantville”, but the other side-effect was that people grew, that while life was no longer always “pleasant”, it could also reach heights of bliss and valleys of despair.

The hero of “The Matrix” chose to take the Red Pill, and as a result he was ejected from the comfortable illusion and subjected to the harsh life of a resistance fighter. Like me, the residents of “Pleasantville” never got to consciously choose, but each of them grew exponentially as a person.

I reacted SO defensively to “you looked so happy then”, because that was the bliss of ignorance, not the satisfaction of being fully awake in a world of sleepwalkers.

Go Forth and BE AWESOME

All My Love

Kim

Happiness and the Illusion “Ignorance is bliss ‘tis a folly to be wise” These words by Thomas Grey referred to the inevitable suffering that resulted from “growing up”, he urged youngsters to stay innocent as long as possible.

[holmesoverture]

The Telegraph Boy, Chapter 1

A/N Here, have the first Sherlock Holmes story I ever wrote in all its overwritten glory.  Does this count as Throwback Thursday?

Life has afforded me no greater honour than allowing me to chronicle the career of Sherlock Holmes, and I would no sooner cease writing about him than I would strangle him.  The latter deed is one in which I have been sorely tempted to indulge on multiple occasions and have always successfully refrained from, so I believe I am well-qualified to state that I’ll not be retiring my pen at any point in the foreseeable future.  I pray this fact has been made sufficiently clear, else I fear the following paragraphs will read as little more than frivolous whinging.

The act of writing is a largely independent one, involving many solitary hours interrupted only by mealtimes and by prying questions from one’s fellow-lodger.  The act of publishing is its polar-opposite, with a dozen or more hands of variable skill clawing to fix and improve the writer’s handiwork.  I understood the necessity of altering certain facts and dates and titles to protect the innocent, and I could be forgiven for manufacturing great swaths of dialogue due to the limitations of mortal memory, but certain other revisions left me as befuddled as Holmes’ cases ever had.

“But why do you allow yourself to be so affected by this?” Holmes once asked me.  “Miss Morstan has never voiced an objection to her portrayal and she has certainly got the worse of it.  Imagine spending one’s life shackled to such a lazy, feeble-minded fellow as that Watson character.”

“She could do worse.  A detective, perhaps, one who is unhealthful in his personal habits and whose acerbity is outweighed only by his chronic unsociability.”

He tapped my head with the bow of his violin in playful reproach and spent the next hour improvising a series of cheery little melodies.

The events related in The Sign of the Four are largely accurate with one egregious exception: the nature of my relationship with Miss Mary Morstan.  Perhaps the circumstances of another universe may have directed our amiable feelings for each other into something more passionate, but I did not inhabit such a world, and Mary and I instead continue to enjoy a close and comfortable friendship.  If I do have any complaints about our relationship, it is that I do not see her with as much frequency as I might prefer as she is quite busy establishing herself as a consulting detective in her own right, but that is a story best left for another time.  Suffice to say, if I had deserted Holmes, he would have been thrown out of his quarters within the month, either due to his failure to afford the rent or his fondness for malodorous, toxic, or otherwise objectionable chemicals.  

The blame for my manufactured marriage to Miss Morstan lies solely with my editor, who insisted that such a grisly tale should end with a dash of the romantic so as not to depress my readers overmuch, and I capitulated, to my everlasting regret.  While such whirlwind romances may befit other men and cheap novels, I personally find a mere handful of hours to be an insufficient period of time to accurately determine whether a lifetime together will bring felicity or despair.

At the time my editor placed me at my sudden nuptials, Holmes and I were rambling through the Kew Gardens, a sprawling series of botanical exhibitions in Richmond upon Thames.  I had persuaded him to let the cocaine bottle alone and instead accompany me there for the afternoon.  Sulking about my editor had never been on the itinerary, but there was nothing for it now and I tried to put it from my mind as we came upon a selection of ferns, each more hideous than the last.

Holmes took my arm as we ambled along, occasionally feigning interest in something I said or pointed out.  He cared little for the art gallery or the Temple of Bellona but had a most wonderful time informing me with which plants he could kill me if the mood struck.  He then became embroiled in a passionate exchange with a member of the Royal Botanical Gardens Constabulary, who mistook Holmes’ enthusiasm for malicious intent. The sun had long since abandoned us to our fates by the time we were allowed to take our leave.

