#and i know we all had some degree of our levels not being high enough (i tried bitch) so maybe she was in the parking lot drinking who knows

[bunnyb34r]

Apparently the corporate lady DID actually come this time and it went shockingly well?? She was fucking hugging people??? She apparently hugged the mean, testing bitchface to the MAX, former lady teamlead THREE TIMES??? this woman hates people and hates being touched even more and she got THREE hugs from the corporate lady?? Agsgdggd what??

Then I guess she was in our parking lot either before or after the visit, for a few hours?? Drinking? Smoking pot?? Vibing??? Who knows but wow...

I'm honestly so shocked bc she always finds SOMETHING wrong with our store and believe me, we had some things WRONG this time (like I know one of the hanging racks is wrong but we dont know which one SGDGGDGDGD it's hard to figure out which way is "facing apparel" and which is "away from apparel" when the racks are dead center in the middle of clothing 😭 bitch which way??? I think the rack I had to finish is the one that's wrong but I didnt want to completely redo it bc doing what I did was enough of a fucking hassle. But i think the kids clothes are supposed to go facing basics and the womens goes facing mens. But I dont care enough) I mean we constantly get negative customer feedback surveys ab how filthy our store is sggdgddd like theres a robot zamboni but that bitch does nothing but mow people down and get the floor wet sometimes

It got stuck behind me when I was doing inventory and I had already moved the cart blocking it twice so I told it it would stay put or move itself away and it chose stay put and stopped beeping eventually

I did NOT have time to fucking babysit that bitch I had to COUNT

Anyways best visit we have had in a long time?? Wild

[sapphirestones09]

AAAAAAA FINALLY! I'm done playing @oneknightstand-if. As part of the celebration, here is Rosie's colored sketch (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Lol, this looks like an anime title card And thus! The Stats!

Blobbed: Yep (We are what now?)

Bold : 205 (Is this high lol?) Sweet : 46 Sassy : 159 Optimist : 76

Health : 85 Mark Status : Healed Merlin Healing : 2 Merlin Forced Healing : 0

Caution : 9 Will : 7 Cloudcuckoolanderness : 42 (Not enough, we gotta go full cray cray) Silent : 7 Curse Level : 4 Fear Level : 6 Corruption : -5 (Is this low enough?) Mute : false Mindcontrol : false

Downtime : Had Breakfast | Snarfed Sweets | Shower Accident |

Route : Went into Store & Fought | (What I gotta use the hunting knives as soon as possible in some way right?)

New Inventory : Hairdryer | Sweets | Shower Mat | Everclear Alcohol (Molotov! Molotov! Molotov!) They Know : false | It Sees : Masked | You Replied False Some stats are missing when I scroll from the past posts in the forum. Such as Crazy Theory, Crazy Theory Level, Pottymouth, Serenades, Interpretative Dance, and a deep dive into the Adrian and Merlin's relationship stats (I WANT TO SEE HOW MANY TIMES I FLIRTED GODAMMIT!). I wonder if I can access it (╥ω╥) About Rosie!

You are currently known as Rosaline (Rosie) Bane a seemingly normal female wildlife biologist. You have red eyes, very long flowing icy blond hair, and a short and petite figure clad in a red cape with an amaranth face mask. People tend to take particular notice of your hair. At first glance, people tend to find you not very intimidating.

You excel at sword fighting, gardening, and having a magnetic personality. Meanwhile, you've got a weakness for prescription medications and enclosed spaces, as well as having anger management issues.

You have an ear piercing. You also have a couple of scars along your neck and wrist.

A tragic accident that claimed your whole family lies in your past and the fate of your future remains murky with the apocalypse ever looming in the background. At least no one has suspected that you are actually a serial killer.

Your final words were "And now for a final word from our sponsor—"

Note! I didnt know I could play something as chaotic and as fun as this game provided me. Its super fun and enjoyable and yet amidst the chaos I loved the characters that was shown and grown to get attached to them to a degree. Both Merlin and Adrian are mysterious and enigmatic in their own ways that makes me look forward to the story and how it progresses towards their character. Also seeing Adrian being exasperated over Cloudcuckolander MC's antics tickles my funny bones more than I can admit. I admit I was reluctant to get into the game seeing as its such a huge one, but after playing all I can say is MOAR! I NEED MOAARRRR! AND PLEASE AUTHOR TELL ME HOW TO SUCCESSFULLY PASS THE STAT CHECK FOR MOONWALKING ON THE FENCING ROUTE! I NEED TO MOONWALK! I NEED THESE PEOPLE TO CLAP FOR ME! And please can we apologize to Adrian for punching him? (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ I know in the grand scheme of things, Adrian forgives us already but we still wanna apologize (ಡ‸ಡ) And oh boy, I think Im gonna draw lots and lots of fanarts now... Skill Stats!

Personality Stats!

Can we still claim to be a newbie after Merlin's extensive lore dump on us? Relationship Stats!

Inventory!

Your ultimate weapon is unknown.

You are currently armed with... nothing, at least as far as you know.

Cold Steel SRK survival knife

You also have on hand...

E-phone 7XL

several small bottles of prescription medications

photo of your family

Killer McKiller Face's favorite stuffed animal (Rip our micro pig (ಥ﹏ಥ))

well-worn Bible (To ward off evil of course!)

mystical Magic 8-Ball (Another holy item! I sure hope it does not contain anything otherworldly that will potentially endanger us and others ha.ha.ha (→_→)

small herb garden of eclectic plants including a mutant Venus Flytrap (The only queen Rosie will ever potentially bow to!)

collection of various survival & hunting knives

small bag of iridescent pearls

bottle of 95% alcohol Everclear (Molotov! Molotov! Molotov ⸜(*ˊᗜˋ*)⸝)

slightly squished pastry (I KNOW MY PRIORITIES! AND ITS SWEETS!)

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Saw your offer and I'm not enough of a horror writer to pull this off perhaps, but you just might be :)

The scene is two field researchers going out to check cameras in the wilderness. It could be day, it could be night, that's up to you. One of them sees a cool plant and pulls out their species identification app to see what it is, as field researchers are apt to do. As a joke, they point the camera of the identification app at their fellow researcher, except it doesn't identify them as human, but rather, some other entity.

That's the prompt! You can take this in any direction you want - maybe the monster eats the researcher, maybe this is news to both of them, whatever you like. I would tell this story to freak out the other field researchers I worked with, so I think having a full version would be awesome :)

You're the best!

Aww, thanks! To be honest, I was inspired by what you did for your 600 follower celebration :)) I do hope I did this justice! It ended up being just over 900 words, hehe

*****

It was a miserable day slogging through the driest bits of the marsh, flies all abuzz around us. The morning had been slated to be sunny, and in preparation of that I had slathered sunscreen all over me and a sunhat besides. Nonetheless, I was drenched in sweat, and all the mosquito repellant in the world couldn't have stopped the army that decided to feast on delicious type AB-.

Pierce was the sole saving grace of it. He might've been a weirdo, at least according to the other interns, but he cracked jokes, helped pull me out of those awful little mires where my foot would get stuck, and hoisted me on his shoulders to grab the cameras. 

All through that walk, we saw not a single bird. It was almost as though they were avoiding something, and in a perverse way, I was grateful for that. In my current mood, I may well have thrown my backpack at any bird I came across, quit my internship, and left to go be a barista.

As we approached the umpteenth camera on our checklist, Pierce stopped me. “Say, what's that little guy over there?”

I stopped and let out a brief grunt of frustration. “Who cares? It's almost the end of our internship anyway- Oh, what is that?”

“It's a plant.” Pierce prodded a leaf experimentally. 

“Yeah, I can tell. What the hell is it?” I'd spent far too much time garnering a reputation for myself as the plant-nerd amongst our group to be confounded by some random little sprout. “Give me a moment, I think it's time to try out that ID app, eh?”

I fished out my phone and aimed it at the plant. “Well, whaddya know? It's not showing. That's odd,” I muttered. “Is it working?”

“Gimme it,” Pierce replies, snatching the phone out of my hands. “Let's see if it can identify you.” 

He froze. A shadow of something flickered across his face, before he plastered a fake smile on. “The latest update must've broken it ,I guess.” 

“Really? Let me see!” I tried to take my phone back, curious. “Did it call me a tree or something?” 

He lifted it up, just out of my reach, and took a step back. His smile grew more brittle, almost as if he were… afraid of me? “No, it's nothing. Ju- Just gonna close the app now, shall I?”

I shook my head. “Tell me what you saw,” I demanded. “What did it tell you I was? I assure you, it was lying.” I don't think my words were very convincing.

Shaking his head vigorously, he shuffled back, before tripping over a root. “Shit!” He scrambled even more, breath coming in little gasps. I could smell the fear in his sweat.

It made me hungry.

“Don't be like that, Pierce,” I cooed, stalking towards him. “It's almost the end of our internship. Be a good boy, and return my phone.”

He tried to struggle, he really did. But I had my hooks into him, and no mere mortal had ever escaped once they were in my clutches. I took the phone and glanced at it.

“Warning: Inhuman entity spotted? Danger level: High? Wowza, these things are getting good.” Mindlessly, I threw the phone into the water. “Perhaps I'll try for a degree in CS after this, get a good look at the insides of software development. At least that way I won't have to go out into the sun so often. Let me tell you: It really does make a girl appreciate her immortality all the more.”

My teeth were starting to protract, the result of being stimulated by- Damn it, the lectures I'd been going to were far too deeply ingrained into me. “Now, before we take down this last camera, let me ask you something: Have you ever seen me in the tapes we took?”

Pierce went still, connecting the dots. I laughed. “Oh, you sweet, sweet summer child. To be honest, I'm grateful you were so naive. I mean- I was certain I'd get caught at some point. A vampire wildlife researcher? That's almost as ridiculous as a vampire retail worker! Oh, but I did it. I think I deserve a treat for that, don't you?”

He struggled against invisible bonds, eyes flitting left and right. His teeth were gritted hard enough to show his jaw muscles, and I patted his cheek.

“Don't worry ‘bout a thing, P. It'll all be over soon,” I told him, baring my fangs. “I'll even make sure to get rid of the evidence afterwards.”

"Don't," he hissed, barely able to get his words past my grip. "Please, Elsie. This isn't you." I showed no signs of stopping, so he played his last, desperate card. "Someone- Someone will find out. They'll catch you."

"We're all alone in the woods, pal. Nobody's gonna find you. Ever." I paused. "Think on the bright side, though. You always wanted to give back to the environment. Now you get to! Your bones will fuel these trees for the weeks to come."

I leaned into his neck, which was already welling up from my little dengue-carrying bloodsucker cousins' bites, and ran my fangs along the artery that popped off out. “I'd say goodnight, but it's still light out. So, good afternoon, Pierce,” I whispered to his neck. “Good afternoon and good bye.”

Then I sank my fangs into his throat and drank him dry.

I think this is worthy of the taglist, so:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @tragedycoded, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum, @real-fragments

@xenascribbles, @unrepentantcheeseaddict, @the-inkwell-variable, @nczaversnick

(Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[kaybreezy3000]

Why is it said that Five has a degree in Philosophy? Is he a graduate in something? My curiosity was piqued, now I can't help but think of Five citing Philosophical things.

Get ready because I am going full brain unload on this one and there might be some spoilers in all this if my ideas are right.

So...

Five does have some very thoughtful lines that could make one think that he's a bit of a philosopher. It's in things like his reply to the Wisconsin lady, right before he killed the board of directors. When she told him he was lucky that he was just in time for their fresh cookies, he contemplatively said,

"Some might stay that true luck is dying at the right time."

~It was something like that. I honestly can't remember it for sure, but this is close enough, and it was a very weird thing to say but also very philosophically thoughtful and it might have been a tiny hint at what is to come for him in our final season.

On that note, for this great question you so kindly gave me, I am going to first reference an ask post done a little while back by my brilliant fanfic writer friend we call Mango. This will help others who don't already know what you are talking about.

Mannequin Envier — ebay.com/itm/266752426854?itmmeta=01HTN3F0RKPVM3V47... (tumblr.com)

If you click that link, you will see a diploma for Five that someone found out there. I obviously don't if Mango is right in that it is simply a prop that wasn't even used, or it's perhaps just a reference to a different version of Five that may have gotten this degree.

To note, as a very nice person mentioned, PHD essentially is saying a Doctor of Philosophy, not meaning necessarily that this is the specific area the person did their studies. It's just what that level of degree is called. But the thing that's got people thinking Five may have gone to school for Philosophy specifically is that the degree should have what he went to school for under the Doctor of Philosophy line. It's as if Five didn't go to school for a particular area of any kind, (which is odd and not at all normal for PHD's) or they left it out on purpose, and mean nothing by it, or it could mean that he got his degree in the area of Philosophy as a discipline.

In all my stories with Five as the main character, I have never gone with the idea that he had a degree in anything, and I base this in part because cannon material doesn't give us anything about him getting one. We do know that they were all homeschooled, and now thanks to Reginald, they have a ton of unresolved trauma and jack shit for real world credentials.

Five is a genius, but he has the added bonus of being used over and over, and turned into a hitman, so I am thinking that makes for a guy that's probably not down with being told what to do anymore.

To me, based on those ideas, and on how Five acts about things in general, the last thing I'd think he'd want to do when he was no longer stuck working for the Commission, or starving in the apocalypse, or trying to save the world, would be going back to school and being under anyone's thumb. Some people like to write him doing the school thing, and it's all good, but I can't get on board with that one, especially if it's high school.

For a guy that's mentally near 60, I think that going to high school would be a big, fat no. Going to college would not be that appealing either because he's not on the mental level of people aged 17-25. He's an ex-temporal assassin, genius, master survivalist, so I am not sure what he'd gain by the tiny dorm room, beer pong champion, Ramon noodle eating, college guy experience, other than having a rite of passage he'd been denied almost a lifetime ago.

Imagine Five chilling in his pajama pants while doing keg stands...😂👍 It's a great visual, but not so much fitting for the character we know.

I do see Five as a Benjamin Franklin type, as in wanting to put himself around like-minded individuals that are driven and want to learn new things while pushing the envelope of what people think is possible. I think he'd be more likely to be an inventor or busy himself with research, but I wouldn't think he could do that right out the gate at a college because to the rest of the world, he's a teenager. That's true, unless, in Reginald's new timeline, he let them keep their identity and he was somehow able to do a work around to go to college.

Using the idea that he'd like to be around people like him mentally could be a link to him and the new Jean and Gene characters, with them both being professors. The script they gave us also shows that they are digging into all these curious finds out there that prove the timeline isn't what it seems. Five could have been the one that tipped them off on that one, and I half wonder if they didn't help him or take him in at 13 after he left Oblivion Park at the end of season three.

Now that is a cool idea...right? Together, Five, Gene, and Jean are all anarchists trying to take down Reginald!? In the trailer, we did see Nick Offerman shooting the shit out of shit while wearing a cool Santa suit, so it could be a thing. It could start that they are trying to take down Reginald, but as the trailer suggests, they find out they have something way worse bringing on their next shit storm then that old alien fart head.

Thoughts? Do we want to see any of that? (I do! 😄🤘)

Really though, back to your real question, why Five would choose philosophy as his go to didn't really make sense to me at first either. But the more I think about it, it's not that out there.

He's numbers guy, so maybe it would be to fill that void in something he's not already an expert in. It's not a subject that hard lined and directly used in life, so applying it isn't straight forward. It very wish-washy compared to other sciences, and it's not what I would think he'd be drawn to unless it was for a very good reason, and that reason I just don't see yet, but it could be hiding not that deep when you look at the character more closely.

Five could be trying to figure out the meaning to it all, and that would be very in line with what he might want to know. He of any of the Hargreeves has been through hell and back, so he might simply be looking for some kind of peace by reconciling the big question of, 'what was it all for?' Philosophy could shed some light on that for him, or at least ease his troubled mind a little bit.

To find your answer, we need to know what has Five been doing the last 5 years, and so far, the trailer hasn't really told us that, but it looks like the first episode will. I am pretty sure we also don't know if they got to keep their identities as far as the rest of the world knowing who they were before being dumped there.

I am leaning towards the idea that they were left with nothing but the skin on their backs, no names, no past, no powers, and nobody that's going to buy it that Five is a grown man walking around in a fresh new teen bod. He can be the adorable smart mouthed know it all that we all love, but getting into college means you need an id, money, past records, and all that other important real-world jazz. So, with that in mind, if Five is an even smarter smarty pants now, with a fancy piece of paper to prove it, that should be interesting to see the flashbacks of how he got there. If Five is not rocking a degree in fanciful what nots and so ons, he's for sure still going to be dishing out some witty lines that only he could come up with.

