#and it adds up... summer job while i'm free from school... this is my desperate attempt to recreate that academic environment

[lilacerull0]

woooohoooo mission (part 2) accomplished

welcome to 100 hours of greatness and whatever the byrds were doing to bob dylan (just kidding. but am i? am i really?)

just like with this one, you will be able to access the 70s playlist on my profile as i make my way through the years, in case you wanna check out the process (you know like watching a football game live? yay a sports metaphor! not a particularly knowledgeable one, but it's there) so no need to wait for it to be officially posted because It Will Take Me Some Time (not even my time machine can reduce the duration and frankly, i wouldn't want it to. PUNK EXPLOSION AHEAD) i hope this can be a fun way to discover new albums for anyone who's interested and is looking for new music especially if you're in the mood for a specific era! my friend has this method where you click on shuffle and listen to the album the song you got belongs to so you can try that if you like <3

suppose the task will turn into my autumn job next time i update this post 🧣

summer job: listening to every album featured in my 1001 albums you must hear before you die book. in order <3

[yhmisun]

*//𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒆: introducing 𝐘𝐄𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍!

hi petals 🥰 i'm so thrilled to be here with you all and bringing you this gullible little lioness!i promise i'll get to all ims soon, but my alias is penny, my pronouns are she/her and i'm in the est tz! this is my bby misun - the very soft-spoken principal of kwangsook academy. despite the shady way she ended up with it, she quite loves her job, as well as all the students and faculty at kwangsook :D i will have her full bio up sometime soon, but for now, you can find some relevant links and some bullet points under the cut! if you'd like to plot something out, feel free to hit the heart so i know and i'll come buzz you in ims! tw - brief mentions of death cw - workplace affair

statistics. // bio. // headcanons. // plots. // musing blog. // pinterest.

━  ❖ (kim ahyoung “yura,” cis female, she/her) hey thank you for coming to town hall to update your information yeo misun! you’re a citizen correct? good to know! are you enjoying yourself around yunhwa? you’ve been staying here two years right? i’m glad! remind me, are you born on 14/12/1992? we’re so lucky to have someone so dedicated around as a principal at kwangsook academy even if sometimes you can be credulous. hope to see you around the house #3034, hwesakgu!

born and raised in busan, the city was imbued in misun's veins. she was in love with how the highest skyscrapers mingled with the clouds on overcast days and how life always seemed to be racing by. her childhood was a happy one, as she gained a younger brother and sister along the way.

her mother was a science teacher and her father a commercial fisherman at the local dock. it wasn't uncommon for him to be gone for weeks at a time in order to bring an income into the household, so misun was often left in charge of her younger siblings. it was something she thrived at honestly, as she'd always had this nurturing way about her. she didn't even argue with her siblings much, she mostly just played peacekeeper when they fought amongst themselves.

she ran through the typical cycle of dream occupations as any child would. she had a particularly tight grasp on astronomy for awhile, but she also always appreciated her mother's work in the field of education.

misun could be be rather mild-mannered, but she loved to run free in the yard, as if the fence that boxed it in existed in another realm entirely. as she grew older, she picked up several hobbies that always seemed to lend to a tranquil state of mind, as it was her favorite feeling in the world. painting and surfing were two of her favorite things to do, once she learned the basics of them. some of her most cherished memories of her father were the trips they took to the beach whenever he was home for the week so that he could see what she had learned for himself. she'd never forget the proud smile he wore.

[tw:death] she was fourteen when her father's boat sank in the korea strait, he and all of his crew being lost in the tragedy. they were at least able to hold a funeral for him; and misun always knew it was something that could happen in the logical side of her brain - but that was rarely the side she wanted to agree with. it was extremely hard on the family for his already too brief presence to have lessened to nothing, and it was years before any sense of normalcy was felt. [end tw]

it was fortunate that misun was so prone to being a parental figure in the household, as she was able to help her mother with her brother and sister while the woman grieved. it was simply in misun's nature to forego her own feelings to give another what they needed.

there was a desperate need for the lost income to be restored in some way, as her father had been the primary breadwinner for the family. her mother's salary as a teacher simply wasn't going to hold four people afloat in the city for very long. misun spent years juggling her workload in school along with working part-time, putting her all into not only bringing home good grades that her mom could be proud of, but helping to keep the family's bills paid, as well.