“I don’t recall having any special expectations for our outing, but I suspect that if I had, they would have borne a strong resemblance to today’s events,” I said during the ride home.

“You will not be wanting to go out with me tomorrow then.”  He looked exceedingly hopeful and I took no small pleasure in liberating him from such deceitful optimism.

“If you haven’t got another case by tomorrow,” I said firmly, “I shall take you elsewhere.  How do you feel about the National Gallery?”

“Depressed.”

“Excellent!  We leave at nine.”

“I may be in error, but I seem to recall your mentioning once or twice that you are in the medical profession.  Does that not require you to tend patients on occasion?”

“Your memory is as infallible as ever.  I am in point of fact tending one of my patients at this very instant.”

Holmes stared at me for the duration of the cab ride and for most of supper, though with what motive I could not divine.  I suspect he was searching for a crack in my resolve and, finding none, turned his keen eyes away from me and refocused them upon the paper, most probably in search of a mystery that would deliver him from my enforced outings.  I prayed he would find one so I might return to my usual routine, but if he did not, I would have to hope Jackson would be willing to take my practice for a second day.

We passed the remainder of the evening in snug silence and retired very late, and I looked forward to rising very late as well.

I do not under any circumstances consider five-thirty in the morning to be late, yet that is the hour I found myself aroused by excited knocking from downstairs, followed by muffled reprimands from a justly irritated Mrs. Hudson.  By the time I stumbled into a dressing-gown and entered the sitting-room, Holmes was already there, conversing with a lad of about seventeen, eighteen at the outside, with mahogany brown hair and eyes, and rough but well-kept raiment.  His face was marred by wide eyes and a clammy, nervous pallor.

“What’s happened?” I asked.

“That is what he is about to tell us,” Holmes said of the boy, who shook so violently that his knees nearly buckled twice as he crossed the room and collapsed into a chair.  I rubbed the last shadows of sleep from my eyes as Holmes, completely alert and damn him for it, sat across from our visitor and lit his clay pipe.

*

Chapter 2 Be Here

*

Notes of Interest

Jackson would take my practice – Jackson is a doctor who tended to Watson’s patients whenever Watson was busy gallivanting around London with Holmes.  First mentioned in Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Crooked Man.

[thewishingcap]

Hello. I noticed in the section titled "about fleets" that you are an INTJ. I am an INTP and I'm interested in what it's really like to be an INTJ, since of course the stereotypes aren't very accurate and the testing sites don't always get the full picture. Also, if you can, could you please list what you think the types would be for the characters you write about (besides Vaati)

Hi there anon!

(this… this turned out to be super long. I’m self absorbed apparently. aha)

Hmmm. What it’s like to be me huh. I’ve taken the test at least 5 times spread out across years and I’ve always only scored INTJ and agree with a lot of the descriptions haha. It uh… it kind of makes me sound like an ass. And I guess I am, and I’ve said that before, but I got comments telling me people didn’t believe me. But I’m an ass, and, well, more on that on the last few paragraphs but first: 

I think the part that struck me the most when reading the descriptions of INTJ was that we don’t think things are impossible. Nothing is impossible to achieve, though some things might be difficult. It’s not straight up idealism, just… I guess a sort of arrogant logical truth. If I can’t achieve something, it’s because I was lazy, or didn’t think the effort to get there is worth the result (like, if I really wanted to be an astronaut I could find some way to do it. Going to space sounds totally cool, but would I actually expend effort in it? Well, no, given that my baseline capability, my financial situation, and my mental health among other things… i wouldn’t be able to reasonably handle it. But possible? With enough time? Absolutely. Or I want to be a pro basketball player even though I don’t have the height for it? Will it be hard to succeed? Well hells yeah I’m starting with a disadvantage that I have no control over that other people don’t have to deal with. But impossible? Not if I try hard enough and take advantage of every advantage I could possibly find). 

… not saying people should agree with me on the above, but that’s just my approach to life in general and served me well so far. 

I guess the most important idea to me is that, if I’m not doing something, it’s not because of some outside forces that I wasn’t able to do it. It’s because I actively chose not to do it. It brings the responsibility of both my successes and failures onto me, alone, and even if it sucks sometimes I like the concept. 

