#and it's just reinforcing everything i know but forget about the drafting process and my brain

[gaypiratebrainrot]

writing rough drafts of original stuff is the hardest thing for me bc my perfectionism will cut me off at the knees but i am doing so good at it right now and well on my way to achieving my goal of being a shitty first draft machine which is great bc once i am drowning in shitty first drafts i can turn the perfectionism back on and just make everything better

[ladymajavader]

The Mystery of Michael’s Missing Spiral

I know the first rule of season 2 is we don’t talk about season 2 anymore, but this has been in my drafts for nearly 9 months and @lovecolibri expressed a passing interest, which was all the provocation I needed to push this out into the world. Behold - my saltmine post about what tf was Michael’s character arc in s2.

During pre-season 2 promos we were told a lot that Michael would be “spiralling”. There were reports of “misdirecting his anger”

What we saw was Michael picking bar fights, random women and getting drunk in 2x01. Was that it? 

content warnings: I view his relationship with Maria as symptom of the problem, so the following will not be a nice read for Miluca shippers. Also there’s a lot of salt ahead. Let me know if I should add any other tags and warnings.

[Let me just put on my pretensious deerstalker cap and let’s go]

“Spiralling” implies getting lower and lower within the same vicious circle; falling on a curving path; getting quickly worse in a way that becomes increasingly diffcult to control. A short burst of bad behaviour, a quick touchdown to the bottom if you will, would more correctly be reffered to as “acting out”. A week of drinking and fighting does not a spiral make.

Yet it’s indisputable that after a week this behavior ends - Michael cleans up his act to start helping with getting Max back and to be good for Maria. So where are the lower rungs of the spiral?

“Misdirected anger” is even more elusive. Could it allude to Michael simply punching some guy in Wild Pony who did nothing to deserve it? That’s just a tiny transference to let off some steam out of the pressure cooker that is Michael’s emotions at the beginning of season 2. 

Yet after 2x01 Michael doesn’t throw any undeserved punches (Wyatt fully deserved what he got), he’s also rather kind and sweet to people around him without letting his negative emotions affect how he relates to them... except for Alex. 

Alex is the only person Michael is consistently mean to in pretty much every episode they interact. And I mean mean, as in maliciously negative. Even apart from every “breaking up” scene, he makes sure to invalidate their entire relationship as just sex and pain (’tortured lust’), Alex’s importance to him (making clear he was his last choice in 2x04) and even disparaging his character (calling one of his enduring qualities that he used to love ‘just stupid now’). 

[Now let me settle in my pretensious shrink’s wingback armchair]

Michael endured unimaginable trauma heaped upon unimaginable trauma at the end of season 1. And while he acts out in 2x01, a week later he has miraculously compartmentalized and packed it away neatly to be the Perfect Boyfriend and a Good Brother. It’s as if his trauma doesn’t exist or affect him when he’s with anyone other than Alex with whom he’s able to let his emotions out - but also to start processing them when he calls to talk about Walt in 2x09. 

In season 2 he also completely abandons what drove him in the previous two decades - the search for his home and pursuit of knowledge about himself as an alien. Not only does he stop trying to build his spaceship (framed as sacrificing that dream for brining Max back with the use of the genius alien pacemaker), he doesn’t use and train his powers at all the entire season (until 2x11). In season 1 he was the one using his powers most frequently, he had great control and clearly practiced. In season 2, just as Isobel is training her powers, Michael tries to cut himself off from his alien heritage. He’s the only member of the pod squad missing from the training Rosa scene, while theoretically, as the most practiced, he could be the best qualified to help.

And so I present to you my diagnosis:

“misdirecting anger” was Michael bundling up all the pain from everything that happened at the end of season 1 with all the pain connected to his relationship with Alex, channeling it all into anger. Unlike pain, grief, sadness, regret, guilt and shame - anger feels proactive and can be directed outwards. We’ve seen bb!Michael use it to (mis)manage his emotions at bb!Max before, it’s his established crutch and coping mechanism. And in season 2 he directed all of that negativity-turned-anger onto the person who was both connected to all the pain and safe to project onto, i.e. Alex.

 Michael “spiralling” was him denying his wants and needs, hiding his depression, pain and trauma in order to be the Perfect Boyfriend and Good Brother just so that for once he wouldn’t be left behind and could avoid actually processing what happened to him. Hitting the bottom of the spiral was the moment Maria broke up with him, finally driving the point home that this isn’t sustainable.

Or, Michael acting so OOC in season 2 could just be the result of bad writing, twisting his character to hit plot points regardless of his established character traits and motivation or writers (or the Writer Formerly Known as the Showrunner) just intermittently forgetting he ever endured any trauma at all. But Michael’s character arc in season 3 reinforces my interpretation of season 2 as spiralling through repression instead of processing his trauma and completely mismanaging his emotions. After all, it was set up in season 1 that to heal he would have to reopen wounds in his mind... and we saw him doing that in season 3. And what a glorious sight a happy, settled and confident Michael Guerin, facing his fears and doubts head on instead of channeling them into anger and connecting with his alien heritage even if it’s painful, truly is. Anyways, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Caged.

Word Count: 2.0k

Written for an anonymous commissioner.

Synopsis: Yaoyorozu’s always loved your wings. She takes care of them, grooms them, keeps snow-white feathers clean and undamaged and just perfect... You just wish she took care of the rest of you, too. 

TW: Graphic Violence, Broken Bones, Kidnapping, Captivity, Dehumanization, and Delusional Mindsets. 

She’d said it hadn’t been because of your wings.

That was all she said for the first few weeks of your captivity, really. Momo was many things, but she wasn’t subtle, nor did she make an effort to watch her tongue around the civilian chained down and (more often than not) unable to respond to her one-sided conversations. She said everything a kidnapper could have to say about their hostage. She claimed that she fell in love with your personality, that she’d spent months dutifully noting down your interests and your hobbies and every piece of information that could be gleaned from careful surveillance. She told you that your wings were just a bonus, that they didn’t really matter, but they just made her precious, darling songbird a little easier to find.