I could totally see him standing on the side of the road with his siblings, just like they are in the trailer. All of them arguing about the crazy things they are seeing, like Hazel and Cha-Cha's masks laying in the road. Some still want to believe it's nothing and they think that they should move on and keep trying to live as they were. Five, being annoyed with all of them, says,

"Hey, idiots! If it looks like shit, and smells like shit, it's shit! I know that using common sense is a bit of a leap for some of you, but you shouldn't have to take an even bigger lick off the crap platter we've already been served to know the things we keep finding are no good. If history tells us anything, it's that we need to pull our heads out of our asses and get ahead of the shit storm this time."

~~~~

In conclusion: Maybe Philosopher Five makes sense.

The wise philosopher, Aristotle once said, "No great mind has ever existed without a touch of madness."

This quote is so true, and it is so Five Hargreeves. When you considering his high-level brain function and his record of being more than a little crazy at times, he's pretty much the greatest mind out there. He's the king of philosophy already, degree or no degree.

Awesome ask! Sorry my reply turned into a book. I'm like that about important stuff like this. 😄

TY. ❤️Breezy

[sixpillarsofgenesis]

A Thought on Lies of P

So, I have recently - kicking and screaming, mind - gotten into Lies of P, and there's some things that bother me about the primary driver of conflict. I'm going to put this under a spoiler, so... sorry anyone who isn't expecting what's underneath.

Spoilers under the cut for the reading material, gameplay, and mini cutscenes in Lies of P.

How did Carlo die?

This entire plot point is the driving force behind how the plot in Lies of P starts, narratively, and it's also the core reason for the Real Boy ending. The reason I ask this is because common fandom concensus is that Carlo died during the Rose Estate Incident, where an outbreak of Petrification Disease killed a good chunk of the staff, including Carlo, Romeo, (allegedly) and Sophia's father.

But when you explicitly come across the memory of Carlo's death near the end of the game, it looks like he was cut in half given the Famed Stalker was apologising to him - which is further supported by the Nameless Puppet's body being entirely puppet material from about hips down.

But it also begs the question - what killed him? We never really get an answer on what, who, or even why he was killed. Carlo's death wouldn't have been a boon for anyone involved - Geppetto cut ties with the Alchemists to some degree about this in particular, and Geppetto's assistance would have been well worth keeping Carlo alive.

Given that the famous Stalker apparently rejected Carlo from training, we could infer that perhaps he wasn't up to the regular skill level she was famous for. But Romeo's message - and all of the remaining details in the game - paint Carlo as a much more competent potential Stalker than what would have been anticipated. While our Player Character is also apparently very much his own person, the fight with the Black Rabbit Brotherhood implies that Carlo learned enough of the Famed Stalker's combat by observation alone to have had it affect his combat style and capability significantly. Romeo also specifically makes note that Carlo was relentlessly stubborn and that him demolishing the puppets he sent out as an envoy to try and tell the Player Character the truth was pretty much what Romeo expected of him.

All of that marks him as very competent and capable indeed, to say nothing of the Nameless Puppet, if the puppet itself had anything of Carlo left in it, or whatever pressures Carlo might have faced as the famous Union Workshop President's son.

It's also implied that there was at least a year or two since Carlo's death. If we assume Carlo was old enough to read the original La Storia di un Burattino (The Story of a Marionette) in 1881 aka what would be the published novel of Pinnochio in 1883, then Carlo could be enrolled in the French Education as young as three years old and likely old enough to read La Storia di un Burattino as an actual book around five.

(Yes, I am aware Carlo Geppetto is Italian. For the best accuracy to match both the Belle Epoque and the Italian history, I have placed Krat near the seaside a few kilometres from the Italian Border to account for the culture blending we see in Lies of P. So sue me don't.)

Given Pinnochio is canonically Carlo's favourite childhood story, we need to look at the next landmark in the games - The Wizard of Oz. (Did you know that The Wizard of Oz was officially released in 1900?) Carlo could then have been born in 1878, placing him at 22 (or would have been) at the time of Lies of P. Around this time, it was more common to have apprenticeships around age 14-18, which would have likely been when Carlo approached the Famous Stalker to apprentice under her. As we don't know when the Rose Estate Incident took place, Carlo could have been there to complete his lycée (French secondary Education akin to high school) or baccalauréat, colloquially known as le bac.

(The reason I place Krat in France is for this reason, as Italy had a much more difficult time encouraging parents and children to attend formal education - elementary, middle, and high school, more specifically - than France, and the baccalauréat is actually pretty similar to the Stalkers, Alchemists, and Workshop Union as it is presented in canon. The entire premise of the original Pinnochio was quite literally C.Collodi's attempt to convince children to learn their basic education.)

Now, the game does not say how long either the Petrification Disease or the Puppet Frenzy lasted - but I'm still playing the game, though I did watch a walkthrough to try and get all the juicy bits - but given how fresh the bodies are, I would think that the Frenzy was definitely more recent. I would think that - for the purpose of this attempt to make sense of the Lies of P canon - in this case, the Puppet Frenzy was the most recent part, with Simon Manus causing the Rose Estate Incident when Carlo was somewhere between 16-17. Old enough that he could have graduated to become an Apprentice Stalker, but still young enough to not have anywhere to go (as he certainly didn't want to spend any time with his Father, and it was unlikely that Geppetto would have allowed Carlo to live with him anyways.)

All of these things allow for a few specific, unanswered plot points to be addressed - the apparent transformation of Gemini from Stalker to Sophia's Monad Lamp, The time Geppetto would have needed to create at least three P-Organ Prototypes and do whatever tf he did to his hand if that wasn't there already, and for him to additionally steal the Arm of God - as the only transport the Alchemists had would not have accepted Geppetto.

(This would also allow Geppetto to hold Carlo's funeral, attempt Nameless Puppet one, fail, and attempt making the Player Character/Pinocchio/P however you call him, fail again, and then kick the Puppet Frenzy into high gear.)

Outside of how Gemini was put into the Player Character's care, this timeline accounts for everything up until the reveal of Dorothy, who, if she is the person based on the 1900 novel, could have travelled to Krat to escape the fame the novel The Wizard of Oz and the subsequent sequels would have cast on her, as the original novel was so popular as to spawn around 13+ sequels.

Of course, since I am posting this here, I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. If there's a better, more comprehensive timeline, I'd love to get a chance to look at it.

Some additional thoughts:

Why three P-Organs? Three because the one Romeo uses in the play is pretty close to what we see on the menu screen - I could see it being perhaps his conceptual design or prototype copy that, once the first real P-Organ was made, was left for future reference.

Why make a big deal out of Dorothy? Because Dorothy and subsequently, The Wizard of Oz would be released during the Belle Epoque (1890-1914) timeframe which this setting takes place. Given the Endgame Credits Scene, this makes considering Dorothy's appearance in Krat at the very least somewhat relevant.

A fun thought I had was the idea of Dorothy being the Famed Stalker, but that person in particular is implied to have been so much beyond the Stalkers that she superseded their hierarchy and had her own place at the top without belonging to any particular faction.

Another interesting thought was the idea of Carlo having been a Listener - as Listeners were often hunted down and experimented on, it seemed like a fun idea to play around with, but in this case, it's not certain one way or another.

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

why do you love/like fuegoleon so much? / gen

Hiya! ^^

Honestly, I think this is a very good question to ask, because, one, it gives me an excuse to talk about him, but also get into a discussion why love him when the heroes of the series are other people. And... I'm not sure how long this will be, but perhaps it's better to buckle down.

Though, in a sentence I would answer: "Because of the vibes"

But. Let's get to the long answer

Admittedly, from the point of view of the grand plot, he seems to be a bit of a Sexy Lamp(tm). Meaning that he has no great contribution to the story as a whole, at least not until this point at least. Some of the criticisms I have seen about him include "[him] not being able to teach Asta about antimagic/devil union/ fighting". Which I think is unfair to use as a source of criticism because, well, Fue doesn't use antimagic. No other character uses antimagic. It's be the same as asking a Water Magic user to teach a Fire Magic user. The affinities are profoundly different, so it'd be incredibly difficult to teach someone with a different affinity from your own properly, or so I imagine. Sure, general guidelines and ideas could be discussed, and some techniques that involve mana, and not the magic type itself, are doable (an example would be Yami (or Sukehiro) learning about using mana zone in another way from Mereoleona). The reason why Yami is the best suited to teaching Asta in the beginning is because Yami teaches about ki which is a different concept, and gives Asta something, a foothold, into a fighting style. And the same applies to Devil Union. Fuegoleon doesn't have a devil. He's not affiliated with Forbidden Magic or the dark arts, so he's not suited for such a mentor. When it comes to not teaching Asta fighting, I think the most important aspects are that Fuegoleon was in a coma for the majority of Asta's early journey, and even during the times he was around, Asta wasn't his (Fue's) underling. We don't see Captains of different squads coming to mentor/teach other squads' knights. So, there is no reason for Fue to have undertaken this feat.

"He had one job and that was to keep the magic stone safe, and he failed". That's another criticism I have come across, and... I don't think people realize the situation there was. Sure, Fue lost his cool for a second, which against a Light Mage, is more than enough for it to be a fatal shot. And, Fue recognized his peer! Someone he trusted to keep the kingdom safe. Someone very high in the hierarchy! Of course he was taken aback by the betrayal. And the thing about betrayal is that it never comes from our enemies. Betrayal comes from our friends. So, him having that moment of shock doesn't make him weak. It makes him human.

Personally I've been drawn to determined, charismatic and intelligent characters throughout my life, and he is that as well. Yes, he is a bit aloof at times (the degrees depend on if you follow the manga, or anime, or take into account both of them), but he is still intelligent, charismatic and driven. He is a proper gentleman, but he is also a warrior, and a knight. He's level headed in a battle, and does know that hesitation and wavering can be fatal in a field of battle (which brings layers onto point 2). Irony is one of those layers.

He genuinely cares about his knights. This can be seen from how his knights defended Fuegoleon's efforts and dedication to Mereoleona, who accused the Lions (and Fue) of slacking off after the Star Festival. It's been established that Mereoleona is a force to be reckoned with, and that the Lions, are at least to a degree, afraid of Mereo. Plus, Mereo was the authority figure there. And the Lions, with Leo taking the lead, talked back and defended Fuegoleon. So, the Lions must really, genuinely, feel that Fuegoleon cares about them through the time and effort he puts in training and honing the Lions' skills, along with his own.

Fuegoleon is all about growth and looking into the future. The ideology of: What matters is what you choose to make out of your life. "Being weak is nothing to be ashamed of. Staying weak is." I find this incredibly inspirational.

He is resilient as hell, and willing to put the good of the kingdom before his own. I cannot properly describe the backbone he has to have, for him to be able to still serve the kingdom that overlooked his dismembering! He is still there! As a knight, and working side-by-side with the man who did dismember him! (Or at least looked through his fingers when his body was doing the deed. Granted that William's story is a whole different post and analysis, but this is about Fuegoleon's point of view.) The person who was pardoned by the system which they both serve! A little slap on the wrist to William, while Fue is there without an arm! Constantly at a disadvantage by having to use mana and concentration to have two functioning arms! Which probably is required for him to use some spells too, so he needs to first cast mana to make his arm move, which then fires a spell. Layering a spell on top of another, essentially.

The fact that Fue is able to uphold mana control and concentration constantly with his arm is really cool, and speaks of his skill level.

Tabs hasn't given him a Spirit Dive, which is Tabs having done Fuegoleon dirty. Must protect. Canon is doing Fue dirty. Fue is my poor little meow meow (kinda) /lh

He is genuinely a good guy. He wants the best for the kingdom, and its people. He's someone who always tries to do the right thing, and works for it. He puts in the effort and the hours, and really, really, tries hard. I just want to kiss his forehead and tell him that it's okay to take a break at times too. Because he must be tired. Physically, emotionally, and mentally. And still he tries, and continues forward. With the stubbornness of a lion.

He's handsome! <3

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk ^^

[black-arcana]

NEW YEARS DAY's ASH COSTELLO Defends Using Backing Tracks During Live Shows: 'Every Band Does It'

NEW YEARS DAY singer Ash Costello has weighed in on bands who rely on pre-recorded tracks during their live performances.

In recent years, more and more artists have been given a pass for relying on pre-recorded tracks, drum triggers and other assorted technology that makes concerts more synthetic but also more consistent. For better or worse, pre-recorded tracks are becoming increasingly common for touring artists of all levels and genres and they're not just used in pop music — many rock artists utilize playback tracks to varying degrees.

Speaking to Scott Penfold of Loaded Radio, Ash was asked for her opinion on bands who use pre-recorded tracks during live performances. She responded (as transcribed by BLABBERMOUTH.NET): "Every band does it. We do it. Every band does it. Maybe not METALLICA. Anyone that's watching this, every band you love, 'cause I've pretty much toured with every band at this point, whether it's a festival or a tour, has three or four or five laptops on the side of the stage."

She went on to defend the practice of using backing tracks, saying: "It is not cheating. It's just some music is impossible [to reproduce live], unless you have a 20-piece orchestra or a synthesizer — it's just not realistic. So I think there is absolutely nothing wrong with that."

KISS frontman Paul Stanley, who had been struggling to hit the high notes in many of the band's classic songs for a number of years, was accused of singing to a backing tape on KISS's recently completed "End Of The Road" tour.

Back in 2015, KISS bassist/vocalist Gene Simmons slammed bands who used backing tapes for not being honest enough to include that fact on their concert tickets.

"I have a problem when you charge $100 to see a live show and the artist uses backing tracks," Simmons said. "It's like the ingredients in food. If the first ingredient on the label is sugar, that's at least honest. It should be on every ticket — you're paying $100, 30 to 50 percent of the show is [on] backing tracks and they'll sing sometimes, sometimes they'll lip sync. At least be honest. It's not about backing tracks, it's about dishonesty.

"There's nobody with a synthesizer on our stage, there's no samples on the drums, there's nothing," Gene continued. "There's very few bands who do that now — AC/DC, METALLICA, us. I can't even say that about U2 or THE [ROLLING] STONES. There's very few bands who don't use [backing] tracks."

In March 2023, KISS's longtime manager Doc McGhee defended Stanley's vocal performance on "End Of The Road", explaining that the "Star Child" "fully sings to every song" at every concert. He explained: It's enhanced. It's just part of the process to make sure that everybody hears the songs the way they should be sang to begin with. Nobody wants to hear people do stuff that's not real, that's not what they came to hear."

When McGhee was asked to clarify if he was "actually saying there are backing tracks that [Paul is] singing to," Doc said: "He'll sing to tracks. It's all part of a process. Because everybody wants to hear everybody sing. But he fully sings to every song."

In March 2020, SHINEDOWN guitarist Zach Myers said that "90 percent" of rock artists use at least some pre-recorded tracks during their live performances. He told Rock Feed: "It bothers me that it bothers people. I'm, like, 'Why does this bother you?' It's the way it is. People have been doing this since the '80s. And we want the sound to be the best it can be. Could we go up there, just the four of us, and put on the best rock show ever? Of course. But that's not how we wanna do it."

Former SKID ROW singer Sebastian Bach has previously said that he is "one of the last people" who are still not using pre-recorded tracks at their live shows. "I don't know how much longer I can say to you that I don't use tapes onstage, because I don't, and I never have," he told Consequence Of Sound. "And I still don't. When I have opening bands, and they're using tapes, and then I come out and I don't use tapes… sometimes, it makes me feel stupid, because I'm like, 'What am I doing, when all these kids half my age can come onstage and do all of my moves, but they don't have to warm up for an hour before the show, or weeks, before the first show?' Sometimes, I'm like, 'Why do I even bother, if the public is so used to this other way?' It's becoming very rare to come see a good band that's actually a real band — that's not miming or doing silly moves while a tape is running. It just becomes more rare as the years go on."

In 2019, IRON MAIDEN guitarist Adrian Smith said that he doesn't "agree" with certain rock artists relying on pre-recorded tracks during their live performances. "I tell you what, I see it with a lot of younger bands, and I don't think it's a good thing at all," he told the New York Post. "I mean, the music is getting too technical now. You have computerized recording systems, which we use, but I think we use them more for convenience than because we need to. We've toured with a couple bands that use tapes — it's not real. You're supposed to play live; it should be live. I don't agree with using tapes … I think it's a real shame."

One musician who has been open about his band's use of taped vocals during live performances is MÖTLEY CRÜE bassist Nikki Sixx, who said: "We've used technology since '87." He added the group employed "sequencers, sub tones, background vox tracks, plus background singers and us. [MÖTLEY CRÜE also taped] stuff we can't tour with, like cello parts in ballads, etc.... We love it and don't hide it. It's a great tool to fill out the sound."

In a 2014 interview, MÖTLEY CRÜE guitarist Mick Mars admitted that he wasn't comfortable with the fact that his band used pre-recorded backing vocals in its live shows, claiming that he preferred to watch groups whose performances are delivered entirely live. "I don't like it," he said. "I think a band like ours… I have to say '60s bands were my favorite — '60s and '70s bands — because they were real, like, three-piece bands or four-piece bands, and they just got up there and kicked it up. Made a mistake? So what? Sounded a little bit empty here or there? So what? It's the bigness and the rawness and the people that developed and wrote the songs and made them and presented them. To me, that's what I really like. I mean, I could put on a MÖTLEY CD and play with it all day long. I don't wanna do that."