And telling me I can’t do something is absolutely the way to get me to think of a way to do that very thing. 

I like rules. I like logic. I don’t like making situational rules that have no basis of fairness. I enjoy seemingly illogical contradictions that still, on some level, follow some kind of rule (even random-seeming characters that I write still have their own personal rules that make sense to them). I also like situations with loopholes that aren’t explicitly covered in the rules (kind of going back to point 1… sometimes solutions are there if you’re creative enough or a dick enough to find them. Does it seem fair? Not always. Is it fair? Absolutely, according to the rules, and I expect the rest to adhere to the same kind of dickery because it’s equally available to all, not just myself). 

Also I don’t do social. At least, I only do it on my own terms. Invite me to a party I hadn’t planned, and I’ll probably bail. I almost always have some kind of schedule on when I’m doing what, and for how long, and I tend to plan this days or even weeks in advance (and because these don’t include social hangouts, usually, unless I was the one to plan it, accepting these invitations tend to give me more stress than anything). Another thing I agree with the profiling: I’m unapologetically blunt, to both strangers and friends alike, if they do something I’m not fly with. People might get butthurt but they know where I stand.

One thing I disagree with on most of the descriptions from INTJ tests is that they often say INTJs ‘think carefully before they speak,’ or ‘are intelligent,’ or ‘present carefully constructed thought out answers to questions.’ I don’t see myself as any of these things. I usually say the first dum thing that comes to my head. 

Last… I’m highly critical, of myself and, I hate to say it, of others. Most folks on tumblr see my self-critical side, since I often lament about stuff I could have done better and my uh… cringe… regarding the stories I wrote that I once thought was passable. I can’t honestly let myself say “I love what I did, it’s perfect and great,” because I can always think of something I could have done better? But I don’t say this in any negative way, just… recognizing it as truth by logic, and self reflection so I can do even better the next time. 

I adhere to others’ works with the same critical eye, which tends to bite me in the butt. Usually if no one personally asks me for help on improvement, I’ll leave it alone. They’re having fun and having a good time, I won’t ruin that: I know my own self-critique is always on High Mode that’s probably not reasonable and maybe a little too harsh, and even if I welcome that myself not everyone does. All of what I said so far, above, I only hold myself to unless…

If they ask for help…? If they lament that they want their situation to change? That’s when I’ll bring that criticism mode on high, what I have set for myself. And… sometimes people are shocked my critique went from 0 to 100 in under 2 seconds. Case in point, had a student who wrote really good assignments for the level of the class. Good grammar, good ideas, thoughtfully written etc. The class wasn’t particularly hard, and it was a first year class so it was more about giving students the confidence to move forward, and while I wrote some comments about improvement here and there, I didn’t ink the entire page red. That scares them. And it’s unnecessary inking for such a small assignment.Same student asked me to proof her personal essay for an application. Now, I knew this application was extremely important, and also part of a very difficult admissions process to which I knew the major folks who would be making the decisions. She asked my help, I want her to succeed, I know how to get her to succeed because by now I know the ins and outs of the admission committee. What do I do? I ink the entire essay top to bottom in red, everything I could possibly think of that could improve. 

She didn’t take that well at all, and probably expected a review that had been more or less what I’d given on the class assignments (but, to me, a 15 minute 1 page weekly assignment is not on the same scale as a 5+ hour 2 page admissions essay). Didn’t bother fixing what I suggested she fix, and what do you know she doesn’t get admitted, and she sends me back an email saying she doesn’t know how she possibly couldn’t have been admitted when she had straight As and good rec letters. Seeing people fail when they could have succeeded, especially when they didn’t do everything I feel they could have done to elevate their chances of success… and they still complain about their situation after the fact 

And that’s why I’m an ass. I had a friend describe me saying that I have a problem with putting myself and others on a “pedestal of perfection.” I’m chill on a lot of things, but that’s only because I don’t find a lot of things important to me. If I look like I’m chill about something, that’s probably why - I just can’t be bothered to try my very best bc it’s not very high on my own scale of importance (also p chill towards others’ shenanigans unless i have a personal stake in whatever it is they’re doin’). In line with that, I’m good at admitting and accepting losses. I tend to make a hierarchy of things that are important, and I’ll let go of the ones on the bottom of my list even if there’s an initial sting to do so. I’ll get over it. 