But, for every second she spent singing your praises, she spent two gritting her teeth or crossing her arms or making it clear that she’d love you more if you were obedient, if you were affectionate, if you were different. Your hobbies faded into the background, considering how few opportunities she gave you to indulge them, and unless she was bringing home a gift to make up for the night you’d spent trying to cry yourself to sleep, she didn’t seem to pay your interests any mind. But, she gave your wings the utmost attention, keeping your snowy-white feathers pristine and taking far too much time to prune and pluck anything she didn’t deem ‘befitting’ of you. She adored your wings, she loved your wings, and she never hesitated to tell you that.

As much as she claimed they weren’t her motivation, she cared for your wings. She couldn’t deny that. 

That was more than she could say for the rest of you.

You supposed it wasn’t so bad, having her focus on one part of you so heavily, she tended to overlook most of your minor shows of rebellion. You were allowed to drag your knees into your chest and cling to the idea of safety as she looked over your wings, the appendages outstretched to their full length as Momo hummed and pulled at anything loose, anything bent, anything that wasn’t perfect. While she was perched on the edge of her bed, you were left to settle on the cold, barren floor and fight the chill your thin clothes did little to keep out. The basement - your bedroom, as she called it - was sizable, but the space was lost on you, considering how Momo chose to use it. After your last escape attempt, she’d declared furniture a ‘distraction’, something that took your attention away from her. You had a cot, just enough blankets to sleep, and whatever Momo thought was necessary for your basic survival. She’d said that you’d be able to earn things back, but that’d been weeks ago, and she seemed to like the way you were forced to look forward to her daily visits. She liked knowing she was the only thing on your mind.  

She liked making sure her pet had nothing better to do than beg for her attention.

“What’d you get yourself into?” She asked, drawing you out of your thoughts. The question was more for her than for you, posed under her breath, and yet, you couldn’t help but feel like you had to answer when every other word was accompanied by another tug, another feather at her feet. “It’s worse than usual, today.”

A dozen excuses played on your tongue. Last month, you’d told her it was molting season, and you’d managed to quell her worries by saying that this kind of damage was normal for avians in new environments before that, a trick that worked for longer than either of you would like to admit. You doubted she’d forget so quickly, so you settled on something simple. “It’s just the stress,” You explained, the statement only half untrue. “It makes maintenance harder than it has to be, but it looks worse than it is.”

That earned a pause, a more careless jerk to one of your primary feathers. “You’re stressed?” Now, she was talking to you, expecting an answer. Paying attention to the way your hands twitched at your sides every time her fingertips brushed a tender spot of lean, thin muscle. A hint of something playful traced the edges of her tone as she continued, and you weren’t sure whether to relax or reinforce your barriers. “Don’t say it’s because of me, angel.”

A pet name. Pet names were good. Pet names meant she didn’t see you as human, right now, making you another one of her infallible, unblamable creatures. It didn’t mean you could be honest, but you wouldn’t have to lie, either, not really. Not as much as you’d have to, otherwise. “It just happens,” You admitted, giving a noncommittal shrug. “Animal-based quirks are complicated, like that. When I’m inside for too long, or… like, when the room I’m in is too small, my wings tend to notice before I can.” You allowed yourself a breathy laugh, loosening your hold on your legs. “When I moved into my first apartment, my roommate had to start complaining before I--”

“You think I’m not taking care of you.”

If her words hadn’t been enough to silence you, the feeling of her fist closing around a handful of something downy and sensitive did the trick. Reflexively, you went rigid, stretching your wings out to their full length and bowing your head, but Momo’s threats were never hollow. With one strong, steady pull, a patch of your left wing was on fire, bare and blazing and burning as you slapped your palm over your mouth and tried to stifle the shriek that threatened to escape. You kept it there, for a moment, attempting to suppress the tears building up in the corners of your eyes, but Momo took your silence as resistance, a low growl reverberating through her grit teeth as she took hold of the base of your wing, the length of exposed bone between skin and feather. She didn’t squeeze, didn’t shatter, but the idea of the pain was worse than the eventuality, forcing your breath to hitch in your throat, your whole body to go stiff. Forcing her to hold you tighter, her irritation more than apparent in the sternness of her grip alone.

"It’s such a shame,” She started, a patronizing lilt weighing down the simple sentiment. You couldn’t see her, not when you were abruptly incapable of even turning your head, but you didn’t have to. You could practically hear her shaking her head, her expression somewhere between a frown and a pout as she lamented over whatever mistake her poor, stubborn little captive made, this time. “I really do try to be patient with you. There’s such a nice nest waiting for you upstairs, but it feels like I can’t let you out of your cage without having to worry about my baby bird trying to fly away.” There was a click of her tongue, a tap of her manicured nails against your shoulder blade. You felt her eyes prying into your skin, flitting across all the places your wings rooted themselves in place, as if she’d be able to tear them out with her gaze alone. For a moment, you wondered if she could. “Maybe if you stopped trying to get yourself into so much trouble, you’d wouldn’t have to be locked up. You’d be able to accept all the wonderful things I have to give you, and I wouldn’t have to watch you throw your tantrums and pretend I wouldn’t do anything to make you happy.”

“That’s not what I meant,” You managed, curling your nails into your palm as you willed yourself not to raise your voice. Yelling at Momo was never a good idea, and playing dumb would only make her more determined to remind you of your offenses, even if you couldn’t name the incident she seemed so focused on, today. “Please, Yaoyorozu, please, I didn’t mean to--”

“This is why I have to be so strict with you,” She sighed, her free hand falling to the arch of your wing, spreading the appendage to its full span. No longer giving you the chance to refuse. “You’re so quick to lie, and so slow to regret it. You don’t even know what you did wrong.”