Photo credit: Matt Akana

[qqueenofhades]

I've just watched Purple Heart on Netflix (don't, it's a waste of time for more reasons than fits in this ask box) but it reminded me once again that it took me some time when I was younger to understand why having a severe health issue would lead to financial ruin and debt in several American movies (I'm French). Some things would be tough in France, like being able to afford a really good wheelchair (more expensive than SS price cap), but not diabetes like the girl in the movie, or cancer. 1/2

2/2 I don't understand how people who would have all reasons to be in favour of a state-subsidised, paid-by-social-contirbution (it's cotisation sociale in French, not quite like a tax in its principle) health care system. We do also have discrepancies between rich and poor and our hospital is on the brink of collapse but that's under investment, not the the solidarity system.

Sorry I think I forgot a bit. I don't understand why people who would benefit form such a system are so resolutely against it. Just because of ideology?

As I have written about in various posts before, it is impossible to overstate the damage that forty years of hard-right messaging, starting with Reagan and continued in some shape or form by almost all his successors, has done on the American psyche. Until the 1980s, taxes were high, the welfare net was robust, things like college, health care, house buying, etc were either readily affordable or heavily subsidised, and somehow this was not viewed as Socialism, even in the middle of the Cold War. But then when Reagan and company got in there and revamped the entire economic system to chiefly and only favor rich people, they had to come up with a way to sell it to everyone else. Thus the Myth of the Free Market became America's guiding philosophy, and it worked. Oh boy, did it work. It still works now. You should reject any benefit or system introduced by the government because blah blah bad (as if the chaotic for-profit privatised broken mess we have now works so well, but shh, don't criticise the capitalism. That is, as we all know, Socialism!)

Anyway... yeah. I feel it important to note, however, that despite the stereotypes, the core base of Trump/MAGA/Republican supporters actually are not poor. They do fit some of the expected demographics: largely white, male, straight, and don't have a college degree -- but they often make $50k or more a year, which is definitely not poverty level. We are often sold the "Economic Anxiety" canard about Trump voters (ignoring the fact that voting for a Republican to fix the mess created by Republican policies is, uh, confusing), but the people at the Capitol on January 6 had enough money to leave their jobs, arrange travel and hotel in DC, and buy Trump merch and weapons and God knows what else. Some of them even flew there by private jet. So on the one hand, yes, there are plenty of poor and working-class white people who have been so brainwashed by Reagonomics that they reject even those reforms/programs that would help them (and also don't want those programs to help non-white people). But a lot of the MAGA support is exactly what it looks like: well-off white people for whom this unfair economic system is working pretty damn well, who do not want to be forced by the Evil Government to redistribute any of it, and are eager to embrace fascist and fascist-adjacent social and cultural policies as a result.

[2-dsimp]

SURVIVAL KIT EVENT (heads up my explanation is a bit long) I sent this earlier but idk if you saw it. Lately Tumblr has been yetting my asks into the void for some reason.

1. Karate Club Leader - Childe.

We know he has the obsessive trait. He needs to see senpai regularly which isn’t going to be too hard since we are in a club with him. Basically he seems like he isn't going to cause much trouble for us as long as he gets some attention . Not to mention he is physically strong so he is a free bodyguard. Don’t think many yandere’s are going to act up when they counter Childe with Senpai otherwise they are probably going to get knocked out hard. “You shouldn’t have touched my Senpai, now look at you…Hanging on to your last breath haha! How pathetic” (quoted from his headcanons) Childe’s club I’m sure gives the skillset strength which will be useful when we have unexpected encounters where we can’t use stealth to get away.

2. Stealth and Strength

Getting out of situations before they can even begin, escaping them or grabbing important items makes stealth a flexible trait that can be used in many situations. For some reason I have the idea that strength can be OP at a high enough level because the yandere will struggle to physically do anything to you. Not to maintain some would be imitated and act more tamed not to offend senpai out of fear or respect which gives the players more control. Unless the yandere has more strength or is able to outwit the players to me it feels like a get out of jail card at higher degrees.

3. Ayato, Kazuha, Albedo and Lumine

Since this is the first day and things are going to get harder as days progress. I think it’s important to try to figure out the character traits we don’t currently know yet because it’s the best time to do so. Especially the ones that give off red flags because one way or another we are going to encounter them and I say best to do it now with no debuffs, assignments, debts etc. As for Lumine, well we still have her phone so I think she owes us a favor if we can give it to her.

4. Ayato (Yes I know I put him in q3)

Being on a date and having a character's affection at a high level doesn’t mean you know the character traits so thats why I put him in q3 3. As for my reasons to have him in question 4... “Secret admirers are difficult to find and are known to be the most dangerous wild cards! They may be your saving grace or potential ticket to death row, it all depends on how you impact them.” So far he is the only one that we have currently discovered that has that. The fact that the game is straight up warns us players about him being the death of us or being super helpful shows alot about Ayato’s potential so I want to be on his good side. Unlike some yanderes, most likely he isn’t going to be bragging about the kiss or date unless someone brings it up. Based on his personality in Genshin he isn’t the type to draw unwanted attention but rather dance in the shadows and be cunning like a puppeteer. He is a smooth talker due to being the Yashiro commissioners dealing with politics so he isn’t going to do anything reckless outwrite but instead plan carefully and manipulate situations to suit his interests. He has spies that relay information back to him so it makes me wonder if he has any dirt/ useful information on other characters. This would be helpful as it allows us to make better decisions and survive. Idk if the Shuumatsuban in this au are able to assassinate anyone Ayato chooses but that too could play to our own advantage if that is the case.

I haven’t had the chance to get to it yet but I’m so glad I did now! (>^ω^<)

@xadiac

[itsthebethblogever]

A Bird on Her Journey to Self

If you want to know what I have been up to since graduating high school, here is your answer: I've been trying to figure out what I want to do in life, and having lots ups and downs in the process. Like everyone else. This was written with the intention to share my experiences in the hopes that others can relate/learn/laugh/benefit somehow. Ten years of life in one post. Thanks so much for reading, sending you love, enjoy! ♡

Chapter 1: The Bird Leaves the Nest

The laid back, coastal town of Ventura, California offers many wonderful benefits as a home town: perfect weather, spacious beaches, a county fair, farmers markets, and it's close enough to Los Angeles for a day trip but far away enough to not have big city problems like traffic or pollution. However, its small town vibes can sometimes feel like a suburban bubble of safety, so my curious spirit did not begin to fully emerge until I moved to San Francisco for college at the age of 18. From day one, I hit the ground running. As soon as my dad finished helping me unpack, I ran off with some new friends to the Haight Ashbury district with one goal in mind: get my nose pierced (something I was not allowed to do while living at home). That simple yet important milestone was a physical marker of my breaking away from the herd. Beginning to chart my own path. After a fiery freshman year full of firsts, I left SF to study abroad in Växjö, Sweden, full of confidence and a thirst for even more adventure.

I was 20. I had just begun to see the world. Inspired by living with international students who could all speak at least 2 languages, I set a goal to learn Spanish. The question was: How? I began researching ways to live in a Spanish speaking country and landed on the Peace Corps website. To qualify for a Spanish speaking country, I would need a minimum of 2 semesters of college level Spanish. Well, that would work out just fine! I still had another three more semesters at SF State before I could graduate, so when registration came around, I signed myself up for Spanish. Lovely! My post-college plan became: move to a Spanish speaking country and learn the language.

In my second semester of living in a Scandinavian story tale is when a sweet character by the name of David made his debut. We met during a student trip to Finnish Lapland, when one of our three buses broke down. Instead of having the seat next to me for myself for the long journey north, I had to give it up to make room for the other bus mates. Now, sitting next to me, was a tall, talkative Spaniard. So much for my desire to sleep. We introduced ourselves and he saw I was listening to Bon Iver - of course, this was my sleep playlist - and asked me if I had seen them in concert. Well, turns out we both had, and despite not being a chatty mood, my interest was sparked. We continued connecting and I quickly realized that the more time I spent with him, the more time I wanted to just keep spending more time with him. He charmed me with his music taste, social spirit, but most of all: his loving heart. The only problem was that he was from Terrassa, a city near Barcelona, Spain, which is quite far away from California.

But... it was a Spanish speaking country.

Meaning... that if I moved to Barcelona to be close to David instead of joining the Peace Corps, I would still be accomplishing my post-grad goals. It wasn’t just to pursue a relationship.

So, we went for it.

After a tortuous goodbye in Sweden (and then again in Denmark, as he missed his flight home due to a train strike and ended up staying the night with me and my family who had come to visit, lol), we did not know when we would see each other next. However, we made the decision to stay together. David and I maintained a long-distance relationship - San Francisco to Barcelona - during the year and a half it took me to finish my degree. We saw each other only twice during that span of time. Yeah, ouch. It was extremely hard to be apart for so long, but we were determined to find a way to be together.

As soon as I graduated, I wasted no time. January 2016, two weeks after receiving my degree, I hopped on a flight across the pond and moved into my new au pair family’s apartment in the Vila Olímpica neighborhood of Barcelona. My freshly earned degree in Child and Adolescent Development meant I was passionate about working with kids, so the role was right up my alley. At 22 years old, my new life as a part time mom and part time Spanish language student began. I would get my three trilingual children ready for school with some help from their parents, drop them off, and cycle over to the Escola Oficial d’Idiomes. Classes were four times a week with daily homework, my au pair parents spoke to me exclusively in Spanish, and on the weekends half of my friends spoke to me in Spanish as well.

After three trimesters at EOI over the course of a year and a healthy level of immersion, I passed an official exam and gained the Intermediate Spanish certification. I had done it - I had learned Spanish!

Well, mainly. It took me about another year to really start to feel like I could express my personality in Spanish.

Once I completed my au pair year, I moved in with David and two of his childhood friends (by then, also my close friends) in the Gràcia neighborhood of the city when I was 23. For about six months, I supported myself with a variety of English teaching gigs I had accumulated through connections made at my au pair kids’ schools as well as through other English teaching friends in the city.

Life was a thrill. I still could not believe I was finally living in the same country with David, much less the same room, I was proud that I was able to make enough money just through teaching private classes, I had the social and night life beyond my wildest dreams, and I was doing it all in a city overflowing with art and culture. I was thriving.

However, I could no longer extend my student visa, so I needed to find something else that would allow me to continue living legally in Spain.

So, I found something.

Via the recommendation of friends, I applied, interviewed, and was accepted as a language assistant through the Meddeas program. In the summer of 2017, I went home to California, visited family and friends, and got my new student visa processings done.

August 2017 initiated a new school year and a new chapter in my journey: teaching English to Spanish primary and secondary students while studying an online TEFL course at the Universitat Internacional de Catalunya.

In hindsight, this is where my journey began to stray from my center.

Teaching English had never been a professional dream of mine. It was something I could do, and I absolutely found joy in it; however, the fact that I was thrown into a job with just one real day of training and all of a sudden expected to lesson plan for 11 different classes caused me immense stress in the beginning. Over time it got easier, but there was always a part of me that knew if I could choose, I would be doing something different.

But, I did it.

Why?

Because it allowed me to continue living in Barcelona, a place that now felt like home. It allowed me to continue learning Spanish, which sparked so much fire and fascination in me. It allowed me to continue the flourishing relationships with my sweet partner and the community of friends and family I cherished so deeply.

So, I kept doing it.

After two years of working and studying through Meddeas, I had maxed out the amount of time I could be in the program. The question returned: How could I continue to legally live in Spain?

The answer: Domestic Partnership.

We lawyered up.

David and I were able to apply under the condition that we had been registered as living in the same household for over a year. Some hundreds and thousands of Euros later, I was granted 5 years of residency in Spain that included the right to work. Hallelujah. The end of long days trekking across the province to different official buildings, waiting decades for my little number to appear on a screen, indicating it was finally my turn even though my appointment time had long passed, and praying that the person who attended me would give me their stamp and signature that meant I could advance to the next round of the Red Tape Tango.

Even Jesus could not be saved from the messy misery that is the bureaucratic processes in Spain.

So, it would seem like having my residency settled would open the doors for me to explore more satisfying occupations, buuut it was not that easy.

I was in a foreign country. The primary language of instruction in public schools was Catalan. Even though I worked so hard to learn Spanish, I would still need to learn another language if I wanted to apply to any public school position.

Then, there was the issue of educational qualifications. Europe in general is quite strict with demanding you have the right papers for the right job, and even more so in Catalonia. In the Catalan province, you must have a masters degree to work with high schoolers, the age group that I really did love teaching English. However, getting a masters for a job that still did not ignite every inch of my soul was not something I was ready to sign up for. Plus, it was possible my US bachelor’s degree may not even qualify, and there was no way I was going to do another bachelor’s degree just for that.

At that moment, my two post grad goals had been accomplished: to live in a Spanish speaking country and learn Spanish, which felt great, but I did not have a plan for after that. I began to feel lost.

At the same time as I was going through a professional life crisis, my personal life situation was also undergoing a difficult transition. It was the summer of 2019. David and I were looking to move out of our shared apartment into our own place for the first time.

From the outside, everything seemed glittery and exciting. We had found a beautiful apartment in Gràcia mere footsteps away from our friends, I got my residency, and my unemployed status was not a huge financial stress thanks to David working in tech.

However, my live-in support system, aka my roommates, had been taken away. Moving in with my partner meant it was just us two. When there was any conflict, it no longer dissipated when one of our roomies came home. Our fights were affecting me more, being unemployed sucked, and felt like I had nobody to reach out to since everyone was working or vacationing. Many days, the summer sun was shining bright outside, but inside I felt darkness. For the first time in my life, I fell into a depression. These deep, ugly emotions inside me were new and I did not know how to deal with them. Instead of opening up about how I felt, I tried to keep my emotions hidden in the hopes that I could bounce back on my own without causing others to see this unhappy side of the usually bubbly, carefree Beth.

In the month of July, I found a gig as a camp counselor at an English language summer camp. The hours were long, it was physically and emotionally demanding, and the compensation was minimal. Working at a summer camp did have some fun perks, but overall it felt like I was resorting to a job that was great when I was 15, but not so much when I was 25. It did not feel like progress, so it did not help my mental health.

Once that finished, I began teaching English online to kids in China in the mornings through a US based company called VIP Kid. In the evenings, I got a part-time job teaching English to kids and adults at a language academy in the city.

More English teaching.

Still, not really my passion.

But, I did it.

Why?

I could not find any better options. I knew I did not want to teach English for the rest of my life, but the other jobs I was interested in, like in the special education/psychology field, I could not pursue due to language or bureaucratic barriers. I decided to accept my current job situation, knowing that it was temporary, and continue to look for other positions in the meantime.

But it was not easy. On top of this, my work schedule was now opposite to David’s. His 9-5 job meant that when he came home, I was at my second job. Limited time together further heightened my feelings of aloneness and caused stress for us both. We hardly saw each other during the week, and when we did, we were not at our best selves. This continued for some time, until finally, I couldn’t do it anymore. I told David I wanted to break up in March 2020, shortly after my 26th birthday. Yet, it did not end then. It surprised David to know I was that unhappy, as I had been hiding most of my dark emotions in order to convince myself and others that I was okay. We decided we would start having more honest communication and work on our relationship, as we both hoped it could be saved.

Then, the timing of what happened next still makes me chuckle. The Universe heard us asking for more time together, and gave us…

Covid 19.

Yep, Barcelona’s lockdown happened literally days after we almost broke up.

Actually, it couldn’t have come at a better time.

We finally had time to be able to talk, connect, and make the best out of being confined 24/7 together. 

Since the language academy closed, it was easy to convert my online teaching gig to be my primary job, as my Chinese students were all at home too. I taught classes for about four hours a day and spent the rest… however I could. While David continued working, I would usually go up to our building’s rooftop. There, I began to rediscover some of my creative passions I had forgotten about. I bought a drawing pad, wrote poetry, and did lots of journaling.

After a long year locked down with plenty of time to reflect, I came to the difficult conclusion that it was time to end our 6 year relationship. Almost exactly a year later, I turned 27 in February 2021, and made the move.