I’m all about efficiency. Expending the least effort for maximum payout.

The few things that are important, I have zero chill (group projects I have zero chill), and will unintentionally drag people down to my own personal hell of zero-chill when that was never what they wanted. My hyperfocus is real and you can sometimes see it when I post 5 chapter updates in the span of 5 days >_>;;;

ahahaaaa sorry this got out of control anon. When you say characters aside from Vaati, were you thinking of OCs or other characters I’ve written in stories, or my opinion on canon characters in general?

[topicprinter]

Hi. This is a post for everyone still using traditional adsense ads on their sites or intend to monetize their sites with ads someday. I see positive mentions of Ezoic every once in a while on this sub but I feel none of the posts on this sub so far explain elaborately about Ezoic or its potential to a layperson unfamiliar with Ezoic or dabbling with Adsense for the first few times. And that is evident by the questions & dilemmas that pop up as posts & comments from time to time on this sub regarding Adsense and Adsense alternatives like Ezoic, Adthrive and Mediavine (adsense parters actually) when it comes to non-affiliate monetization methods.This post details my experience with using Ezoic on my sites so far and an AMA of sorts because there seems to be a lot of doubts and questions that you guys have when it comes to Ezoic. So feel free to ask. There are not many detailed reviews of these platforms on the Internet besides a mention by bloggers posting how they are making big bucks from these platforms in their monthly income reports. So I have documented my experience with Ezoic so far which spans a little over a year and I have attached screenshots where I've felt necessary but feel free to demand more. I do have an experience of using Adsense a couple of years until then but overall I still consider myself a beginner so I am always open to suggestions and criticisms.CASE STUDIES:I currently have three websites running in three separate niches and all of them run Ezoic ads. Combined they make me around $500-$800 a month. I cannot estimate what significance an extra $500 to $800 of income a month holds to first worlders but for someone like me who comes from the third world and with that sweet conversion rate, that income let's me live a happy life the way I want to without having to resort to a soul crushing 80 hour work week or occasionally life-threatening work and for that I will forever be grateful to Ezoic because without them it would not have been possible for me to make an earning & living online.Here's my personal income report from Ezoic so far. Ezoic earns me 4x to 8x the revenue from my sites compared to what having plain regular Adsense ads on them would earn me.On site A where I used to earn $1.25 per thousand views on Adsense, I now earn $5 - $8 for the same number of views on Ezoic. This site is in the niche of women's style and fashion. This is one of my very first sites and not a very proud one. I hired cheap writers and this is a buzzfeed style listicle website.On site B, I directly put on Ezoic and I get between $10-$12 per thousand views. This site is in the education niche. This site is way cleaner, good SEO and I have written the content myself. I was pretty happy with the jump in revenue I saw for the previous site so I never bothered with Adsense for this one. I directly applied to Ezoic for this. Got approved quick and had Ezoic running on it. Unlike the previous site, this site has been set to run 'balanced' number of ads, that is fewer ads on it. So getting $10-12 EPMV on it makes me more than happy. (EPMV = earnings per mille [thousand] visitors)On site C where I used to earn $0.25 per thousand views under Adsense, I now earn over $2 for the same thousand views thanks to Ezoic. This site is in the children's and parenting niche. I consider this site a failure for two reasons. I chose a bad niche with low ad rates and a third world majority audience. Because this means that even if I get a 100,000 views, I can only make say $200 dollars from this site. Second, the site despite being good in quality seems to be struck down by the recent Google update and the traffic has tanked hard and I'm making next to nothing on this. We'll I learned important lesson atleast and it doesnt cause any losses of time and money to run so will come back to this site later in 2020. But despite this, I'm glad with the jump that Ezoic has provided for this site because the revenue despite being low, jumped from $0.25 to $2. Confirming my faith in Ezoic.Why I joined Ezoic in the first placeI feel those numbers by themselves are a good no reason why anyone using Adsense currently should immediately upgrade to Ezoic. But for me one of my main reasons to join Ezoic was to not infringe on Google policies and have my Adsense banned. If you remember up until the longest time barring the past few years, Google had a restriction of 3 or 4 ad units to be placed atmost on a webpage. Google was kind enough to lift this restriction but was a bit vague by saying that the ads need to be proportional to the amount of content that is present on the webpage. Which makes sense but I always found myself second guessing as to whether I have too many ads on my page and risked getting banned or too few and risked leaving potential revenue on the table.This is where Ezoic stepped in. You just select all the prominent placements on your site where you could put ads and Ezoic uses its algorithm to decide the appropriate number of ads per page and incessantly tests the number of units, placement and sizes of the ads to test which gives the maximum revenue while still adhering to all Google policies and guidelines. Manually A/B testing Adsense ads was also a big problem and simply not feasible for me. I knew I was leaving revenue on the table by not constantly A/B testing my ads back when I was with Adsense but was too lazy and it was simply not feasible for me time-wise to test it out. Maybe some Adsense experts on here would know of ways to A/B test just using the Adsense dashboard and a few shortucts but for someone like me it would be days of work, months of tracking, hundreds of ad units and still I would be constantly doubting myself. Ezoic now automates that entire process for me.And that's pretty much it. Just a fantastic platform which uses its algorithms to completely automate your ad testing and