You flinched, your lips parting, but your mind going blank as soon as you processed the accusation. Your stupor couldn’t have lasted for more than a few seconds, but a few seconds were more than enough for Momo to come to a resolution.

It wasn’t that she was stronger than she looked. She was, technically, but it wasn’t just that, it couldn’t have been. She’d done her research, she’d prepared, she’d practice, and you could only be thankful her new skill had been refined, polished into an undeniable talent, albeit a grisly one. There was a minute of pressure - crushing, awful pressure - and a snap, and then the pain.

Always the pain.

It was a clean break, halfway between the base of your wind and the bend, shock provided little comfort, adrenaline flowing in-time with the throbbing, the tight ache now coursing through your left wing, joints loosening in their sockets and tendons contracting in an effort just to keep something so broken where it should be. Resistance wasn’t an option. It was an animalistic  instinct that had nothing to do with your avian features, you were struggling before you could think to hold yourself back, willing your injured wing to fold against your back as you flailed, kicked, clawed, doing everything you could do to get away from the predator that was so content to watch you writhe in agony. Fighting was pointless, though. Momo didn’t try to restrain you, didn’t try to hold you back. Why would she? All the doors were locked, the windows nonexistent, and it wasn’t like you could actually hurt her.

There was nowhere for you to run, nothing for you to do.

In the end, there was nowhere to go but up.

It was difficult to get off the ground at the best of times, but you were desperate. As soon as you were on your feet, you were in the air, struggling to gain elevation without momentum, without an upward draft, without a single factor in your favor. It was hard, but it wasn’t impossible, even if every muscle in your back strained at the effort, your lungs burning and your uninjured wing taking up a frenzied speed just to get you a handful of meters off the floor. It must’ve looked pathetic, one wing struggling to keep you aloft and another, crooked and weak, twitching in an attempt to keep up with the pace its twin set, and it hurt so, so much, but you didn’t care. For a few seconds, Momo couldn’t reach you. For a few seconds, she couldn’t touch you and pull at your feathers and hurt you and…

And then, you hit the ceiling, and went plummeting back to the cold, unforgiving floor, as if you’d never left it at all.

Your shoulder took the brunt of your fall. It wasn’t far, but something in your arm still cracked as you collided with the solid cement, pulling a ragged sob from your chest that came out as broken as it was pitiful. You weren’t sure when you’d started crying, but suddenly, it was all you could do to curl into the tightest, smallest ball possible and hide your face, if only because you doubted you’d have the strength to wipe away the tears now blurring your vision. Momo didn’t seem to mind, though. She hadn’t taken a step since you’d gotten away from her, but that only meant she was still calm and collected and so, so composed as she kneeled at your side, barely nothing to brush your hair away from your face before her hands trailed back to your wings, always so eager to make sure her favorite parts of you weren’t more damaged than they had to be.

To make sure her favorite toy wasn’t beyond repair, after she’s had her fun.

“I hope you got some of your energy out,” She said, her tone sweet, but her voice devoid of all warmth. You’d say devoid of all love, too, but you were beginning to think Momo never had any to lose, in the first place. Not when it came to you.

“It’s going to take me hours to take care of all this damage. The least you could do is sit still, especially when I take such good care of you.”

[ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is]

Hello! Love your blog. I was wondering if I could get some typing help? I have a general idea of what I am, but that’s not saying much since I have a tendency to hop between a few of them (INTJ, ENTJ, ESTJ specifically). Either way, hopefully you can help me settle it.

I’m 22 and about to graduate from college. It’s been a journey, because I’ve transferred twice and changed plans a few times, but that’s the proper college experience, I think. One transfer closer to home can be owed to depression and Covid, while the first was simply me not meshing with the campus. I’m not too worried about how it’ll affect my grad school apps due to good grades and valid reasons.

Despite the schooling-related indecision, I tend to get an idea of what I want, then fixate on it heavily. Example: I recently tried to publish a novel I’ve been working on for years now. Realistically, I know the odds of getting your first work published and making enough money to start a career on it are beyond low, but a big part of me thought “yeah, except I worked on this draft consistently all these months and this feels right, so it has to pay off” – of course, it didn’t. That’s not to say it wasn’t worth it, but I’ve come to accept it won’t be that easy, so I’m going to focus on a job with more security first lol. That means proceeding with law school. Some friends might think I’m selling my soul by putting my dreams on the back burner. I disagree, though, because if writing is meant to be I can still make it happen this way but with more security. Plus, I’m used to having some higher objective to motivate me through each day, and I don’t like feeling aimless. To me, that would be settling for less: wasting time working next to minimum wage at some place I can’t see myself staying.

I’d like to think of myself as spontaneous despite knowing I’m really not. When I’m with friends, maybe, but I’m more than happy to do nothing on Friday nights, knowing I’ll be able to wake up early tomorrow and do whatever I’m doing at a decent time. That being said, I would be happy to hop on a flight across the world if someone offered to pay the way. I love travel, so I’d hope to find a career that makes that possible. The same goes for whatever work I’m doing. Ideally, I could move from place to place as I do my job, because I fear being rooted will keep me from seeing everything I’d like to see.

I’m definitely an introvert dichotomy wise, but if group work appears, I’m happy to make a plan and remind everyone when a due date is near, and I expect them to follow through or provide some forewarning. I’m not outright nasty when someone inevitably slips up, but I’m not going to give them an excuse either. Can’t relate since I’ve never had a problem with procrastination. Like, I’d say I’m procrastinating, but to me procrastinating is choosing not to get ahead on the project due next week while I have spare time now. That makes me sound like a robot or a liar, but I’m mostly just very aware of my limitations and have learned how to manage work in a way that keeps me from having to stress.