Something I want to pause and touch on here are my thoughts on ending relationships. Later, when sharing the news to my friends and family, it became apparent that some people feel the need to see ugliness before a breakup. I got a lot of reactions like "What, really? But you seemed so happy!" Yes, we were. But that is not a good enough reason to stay with someone. Personally, I feel like it shows how much I cared about David to never let us get to a point where we were outwardly unhappy. I recognized that my feelings had changed, and rather than repress them to the point where I might start to take it out on him, I made the responsible choice to end things amicably. Movies and pop culture dramatize breakups and show things like throwing their partner's belongings out the window, saying nasty things while screaming at each other, cheating out of spite, and the list goes on. It is sad that we don't have examples of two people who sit down together, have a meaningful conversation, and wish each other the best. Communication is an art that gets easier with practice. We should have as many role models and teachers as possible to help guide us towards the most loving way of relating.

Conscious communication practices are on the uprise, so if learning these essential life skills sounds interesting to you, feel free to contact me and I can help connect you to resources like Instagram accounts to follow, courses to take, etc.

And, unpause.

It was Lunar New Year and from the moment I woke up, I felt like electricity was surging through my body, my heart beat accelerated. It was my body telling me: now or never. I met with my best friend Pat who I made privy to my resolution, and together we developed a plan.

A day later, I sat down with David and had the Talk. I did my best to explain my decision in the most caring way, so for that, I came prepared with a notebook in case the words escaped me in the moment. I knew these were going to be the scenes that would replay in our minds and I wanted to foster the best possible conversations. It absolutely broke my heart but as I spoke my truth, my body felt lighter. We agreed that there would be no contact, to allow both of us to heal. As I did the "hurting", I would not be the one to initiate contact. If the day comes that David would like to speak to me, he could reach out. We did get together a second time a few days later to have another conversation where questions were asked and answered. At the end, we said a more official goodbye that ended in one of the world's saddest hugs. I let him know that I hope we can one day be friends, and I am still hopeful for that. It has been almost two years and we have not exchanged a word. I celebrate how well we have honored the boundaries we set and wish him the absolute best.

Six beautiful years of support, adventure, silliness, passion, growth, and love came to an end. Well, the love will always remain, just in a different container.

Before diving into all the logistics that come after a breakup, Pat invited me to stay the weekend with her family in her hometown. We went on a hike to the top of the Burriac Castle, where I really cried for the first time after the break up. Feeling safe and nurtured in her family's hands, I was able to journal my heart out, have an attentive ear to help me try to figure out what to do next, order pizza, and cry some more. I am forever grateful for all the help and love Pat gave me during my time of need. She is a true loyal Leo protector queen and I love and miss her dearly.

Then, it was back to reality.

I moved all my stuff out of our shared apartment and was temporarily crashing at a friend’s place while she was out of town. I hadn’t really thought about what came next, but it was obvious I needed a new place to live.

I went to see a room that seemed to check all the boxes: good lighting and internet for my online classes, in the same neighborhood so I’d still have all my friends and shops I was loyal to around me, but it was then when I realized - how can I start a new chapter of my life in the same city with the same job and the same limitations?

I cannot.

So, I didn’t.

I decided it was time to move back home.

In the span of two weeks, I packed up my five years of life into three boxes, two backpacks, one suitcase, and one duffel bag. The process of donating, gifting, and purging my material belongings was therapeutic. The process of saying goodbye to my community of friends that had become my family was heartbreaking.

Is heartbreaking.

But I had to do it.

Like a phoenix, I had to set fire to everything familiar so I could be reborn from the ashes. Just like that, I said adéu, t'estimo to the five year Barcelona chapter of my life.

Chapter 2: The Bird Returns to the Nest

On the flight to California, I realized I was not moving back home. Barcelona was my home. It had been four years since I had stepped foot on the West Coast, and I had no idea what I was going to do (as per usual).

March 1st, 2021. My first full day in Ventura, California in years. It was more clear than ever that I was basically a foreign person in my hometown, and I did not feel like I fit in. Immediately, I threw myself into researching any and all opportunities to leave the US. I applied to teach English in Korea and was rejected - maybe because of my tattoos? Oh well, it wasn’t meant to be. Next, I applied for an English Teaching position in Costa Rica through the Peace Corps, thinking I could fulfill that post-graduation idea I had so many years ago. I got an interview and then after was politely explained that all of the programs are on pause due to Miss Rona and they would let me know once they reopened. Tampoco ain’t gonna do it. After that, I began throwing my resume at any and all English teaching positions at international schools in the Middle East, Southeast Asia, you name it… but nothing stuck.

Soon, I came to terms with that my intention to touch down in Ventura just to jet off again was not realistic. Covid meant that many borders were closed and programs on pause. So, when a recruiter contacted me on Linkedin for a job as a Support Counselor with Aspiranet, my eyes opened wide with interest at the job description. Behavioral coaching for youth clients in Ventura County? Required a bachelor’s degree in social work/psychology/child development? Increased pay for bilingual candidates? Experience working with high risk youth or special education preferred? The description seemed to be tailored for me. I felt the flame of inspiration ignite, so I applied and was offered the job. I absolutely loved it. Finally, I was back to doing something I was passionate about, and the experience I gained was just as rewarding as the difference I was making in my client’s lives.

Still, my goal to move abroad was clear, and I continued to search for ways to do so. I applied to volunteer as an English Director through a program in Brazil that also practiced eco-friendly living, organic farming, and environment conservation. Even though it was teaching English, I saw this as a beautiful way to also have the opportunity to learn about the other projects going on at the center that fascinated me. After an interview, I was offered the position!

…and got a DUI.

Just when I thought I finally found a plan that felt right, life smacked me in the face and said “think again”. My dreams were shattered.

Here is where I should maybe add a little context and do that adult thing called “take responsibility”. After so many years in a relationship, I was granting myself permission to be wild and free on the weekends. However, as a Scorpio Moon, Jupiter, and Pluto, I crave intensity and become obsessive in my search for taboo adventures. That manifested in a way where I was pushing boundaries of what was safe to their limit, too often. The Universe gave me plenty of opportunities to learn my lesson the easy way, granting me safe passage during many other instances where I drove under the influence. But, I did not listen, and continued on with my reckless behavior until finally I was forced to learn the hard way.

And it sucked.

Not only did I have to spend all the money I had saved on legal fees and fines, but I now had three months of programs I had to attend. My job as a Support Counselor was half spent driving around Ventura County visiting my clients, so I quickly decided that would not be worth the extra insurance and IDD device I’d need to install just to keep the job.

So now what?

Back to the drawing board.

Sigh.

After shedding many tears, therapy sessions, conversations with family and friends, and deep suffering, it hit me: A remote job. It would be the perfect compromise. Instead of quitting my job and using my savings to volunteer and travel, I would get a remote job so I could still travel and have the means to do so. Frantically, I began applying for anything and everything remote. Thanks to a family friend, I was referred and accepted as a Client Coordinator with Cerebral, an online mental health startup company. Well, weeks before beginning training, Cerebral said they no longer needed Client Coordinators (small heart attack) but if I was interested in being a Phone Coordinator, there was still a job for me. Uh, okay, as long as it was remote, I was willing to do pretty much anything. I accepted without much hesitation, though the idea of answering phones instead of emails did not thrill me.

 It would be my first customer service job, and as it was still related to my field of interest, I figured there would be value to seeing the business/insurance/billing side. As soon as I finished training, I packed up my life, again, and purchased a one-way ticket to Mexico City. Since I had visited the city before and already had friends there, it felt like somewhere I could start rebuilding the sense of community that I so yearned while also fulfilling my international desire.

So, I did it.

I will never forget the surge of emotions that overcame me the moment the plane lifted off the runway at LAX. The tears came pouring out before I even realized I was crying. Freedom. Independence. Finally, after a year of living at home, I felt like I was back in life’s driver’s seat.

Chapter 3: The Bird Gets Her Wings Back

At 4:39 am on April 3rd, 2022, two days after moving into an apartment in Juárez, Mexico City, I wrote this:

“I’m having so much fun being alive-

—and living and being here that I don’t want to go to sleep. I don’t even want to close my eyes.

I’m too happy.

There’s too much I want to absorb.

Everything feels electric. I feel literally charged and hypervolted with energy. 

This. Is. My. Fucking PLACE!!!

Note to self: never again accept less than this. Or if you do, know it is temporary and I will always find a way back.”

Now 28 years old, the feeling of power I felt when I left Barcelona had finally returned. I could learn Mexican Spanish. I could walk to the market to buy my groceries. I could even do my court ordered programs, as they were through Zoom. But, most importantly, I could surround myself with people and experiences that would help guide me on my path.

Almost immediately, I became immersed in Mexico City’s spiritual community. After meeting lots of beautiful souls at an event hosted by the Open/Sex-Positive Community, I began running into the same people at other events, in the streets, at friend’s houses, etc. Also, there is a Whatsapp group for pretty much any interest you may have. For my US readers who may be unfamiliar with Whatsapp, the first thing you should know is that we are pretty much the only country who doesn't use it. Adding that to the list of things we do differently. All it is is a messaging app, but the big advantages of using that over iMessage or texting is that it just uses Internet. That being said, there is no polarizing "blue or green" texts to mess up a group chat, making it much more conducive to creating large group chats for as many as 1,000 users.

Just like that, Mexico City felt like home. My job became pretty easy once I got the hang of it, and because I worked smarter and not harder, I was able to enjoy life pretty much exactly how I wanted to. I was living my best life.

One night, while hanging out with my dear friend Bailey at her apartment, she remarked "Didn't you want to do a peyote ceremony? They're posting about one on the Hermanas Hermosas group". Hermanas Hermosas is a global feminine movement that has a Whatsapp group for pretty much every major city around the world and many others for smaller towns but with a spiritual community present. Some get so big that they have to separate into smaller topics as to not spam everyone in Mexico City with apartment ads if they aren't looking for an apartment. In this case, there was a post in the Hermanas Wellness group sharing that sure enough, a peyote ceremony was being led by two women up north in the very desert to which the plant is native.

I sprang into action, as it was Wednesday, and the trip left that very Friday morning. Thanks to the help of my friends, I was able to collect the necessary supplies for a night out in the desert under the stars, called in sick to work that Friday, and I was off to experience the healing powers of hikuri.

It would be wonderful to tell you that I had a powerful, life transformational experience sitting with this medicine; however, that Thursday before the ceremony, I got some awful stomach bug. That day, I could not keep down even water, and I toyed heavily with the idea of cancelling the trip. However, there was no way I was going to miss what I felt was an opportunity that did not come many times, so I came armed with anti-stomach-explodey pills and somehow got myself to the meeting point that Friday morning.

With the group, we went out into the desert with flashlights to find and harvest our cacti medicine. Then, we set up around a fire, prepared the plants, made a delicious tea full of medicinal herbs and more cacti, and prepared the ceremony. My intention was to ask for guidance on what is my purpose. After consuming the recommended dose, about half an hour, I had an euphoric beginning to the trip. Then, I felt called to lay down in my sleeping bag, so I listened to my body and got comfortable. I fell asleep for the majority of the night. Upon waking up, I was initially quite mad - I came all the way out to the desert and I didn't get to talk to the blue stag spirit of peyote? However, I do believe the message was that I needed to give myself time to rest. Living in a city as active and exciting as CDMX meant that most of my free time was spent out of the house, and that was probably not the way I would find clarity. Also, I learned the importance of not having any expectations.

Three months into Mexico City living, Australia announced they were finally re-opening their borders. To my family and I, that meant we could finally get the chance to visit my brother Jesse and sister-in-love Kiki (because “sister-in-law” just doesn’t fit) who had been living on the strictly locked down island since Covid began. This meant I could either keep paying rent while I was away in order to keep my apartment, or… an idea sprouted.

Instead of coming back to Mexico City, I could move out of my apartment, and start to travel Mexico when I got back. The city was feeling comfortable, which was lovely, but also a sign that it’s time to move on. I had developed a support network that gave me the confidence I needed to spread my wings.

It was decided. When I returned to Mexico from Australia in August, I flew back to CDMX for a short visit, then began my solo exploration of the country.

Chapter 4: The Bird Migrates Farther South

Now that I had nourished the soil and grown new roots, I was craving expansion towards the sun. The previous months’ themes were reestablishing confidence in myself, completing DUI obligations, and building up my savings again. Here is the part of my journey where I feel like my real growth starts. 

After months of hearing stories and recommendations, I decided I would start my nomadic chapter in the state of Oaxaca. First stop was Puerto Escondido, known as one of the best surf spots in the world and for its hippy party vibes. As I do not surf nor was in a partying mode, I did not fall head over heels for the town. The main areas were mostly filled with other international folk, which was a con for me, as I wanted to leave the bubble of Mexico City to get to know a more authentic side of Mexico.

As soon as I arrived in Puerto, I felt stressed to find friends. Company. Community. I knew a handful of people from CDMX who happened to be there at the same time, connected with some friends of friends, and met people on my own. Despite this, my social life was the area where I felt the most resistance. I was expecting the luck and speed I found people in Mexico City to be the same there. Well, that was not the case. And this frustrated me. Which forced me to take a step back and reflect - why did this cause me frustration? Was I putting too much value on spending time with others instead of just enjoying life?

…Ope.

Yep.

Out of discomfort came a lesson: I should be acting as my #1 source of company and entertainment. And, quality over quantity. This is a lesson I had begun to learn already when I moved back to Ventura, my mainly friend-less hometown; however, this time, it resonated on an even smaller scale: if I have to choose between doing something with an acquaintance vs. doing it alone, I would much rather be alone.

One night under an almost full moon, I decided I would lead my own healing ceremony instead of going out. I brought my crystals, candles, journal, and rapé upstairs to the rooftop of the house I was staying in, feeling quite proud of my fully equipped witchy starter pack. For those who don’t know, rapé (pronounced RAH-pay) is a type of plant medicine made mainly of tobacco. Usually, a pea sized amount of the powdered plant is blown into your nose through a pipe, either by yourself or another person. The first time I did a rapé ceremony was with my brother in Australia, who administered it to me. This would be just my second time using this plant medicine, and the first time from the nasal spray bottle Jesse and Kiki gifted to me.

Prepared with Kleenex and a trash can in case of possible purging, I shot a spray of medicinal tobacco into each of my nostrils and relaxed back into a hammock. The sensation started by feeling like the lights inside my brain suddenly surged on, and then a tingly wave washed down from the top of my body all the way down to my toes. It was very similar to the feeling of adrenaline, except more powerful and also quite dizzying. The mango I ate earlier was all of a sudden no longer welcome in my stomach.

About five to ten minutes passed where I felt nausea and ecstasy at the same time. The urge to yell and clear my throat arose, and I realized I should be using my Voice more, as what I have to say has value. Then, in this state of clarity and heightened awareness, an idea zapped into my mind - weekend retreats for girls. All around me there are retreats offered for adults focused on various spiritual offerings, but why not kids, too?

Whoa.

That was something to think about.

I took out my journal and began agreeing with all those Instagram posts that talk about how the greatest growth is done in solitude

I resolved to do this more often.

So, I gave gratitude to Puerto Escondido for its technicolor sunsets, dreamy beaches, and the ability to party barefoot or in Crocs and flew back to CDMX. There I met one of my best friends from Barcelona who was in Mexico traveling with his partner.

After keeping it relatively chill in terms of partying in Puerto, I was excited to let go in the city. Unfortunately, on our first night out, my phone and wallet were stolen out of my fanny pack.

Aaaarrggg!

WhHyyy, again, when I felt like I was in such a sweet groove, did I have to be punished?

I guess I had mOrE lEsSoNs iN rEsPoNsIbiLItY tO lEaRn, said with my hands on my hips, my mouth pursed, and my eyes glaring.

As any mature adult would.

Fortunately, my community jumped in right away to support me, with a temporary phone to borrow and money to lend. My mom and I worked relentlessly in attempts to get a new phone sent to me from the US before my flight back to Oaxaca, but Mexican customs said “jaja, na”.

So, off I went, back to the coast of Oaxaca, with my iPhone sequestered in CDMX customs, and a Kodak brand phone as my new travel buddy. My next destination: Mazunte, a town a little over an hour south of Puerto Escondido that boasts the title of being one of Mexico’s 132 “Pueblos Mágicos”. It became obvious very quickly that the town was indeed a magical one.

Chapter 5: The Bird Questions Her Reality

Even though I was in Mazunte for just two weeks, it felt like two decades. Some of the beaches there have black sand, due to underwater volcanic eruptions reaching the shore. This meant the sand was literally magnetic, an effect I felt made time pass slower and in a more relaxed way there than anywhere I’d ever traveled to. The town was the perfect size for me: there was one main road, unpaved, that led to the beach with some side streets, little shops, and cafes with palapa style roofs made of palm leaves. A mix of national and international humans exchanged real eye contact and smiles when passing each other on the street. There was a lot to smile about when living in a hippie paradise surrounded by lush, tropical foliage like coconut and banana trees.