by the time she graduated, misun had excelled so much in her studies, that she was offered two different scholarships, both of which would have easily covered the expenses of attaining her degree, a miraculous offer for the family who had no way to afford college for any of the three children in it.

the college experience was everything misun had hoped for; a chance to better herself, find herself and take a bit of a break from the full workload she'd been carrying for so long. she still worked part time, so that she could slowly add to the college funds of her brother and sister while she attended school herself, but it was nice to have such a heavy focus on her studies.

she'd come to find that she wanted to go beyond teaching. she enjoyed the thought of administrative duties in the school system; fighting the good fight so that students could always have the help they needed to prosper. it wasn't just about filling their brains with meaningless facts they'd forget over a summer anymore - it was about making sure they had the tools to make it in life.

while she did receive some brief classroom training as a teacher in her initial transition, once misun got her master's degree, she was able to fill the position of principal at one of the schools in the city. she fell in love with it immediately, as it fit right in with her facilitating nature. she had a knack for keeping the peace around the school and making sure things ran smoothly so that all the teachers and other faculty could do their jobs properly.

she even had a positive working relationship with the local school board and her superiors, one of whom seemed to have taken quite a shine to her. he'd find any opportunity to speak with her, even about the silliest things. it was quite odd for misun to see him go back and forth from a very personable man to a very stuffy superintendent on an almost weekly basis, but there was definitely something charming about him.

before she really knew it, he'd swept misun off her feet entirely. suddenly they were sharing their lunch breaks at romantic cafes and making excuses to see each other during inconvenient times. misun always saw the best in people, and the things she saw in him made her feel love on an intense plane. she felt special with him; wanted. she might have said he'd broken down all her barriers, if she'd ever bothered to put them up.

as sweet as the feelings were, she supposed she knew the relationship was inappropriate considering that he was practically her boss. still, she didn't want to let go of the happiness she felt, and that she thought he had felt to.

it wasn't long before he informed her of his suspicions that some of his co-workers had an inkling he was having an affair with one of the school faculty members in the area. he seemed to know it was only a matter of time before the truth would come out, so he would cover his tracks. he would make sure no one ever found out.

initially, they were only meant to 'cool things off' a bit so that the suspicion would die down. admittedly, if word got out about them, misun knew it would be quite the scandal, and he may have to step down from his position. it seemed like the logical thing to do to lay low for awhile.

she didn't see the next part coming, though; apparently it had been decided that she would take the hit entirely, in order to save them both. her superintendent had crafted the brilliant plan to transfer her to kwangsook academy out in the small town of yunhwa and away from the city that she'd always known and loved. she wouldn't have to worry, he'd told her. the job was all but hers after the glowing recommendation he gave her. 'thank goodness, right? now you won't have to face any humiliation.'

she was confused, hurt and more angry than she had ever been in her life. as lovely as yunhwa was, it wasn't her home back in busan. it wasn't her school district. why was it her life that had been uprooted, and hers alone? was he suffering any undesired changes in his life in the city? did he even care at all that she was gone?

still though, misun's resilience remained steadfast, even after her heart was broken. as bitter as she was about the forced move, she'd been given a job to do, and she was going to going to do it right. getting used to the small town lifestyle has been a major adjustment for her, but she's not really one to complain about her circumstances.

two years on, and she remains in yunhwa, functioning as the head of kwangsook academy. as lost as she'd felt initially, she's come to fit in at the school at last. she's a rather amicable person who gets along well with the other teachers and staff members. she's always willing to lend a helping hand when it's needed, and is extremely dedicated to making sure the school has everything it needs in the way of funding, materials, healthy lunches and meaningful extracurriculars. as unassuming as misun can be sometimes, she's very protective of her students!

[barryhuff]

Reason I Know I'm Getting Old #51-- "Astro...not"

I hate the movie Star Wars.

Well...I don’t actually Hate it. In fact, one summer, my brother and I bragged about watching the movie 47 times on HBO.

I even have a favorite scene -- "The Bar Scene", of course. Especially the part in which a handsome, tanned, mischievous Han Solo (brown, feathered hair parted evenly in the middle) tries in vain to smooth-talk the twitchy-trigger-fingered, reptilian, green-faced, bug eyed, intergalactic thug Greedo (bald head).

Hell, reciting Greedo’s opening line to Han for anyone who’d listen (“Oo-nah too-tah, Solo?”) is still one of my favorite nerd past-times.