I have no idea how to end this. Quick notes? I’m ambitious but not competitive – literally cannot relate to envy, because I don’t think someone having something means you can’t have it too – you just have to work on/for it. I’m not very curious lmao. Like, I’m as curious as the average person, but I don’t care about how things work (Ti slacking?). Uhh, fandoms annoy me. Like, seeing fans distort characters and needlessly project onto them in cringe ways makes my brain itchy. I’ve been called insensitive. I can easily cut someone off after finding, for a fact, that they’re being manipulative. Whatever baggage they have, I don’t care. I don’t see the point in fighting for a relationship when a “friend” is working against you. I’m also the “advice friend” because I don’t have drama and seem to know how to diffuse it easily or cut it out completely. Now that I think about it, all of my closest friends have a lot of anxiety, so maybe I collect them and care for them a little since I have none.

Hopefully that wasn’t too much useless info. I think I’m mainly struggling on differentiating between lower Ne vs Lower Se. My indecision comes in rare bouts, so maybe that’s the weak Ne manifesting. Or maybe I’m lower Se for forgetting the larger scheme by focusing on material things like getting to travel and making a high salary? Whatever. These are things most people prioritize, though. Let me know if you need any specifics. Also, thank you for taking the time to read this! I really appreciate how informative your blog is and all the resources you share.

Hi anon,

To be honest I am really not sure based on this, and it might be good for you to revisit this after a little bit of time out of school. I would rule out the Ti-Fe axis, but I can actually see arguments for either high Te or high Fi My guess is high Ni if you have high Te you don't really sound like a high Si user - and part of what is tripping me up the most is that you said a lot of things that make me thing of high Fi and the spontaneity of Se or Ne, but there's a lot here that really sounds intuitive but distinctly not like an Ne user. So I actually think there are arguments for either INTJ or ISFP, and I actually lean a little more towards "ISFP with good discipline/time management" than INTJ.

Here's my thought process, which hopefully can get you started.

I do feel like transferring twice is a little abnormal (not bad, just more than the typical college experience of maybe one transfer and changing one's major once or twice) but COVID did fuck with things more than usual so no conclusions there.

The fixation on writing a novel and the long-shot of gaining enough success to focus on that full time - particularly right out of school or even before graduation - is either intuitive or possibly high Fi. I really do not think an ESTJ would have that idea - not that they wouldn't be a writer, but I don't think they would have had the same expectations surrounding payoff and would have assumed from the start that this will not be their career initially. For that matter I have my doubts on ENTJ, but it could be possible for INTJ.

The part about spontaneity actually fits really well with auxiliary Se or Ne, in that those types at your age will have moderation from Ni or Si respectively and will often want a combination of stability but also the ability to travel a lot and move around. The example you gave actually still seemed very spontaneous; a lot of ExTJs for example might really dislike doing nothing on a Friday night and would instead have something planned. What you describe sounds very go-with-the-flow, just in a low-key way.

The part about procrastination indicates that Ne is probably off the table but Se is possible; some SPs are pretty good at being realistic about getting things done and it sounds like you don't have the high Te motivation of "I must get this done early" (not that high Te users can't procrastinate or do things on time but not down-to-the-wire).

I often tie ambition/competitive nature to enneagram more than MBTI, but I will say a lot of Te users and especially Te-doms tend to be both. They don't have to be (and if they're only one, usually it's ambition over competition), but it's pretty common. Curiosity is complicated but not caring about how literally everything works does seem like it would rule out Ti and I'd fully agree there. The part about being frustrated by fandom distortion of characters is relatable to me and I feel that comes from a place of sensing, ie, were you not paying attention to canon, so that seems like a point towards high Se for you. The parts about advice and interpersonal relationships mostly just reinforce that you sound more like someone on the Fi-Te axis, which you already suspected, but again...being the advice friend, particularly from a caring position, seems more high Fi to me than INTJ; a lot of IxTJs (and definitely ExTJs) at your age are just not emotionally ready for that level of patience with anxiety. I know I wasn't.

I would also say focusing on the material things (travel, a liveable salary) is more in line with higher Se! Te users do have a measure of pragmatism, so again, can't rule out INTJ, but the travel especially is what's making me think Se is pretty high in your stack.

All in all? My guess is an ISFP with good time management skills, possibly with an enneagram 6 adding to the stability/pragmatism. That said I wouldn't totally rule out INTJ (possibly also enneagram 6?); I just think it's less likely.

[leanarg]

((Warning!: I might have let my imagination run a little too freely haha but I think it’s not so bad... Hope you enjoy reading it and then please forget about it ;P  Thanks! <3 [5.4K] ))

Practice Challenge Sense of duty

Everything was gray. Everything always is at this hour of the day. Dozens of messy draft notes on my desk waiting to be finished, but I knew if I turned even for a second I could miss this.

I stared into the rising sun in the distance, it looks as if an enormous golden eye was spying on us. It’s rays somehow starting to paint the sky of soothing lavender and brilliant amber colors that reflected on every building tall enough to escape the shadows; fortunately, The Globe building qualified among them.

It’s not like I owned the building or anything but just being able to work here has always -since last year- made me feel a sort of pride, and looking out at the city at dawn while the strong smell of coffee flooded the entire office, has become a special habit of mine to reinforce that feeling.

While traffic sounds managed to filter from outside through the thick, fancy glass of the building I’ve always found it hard to fight the childish impulse to try to spot any delivery truck among all the vehicles that look so small from up here. Our bulldog edition was printed and sold to the distributors the previous night to be out first thing in the morning and by now the Daily should be already in the stands, stores, and even at the front doors of our subscribers for them to know what’s going on in this and other countries. Like a window to the world. It makes the long process worthwhile.

That’s right, physic solid newspapers. I sighed. What I wouldn’t do to see my name printed on a broadsheet, under the tailpiece of a “hard news” story and announced on the first-page headline. That’s the dream, The goal.

But surprisingly, in that particular moment, all those thoughts were replaced by something else.