In the midst of all this abundance is where the concept of “The Matrix” really entered my consciousness, thanks to conversations with many of the town's eclectic souls. Bear with me as I take a break from the narration of events to share the journey of how Mazunte really brought the red pill / blue pill metaphor to light.

Take my job as an example: Monday - Friday from 11am to 8pm, with the exception of an hour lunch break, I am expected to be in front of a laptop, aka plugged into The Matrix. The rest of the world basically ceases to exist as I listen to the concerns of people on the other line, pressing buttons that cause prescribers to order prescriptions, pharmacists to dispense medication, therapists to attend patients, banks to deposit refunds, etc etc. In this way, if you look at my job with a wide angle lens, I am altering the reality of people thousands of miles away with the sound of my voice and the touch of my fingers against the keyboard. Why? Multiple reasons. Mainly, because it’s my job, so I have been told that if I do so, I will get paid.

To counter, there is more motivation than just money for me in my role. I believe that we deliver services that really are helping people, and I also know that I spread as much love and light into every interaction possible. So, I hold onto the knowledge that I am planting seeds of positivity in the vulnerable hearts of humans seeking mental health services as another reason, apart from money, that I do my job.

Alright, then, now the big question - would I still do this job if I wasn’t paid?

Honestly, no. Or at least for a lot less hours a day.

Aha.

So, what would I like to do? What skills do I possess that I could offer the world if the Matrix ceased to exist?

Feel free to take a break here and join me in one of my daily existential crises.

In that magical town where nobody seems to know what day or time it is, I toyed heavily with the idea of indefinitely powering off my work laptop and surrendering fully to the fate of the Universe. I could teach English at the school there, or online, or something.

But that’s the problem.

I still didn’t have a goal or idea to motivate me enough to take a risk that big.

So, I didn’t take the red pill.

I did not feel ready.

My Kodak Moment, as I referred to my phone, greatly limited my ability to communicate and stay connected to loved ones. My iPhone was still collecting dust in Mexico City’s customs and I wanted my high tech cyborg brain back. Also, I had more travel plans ahead of me that required money, so a steady paycheck and an ever-increasing savings account would help me reach those dreams with ease. So, I continued with my blue pill work routine, choosing comfort over freedom from the Man.

But, with knowledge comes power. Mazunte changed me. I set a goal: Develop skills that would allow me more freedom in how I make a living. Rather than invest time in a company so it could make money, I wanted to invest time in me so I could support myself on my own. For one, I would need a new laptop, as we all know technology is a useful tool for learning and making connections. With that in mind, I decided it would be the easiest and cheapest to work on attaining technological autonomy back home in California. With Thanksgiving on the horizon, I decided that would be a perfect time to go home and be surrounded by sweet, familial love as well as take advantage of the benefits of capitalism.

With some tangible goals set in place, the storm in my mind began to settle down. A compass and a map helps greatly in navigating the ever changing winds of life. However, the journey ahead still lacked clarity. I knew what tools I would search for while at my next port; however, there was still the unanswered question my whole crew was waiting on: Where are we going next?

Chapter 6: The Bird Continues Her Search

My course veered north towards the mountains, with a big chunk of my heart left behind in Mazunte. For the next two weeks, I explored the high elevation towns of San Jose del Pacifico and San Mateo del Rio Hondo. To me, San Jose’s nickname should be “Mushroom Disneyland'' due to the fact that the majority of travelers who go there are seeking to experience psychedelic mushrooms. The knowledge of this practice was originally brought to the town by María Sabina, the famous chamanic healer. With a view of endless mountain ridges, I sat in my room with the sacred medicine and asked for clarity as to what is my life’s purpose, but unfortunately did not get the answers I had hoped for. I did, however, eat some of the best mushroom soup and quesadillas ever, and marveled at the way the clouds gracefully changed form over the endless mountain peaks.

I wished I could change as gracefully as those clouds.

In San Mateo del Rio Hondo, I got to experience a non-touristy mountain town, just 30 minutes away from Mushroom Disneyland. The scenery was also stunning, and I could enjoy them from a cozy cabin that was half the price of what I paid in San Jose and double the amount of space. Also, for the first time in weeks, I could cook in my living space, as where I stayed in Mazunte and San Jose had no kitchens. I enjoyed playing house in my little cabin, buying freshly cooked beans and tortillas from a woman that sold them from her kitchen down the street, and worked outside on my balcony with a view.

Next up on the tour of Oaxaca state was Oaxaca de Juárez, aka Oaxaca city. My first question was: have you ever seen the word “Oaxaca” used 3 times in one sentence? Hehehe ok only joking. My first impression was that it was jarring coming to a city after being held so gently in small towns surrounded by nature. But, reliable Wifi and finally getting my iPhone back were welcome pros.

My intentions going into that leg of the trip were to consume so much mole that it would become my blood type as well as experience all the Día de los Muertos magic possible. It was time to have a break from my intense self reflection and relax a bit.

There was one other city resource I was eager to take advantage of - health clinics. I had decided I wanted to get my IUD removed, for a number of reasons. Since the age of 17, I had been on some form of hormonal birth control. Now, at 28, I was getting the feeling that maybe I wasn't able to find clarity due to being less connected to my body's natural rhythms. I had been learning about how a women's wisdom comes from our womb and I wanted to get in touch with mine. Initially, the lack of having a period excited me when I got my IUD inserted in March 2021 (when I moved back to the US); however, I actually missed my monthly reminder of my feminine power. Being around so many spiritual women who cherished and ritualized their moon cycle also animated my interest to do the same.

Another reason was that when talking to women my age and older, they shared with wild glints in their eyes about feeling their sex drives begin to increase. This is usually the case as we get into our 30's, but I was just not feeling it. I wanted that wild glint, too. And finally, in the simplest of ways, I was excited to return to a body that was 100% natural, for the sake of my own physical health.

In the first week of my stay in Oaxaca, I was connected with a goddess named Marluy I met through the Hermanas Hermosas Oaxaca Whatsapp group when asking for a hairdresser recommendation. During my haircut, I shared my thoughts with her about my IUD, she supported my idea to get it removed, and discussed her own journey. It was the final motivation I needed to schedule an appointment. The very next day, she accompanied me to a clinic where I bid farewell to my Mirena. She held my hand and brought me lentils and a mix of feminine herbs to make tea in case of cramps. What a blessing it was to be supported by a sister in my time of need.

To allow myself time to reconnect with my body, I decided to combine the removal of my IUD with the start of intentional celibacy. This would be quite the new journey for me, as I love casual physical connections, but I was interested in experimenting in something different. Again influenced by other women around me and a podcast episode, the idea of saving my intimacy for myself and only the highest level connection was empowering.

Later on in the month, I was grateful to reunite with my good friend Bailey, who had also decided to leave Mexico City to check out Oaxaca's famous Muertos celebrations. We agreed that Oaxaca’s food reputation lived up to the hype as we explored the wide array of restaurants together. Additionally, the nearby towns are full of natural and cultural allure, and I had a blast exploring it all.

Yet, despite trying to give myself a break, the feelings of frustration and being stuck remained. I was filled with the feeling that I wanted to move forward, like a constant push, but I was unsure of where to direct that energy.

On one of those days when I was feeling extra discouraged, I decided I had to do something to give myself a feeling of hope.

I opened up an application for a working holiday visa in Australia.

That’s how everyone solves their problems, right? Find a new country and make plans to go there? No? Hmm, can’t relate (hehehe).

Anyway, I was granted the visa two days after I sent in the application. This brought me immediate, immense relief, like I had finally found a trail marker after wandering aimlessly for weeks - “This Way: Australia”. A clear option I could use to get myself out of the rut I was in.

Getting the visa was not as entirely spontaneous as it may sound. Ever since learning about the working holiday visa in high school, I knew it was something I wanted to take advantage of before I turned 30, which was approaching. The plan became: explore the remaining regions of Mexico left on my list while continuing to work for Cerebral, then jet off across the globe to a country where the work conditions and pay seemed to be a much healthier balance than my current situation.

In the Land Down Unda, you can actually make a decent salary from just a part time job, a concept completely alien to your average United Statesarian. With more free time, I could take courses, have hobbies, and overall have more than just the weekend to explore my interests. That sounded like a great environment to continue my self discovery mission.

Hilariously enough, that very week, I received an email from the Peace Corps inviting me to serve in the Dominican Republic as a Spanish Secondary School Teacher. Remember back when I moved home from Barcelona, I had applied and interviewed? They stayed in touch by email, asking me once every couple of moons to see that if I wasn’t invited to serve in X country, would I be open to serve in Y, Z, etc country? Always wanting to keep my options open, I would reply “yes, I’ll go anywhere Spanish speaking”. After months of playing this game, it made me want to pull my hair out that I had finally achieved a goal that I worked towards, but at such the wrong time. They gave me just a weekend to make my decision, so even though I felt honored to have been offered this opportunity, it did not spark joy. I checked the “decline invitation” box, sent a thank you email, and moved on. Aaarggg.

On October 28, 2023, the kickoff event of the Día de los Muertos celebration was a free concert in the Plaza de la Danza. During a parade, I linked up with a big group of travelers from a Whatsapp group, and we excitedly walked alongside masked and painted people so gorgeously done up and making all of my Coco movie dreams come to life. Upon arrival at the plaza, we walked through the crowd to find a spot to watch the concert. I reached into my bag to take out my phone, and to my absolute rage, found it had been stolen.

Again.

Not even a month after I got it back from Mexican customs. Someone had cut a slit into the side of my fabric tote bag and taken it out without me feeling a thing.

Now a pro in getting my phone stolen, a kind friend I had made in the city and I went to the police station two days in a row, as I was determined to do everything possible to try to retrieve my expensive rectangular block. They took us to the location as shown on the Find My iPhone app, talked to the neighbors, but were unable to retrieve it. Not much of a surprise, but I had to try. At least this time I knew I would be home soon where I could use insurance to get a replacement. However, it drove me up the wall that the same thing had happened again so soon. Plus I found out I still had to pay a deductible for the insurance, causing me to have to dip into my Australia savings fund.

When are phones going to just be installed into our eyeballs? That should be thief-proof… right?

Anyway, I gave my best wishes that whoever took it was able to provide for themselves and/or family because of it, and that they may one day find a path that brings them self-sustaining financial wealth. The money I lost would come back to me ten fold.

Time to move on.

As I boarded the bus from Oaxaca city to Mexico City, the end of my Tour of Oaxaca State Life Chapter materialized before my eyes. Present turned into the past tense. My eyes welled with emotion and my heart felt so many feelings: amazement, sadness, pride… and gratitude. So much gratitude. August in Puerto Escondido and Mexico City, September in Mazunte and the Sierra Sur mountains, and October in Oaxaca de Juárez. What I was craving more than anything at that moment was family and community. Empowering as it is to depend fully on myself, life is all about balance, and I was ready to go home and let someone else take care of me.

Chapter 7: The Bird is Ready for Some Serious Nest Time

Before flying back to California, I spent a week in Mexico City reconnecting with my community. The process of reflecting upon my months of adventures and growth began as I caught up with beloved friends. Then, it was off to LAX to make it home in time for Thanksgiving. The Beth who was home in July vs the Beth who came home in November felt more centered, more confident, and closer to finding clarity… but still, not quite there.

Patience. I was doing my best to be patient with myself.

Meanwhile, I accepted all of the love and help of my incredible family.

It is a glorious gift to be able to have a safe and nurturing nest to be able to lay down my tired wings.

At home, I called on more than just my family to help guide me to clarity - I also reached out to a professional. Back in Mazunte, my cabin buddy had introduced me to the podcast As Above, So Below, hosted by Cato, a professional astrologer and business coach. I had been wanting to get a reading done for so long but hadn’t found the right person or moment. Once I finished listening to every podcast episode, I knew she was it. I booked the session for the day before Thanksgiving.

To nobody’s surprise, my biggest hope for the reading was to gain insight as to what I should do with my life. As Cato specializes in Evolutionary Astrology, that is one of the main offerings of this way of interpreting charts: to discover what is my soul’s blueprint and life purpose.

If I had to describe the session in three words, they would be Unlock, Recharge, and Inspire.

Hearing her describe my planets, houses, and transits affirmed ideas I had been toying around with as well as lit up new neural pathways. It was like the dark sky was suddenly filled with bright stars, all within touchable distance. Like the cosmos, they were there all along, I was just given the guidance to look up and identify them. After she articulated so many of my innate talents and interests, I felt like I had all the ingredients laid out in front of me. The only question remaining was: what recipe would I choose? (Yes I used two metaphors in one paragraph and yes I’m keeping them both. I’m an Aquarius sun and will rebel against all rules, and a stubborn Taurus rising who will find any excuse to talk about food. Hehehe)

Days after the reading, Cato reached out to me to let me know she was having a Black Friday sale on her upcoming Astrology Course offering. With hardly a second thought, I signed up. It felt perfectly in line with my goal to invest in myself and my passions, one of them having always been astrology. Since it was presented to me so easily in my path, my gut said go for it. TIme to start breaking patterns and doing something new! Excitement fluttered in my heart and fresh doors of opportunity began constructing themselves in my brain.

Other housekeeping items I got done at home was pressing the Reset button on my material belongings to reprogram for a new chapter. I had been lugging around a 50 pound suitcase, duffel bag, and backpack throughout Oaxaca and I was so ready to downsize. It was all too clear that I had been holding on to too much, making it difficult to move - physically, and metaphorically. This time, I mindfully stocked my backpacking backpack with clothes for both hot and cold weather, made the painful decision to leave behind my nail polish collection, and added my newly acquired travel yoga mat and iPad to the set up. Instead of carrying around my markers, colored pencils, crayons, drawing pad, and books, I decided that an iPad would fulfill my artistic desires when they arrived, act as a reader for any book I may want, and be a replacement for my work laptop when the time came to quit my job. The cherries on top were a Swiss army knife keychain and a headlamp, gifted to me by my dad. Never underestimate the value of either of those tools.

After two weeks at home, it was back to LAX . There is a special type of confidence inspired by the feeling of being prepared for anything with just the gear carried on your back. I decided to begin this leg of Mexico travels in a new way: previously, I had booked in advance all the places I stayed in. However, this time, I decided to try something different - stay in a hostel for the weekend and look for a place once I got there.

Why? (a question especially asked by my plan-loving parents)

I wanted to try trusting the Universe.

To do something different to then trigger new outcomes. I was trying to get unstuck, and that would not happen by doing things the same way.

Plus, seeing places in person is way different than online. An added bonus.

After taking the first day to get a lay of the land, do a free walking tour, and get added to a Whatsapp group for housing, my second day in San Cristóbal de las Casas had a clear goal: find a place to rent by the end of the day. That Sunday turned into a real life International House Hunters episode and I had a blast. I visited three apartments, made a little visual of their pros and cons, but in the end, I relied most on my intuition to guide me to make a decision.

Of the three, there was one that stood out. It was a suite style apartment in a compound with a garden and sixteen total units, the majority occupied by young, international humans. As an added bonus, across the street was a community center that hosted donation based dinners every Friday, organized in part by some of the neighbors in my apartment building. 

Community.

It came with a built-in community.

Now, wouldn’t that be a wonderful thing to be able to filter for in an apartment searching app?

Happy as a clam, I unpacked my things and began the nesting process. San Cristóbal de las Casas, or San Cris for short, is a Pueblo Mágico in the state of Chiapas, nestled 2,200 m (7,200 ft) up in the mountains. Just like my previous travels, trusted sources had recommended this town for reasons such as its abundant nature, indigenous cultural presence, and spiritual community presence.

In San Cris, I decided that my intention was to stay put. I had realized that as much as I love exploring, it is time consuming to make reservations, figure out buses, be in transit, get settled in a new place, etc etc. Instead, I wanted to use my free time to focus on my own projects.

Do less to do more.

Crisp, sunny days and chilly nights aligned beautifully with my intentions. Cold climates naturally bring out my more hermetic qualities, perfect for the introspection and focus for which I was yearning. Yet, the same frustration bubbled up.

What is my purpose? What am I doing? Where am I going?

Again, and again, and again, these heavy hitting questions flooded my brain, and I was still drowning. Yes, I had my ideas, but I felt like I needed to start making progress and I didn't know where to begin.

I needed fresh air. A new strategy.

A lightbulb clinked on in my brain: I should write about my journey.

Like a hike in the woods, if you realize you are lost, it is not recommended to keep moving forward. Instead, you should either stay where you are, or try to backtrack. Did I feel lost in the woods? Yes. So, maybe if I took the time to map out my past, I could get an idea of where I am now.

Now, isn’t it funny how the expression “we teach best what we most need to learn” is so spot on? I am passionate about mental health and work in the field, yet, I struggle to remember to use the very coping strategies I recommend.

Welp, better late than never.