tweaking which not only increases but multiplies your revenue for you. I will answer some common questions that have come up on this sub so far.What are the requirements and how difficult is the sign up process?They require your site to have atleast 10,000 visits per month. Visits and not pageviews. And second, to be overall compliant by Adsense standards and policies. If you meet this requirement, just sign up and soon someone from Ezoic's side will get in touch. They will verify your analytics and you will set up either using Ezoic's Wordpress plugin or by pointing your site's nameservers to Ezoic. They will also provide you an account manager to help you out with anything.Am I bound to them by contract? Do I have to sign a contract?No. No contract and you're not required to sign anything. You can discontinue any moment you feel like.Payments?Paypal, US Bank Transfer via Payoneer, International Bank Transfer via Payoneer, Prepaid Card via Payoneer, Check (Rec. USA and Canada Only).How does it compare to Mediavine and Adthrive?So for the unaware, Mediavine and Adthrive are also Google ad partners offering similar services. I have no experience working with either Mediavine or Adthrive though. I applied to Mediavine on three separate instances for two different sites but was rejected all the three times. Adthrive supposedly is even more tougher to get approved for. So my opinion on them is from what I have heard and read so far.Mediavine: Mediavine has a traffic requirement of 25,000/sessions per month and a US majority traffic. Ezoic has a requirement of only 10,000/session per month and doesn't demand a US majority traffic. Mediavine seems to be a better fit for female blogger niches like gourmet, writing, crafts, ettiquetes etc but also extends to travel, budgeting, online business etc. From dozens and dozens of Mediavine income reports that I have read, they seem to pay around $10-$15 per thousand visits. Since, my site B with US majority traffic earns in the same range, it seems to be at par with Mediavine. Here is what I would recommend to everyone so far. Apply to Ezoic the moment your site crosses 10,000 sessions and have them up and running on your site. Once your site crosses 25,000 visits you can apply to Mediavine if you feel your Ezoic EPMV is not good enough.Adthrive: Adthrive has a traffic requirement of 100,000/pageviews per month and from what I heard it seems even tougher to get qualified than Mediavine. They also have a waiting period of a couple of months and if I'm not wrong require you to get in a contract with them and require a 30 day notice before their ads be removed from your site. Out of the three, Adthrive will put the most number of ads on the site. From what I have read so far from in blogger's income reports, it seems Adthrive pays less than what Mediavine pays. So with these conditions, it doesn't make much sense to join Adtrive.What is Ezoic customer service like?The customer service is phenomenal and unparalleled. For a platform that deals with AI, I'm shocked at how good their customer service is and no I have not been paid to say this. Whenever I have contacted them on their general email for any support, I have got back a reply within a few minutes to a few hours but never longer than that. Never have I had to even wait a day. Each account is also provided an account manager who assists at literally everything. My previous account manager would reply almost instantly whenever I contacted him for support but there have been delays with the new account manager assigned to me. Sometimes taking a couple of days or more for a reply. But overall I would say the humans working at Ezoic are fantasticAmazon affiliate vs Ezoic/ad based sitesThat would be a separate post altogether. I feel the disdain for ad based sites is reasonable. I have made a post in the past saying how I feel the revenue I'm generating is quite less compared to the traffic I am getting. And hence I myself am looking to gravitate more towards affiliate sites or having my own products. But at the same time, not all sites can link to affiliate products. For a lot of sites, ads are the only option. This post is for them. Or for those currently using adsense on their sites. Or for those getting a decent traffic on their website but not high enough affiliate conversions.What else?There is a seasonal change in revenue. The EPMV varies month by month. Usually the ad rates are low in the beginning of a quarter and then shoot up towards the end. Christmas is usually the time of the year with the highest ad rates so right now is a good time for you to join in, although somewhere around October would have been even better because by then your initial testing would have been over and you could have cashed in on the high ad rates for Christmas. Nonetheless, now is still a good time to join in. You will notice sharp fall in ad rates in Jan and Feb though but it picks up again after that.Initial testing period: When you install Ezoic ads for the first time, there will be a period of a week or two where the algorithm will try out various permutations and combinations of ads to see which ones performs the best. During this period, your revenue will lower and not a true reflection of what you could be making with Ezoic once everything is optimized. It would still be multiple times more than what you were making with Adsense but speaking from my experience it should nearly double once everything is optimized in the coming weeks.Lot of free and useful one-click apps: Their 'app store' has a great bunch of free one-click-install tools that I found to be very useful. From displaying the privacy policy disclaimers to adding ads.txt or the placeholders for the ads, everything can be done with one click installs. Really useful.CiaoI guess that's about it. When I started out a year ago with them, besides an occasional mention in blogger's income report, there was literally maybe one single review post about Ezoic on the entire Internet. So just wanted to do my part and help out any fellow blogger's still using traditional Adsense ads on their blogs or websites. If you have any questions, please ask them below and at the same time let me be transparent and do a plug. If you found this post useful please consider signing up using my referral link. (I will get a tiny recurring bonus each month).In return, I will personally answer all your questions and also do my best to help you set up with Ezoic. Ezoic sign up hereThanks.