Herson Grant, editor in chief of The Globe - or like I call him, dad -summoned us to give us “off the record” information. We got the news we all, in some way, knew they were coming. Illèa’s prince had reached the age required to have a selection and since his scandalous engagement brake off last year, the country was expectant. There hadn’t been an official announcement yet, but as press, we had our sources.

We were told to be prepared for the changes this big event would signify for the newspaper. Of course, as soon as the selection starts, or even before, the complete broadsheets will be covered by it. From “Business” to “Society” and of course “Politics”.

The Selection was important for every Illéa citizen in one way or another, that was made clear years ago by the general shock caused by the news of Queen Anjali canceling hers. I remembered reading about it on some old newspaper editions. The country was divided; some, supported her demonstration of independence and capacity to make decisions even against what's expected, and others organized strikes to show their discontent.

I thought Her Majesty’s decision might have some selfishness in it, considering a lot of people were affected by it, but when it comes to putting duty and love on the same scale…  

Is choosing love selfish?

I wasn’t the most capable person to answer that question, considering that every guy I’d dated in college had ended up in horrible disappointments.

“You definitely have a thing for jerks, Lea” Liv said to me once before suggesting I should date the guys I would never even consider dating, as a solution, but honestly I preferred to focus on my career and all the things I wanted to achieve professionally.

That way the only one who could disappoint me is myself. And I wasn’t going to let that happen.

The news of the upcoming event was circling my head, causing uncertainty and anticipation feelings inside. As an entertainment reporter and writer on the digital platform of The Globe, this whole thing was going to give me a lot of work to do. The public would want to know everything. And I would have to know about dresses, sponsors, twos applying, twos not applying and

If I listen carefully I will be able to hear the crashing sound of all those famous relationships breaking. I laughed for myself.

I might have been joking about it, but my brain was already listing the prospects and the interviews I would have to schedule in the next few weeks. But, my mind went even further this time, I caught it considering an application. I wouldn’t have to write about gossips and chatter but most of all, the idea of taking part in one of the most important events of our time suddenly sounded incredibly appealing.  

All the lives, all the stories. The real stories.

My curiosity was taking control.

“Leana.” I recognized the annoyed voice behind me, interrupting my thoughts.

“Yes, Rita.” I turned, her exasperated face didn’t surprise me.

Rita was my editor, one of the several ones around here, she was in charge of the digital side of The Global, more specifically the “socials” department. She was a non-natural blond, middle-aged woman, and not very fond of me.

“Just came from the upper floor, the boss wants to see you.”

I smiled on the inside. Her common ways with me used to be unsettling a year ago but with time they had become somehow amusing for me. “Can I just mention, that new tone of yellow on your hair... compliments your skin tone?” I said, keeping the overdue polite tone, but always careful of not giving any hint of sarcasm.

She had a slight moment of content on her face but then she switched for a glare. “Didn’t you hear me?”

I snickered, I had an appointment for an interview and no time to get on further with the teasing.  “I do, but…” I frowned and stopped to check my watch, my eyes widened at the hour. My father was always aware of my exact work schedule, so it didn’t make sense he was sending for me when he knew I wasn’t even supposed to be here anymore.

I started, more to myself than to her. “That’s strange, my dad knew-”

“No, girl, I’m talking about the real boss.” She interrupted me with an amused expression. Of course, she had intentionally hidden that little detail to mock me.

I wonder how she knew I wasn’t going to tell my father about her using the words “real boss” in that sentence. He would definitely take it as a disrespect to the position he had earned with years of work. Though some might think it wasn’t that hard for him.

During his time as a reporter, he had given Maxwell Loyd, - the head chief, and owner of the editorial-, a lot of profits with his excellent nose for scandals and exclusives.

Unlike me, my father used to have his vocation among the showbiz world. He’d got a certain charm, the eloquence to talk and enchant people, so the celebrities used to spill the whole tea about their personal lives and relationships to him, just like that. Probably that same irresistible charm was what made my mom fall for him.

I know, more than a charm sounds like a superpower.  

 Anyhow, I didn’t think the later discredited his achievements. I liked to think I have inherited some of it, but the society and entertainment world were not the kind of journalism I’d dreamt to do and I wasn’t planning to keep doing it.

“Coffee?” Mr. Loyd offered with serious countenance. I had been sitting in front of his desk for almost 5 minutes and he hadn’t said anything. He was just walking around his office moving papers from one place to another, then plugging his laptop and doing what seemed to be his daily routine in his incredibly fancy office. Meanwhile I was following him with my eyes, as if by staring, I could somehow make the words burst out. I cleaned my throat before, “I appreciate your offer, Sir… I wonder if you had considered my request?” I asked, daring to guess this whole thing was about the proposal I had sent days ago attached to several reports of stories I had been investigating. They were not finished, but I knew that with the support of the editorial office, more specifically,  its resources I could find the missing pieces and they would be ready to publish. On paper. Because they were worthy of it. He leaned forward supporting both of his arms on his desk and I could swear I saw a little smirk on his face. “I have read it, Miss Grant, but you are here because the selection is almost here and as a writer of entertainment on the digital platform I wanted to know about your plans to cover everything related to it. Of course he did.

My shoulders slumped and I bet my face showed all my disappointment. “Well, I already have a list of the twos that I think would be participating …” He reclined on his comfortable chair, pensative. “I was thinking about more original content.” Before I could answer anything he added, “have you considered applying?” “Excuse me?” Was he suggesting what I think he was suggesting?

“I mean, as a young Illéan citizen it’s only natural that you want to give it a shot.” He shrugged innocently. “I just wanted to know how many people I can count on, during that time.” The suggestive tone hadn’t left his voice. “Even to know when to schedule a meeting to talk about your interesting proposal.” So that’s where his smirk came from. I swallowed my surprise and played along. “The idea crossed my mind when we were informed this morning, but I have projects here that I’m not sure I would want to put on hold. So, nothing is decided.” I gave him what I hoped was a short relaxed smile. “Miss Grant, you are quite a smart girl.” He sighed. “I rely on your discretion about this.” It wasn’t even a question. He left from his seat and I followed him to the door. “One thing, I had an appointment to interview Gerald Ross, I was supposed to be there now.” I checked my clock again. “Don’t worry about it, I sent someone to replace you.” With a short nod he closed the door behind me.