So, I got to the mission. Every morning before work, I would get out my laptop and start writing. Instead of just journaling about this for my own sake, I decided that sharing my story could help others who might be feeling the same way. As children, we read books that help us learn to share, resolve conflicts, and be a better person. Where are the stories for young adults?

Always loving a good visual aid, the idea of a bird’s journey resonated as a way to structure the long tale I set out to tell.

And here we are now.

Chapter 8: What Happened Once the Bird Finally Stayed Still

Isolating myself during the week to focus on writing and work was easier knowing that on Friday night, I had a reliable plan: walk across the street to the Casa Lab community space for the weekly dinner. This completely erased the usual New Place routine of “how will I make friends? Where should I go? What if I don’t meet anyone and then I waste my time and money?” At Casa Lab, I already knew two of my neighbors would be there. I shared the invitation in the group chat with the rest of my apartment complex as well. And, since it was so close to my home, there was no need to worry about what time I finished work, how to get there, if I would be arriving late, etc, etc. All family style, all close to home, all inclusive. No resistance in sight.

There, I began making connections with people who all chose to eat family style over any other Friday night plan. This meant that we all valued community. With that already in common, I felt more confident that the people I met there were the type of people I wanted to be spending time around.

Just like that, San Cris felt like home. My new friends invited me to movies, dinners, day trips, and even a big family style Christmas (/Hanukkah, hehe) dinner. Even though I was feeling so happy with my community there and my experiment in staying static, months ago I had taken off the first week of January to allow myself to explore Guatemala. I had doubts about going, thinking maybe I should just stay in San Cris to do more writing, connecting, etc, but my gut said no - give yourself this vacation. Chase your dreams. Go be free.

There was also another reason why I wanted to get to know Guatemala: my maternal great grandfather is Guatemalan. Carlos Eduardo Lascoutx Campo was a pilot in the Guatemalan Air Force who planted his seed during a trip to California. My great grandmother, Claudia Rateaver, was not ready for the responsibility of being a mother and put their boy up for adoption. Claud Rateaver became James Dale Macomber upon adoption. My grandfather. After he found out he was adopted, he got in contact with his biological mother Claudia, and developed a passion to trace his biological family. With my grandmother and their four kids, they spent years traveling the world to research and document our family tree. Thanks to that, we have two published books that contain cataloged data of our family roots. No need to sign up for Ancestry.com for my mom’s side of the family!

Pretty incredible, huh? I am in awe of their work and so grateful for the time they took to connect with such long reaching branches of our family tree.

Getting back to the story, before the trip, I did some research as to where I wanted to go in Guatemala and what I wanted to do. I had heard about the overnight trip to the Acatenango Volcano, where you could see the active volcano Fuego erupting at night.

Lava. Real life lava.

My inner child overflowed with delight at the prospect, as little Beth was obsessed with dinosaurs and all types of natural disasters.

Then, someone I met at an Airbnb back in CDMX had told me that Lake Atitlán, the deepest lake in Central America, was a place people flocked to for New Years. Deciding it would be nice to ring in the New Years surrounded by nature, I booked a shuttle to Panajachel, one of the twelve towns that surround the lake.

And that was the end of my plans.

I booked nothing but the transportation there and decided to leave everything absolutely open for the eleven days I had off. To continue my exploration of surrendering to the Universe, I would rely on my intuition to guide me and flow with whatever felt right.

I believe that that was the key that unlocked a trip that gave me more than I could have ever imagined.

Chapter 9: The Bird Discovers a Magic Lake

On the journey to the lake, the people I made friends with in the bus were all going to the same place: the Cosmic Convergence Festival. I had heard of the festival and knew someone from San Cris was going, but it was pretty expensive, and I did not want to commit to anything in advance. However, one of my guiding principles is to be around people I want to be like, so judging from the fact that the people I seemed to vibe with the most on the bus were going to the festival, I decided it was a sign that that is where I should go, too.

Something fascinating I learned from a person I met on the bus, Cozcacuahutli (or Cozcatl for short) from Mexico, is that at the bottom of Lake Atitlán is a submerged Mayan village. Basically a Guatemalan Atlantis. Then, let’s not forget that the lake is bordered by not one, not two, but three volcanoes. That’s a lot of fiery, spiritual energy for one lake.

Upon arrival in Panajachel, Cozcatl and I put our belongings down in a room rented to us by a friend of his. Exhausted from the 13 hour journey across Mexico and Guatemala, we ate dinner, browsed the unbelievably creative and colorful textiles for sale, then called it an early night.

The next morning, we crossed paths with three other people headed to the festival, Joey, Daniella, and Michael. They invited us to join forces and charter a ride directly to Santiago, the town where the festival was held. As we sped across the choppy waters, I got my first daytime view of Lake Atitlán.

I was taken aback.

The three volcanoes seemed to have a humble, graceful presence, kind of like big dog energy: they were aware of their grand beauty and power, but did think themselves better than anyone because of it. As my mouth gaped open, Joey shared that he had manifested some of his greatest dreams at this lake. Zaps of electricity sparked inside me and I felt the magic energy of the lake light me up. Big things were coming, I could feel it.

Exhilarated by the brisk winds of the boat ride, we arrived in Santiago hungry for the next adventure. We parted ways with the three musketeers and bumped our way in a tuk tuk across cobblestones and dirt roads to the festival entrance. Cozcatl met up with some friends of his and after setting up the tent and painting our faces, I was eager to check out this new environment on my own. While walking around, a woman announced the beginning of a self defense workshop, so I took that as my opportunity to separate myself from the group. Immersing myself in all that the festival had to offer began.

At the workshop, I connected with a woman who had been given a big tent in the artist’s camping section to stay in, as she was going to step in and play drums for a band in need. She offered to share her tent with me, which I gratefully accepted, as Cozcatl’s tent would have been a little snug for two. Once my sleeping situation was settled, I was in need of some alone time, so I found a path to the water and took out my journal.

I closed my eyes and breathed, in and out deeply.

I felt the brisk air fill my lungs and after a few moments, reopened my eyes.

Somehow, I was at a music festival on a lake with a sunken ancient town at the bottom and volcanoes all around. I felt deep gratitude for the ability to be alive in such a special place and thanked myself for all the work I did to bring me there. It was December 30th, 2022 and time to set intentions for the New Year.

When pen hit the paper, the difference between writing my intentions for 2022 and for 2023 was clear: this time, I wrote detailed, specific goals. Instead of just “work hard on passion projects”, I specified that I wanted to write in my blog at least once every three months, host one storytelling event, etc. Manifesting my dreams using the magic of the lake inspired me, and I felt the beauty surrounding me seep into my every cell.

I soaked it up like a sponge.

I became as present as possible, consciously anchoring myself in that moment so I could later come back to that feeling whenever I may desire.

Inspired by the idea of using the lake’s mystical energy to manifest my own dreams, I decided to open up about some of the concepts I had been developing and see what it felt like to share them. With surprising speed, the Universe ushered people who mirrored my state of consciousness into my path: astrologers, female program leaders, community builders. When I shared my ideas with them, I was met with encouragement, praise, and offers to stay in touch. Co-creating with people who want to do the same things as me or are already doing them was an ingredient I had overlooked, and definitely now added to the recipe.

I also found that the more vocal I became about my intentions, the more energy of support I felt. People really listened to my ideas and gave me valuable feedback. Each new perspective was like shining a new light on an idea, so that little by little, the beginning embryonic stage of my dreams began to form recognizable shapes, colors, textures, movement, smells, and sounds. Clarity. It was all coming together.

In these moments, I began to understand why people use the phrase “to birth an idea”. My long period of preparation was necessary and natural, and now I was starting to feel the first thrilling kicks of life.

After the festival, I spent three nights in San Marcos la Laguna, another town on the lake. This was the most spiritual of them all and became sort of the after-party of the festival - in the drum circle, medicine songs type of way. Just minutes after disembarking the speed boat, I was walking up "Hippie Highway" - aka the main pedestrian path of the town - and was approached by a muscular, handsome Italian man, asking "Do you need a hostel?" It was love at first sight - with San Marcos, I mean. Immediately I was welcomed into a sweet hostel with a garden, outdoor kitchen, and a two story house equipped with plenty of comfy beds.

Exhausted after my nights of camping in the cold at the festival, I dropped anchor on one of the beds and connected to Wifi for the first time in days. Some long minutes of scrolling later, I heard the door open, and my Italian host Eduardo had caught another homeless fish from the stream. The fish's name was Dario, from Costa Rica, and somehow full of energy despite the fact that he had also attended the festival. He promptly asked me if I had eaten yet, which I hadn't, and informed me we could go together once he had a shower. Ah yes, those two basic needs I needed to accomplish. Saved by this cheerful angel, I lugged myself off the bed to feel hot water on my body for the first time since arriving in Guatemala and go off in search of sustenance with my new friend.

In our hostel with no name, Dario and I soon added Klas and Amanda, a couple from Sweden who had also been at Cosmic, to our happy family. It makes me laugh that I lived in Sweden for nine months but had to go all the way to Guatemala to actually make Swedish friends. Being around these kindhearted souls was like tying the bow on the festival experience. We cooked together, explored together, shared dreams together, and laughed together - lots and lots of laughing.

I bid them a temporary goodbye, because I still had one last thing I had to do: climb the Acatenango Volcano. Through a tour company in San Marcos, I was able to arrange transportation from the lake to Antigua, where I would link up with the group I'd do the hike with. My group turned out to just be myself and a Costa Rican couple, who were pleasant but not too talkative, and we were taken by a driver to our local guide's house. There, we met Jorge and his family, who provided us with a packed lunch, water, and walking sticks (I already had a headlamp, remember? Just had to point that out. Ok, back to the story). We were then whisked off to the base of the volcano to began the steep, uphill climb. Five hours of huffing, puffing, peeling layers on and off, a stop for lunch, and countless breaks later, we arrived to base camp on the side of the volcano. It was time for a nap. When night arrived, the temperature plummeted and the wind soared, but that is when the active volcano Fuego begins to erupt. About every half an hour to hour or so, if you are watching at the right moment, the volcano explodes and you can see lava trickle down in little vein-like rivers. Bucket list item completed: see lava in real life.

Throughout the night, it was exhilarating being awakened by the boom of wind from the eruption. The air would slam into the plastic walls of our camp and we could feel the ground shake. After the boom, the clashing sound of rocks sliding down its gravely body always followed. In a way, I was reminded of sleeping next to the ocean, except instead of waves, it was lava, rocks, and smoke causing the sounds. Definitely the most extreme camping experience I've ever had. That night, the winds were too strong to be able to safely attempt the optional nocturnal hike to Fuego. It was something I would have wanted to do; however, the freezing temperatures and the state of fatigue I was in also welcomed the opportunity to sleep instead.

In the morning, we awoke to a gorgeous sunrise. It is curious how Fuego's lava becomes shy during the day, emitting only clouds of black smoke. Once we finished breakfast, we all agreed we wanted to do the final optional hike to the top of Acatenango. Reaching the top of the 13,041 ft (3,976 m) summit was one of the most difficult physical experiences I have ever paid and willingly chosen to be put through (humans are so insane), but worth it. I mean, I can't say I climbed almost all the way to the top.

If 2023 started with me sleeping next to an active volcano and climbing to the top of an even higher dormant one, what will I be able to accomplish with the rest of the year? Achieving that will be my reminder that with a clear goal, proper preparation, endurance, and determination, I will be able to make more dreams come true. The only limit is my imagination.

Chapter 10: The Bird Prepares to Hatch Some Eggs

I had been pushing myself so hard to find answers, I had gotten stuck in my mind. When I dropped down into my heart and intuition, it was like everything shifted into place.

Once I paused to consider what I already knew how to do, I realized how many talents and how much experience I have. I had been allowing society’s conditioning messages that I needed to pursue a Master’s, or find a high paying position with ample benefits, or work extra hard to climb the corporate ladder as the only outlets to further my professional life. That was what was making me feel stuck. Perhaps in a previous generation, those were the options. A set in stone formula that rigidly demanded all people should evolve in the same way.

Well, all people are not the same.

When I allowed myself to imagine and dream big, that was where I finally found a path that lit up my insides.

Astrology.

Community building.

Working with teenage girls, their moms, and their grandmas in education and recreation.

Creating something.

Since what society presented to me did not resonate, I realized that I have to create my own path.

Duuuh, I’m an Aquarius Sun, Mars, and Venus. I can’t do anything like anyone else. I am here to innovate, rebel, and change the world - not follow anyone else’s rules.

So, now what?

Time to take action.

Day by day, I am going to take steps that will bring me closer to my goals.

January 18th, 2023 was the start of the Astrology Course that I signed up for back on Black Friday. By the end of this course, I will possess the astrological knowledge and business strategies to be able to become a professional astrologer.

That is my short term professional goal.

My long term professional goal came to me when I sat with rapé on the rooftop in Puerto Escondido. The initial seed that sprouted was a general idea: I wanted to create some kind of outside of school, wellness retreat-style program for girls. Since that initial bloom, the vines have been slowly and steadily creeping throughout my body, forming more and more connections until I now have a living, breathing goal rooted deep within me.

I want to create a program for teenage girls to come together, form sisterhood, learn about essential life topics not taught in school, combine generations, and have fun while doing it. There is such a need for more spaces for girls and women to connect, everywhere in the world, so we can share knowledge, support each other through our highs and our lows, and create community - for all, without sports, politics, religion, culture, etc being at the center.

Creating this program would use every single one of my talents and experiences to form something that I see that our world lacks. At the end of this post, I’ll share more about this, for anyone interested.

Excitement buzzes through my body just to talk about it.

And there you have it.

My life journey over the past 10 years.

What it’s taken for me to finally find clarity. For the first time ever, I feel like I know who I am and my purpose in life. (At this moment, at least)

And it’s only just beginning.

In astrology, there is an important transit called a Saturn return, which usually takes place between the ages of 27 and 30, caused by Saturn returning to the same position it was when you were born. During this time, you will be forced to face the areas of your life that you may have previously ignored, as Saturn represents topics like maturity, hard work, accountability, and adulthood. The opportunity is to get serious about what your legacy is and take responsibility, or resist and continue playing it small. If you choose the latter option, when your Saturn return comes around a second time 30 years later, you will have the same problems to face.

Well, I am fully immersed in my Saturn return and am choosing to embrace it. I have suffered from being constantly wrought with thoughts of “Am I doing what I’m really supposed to be doing?” and answering no, time and time again. However, growth is uncomfortable, so out of this discomfort I am now finally feeling like I see the light at the end of the tunnel.

I am ready to make the changes in my life to close the first chapter and welcome in a beautiful transformation into adulthood. I am thrilled with the possibilities that await me and am committed to working hard to achieve them. A message I received at the magical lake in Guatemala was that there is no time to play small. We must dream big, as the universe is counting on each and every one of us to do what we can to restore love and light into the world. I am taking that energy into 2023 and sharing my intentions so that I will be held accountable.

My hope is that by sharing my journey, others may resonate and gain comfort in knowing they are not alone in feeling lost, or ready for a big change. We must rise together to create the New World of our dreams. It is possible, but only through a collective shift. And that is happening.

So, that is what I’ve been doing :-)

♡ The End ♡ 

More About my Program Idea and Inspiration

Ever since my first job as a Camp Counselor at my temple’s summer camp, I've been searching for ways to make that position last throughout the year. Hence the reason I chose to study the Youth Work and Out of School Time concentration in my Child and Adolescent Development degree, as I knew I wanted to do something with kids, just not in school.

After years of working different jobs with children, I was feeling unbalanced, as I also had many other passions that tugged at my heart. I would love to study art, or nutrition, or plants, or yoga, or tour guiding, or therapy. The idea of picking just one stressed me out.

So… why not combine them all?

The solution: a program focused on girls and women to come together, form community, and empower the feminine uprising currently occurring on our planet. And make it fun, of course.

I want to take the best parts of the activities I grew up with that helped shape me, as well as what I have learned as an adult that I wish I knew as a kid.

One inspiration comes from the YMCA program I did growing up called Adventure Guides (previously Indian Guides, before PC culture emerged), similar to Girl/Boy Scouts. I was in a father daughter “tribe” that would meet once a month at a different member’s house to do arts and crafts, eat snacks, and always ended with a ritual that for each life event passed, we would receive a specific colored bead to add onto our necklace. Additionally, twice a year, all of the Adventure Guides tribes would gather for a weekend camping trip. Everyone would bring supplies not only for themselves, but also to contribute to communal meals, and of course prepare a skit to be presented around the fire on the last night of the weekend. All of this, in hindsight, was teaching me how to camp, survival skills, and intergenerational, communal living.