[kalachand97-blog]

New Post has been published on Globeinfrom

New Post has been published on https://globeinform.com/we-can-carry-others-out-of-darkness-column/

We can carry others out of darkness | Column

At some stage in the Easter season, which is well known till Pentecost, on June 4 this year, we’d locate that clergymen and ministers take the time to remind congregations of the meaning of the symbols utilized in baptism. They may speak of water, oil, candles, garments, the move, and the Holy Scriptures.

For me, I discover the white garment a powerful symbol as it means that the man or woman baptized has put on Jesus Christ. People who are baptized can trust that they’re one with Christ. Any such image implies that if certainly, we are one with Christ, we are to stay as Christ lived.

These days, I had the privilege of speaking at the memorial prayer within the Parish of St. Mark in Rothschild for one of the victims of the current tragedy in the area. We gathered to remember the lifestyles of Karen Barclay. In preparing my feedback, I used to be struck with the significance of Karen’s baptism. Karen put on Jesus Christ, symbolized with the aid of the white garment.

Jesus is recognized as Savior and Redeemer. Easter tells of his demise and rising, his saving us from the demise of sinfulness. If indeed we end up one with Christ, we too are to be saviors. Karen becomes able to be a savior through her love for others and her attentiveness to the desires of others. She lifted others up.

It seems that humanity appears for saviors, be it in our political life or private lifestyles, looking to locate a person who will carry us up out of darkness. Part of the Easter birthday celebration, then, is to take on the function of savior in our day by day lives via taking note of the wishes of others. We will do that politically, socially and privately. We are able to save others by an outpouring of affection that is grounded in divine love, as exemplified with the aid of the life, loss of life and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Alleluia!

Analyzing within the Darkish

In numerous of the articles I’ve written, I have bemoaned the fact that our kids are not being taught well and that we are spawning a dumbing down of America. A number of my principal points had been that there may also come a time whilst we haven’t any electricity and consequently, no functionality of using our cell phones, computers, and a myriad of different digital devices. I used to be less worried about our time-saving conveniences and extra involved about our children now not being capable of function without the devices they rely on.

Lately, I ran throughout a piece of writing that designated the brand new imaginative and prescient of schools. one of the high faculties has carried out away with textbooks because the content material is absolutely virtual. they’re trying to combine online publications with head to head practice. one of the excessive faculty principals changed into quoted as saying, “To be educating children with a blackboard and chalk in an age in which you don’t should memorize the 50 capitals of the 50 states due to the fact you could Google it actually quick.”