I stayed there for some seconds, taking everything in. This floor had a stronger smell of coffee, surely it was from a better quality.

I didn’t know what to feel. Should I’ve been feeling angry? Insulted? Then why was I considering it?

No! I was already doing that before this conversation happened. I thought, trying to reassure myself and to bury my ambition.

I looked around coming to my senses, everyone was focused on work, the sound of their fingers typing on the keyboards resounded on this floor level as they did on all the others, luckily no one had seen me there, standing like an idiot. Except for...

My eyes spotted my dad walking towards me, with a smile in his eyes.

“Miss Grant, I was informed you were in a meeting. Is there a problem?”

My father and I had a strange strategy to keep the professional talk during our work hours and the father and daughter moments at home, but honestly we almost never succeeded.

“I rely on your discretion about this” I remembered the boss’ words.

“Uh, yeah-no… It was about a proposal I sent Mr. Loyd” I chose to answer, doing too many hand gestures. I always have always hated that horrible habit of mine. I looked up at my dad and I noticed the unmistakable guilt all over his face. I frowned, as my brain connected the dots. “You have been talking with him about my proposal, didn’t you?” “Miss Grant...” He said with a warning glare. He didn’t want to do this now, not in front of his subordinates. I didn’t want to make a scene either, I had a professional reputation to maintain too, and almost everyone in the building already thought I had gotten my job only because of my father’s position.

I’ve had to live my life proving myself to them, to my exes, to my boss and even to my dad.

I clenched my jaw. “I should have known it.” My words were full of anger but I kept the steady tone. My father and I had a beautiful relationship, we understood each other, we supported each other, except that he had never wanted me to change the entertainment journalism for the hard news. And I just had found out that he not only didn’t support my dream but he probably had prevented it from happening. And maybe this wasn’t the first time, I had sent letters and requests to the boss more than once. He remained silent, but his expression was almost apologetic.  

“I have work to do.” I said after calling the lift.

Back in my workplace, the sky at the other side of the glass had lost its colorful tones to show a light tone of blue. I could sense a headache coming, but the dress wrapped in plastic and delivered to my desk was a reminder that I didn’t have the time to be miserable. My mother had helped me to choose it the previous day and we asked the store to send it here today. The thought of my mother made me want to call her and vent about all the thoughts that were  bothering me, Virginia Grant was the only mediator that had always been able to fix any argument between me and my dad.

“How could you marry him?... I mean, you were a two!” I asked her one day.

She smiled. She knew I didn’t mean it. It was one of those exasperating times when you can only remember the negative things about a person, and even make a long list of them. Of course my mother had a list on her own, but hers was completely opposite from mine. She loved my dad but based on my experiences, that kind of love was something I was far to understand.

The call would have been a delay as well, so I picked the dress, my backpack and headed to the bathroom to get ready.

The dress was black and long, without my high heels its border would sweep the floor. Elegant enough to make me feel pretty but somehow simple and comfortable with hidden pockets at its sides for my pen and journal. Ideal to go around covering an event from the red carpet until the last two would leave the party.

For a moment I wished I was the kind of girl that brightens with a nice outfit, but I had a lot to think about and a headache, with nothing but my professionalism to hold on to.

I checked my reflection on the mirror a couple of times before a couple of ’dings' on my cell phone announcing a message.

“YEAH YEAH YOU LOOK DECENT, LET’S GOOO!”

I walked outside to the busy city, the honking of cars and the strolling people; just an ordinary day. The sun rays and clear sky forced me to squint and narrow my eyes, but even then I could easily spot Harris' wild long curls tied on a small ponytail back at his neck. He was facing the street, but looking down at his camera screen, probably getting it ready for the upcoming red carpet.

Photographers gadgets is probably the only topic I avoided asking about since that one time I dared to inquire about camera settings. He gave me a complete lecture about all the tools that could be used to fix the light before taking a picture, and I ended up more clueless than before. 

“Wow!... no one can ruin a nice dress like you do, boss”  He said when he turned around. 

 I rolled my eyes “Says the boy with the twisted bowtie” We had to speak up so our voices didn’t get lost among the noise surrounding us, but beside that, my tone sounded more harsh than intended. 

Harris and I had been working together since we both entered The Globe editorial office. He was assigned to be my assistant photographer, and he was a great one. We made a good team at the beginning and after a year I would say we had become good friends. He’s always mocking about how everyone hates me for my last name and I mock him for ...being him. 

He let his camera hang from his neck and fidgeted with his bowtie trying to fix it. “Hmm… I guess the meeting didn’t go well”

I turned my head almost too quickly at his remark. “Which meeting?” “You all reporters had a meeting this morning, right? You texted me about it.” He frowned, I wasn’t sure if it was because he had noticed something was going on or because he was giving up on making his bowtie look presentable. 

“Oh, yes that one. It was to-” I massaged my forehead slightly “to confirm Prince Arin is sending application letters before long, so the selection will happen” 

He shrugged. “I already see all the extra work complaints coming” he said sarcastically. 

He knew I was always working on not assigned notes and sometimes I dared to drag him into helping me, even when that was not included on his paycheck. 

But right now he had no idea what he was talking about and I couldn’t tell him; even if I could, he would have started to ask questions I wouldn’t have been able to answer. Besides, I hadn't made my decision yet. I scoffed a laugh. “Come on, let’s find the Vespa before we both lose our jobs for being late to the PET gala.” “Well, my charm would have to do.” He shrugged looking down at his still twisted bowtie. “It won’t.”