What I actually hate about Star Wars is how easy characters cover vast distances in the dark, dusty, intensely cold, INFINITE vacuum of space. It’s as easy as a con-artist pulling a few levers, saying, “Punch it, Chewie”, and going faster than light without having to even buckle his seatbelt.

__________________

I loved being a groupie for my kids’ high school band. My job as groupie…uhh, band booster was to pass out water bottles to the hardworking, sweaty student musicians dressed in heavy polyester uniforms designed for 1940s bellhops. During halftime, I would help lug out the drum major’s platform -- no easy feat. When the halftime performance was complete, I would drag the same platform out of the stadium to be stowed on the band’s truck.

Once a year, I would look forward to the game in which my children’s school played district rival, Sam Houston. Sam Houston was a school known in the San Antonio area for their high-stepping routines, bodies swaying, proud and loud low brass, pounding basses, fancy capes, and the best stadium public address announcer in San Antonio.

The young lady on the microphone didn’t simply explain what the band was going to play. Woven throughout Sam Houston’s performance (which by itself had expectant fans screaming like they paid for a Michael Jackson concert in which he threw hundred dollar bills at the audience) are her syrupy, layered, rhythmic chants reminding spectators that tonight is their night to groove in the stands as hard as the band.

Add to it her extraordinary sign-off, “Everybody wants to be Sam Houston, until it’s time to BE Sam Houston!” __________________

To me, when I look up at night, space seems to be so empty and lonely. Our sun is 93 million miles away. When written like a math problem, the 93 million even looks intimidating.

93,000,000.

It looks like “93” with six stone-faced bodyguards in tow.

The Earth’s moon is 238,000 miles away. It took Neil Armstrong and the fellas six days to get from Earth to the moon and back. And they did it while being cooped up in what seemed like a good-sized, flying port-a-potty. Their spacesuits looked about as comfortable as wearing every outfit in the average American’s good-credit-infused, stuffed closet AT ONCE.

And to top it off, they had to wear confining helmets.  It helps to breathe, I suppose.

__________________

I snore loudly.

But it’s not the snoring that has my wife throwing angry elbows directed at my spine at night, it’s my erratic breathing patterns. It’s official diagnosis is “Sleep Apnea”. Because I spent a life eating harder than the average man needs to, and exercising less than the average man should, I have unusual breathing patterns as I sleep.

I’ll stop breathing momentarily.

So far, my body automatically corrects this by desperately inhaling oxygen to avoid asphyxiation. This generates a sound that roughly resembles a garbage disposal trying to rip up the remaining bites of dinner. Now imagine having to hear this drama dozens of times a night.

After my wife pleaded her case, a sleep-study, and my routinely sore, beaten back, I ordered a CPAP machine.

It looks like scuba-gear built in a junkyard. My nostrils and mouth are covered by what appears to be a jock-strap cup. From the “cup”, a hollowed plastic “jock-strap” forks around my ears, ultimately wrapping around the top of my head. From there, a long, plastic tube feeds into what looks like a 1980s transistor radio.

The “transistor radio” forces measured doses of air through the tube, and up into my nose to keep my breathing regular, my wife’s sleep uninterrupted, and (thankfully) my back free from one-sided boxing matches.

But there is a problem: sometimes during the night, without me consciously knowing it, I remove the mask. The mask is uncomfortable. The jock-strap often has to be repositioned during the night. If I want to snuggle with my wife, the cup on my mouth has tiny air-vents that shoot out excess air at my wife’s head.

From my wife’s perspective, my apnea is so awful, cold jets of air aimed at her closed eyelids, moistened with saliva from my gap-mouth sleeping, is infinitely better than life without the sleep machine. For me, I feel it’s annoying to her, so I don’t get to snuggle.

Just think, astronauts endured hours and days wrapped like canned biscuits in their waking and sleeping hours. I can’t even regularly wear life-saving equipment in my sleep only.

Imagine Neil Armstrong moments after descending from his lunar lander saying these words, “That’s one small step for man; one giant leap for mankind -- except for that fool, Barry Huff, who took his helmet off upon exiting the lander, causing his fat, space guts to spray on my space suit. So now I’m going to have to use some of these moon rocks and space dust to mop up this mess!

Everyone wants to be an astronaut, until it’s time to BE an astronaut.