This questioning is so mistaken that it is no surprise our kids are becoming mentally lazy. There are lots to be stated for being able to memorize things. The old expression is real: use it or lose it. In case you don’t use your memory every day, sooner or later you may not be capable of taking into account essential info that might be essential on your lifestyles. no longer the whole thing is on Google; some things you just must store in your head for future use.

I recall Studying a e-book approximately a soldier who had back from conflict. He turned into injured in an explosion and had misplaced all his facial features. He could not communicate or listen so he had no way to talk what he turned into feeling. As he laid on the medical institution mattress, the best aspect that also functioned became his mind and he suffered widespread frustration because he realized that he had in no way used it. He hadn’t study any books and hadn’t been interested in getting to know something and now he had endless years ahead of him with nothing to occupy his thoughts. He stored wishing that he had memorized something in order that he may want to have something to consider in place of this big desolate tract of nothingness. The e-book had a considerably have an effect on me and from that point on, I kept trying out my reminiscence on the whole lot I examine and heard.

Due to the fact youngsters are now not required to memorize information and save lots of portions of data of their heads, we have to now take obligation for generating a technology of youngsters who have to be entertained via expensive gadgets and who could have problem functioning without them.

We have most effective to observe what is happening in Japan to see that our children might not be able to deal with surviving herbal failures. As of the previous day, one of the newscasts said there had been 5.6 million homes and not using a power. Without a doubt put, they can’t use their computers or get at the Net. They cannot use their cell phones and they can’t text all of us for solutions to private or commercial enterprise problems. If the Japanese youngsters have been knowledgeable as poorly as American kids, they wouldn’t actually have discovered the way to write in longhand so that they could not report what has happened and how it has affected them.

For the people in Japan, whose children are still being taught traditional abilities, they have got an part. In the event that they have a flashlight, they can nonetheless study an e-book, write a letter, calculate their fees, and contend with something odds and ends that you’ll accomplish inside the Dark.

For the humans in The united states, maximum things would come to a standstill. our youngsters are being taught to read matters on a computer display screen in preference to in books. each person who has a love of Studying will inform you that your comprehension is extra cute when your eyes are searching down at a broadcast web page than searching up at that identical page. Each time I have had to edit a book or a person has edited one in every of my books, We’ve got always commented on the fact that we need to do a printout of the pages so that We can appearance down at the pages to capture the errors. The publisher of the newspaper who printed my weekly Recommendation column must have used his PC to edit his column because someday, his headline in ambitious print declared that someone whom he widespread become his “roll” model.

Full textual content Preaching Sermons – Bible Take a look at – The Four Columns of a Christian lifestyle

The 4 Columns of a Christian existence

As we all realize, you can’t build a valid shape without first laying an excellent foundation upon which We can erect the main columns a good way to preserve the weight of the relaxation of the constructing. Similarly, the 3 monotheistic faiths (Judaism, Muslim, and Christianity) all have predominant pillars that assist the weight of the edification in their ideals. The Jews have 5 pillars of faith[1], the Muslims have 5[2], and Christians have 5.

Now, I am not going to go into details about the pillars of other faiths, but we do need to realize the five pillars of Christianity. We’re going to do this because I am sure that if we requested all of us right here what the 5 pillars of our religion are, in different words, what we base our religion on; most people may also bet perhaps two or 3, however now not all. So, what are the five pillars of our religion?

5 Pillars of Christianity:

1. The virgin birth of Jesus[3]

2. The deity of Jesus[4]

3. The blood atonement of Jesus[5]

4. The bodily resurrection of Jesus[6]

5. The second one coming of Jesus[7]

Those are the fundamental pillars of our religion, that is, the columns that support our perception in God, His Phrase and His redemptive paintings. but now we need to ask; what columns assist the weight of day to day living? There are Four columns that aid the load that the arena produces in our lifestyles; therefore, this will be the topic that we’ll be exploring these days. these days we can explore the 4 columns that we have to build upon the inspiration.