When we arrived at the old Festerman mansion the place was already bursting with energy. The large carpet was placed across the garden and part of the street. The celebrities hadn’t arrived yet and the fanatics were being held somewhere waiting for the time they could access their special place closer to their idols, even when it was too early we could listen to their cheering screams from time to time which I guess were more for them to bear the waiting than to anyone else.

Cast, crew and the carpet runners were coming and going from one place to another taking care of last details and keeping the order among the press people; always being careful not to step on the soft fabric on the floor, otherwise it’s bright striking red tone would turn into crimson before the guests’ arrival.

The media pen was already open so after parking my yellow Vespa we quicken our step towards our designed slot. Along my first year as a reporter I had to make important acquaintances and no matter what other people could say the most important ones are not the celebrities but the backstage people, the ones that could be invisible for the majority and essential at the same time. 

“Tom!” I shouted and waved when I spotted the red carpet runner. He was in charge of supervising the press on several red carpet events. 

We’d met once at the Angeles movie awards, he blocked my way when I wanted to get close to Serena Davis but I took an expensive pin off my hair and convinced him she had dropped it and she would want it back. It was one of those times I felt even more thankful for my grandmother’s fancy presents. Of course he got mad when he saw me doing an interview almost in the middle of the carpet but his attitude changed as soon as I started to interview him to do a behind the scenes article.

Actually, it turned out to be a success.

“The new guys!” He greeted us. “Who do you want me to send your way this time?” hHe asked. Our colleagues at our sides, stopped arranging their things for a moment and gave us a glance, we pretended we didn’t notice. “Umm, Angelina Brown, Meryl Miller, Brady Tylor… I think Lin Yang has some drama going on right now and the Lane-Cadwell couple would be great, if you can He let out a long whistle. “The couple would be hard but I will see what I can do.” He fixed his eyes on Harris' neck and pointed. “Your bowtie is all … wrong.”

“Harder than Estelle Dawson?” Harris asked with a smirk, leaning on the structure that was keeping us at the edge of the carpet ignoring completely Tom’s observation. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I scolded. It was not that my grandmother was hard to reach as the celebrity that she was but she would never, under any circumstances, get close to me while I’m on duty. 

She still hated my father for stealing her daughter and resented my mother for marrying a three, but she seemed to be fond of me and my baby brother. At least that’s what I felt when she made us visit her at her home. She used to send the limo just for the two of us. Tom looked confused at our talk so he just excused himself and left to continue with his chores. 

“Light test!” Harris let out suddenly. He always used to say that when he needed me to turn to the camera to take me a picture, it helped him to prove if it was set correctly according to the lights in the place. I tried to smile a little for it. 

“So, I need an update... and the plan,” he continued casually, while he took a look at my recently taken picture. 

Harris and I were sent to cover the PET event, interviewing the celebrities and updating the people live on the newspaper's new blog. I asked him to capture a moment or person with his camera and sent it to my cell phone then I posted it with a caption and the people enjoyed the content from the comfort of their houses. It wasn’t so bad, but I had other motives. 

The host of the massive PET event, Lanna Winster was a splendid, exotic retired actress; lovely to the public eyes; generous. She had the enough power, connections and money to organize this traditional gala to raise money for the animal shelter Paw-Prints animal shelter. Of course, her friends and celebrities adore, and support her. When you googled her name you could find an infinite amount of pictures of her posing with all kinds of lovely animals. 

We had the honor to meet her for a short interview a few months ago at one of her luxurious mansions for the newspaper’s blog. Not even at the most prestigious hotel we were treated that well. Harris was desperate to come back for a second interview someday. For me, she was only a wealthy woman doing some good with her loose change. 

My real job started when rumors started circulating around the office. An  anonymous source had seen talking with the main organizer of some sort of hunting convention. Everyone was shocked with the news but in absence of evidence we couldn’t make anything public. I spend a lot of time searching documents, watching her old interviews, and reading information on antique papers. I even swallowed my disgust and tried to apply for the hunting convention myself, but applications were closed until next year. 

Who would think that murderers were that organized?

I didn’t have anything, until a few weeks ago The Globe received a press invitation for the PET gala, we were informed it had been moved to the old Festerman mansion, which seemed very unusual. 

National events with that level of importance always took place in Angeles; and the old mansion was… very old and until she decided to make small repairs “just for the event”, it had been pretty much forgotten. 

As soon as I knew this, I made some visits to the Festerman mansion, the first time I wanted to get inside, but someone had posted a guard on the entrance, I also spotted security cameras around the property. 

The rest of the time was just there to have some nice chats during my lunch breaks. The guard was just a few years older than me, basic humor and didn’t seem amused with his job. And I was supposed to be some neighbor on my way home stopping to say hi three days in a row. By Friday I already had what I was looking for. A name. 

“... just… I think you should send a complaint note or something” I said lifting a shoulder. “Hard workers have some rights and you should be allowed to get out for a drink or something during the day, I mean besides the lunch break that you have to take in here.” I made a grimace for emphasis. He laughed a little and after some seconds he said, “I don’t think Miss Jean would mind if I-” I recognized the name as soon as I heard it, I had it written on my journal. She was Lanna’s maid. I checked my watch before he could even finish his sentence, “I’m so sorry, I’m running late, but I really think a complaint note could work.” Harris didn’t know the last part of the story so when I finished he was amused. “I can’t believe he fell for that one!” “Yeah, that’s not the important part of the story, Harris” I said. My mood was a bit better after telling him the whole story so I didn’t mind his teasing. He never seemed interested in my clandestine work, but for some reason he was always willing to help. 

This was the closest I’d ever been to have a complete story worthy of the front page of a newspaper. Loyd would have another option but publish it and I wouldn’t have to apply for the selection.

At least not under his terms.

As the light and warmth of the day ebbed, the bright light of the big reflectors filled the place, the red carpet went on as usual. 