Another huge inspiration comes from my Jewish upbringing. I have so much gratitude for being raised in the Jewish community it’s hard to know where to begin. Despite what may come to mind when imagining an organized religion, Temple Beth Torah’s influence taught me to be open minded, humanitarian, spiritual, culturally aware, and outspoken. In the Torah, we are commanded to do “mitzvot”, or good deeds - not to get into Heaven or avoid Hell (Jews don’t have either of these beliefs); rather, just because it is the right thing to do. If you combine that with our long (and continued) history of persecution, this produces a person who really honors the value of helping others, no matter their background. Highlights from my Jewish education include social action projects, guided meditations during youth led services, organizing overnight raves in our temple for other Southern California Jewish high school youth groups to attend (yes, you read that right), and sweaty song sessions where we would belt our hearts out to “Wonderwall” accompanied by a throng of acoustic guitar wielding teenagers (looking back, some of the songs we sang were medicine songs that I continue to hear around healing ceremony fires). And, coincidentally, the Jewish high school youth group organization I was a part of, NFTY, also gave beads to add to your necklace for each event attended. Very tribal to use a decorative, visual system to determine someone’s status in life.

So, the dream is to form an intergenerational community and invite teachers of different disciplines to share their knowledge about subjects not commonly covered in the educational system. This is what I mean by the things that I wish I had learned when I was younger. My hope would be that early exposure to a wide variety of topics could lead to something sparking the interest of the participants, later turning into a roaring flame of passion and leadership.

PS - if you know someone doing something like this, have an idea, or want to somehow contribute, please message me! Co-creation is the best kind of creation ♡

Afterword

It has been a grounding and humbling experience converting my journey to words. This began as an exercise for myself to figure out what I’m doing. Thanks to my therapist pointing out that I am a visual learner, she suggested I draw or write out my life path, then add branches of ideas of where I could see it going. This is my interpretation of that suggestion, and wow am I proud of the hard work I put into it. I had been feeling like nobody really knows what I’ve been up to, seeing as I’m constantly moving around and interacting with new people that just know bits of my story. Then, I also realized, I don’t even fully know what I’ve been doing, as I haven’t given myself much time to stop, reflect, and think about how I want to move forward.

By pulling out the internal threads and weaving them into an external piece, I finally can put the finished work on the table and say “Look! This is me”. Now that I’ve made sense of my past and validated my experiences, I feel confident in charting the next course. I know where I’ve been and now I know where I want to go.

As a final anecdote, I was fortunate enough to experience the powerful Bufo medicine in a healing ceremony recently. When I returned to my body, I walked away from the group to give myself space, and immediately my eyes were drawn to a nest in a tree. Immediately, I thought about this story and felt grateful that the universe gave me such a clear sign. Synchronicity is so beautiful.

To conclude, I would love for anyone to reach out about anything this post might have stirred up inside you. Maybe you resonate with something, have questions, or share a common goal - whatever it may be, send me a message.

Thank you so much for reading and witnessing me on my journey. I love and appreciate you.

♡♡♡

[passionguavagreentea]

The Glamorization of Hustle Culture

This will be a ramble-filled, multi-blog-post series revolving around hustle culture and its bizarre glamorization.

The 'Positives' of Hustle Culture

Accepting the fact that there has to be at least some positives to hustle culture is something that I have had to get used to. Understanding that there is no one side to everything, and that there are countless perspectives that you have to respect... To some degree, right? Especially after reading about the origins of hustle culture, it's hard to look at it and think "We did good" because we didn't. What I want to bring into perspective are the positives of hustle culture that you already know, or maybe didn't even think of.

An article published in Forbes listed some of the pros of hustle culture; increased productivity, motivation, and personal success. So, constantly working and having the aching desire to achieve more can result in higher productivity levels? That's according to this article. I can’t help but wonder, does it actually increase productivity levels or are we so stuck in this cultural loop that we've managed to convince ourselves that it does good to us? Check out this study, which may or may not totally disprove the statement that hustle culture increases productivity. I see how being busy would give you additional adrenaline, and how you would end up using it to be more productive. I'm guilty of this when I'm in the total zone of cleaning or rearranging my room, there is some addicting factor behind it. Is this factor what those who grind on the daily feel? If so, I get it.

Motivation and professional success were also on the list of pros, hustle culture has the great ability to inspire and encourage people to set high goals for themselves and to show that they can achieve great things; in and outside of a professional workplace. Wanting to get promoted, receive a raise, or some form of acknowledgment from the higher ups. I can even see this being useful if you want to prove to those who had no faith in you, that you can surpass their disheartening-low-expectations. Some people need something, such as their job, to motivate them to get out of bed every morning. Especially if it's something they love doing, and if dedicating your time to work is what you love, then that's that.

Bringing in more income to your household is the one pro of hustle culture that I can somewhat stick behind. In our world, we need money. End of story, and it's sad. It's sad and disgusting how expensive the basic necessities are now, and it's worse that humans feel as though they have to hustle just to scrape by. Some of us are almost forced to have to work countless hours; but I wonder, how could this be prevented? Sure, we could lower the cost of living, but is there any other way that we can live without the worry of having enough income? I sadly cannot see the government lower costs of anything in the near or even far future. Thanks, government.

There is no one side to this idea, but my overall opinion of the positives of hustle culture, even considering the additional income that I can somewhat stick behind, is that there are none. Wasting away your life, dedicating it to work. It sounds sad, dark, depressing, and lonely. It’s easy to say that you enjoy this culture and wear a confident face and deep down know that you are not happy with how your life is turning out by following this over-glamorized lifestyle. I'm sure that there are tons of other positives to hustle culture, and I'd love to hear people's perspectives and opinions. My wish-washy views are all over the place, and they are constantly changing. I’m sure at this point, you can see that.

[tangiblejournal56]

9/6/11

In my attempt to ignore all exterior door slammings in the face of my efforts to find something to be happy about, I struggle, but manage to keep my head above water.  Despite a week’s worth of being ignored by the four of them, I managed to not reach that level of rage I’d met in my last couple of entries.  Even when they acted as though I were being a bitch after they blatantly stood me up & I stopped making any effort to hang out with them, still I did not yell in their faces, “Do you guys realize that NOT ONCE have you asked me to join you, nor was I invited on any of your outings, nor have any of you remembered my existence long enough to let me know you were all four going out of town, leaving me here alone in my obvious irrelevance & hurt, wondering what I’d done to become so invisible.”  Their complete dismissal of me, their indifference to how I would inevitably react.  Left me smarting, texting Posi Thom, crying when he’d respond “Come home.  We’ll get a place together.  I’m not nearly as cynical as I usually am lately, but I miss you like fucking crazy.  I’d never reject you!  I love you!”  How I’ve come to depend on his daily reminders that I do have friends, ones who want me around, who don’t forget my existence while under the same roof.  Sending me lyrics that make him think of me: “I hope that you’re happy & high as a kite, burnin’ up both ends & feelin’ alright, will we ever live in the same city again?  Where the sidewalks feel alright.”  Reminding me that, in all of his flaws, Posi Thom is one of my dearest friends, & can shine through like a balefire when I’m lost, when I need him.  No matter what issues we may face in our friendship, or how his admittedly tough-to-bear traits may frustrate me to a certain degree, I have this to remember, how he is there when I need him.  I miss him, to an awful extent.

Jennifer has gone back to Iowa.  Her last night here, she was falling asleep as I was leaving with Sammie to pick up Josh from work.  I told her to crash on my bed, & I turned to ask Jacob if I could again sleep in his bed, as I had for some of the past week.  He acted so mealy-mouthed & annoyed at the request that my blood reached a boiling point, & I gathered my blanket & pillow from his room, still in there from the night before.  I dropped them on the living room floor near where he was sitting, then walked out of the apartment, furious, feelings hurt.  After letting him sleep in my bed when Racha & Posi Thom were here so he wouldn’t have to take the floor.  After buying him dinner at Madam Mam’s that day, & packs of cigarettes & groceries & countless other sweet little deeds I’ve done for him.  I was so disgusted by this selfishness, this & the way he treated me all week being around Sammie & Jennifer, like I just annoy him, like he’s sick of me, can’t stand the sight of me.  Such a sharp 180 from just a week or so ago, & I was hurt & angered & spinning from it.  In the truck I texted him a sarcastic “Thanks a lot,” knowing he wouldn’t respond, wishing I could just tell him to go to hell.

Both he & Jennifer asleep when I returned, I lay in the dark & watching a movie when Max texted me, a song to douse the fiery anger.  He was full of unexpected unexpected kindness, compliments & encouragement, as if he knew it was what I most needed to hear at the moment.  We discussed my latest attempt at watercolor painting.  He said he hoped I stuck with painting, “You could be so great at it,” he thought.  Flattered by his encouragement, I sent him a picture of this latest attempt, a small painting across two pages of my little black watercolor journal, inspired by an old black & white photograph of Edie Sedgwick, her thin frame on a rocky hill, a fur draped over her shoulder casually, reaching across the abyss to these winter-dead branches, an ornate street lamp in the corner.  Inspired by Edie, wanting to be the mad girl painting her eyelids with watercolor, all energy & collapse.  Despite my going on about the picture’s rudimentary weaknesses & it being the first real attempt I’ve made, he complimented it, liking specifically the background & the street lamp.  Max not being one to pour out easy flattery, I felt like blushing, being the recipient of such praise.  He seemed genuinely concerned that I keep painting.  I loved him for this, for taking the wind from my rage, replacing it with this calm.

He asked me if I ever felt completely on the outside of all social groups, as though I would never fit in anywhere.  Told him wryly that I felt in touch with that emotion.  He wasn’t ready to discuss it, but he noted that’s how he was feeling.  We talked about going to art museums & reading all day, & when in Portland how we shall be able to make all decisions based entirely on self-centered ascendency, as we will not be encumbered by obligations to anyone.

Then sleep.  All through the day, like an escape.  When awake I ignored Jacob wholly, an iciness that would’ve discouraged anyone else.  He kept attempting, & I made it clear my total indifference to him.  I don’t think that I looked at his face once, even when it was necessary to answer one of his questions, & always monotone, always monosyllabic.  I was & am disgusted by him, I want nothing to do with him.  I can tell he imagines this to be one of my fits of anger, short-lived & unpleasant.  He has no idea.  I don’t have a single urge to speak to him at all, & could happily survive the next three months with minimal or no contact.  I don’t give a single fuck about what he thinks of me, & I am sick of finding out what stupid little acts of cruelties he’s capable of doling out, I want nothing to do with them.  I am embarrassed to have entertained any notions of a romantic nature towards him.  His callousness has left a scar on our friendship I don’t care to heal.  I am unforgiving, & I don’t care.  Few people have ever succeeded at making me feel like utter shit, & amid a time when I needed his friendship most.

[boutny]

Sail from Ribeira - storm cells and stay sails

Boutny under stay sail, main and jib

The sail from Ribeira started with more troubled and complicated weather than we’d had all month. Not the monotony of the high pressure Northerly, but a small depression to our South West that was forecast to fill out over the next few days. We were in the zone between the depression and NE flow from Biscay and the North Sea. There were strange confluences and dead zones, winds turning here and there in the forecast.

[Lesson: it is tempting to look at the very detailed wind forecasts from apps like MeteoBlue and to imagine hopping from one regime to the next, being in the right place to catch this change or that. It kind of worked on one miraculous passage for John and me from Nazare to Viana. But usually, the forecast is not accurate enough, and your progress is not what you’d hope ... so don’t count on that level of optimisation]

The stay sail worked really well on a beam reach and had us at 5kts in a 13kt wind - pretty good, given we were forced to have 2 reefs in the main. But the stay sail is huve and somewhat unwieldy, and not light like a spinnaker. It could quite easily get quite hard to handle, and I had mentally rehearsed cutting its soft shackle at the foot to flag it.

A storm cell came from behind and wet us. That killed the wind. The cell drifted North West, offshore of us.

The breeze started again, and I remembered storm cells on Lake Geneva - the wind front can be delayed and strong. Who knows what this would be like. So we waited a bit before getting the stay sail back up. And we waited. And then I thought ... “seems not to be coming ... let’s hoist ...”

Minutes later, the wind had veered 180 degrees and strengthened by 10 kts and the stay sail was backed. Bringing it down in a controlled way took weight and care not to let the rope burn my palms. We let the front pass before hoisting it again, and enjoying an hour of post-storm wind from a good direction.

[Lesson ... well, not sure there is one. Yes, I could have waited longer, but a rule to always wait longer is clearly the wrong one. OK - here is the lesson - when lowering the stay sail in wind, make sure to put it through some decent friction device, like a cleat.]

[languageconflictandpeace]

Doing justice to peace: From 'Words with Guns' to 'Language, Conflict, and Peace'

I've had this blog in mind for a long time now. Originally, though, it was called 'Words with Guns'.

The name change is the result of my reflecting on a conversation I once had with an elderly Londoner, back when I was doing a master's degree there. It was the kind of chance encounter you hold on to: something you could write about for ages. Our conversation was about war, peace, and the unequal attention we give to them.

We were sharing a bench, watching people feed ducks and swans at Hyde Park. People who have visited the park will be familiar with the Serpentine, a lake where you can rent pedal boats. I've rented those pedal boats on many sunny days, whether with friends, or by myself, to enjoy a serene afternoon while reading a book.

On this particular day, both the old man and I were sitting on a bench not far from the Serpentine Bar and Restaurant, a little place where one can enjoy a nice brunch with a view of the lake. I was trying to focus on reading a book on genocide – required reading for a class. He kept sneaking glances at the book. Eventually, he spoke.

"You a student?"

I looked up – hadn't expected him to talk to me. "Yeah. International history."

"Good sign," he said. To my enquiring look, he answered, "You name the studies first, not just the university. Some people, you ask if they're a student, and the first thing out of their mouth is the name of their college. Not what they're doing there. They ought to care more about what they're studying, than where."

"Vocation over location," I said.

He seemed to like that, as he let out a funny little giggle. "So, whereabouts?"

I told him.

"Thought you'd be up at the King's College. Awful book like that."

I had no idea what the connection was between King's College and "awful books", but noticed his disparaging tone. "Well, they're a pretty good uni."

"Better than yours?" His tone was slightly teasing this time.

"Oh, I don't know about that ... But I wouldn't have minded going there. They have a War Studies department." For some reason, this fact that I had learnt about KCL had really made quite an impression on me. Perhaps I just thought it sounded interesting to meet a literal student of war.

Unfortunately, this didn't land well with the old man. "War Studies?" He made a hmph sound. "No Peace Studies then?"

"Sorry?"

"We know all about war. There's a new war every week, isn't there?"

"Yeah, true."

"What we don't know enough about is peace. Fairness."

I didn't really know what to say to that. Something occurred to me after a few moments. "Ironic, that we're having this conversation in the capital of the former British Empire."

He said, "Sod the British Empire."

(What a surprisingly anti-establishment old man, I thought. This struck me as something that might be said by someone who'd spent his youth at punk shows around the UK in the 1970s. It then dawned on me that I might in fact be talking to a punk in his retirement age. I'd often wondered what had happened to the fans who'd seen Joe Strummer and Sid Vicious in their prime, then outlived them - had they carried that spirit on or eventually 'grown up'?)

I didn't agree with what he'd said about war being fully understood. As a species, we are inventive in the most horrific ways. Sure, you could list some generalities about conflict: the various types of it, the various types of actors involved, methods of warfare, et cetera. But to know war is to know humanity, and each is ever-evolving.

Take genocide, for example - the subject of the "awful book" I was reading (not an awful book, but a book about an awful thing. These are two distinct concepts). On a superficial level, one might have fairly simplistic assumptions about what genocide is. "Group A is powerful and high-status, and persecutes the less powerful and lower-status Group B." But in 1994, the Rwanda genocide upended that perception. The genocide was marked by a shift in power dynamic between the Tutsi and Hutu ethnic groups, with the initially elite-status Tutsi minority become brutally persecuted and slaughtered by the non-elite Hutu majority.

This doesn't even account for the various legal definitions of the term "genocide". The word was first coined by the Polish lawyer Raphael Lemkin in 1944. These definitions continue to be debated and updated as the horrific acts that may constitute 'genocide' continue to develop.

Even the concept of "evil" isn't as simple as once thought. Evil is not always characterised by an overtly violent action. Sometimes evil is just "action", or lack thereof. Evil can even just be words. Words are in fact what often lie behind the violence, the thin quavering line between "harmless" and "harmful".

Hannah Arendt had written about the banality of evil. In 1963, she observed the trial of Adolph Eichmann, the Nazi responsible for the deaths of millions of Jews during the Holocaust. In her book, she describes Eichmann as "terrifyingly normal". She saw in him no devilish glee or hateful gleam – he was a normal person who believed he had simply been doing his job. This is one of the many reasons the horrors of the Holocaust continue to haunt the western world to this day. It bore witness to the fact that evil can have a "civilised" face, and moreover that it can be structural and organised.