I. Prayer

As I’ve stated and repeated many times, prayer lifestyles is an thing of our Christian lifestyles that we regularly pay very little attention to, or absolutely brush aside. And in most cases that is something that occurs because of our impatience. I say this due to the fact even though sometimes the Lord solutions our prayers at once, this isn’t always always the case. And that is something that leads many to think that God does not concentrate, or that He is not aware of what takes place to us. In other phrases, impatience leads many to end up discouraged and forestall praying. But the truth of it’s miles that prayer is the simplest weapon that we have to shield ourselves against the powers of darkness. however more importantly, prayer unleashes blessings in our lifestyles. I say this because prayer brings peace, deliverance, and miracles. The exceptional instance that I will use to illustrate the factor that I am attempting to make is what took place to Peter, while he turned into imprisoned to be done for preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ[8].

Prayer brings peace into our existence. Permit’s take a closer look at what happened to Peter so that you better understand what I am announcing. In Acts 12:five-6 we discover that we’re told: “… Peter was consequently saved in prison, however consistent prayer changed into presented to God for him via the church. 6And when Herod was approximately to bring him out, that night time Peter changed into snoozing, bound with two chains between squaddies; and the guards before the door have been maintaining the jail… ” As We are able to see, Peter was thrown into prison chained to 2 squaddies, and changed into ready to be performed. What mindset did this guy demonstrate? was Peter begging the King to spare him? changed into Peter worried and frightened? The answer isn’t any! As We are able to see in These verses, Peter become napping. How turned into this possible? How can each person sleep with so much anxiety? He should sleep for two reasons. Number one, he knew that his lifestyles changed into not within the fingers of guy but in God’s palms. Range , “… regular prayer changed into provided to God for him by way of the church… ” Our prayers and the intercessory prayers of our brethren unharness peace in our life. Inform the individual sitting subsequent to you: prayer produces peace.

[lastmayqueen]

#pride and prejudice#I’ve always loved his character because he IS funny and he is iconic!!! and his love for Lizzy is touching!#he’s not faking it.#but he is so flawed. a man of taste a man of ability a man of judgment.#a man who could and SHOULD have set a different tone for his children and chose not to!#and they SUFFER FOR IT#their house is a divided one. and every child feels the pain of living in a house where the parents neither respect each other#nor are on the same team#there is a crack running through their house for this reason and it’s how Lydia (and Kitty) came to be so neglected!#who is going to discipline them or guide them? certainly not Mr. Bennet!#he’s so important to teach too. because the boys LOVE HIM. of course!#and are always very struck by his failures and laziness once I point it out#and yeah Darcy one of the only people who can expose him. because Darcy is putting in the work a man should be doing#Darcy’s house IS in order. his love is active and protective. he is fulfilling his role!#Mr. Bennet’s gifts are so extraordinary—the wit. the insight into human nature. honestly the capacity for wisdom#but he likes his library. he likes enjoying himself more than he likes doing his duty#as either a father or a husband#he does fail Mrs. Bennet! I have compassion for her there#anyway I love to think about this: something no version I have ever seen has ever fully explored#but man is it on the page#yeah yeah sorry for all the words. teacher off duty etc.

I need these tags

one of the things that continues to strike me on reread is how much the character of Darcy, and Austen through him, finds Mr. Bennet dead. And how much Elizabeth, in growing and changing and discarding her past blindness, has to move past her way of seeing her father and thus of seeing reality, because the two are connected! Darcy’s letter exposes her father’s flaws to Elizabeth in a way she’d never been able to see before. Most especially the way his laziness and neglect of his own gifts have hurt his family and that ultimately he doesn’t. care. Not enough to change. It literally says that she comes home from Hunsford and tries to laugh at her sisters’ and mother’s folly (the way she used to; the way her father has taught her to by example for her whole life) and she can’t anymore! It sticks in her throat. She is grieved by the failures that she sees in him, all the more so because she IS his favorite and she loves him! And the thing about Mr. Bennet is he never changes. The Lydia/wickham situation exposes to him sharply his own conduct and the consequences and he feels it! Because he is neither stupid nor unfeeling. But he, like everyone, has free will. And he chooses not to change when the opportunity presents itself. He even jokes about how quickly his feeling bad will pass and how soon everything will go back to normal, to his laziness and his selfishness. He is set in his ways and he serves as a contrast to Elizabeth’s personal journey because he embodies a version of a person she could have become and was in danger of becoming if her only goal at all times was to laugh at and judge people from the sidelines.