I spoke my thoughts to the old man. "Of course," he said. "There's no end to the depths of human depravity. Believe me, I know." (I immediately realised that I had been youth-splaining history to an elderly person. Oops.) "Question is, why do we never pay more attention to the more positive outcomes? They matter very much. All I'm saying is, if you're gonna make a War Studies department, you should also have a bloody Peace Studies department. They don't come hand in hand, those two. You don't learn how to be peaceful by learning about war. When you learn war, you just learn war."

I countered, "Isn't it possible for two people to read about a conflict and walk away with different lessons? One student may approach from the lens of diplomacy, for example – what went wrong there, what could have been done better. Or international law – how have international systems failed to address the problem early on, what kind of action was needed, and what needs to be different next time. One of the most famous interpretations of the Cuban Missile Crisis places a lot of importance on JFK's role as a peacemaker. Dunno if I agree with that, but just an example. The Americans have kind of spun it into White House propaganda on what a fantastic guy he was."

I was aware I was being a little pushy – just let the man believe what he wants, Aiza. But there was a part of me that felt what he was saying to be similar to the whole "Who needs books and higher learning!" – an attitude that has always annoyed me. Now that I look back on it, I should have just let him impart his pearls of wisdom and move on. But to be fair, he did seem to be enjoying the exchange.

He stood his ground, the old oak. "The language matters," he said. "The packaging matters. If you're going to study war from the angle of peace, then you should be calling it Peace Studies. If you're gonna learn about war for the sake of peace, then you should be calling it Peace Studies. Otherwise, you're learning about war for the sake of being good at war."

This was actually a pretty good point. I conceded: "Yeah. That is true."

It reminded me a little of the exchange Kurt Vonnegut, himself once an American prisoner of war in Germany, describes at the beginning of Slaughterhouse Five. The wife of one of his fellow veterans had raised an outcry at the initial title of his book, claiming that if he truly intended it to be an anti-war tale, he'd give it a title that didn't glamorise warfare. And so, he gave his novel the subtitle The Children's Crusade, to remind each and every reader that the young soldiers being made to kill each other in war are in fact just children: a brutal reminder of the innate inhumanity of armed conflict. And why did Kurt Vonnegut agree to adjust the title? Because, as the old man told me, "The language matters. The packaging matters."

As previously mentioned, I had initially named this blog "Words with Guns" - a title that I already knew was not exactly the most academic thing in the world, but was catchy. As someone with copywriting experience, I'm a sucker for catchy.

But, reading through some old journal entries from my time in the UK (I had immediately jotted down the entire conversation with him, beginning my furious scribbles as soon as he left the bench), I became aware that I was neglecting the very important lesson both he and Kurt Vonnegut had tried with such passion to impart. I realise this is an insanely long write-up simply to explain why I changed the title of a blog that nobody has read, but in a way these words will guide me in my reading and writing about the subject.

[rayshippouuchiha]

Yamada: so how did you and izuku start dating

Aizawa: I saw him crush a watermelon with his thighs and I accidentally said out loud “oh god I wish that were me right now” and here we are now

~The way this immediately and completely ate my entire brain~

Of three things Aizawa Shouta is absolutely sure:

One, he simply was not built for operating during the daylight hours. Nighttime really is where it's at in his opinion. The general lack of crowds and eye-searing sunlight just can't be beaten. (Dusk and dawn hours also get a pass but they're both on thin ice.)

Two, the beach is a sandy hell-scape whose only redeeming factor is the convenient access it provides to the eldritch horror that is the ocean aka the place he'll doubtlessly end up drowning himself when he finally, and according to Hizashi inevitably, snaps and runs gibbering mad into the abyss.

And three, he's absolutely and irrevocably cursed. He's being singled out and punished from on high by the gods themselves. His name is writ large across the cosmos in mockery. There is a cosmic "kick me" sign taped to his spiritual back and Shouta's going to hunt his former student Sero down and give him detention for life for encouraging his family's patron god to put it there.

By this point it's really the only logical explanation.

Which, as a card-carrying atheist, he's pretty sure is saying something about the depth of his feelings regarding his current circumstances.

Because there's no other explanation for why or how he's managed to find himself in this current situation.

The situation being, of course, Shouta, in full hero gear, standing in the hot sun on a pristine sandy beach, surrounded by screaming fans as he provides extra security and crowd control for the 20th Annual Heroic Sukiwari Charity Drive.

Shouta has seen hell and it is both Ms. Joke's open mic night and this exact moment right here.

Because, again, he's absolutely 100% cursed.

And the avatar of said curse is, obviously, his soon-to-be ex-best friend who somehow roped him into this entire thing.

Because some people say divine retribution when talking about cosmic revenge plots but Shouta tends to just says Yamada Hizashi. The two are, in many ways, interchangeable.

Shouta's going to put purify salts in all of Hizashi's hair products and also his sugar jar and possibly his energy drinks the next chance he gets.

Because if he never sees another shirtless pro-hero or another watermelon again in his life it'll be too soon.

He's pretty sure he has permanent hearing damage from all of the screaming and screeching the crowd's been doing since this thing started.

And if, after all these years of friendship with the personification of a megaphone, watching a bunch of pro's crush watermelons with nothing but their personal strength on a beach to raise money for various charities is what finally destroys his hearing Shouta is going to shave Hizashi bald before he finally embraces sweet death.

Or enacts Nezu's birthday plans and becomes a supervillain.

The jury's honestly still out at this point.

Shouta does his best to shut out the screaming behind him as one of the cameramen slides up beside him, getting a better angle on the stage as Hizashi, who's currently screeching about Miruko's performance, practically dances across the sand in front of where Shouta's standing.

"Wow, wow, wow," Present Mic chants as he dramatically fans himself, "that was one on heart-stopping, hare-raising show. Let's give it up for everyone's favorite bad, bad, bunny, Miruko!"

For her part, Miruko just struts off the small stage with a nonchalant wave to the crowd, her tiny white bikini in place and the pulverized remains of the half dozen watermelons she'd dropped kicked into soup left behind her.

"But don't lose that rhythm yet listeners," Mic announces gleefully. "Because we've got one more hero set to take the stage! So, without further ado, it's the moment I know a lot of you have been waiting for, myself included if we're being honest. The pièce de résistance of our little shindig, the showstopper himself, the one, the only, the #1 Can Do Hero Dekiru."

The crowd is absolutely deafening.

And, for once, Shouta has to grudgingly admit that he can't actually blame them.

Shirtless, sculpted shoulders and tight abs on display thanks to his low sitting and almost criminally short green swim shorts, and with his trademark bashful smile in place, Dekiru trots out from behind the curtained-off area with a crate of watermelons resting on his shoulder like it's no big deal.

Shouta's pretty sure someone to his immediate right faints but considering they're not currently a trample risk he ignores it.

But the casual show of strength with no quirk use in sight is more than a bit impressive.

For all that people, romance specifically, and attraction in general, have all been things to be considered on a firm case-by-case basis for Shouta, even he has to admit that Dekiru is ... captivating.

Rather drastically so for Shouta considering he's never actually met the man before in person.

Though Shouta does feel like he almost knows him on some level considering the fact that it really would take an act of the actual gods to get Yagi to shut up about his erstwhile protege during staff meetings.

Dekiru waves his free hand at the crowd as he sets his crate of watermelons down on the stage.

"Show us what you've got!" Mic demands from a few feet to Shouta's left. "And let's give him some encouragement listeners!"

The crowd starts up a loud and steady chant of "De~ki~ru!" as the hero pulls his first watermelon out and begins his set.

With an effortless flex of muscles, Dekiru digs his fingers into the watermelon and wrenches it completely in two.

Shouta reaches up to tug at the top of his uniform, relishing the small sip of cool air it grants him.

Shoulders and biceps flexing, another watermelon meets its end between Dekiru's palms.

Shouta really needs to add a water bottle to his utility belt because hydration is important. Or so he's been repeatedly told.

"Those hands, those muscles," Mic groans dramatically. "He really is the Can Do Hero!"

Cheeks noticeably flushed, Dekiru sits down on the stage and fits a watermelon between thick, toned thighs.

His hips twist, those thighs flex, and the watermelon cracks, spilling juice and sweet pink flesh all over Dekiru's lap.

"Oh god," Shouta can't help but say, "I wish that was me right now."

On stage Dekiru's eyes go wide as his attention somehow abruptly zero's in on Shouta.

It's at that moment that Shouta becomes aware of the deafening silence that's fallen over the beach.

Head-turning agonizingly slowly to the left, Shouta's confronted with the sight of Mic, microphone in hand, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

His sunglasses are askew and he's staring at Shouta with a look on his face that's one part horror and one part unholy glee.

As a matter of fact, the entire beach is staring at him in much the same way.

For a moment Shouta just freezes, body going still at having so much attention turned in his direction.

This ... was not the turn he was expecting the day to take by far.

His first instinct is to, honestly, use his scarf to slingshot himself directly into the sun so his soul can be cleansed with cosmic fire.

But then ...

"Ah," Dekiru speaks up from on the stage, one hand ruffling the back of his hair and cheeks darker than before, "maybe we could go on a date first though? If you'd like?"

There's suddenly a part of Shouta that doesn't actually want to delete himself from existence via self-immolation.

And there's an even large part that doesn't want to outright reject Dekiru's seemingly sincere offer.

Because, when it all comes down to it, Dekiru seems to be, by all accounts, what passes for exactly Shouta's type.

Whip-smart if his very public arrest record and tendency to argue online and on the air with people he disagrees with is anything to go by.

Cute, with that dark green hair and sharp undercut, matching wide eyes, and a face sprinkled liberally with freckles.

Leanly built and small enough that Shouta's sure he could move him around easily but obviously muscular enough to be able to put up just the right amount of resistance in the right situation.

And, above all else, if the stories are to be believed, obviously some degree of batshit insane.

More than one story Yagi had told during breaks had Shouta questioning if the man had imported special American demons back to Japan and then stuffed them all into the deceptively charming and approachable-looking hero that is Dekiru.

So there's really only one logical way to proceed forward in this situation.

Shouta grins.

Several people in the crowd around him step back.

He's pretty sure he hears someone start reciting a prayer.

But Dekiru just blushes, eyes locked on Shouta's and teeth tugging at his lower lip.

"Hope you like coffee," Shouta finally says into the breathless silence that's fallen over them, "and cats."

Dekiru lights up, a smile brighter than the sun and twice as deadly blossoming across his face.

Just off of Shouta's side, Hizashi's busy having some kind of hysterical seizure.

Around them the crowd is going absolutely feral.

Yagi's going to birth actual kittens in the middle of the staff room when he finds out about this.

Shouta can't wait.

[theramseyloft]

Beginner’s housing for a pet pigeon

We can go into the complexities involved in housing multiple pigeons at a later time.

Right now, we’re going to focus primarily on setting up for a single bird who is intended to be a companion animal.

The biggest problem you are going to run into is that the housing commercially available for birds is designed either to display a finch or a parrot.

Finch cages make excellent hospital cages for pigeons, but that is their only useful application.

A Hospital cage needs to be small to discourage the bird from moving around too much and doing anything other than eating and drinking, so that their recovery, be that from disease or injury, can progress with as few delays as possible.

A healthy bird cannot tolerate this degree of confinement for long.

Parrot cages are huge and expensive, but too narrow for a pigeon to be physically able to use.

The bare minimum requirements for any cage a pigeon will be housed in for more than an hour a day is that it be two inches wider than the full wingspan of the bird at the narrowest point, to allow their wings at least an inch of clearance on either side.

They are cliff nesters that don’t roost on branches. Round perches hurt their feet, so they need either flat platforms or square perches.

Pigeons cannot climb the way parrots can. They can only walk or fly, and they cannot comfortably fly if their wings will clip into things like hanging toys or ramps.

So they tend to prefer their enclosure be as uncluttered as possible.

Socialization is best done outside the enclosure, so that’s where most of the toys should be.

Dog kennels set up like this one above are kinder to both the pigeons and the wallets of their care taker than pretty much any indoor bird cage available.

A Labrador sized (usually marketed as a “Large”) kennel will fit bird about homer sized and smaller.

Larger breeds or breeds with longer flight and tail feathers will need a larger size as a base line.

These are very simple to modify.

The nest box is a bunny/ferret corner litter box, about $8-10 at most pet shops. Easy to clean and comfortable.

The perch is a garden stake cut to length, about $5 from the garden center at Walmart or a hardware store like Lowes or home Depot.

Honestly, if I had this to do over, the birds would get a wider, shallower food dish.

Pigeons are ground foragers. It’s easier for them to eat comfortably from a shallow dish than a deep one.

The water dish can be as deep as the pigeon can reach the bottom of.

This is the upper level of a ferret nation Double modified for my first breeding pair of Lucerne waaaay back before my loft was built, when I had a grand total of four breeding pair of pigeons and 16 pairs of Ringneck doves.

This one also has a garden steak cut to fit as a perch.

Their nest box is a large dog bowl full of timothy hay.

Notice that this enclosure has a single hanging bell toy exactly at standing head height for the birds, well out of the way of their wings.

This probably looks unbearably spartan, especially if you come form a parrot back ground.

Remember that pigeons cannot climb and will not fly in a space where their wings may bump into clutter.

The cage for an indoor pet pigeon should serve the same function as the kennel does for an indoor dog:

That is NOT where the dog lives!

At most, it’s where they sleep at night, and where a puppy stays when they can’t be supervised until they’ve learned the house rules.

Pigeons are absolutely smart enough to learn house rules just like a dog or cat.

And pet pigeons are happiest when they have the freedom of motion to exercise, play, and interact with their human flock mates at will.

While they can free fly an entire house, a single bedroom is enough space for most breeds to move around happily.

Pigeon proofing is pretty simple.

They aren’t capable of chewing like parrots, so no need to worry about your electrical chords being damaged and your bird giving them self a nasty shock.

They can’t damage wood or drywall or fabric by chewing.

Pigeons don’t eat plants, but do like the feel of ripping them and will use strips of leaves as nest bedding, so house plants may need to be protected by glass covers.

Things displayed on shelves in the room or rooms the pigeon will have access to need to be heavy enough or well enough wedged in that the bird can’t pull them down if they land awkwardly on them or push them off if they bump into or try to squeeze past them.

Papers need to be stored where they won’t be scattered by the wind that their powerful wings kick up in flight.

Any crevices too high or awkward for you to easily clean need to be blocked some how.

Poop is simple.

The poop of a well fed, healthy pigeon with a good diet should be round and solid enough that it can be easily picked up with a square of toilet paper or a tissue when wet or vacuumed up when dry.

Once you know your bird’s favorite perches, you can make clean up even easier on yourself by laying down puppy pads under them that you can just change out as often as needed.

Once a pigeon has mastered the house rules, you can do away with the cage entirely.

This is the feeding station we set up for Ankhou and Bird-bird.

On the little feed tray for cats were the feeder and waterer with oystershell offered free choice from a dish between them.

Pigeons are one of the very few animals that recognize their reflection in the mirror as a a reflected view of themselves, instead of another bird.

Most like to practice dancing, strutting, their sweeping charge, and bow-cooing in front of mirrors, so those are excellent enrichment for them.

Being cliff nesters, bricks are simply the most comfortable thing for a pigeon to stand on.

Strutting back and forth on the rough surface in front of a mirror will help them keep their claws blunted.

The bricks are holding down a crinkle sack for cats, laid out flat. 

Pigeons love noise stims. Particularly crinkly, jingly, or chiming.

The noise it made made dancing in front of the mirror extra fun on the crinkle mat.

The dead keyboard serves a similar function.

This beans box from Walmart full of straw served as Bird-Bird’s nest box.

She laid eggs fairly regularly, and slept in there most of the time.

Ankhou was a man of simple tastes. 

This baby doll blanket on the nightstand at my bedside was where he slept at night.

Social bird was social and wanted to be as close as possible to us at all times and involved somehow in everything we did.

Pigeons like to take baths, and our free flying pet liked to be offered the opportunity to take one when we showered, but did not like to actually be in the shower with us.

So we got him a little pyrex casserole dish about as long as he was that stayed on the side of the bathtub and made a habit of filling it for him before we got into the shower.

Anhkou didn’t care much for forage pans or puzzle toys, but many pigeons do and they are very simple to make.

A pan or tray with a few fists full of straw, paper strips, sand, or a mix of all three with a high value treat like Safflower seeds sprinkled in to find mimics the way rock doves would forage for seed in the wild.

Puzzle feeders for pigeons are as simple to make as crumpling a sheet of paper with a few high value seeds inside.

Pigeons love crinkly sounds and tugging on the crumpled paper or blowing it around by flapping at it will reward them with a few spilled seeds and a fun noise.

The little wicker balls for kitties with a jingle bell inside complete the holy trinity of stick-texture, shiny, and jingly, and many pigeons love to kick, peck, and toss them.

They like to pick up and shake and toss bread ties with a small jingle bell fastened to the end.

Bird-Bird’s favorite toy was the bell intended to go on a kittens collar. 

She liked to strut around with it holding it by the loop by which it was supposed to fasten and very softly jingling it.

Q-tips with the cotton tips removed and toothpicks with blunted or clipped ends are basically pigeon Legos.

Miniature wind chimes like this little angel and her harp are fun auditory stims too.

If you can swing it (ha!), pigeons enjoy swings, as long as the perch is flat.

Experiment with your birds and see what kind of enrichment they enjoy. ^v^