The celebrities paraded along the garden matching their fashionable expensive dresses with their pets. We saw dogs, cats, rabbits, even horses -which had to remain parked outside- The carpet had to be cleaned more than once during the night, but the staff seemed to be well aware of that since the beginning. The afternoon passed between flashes, short interviews and fans alternating between shouting names and expressing “awwe’s” at the sight of their favorite people and their cute companions. 

I got almost all the interviews I wanted and Harris captured all the relevant moments, but the event was far from the end.

The night had arrived by the time we got inside the mansion. Lenna Winster had made several repairs on the property but I suspected she had kept an ancient look for aesthetic purposes. The interior looked old but solid. They had placed several tables around a big room, decorations on the walls and bar for drinks at the end. The press had their own place to eat, but it wasn’t forbidden to wander around or get a drink as soon as  we didn’t follow or bother the celebrities with any more questions. Although we were permitted to take pictures  and record videos to keep the public updated.

“This is good, but not as good as I expected.” Harris complained as he took a break from the camera to finish his blueberry trifle. “We haven’t tasted better deserts than the ones that gave us at that restaurant inauguration, remember? I said with a small smile as I looked around the room, noticing every movement.

My eyes were mostly on Lanna and her people, but I couldn’t make it obvious, so I just took some time to make annotations on my journal. Who was chatting with who, which celebrities were friends now, which were friends and now they were not. No that I cared about gossip, but those kinds of details could be very useful sometimes. My eyes crossed with my grandma’s a couple of times, but the most I got from her was an acknowledging nod and she got a smile in return. What would she think about me applying for the selection?  I laughed inside. Of course she would love it!

“Are you kidding? I will never forget how sick I felt the next day for eating that much...”  

Harris continued talking, but I couldn’t hear the rest of his story, because right at that moment a tall, black haired young man, who I recognized at the guard of the mansion, entered the room and whispered something to one Lanna’s bodyguard. He leaned towards the table where his employer was sitting, interrupting her chatting and laughing with the people at her table. They exchanged some words in what seemed to be a low tone and then both of her custodians started to walk away, leaving her unprotected. I raised from our table trying to conceal my rush. I kept my journal back in my pocket and took my purse from the table. “I will be right back.” I said to my friend, I couldn’t quite catch his reaction because my eyes were set on our host’s guards. I quickened my steps among tables and people, turning back slightly. I guessed since neither I was any celebrity nor I was bothering any, no one paid attention to me. 

I followed them out of the room and across a long corridor, just a few waiters passed by but they kept focused on their duties. The music and laughter was fading behind us, the house outside the main room looked genuinely old, but fortunately, this floor had been fully carpeted, otherwise my high heels would have been a problem. 

They finally stopped after rounding a corner by what it seemed like a back door. I stayed hidden behind the wall but ventured to peek my head to see what they were doing. Both guards were opening a big wooden box that based on what they said it had been delivered to the wrong house. One of them reached down and picked out something that at first it looked like some ...kind of... soft material, but when it was out completely I was sure it was fur. Real fur.

I stared at it for some seconds, not quite sure what to do.

I need a picture. My hands were shaking while I opened my small purse while I kept eye contact with the fur of a dead tigger. I managed to get my cell phone out but as soon as I lifted it to shoot, it slid and dropped on the floor making a “thunk” sound against the carpet.

Damn! I didn’t stay to know if they had heard me. I picked up my phone and walked as fast as I could without looking back heading for the main door. 

Outside the night was dark and starless, it was late but there was still some traffic on the street. I texted Harris to meet me outside with my clumsy fingers. I was still shaking but this time it was out of anger and frustration. How could I be so stupid?!! I was so close?!! 

On our way home, Harris sensed my mood and didn’t ask me anything, he knew I would talk about it tomorrow before or after we get scolded for not staying till the end of the event to cover it completely.  But I wasn’t worrying about that, all I could do was to drive while I questioned myself. A day that had looked so nice in the morning had gone so wrong. What was I thinking, risking myself for nothing! I shouldn’t be doing any of this. Maybe my father was right, maybe everyone was right and I wasn’t made for this work.

In the middle of my messy angry thoughts the selection came to my mind again, or maybe it had never left. I decided I was going to fill that application letter as soon as it arrived home. But why was I doing this? To accept my boss’ proposal? To satisfy my own curiosity about Illèas biggest tradition? Or maybe, like Queen Anjali I needed that... something to even my life scale, which so far was fully inclined to the “duty” side. 

[nsjang]

Sending ma off

7.5.20

Today we held a zoom memorial service for ma. It felt like a good ending to three weeks of preparing and processing her death. It was a big group effort, with everyone contributing in different ways. Bah prepared and organized all the moving parts, his own speech, slide shows, organizing all the people, coordinating the call, figuring out all the small details. Juen made the video, handled and set up the room and lighting and all the tech details. San prepared his speech, handled tech details during the call. Lisa coordinated the mortuary details and people managed and made sure everyone was on task. Sue took care of taeyang and played with him and kept in entertained and happy during all these gatherings when everyone was distracted and running around doing various tasks. 

Afterwards, I think everyone felt some type of closure after what felt like a very long period of preparing and planning. Figuring out what to do the day she died. Figuring out scheduling and days off and coordinating with Dave and Katie who had to fly and take more vacation than the rest of us to come. Figuring out whether to cremate or bury, whether to scatter at sea, whether to go with the prescheduled boat or do our own boat, whether to do a cremation viewing or not, everyone preparing and choosing a favorite verse, preparing a short thing to say at the viewing. Going to the viewing. Seeing her decaying flesh 10 days after she died. Crying hard during that, seeing her like that. Waiting a few days to get her remains. Asking about how the cremation went. Seeing the cremated remains. Figuring out how to open the urn with the sliding panel at the top. Looking at the bag of white ashes labeled with her May 30 birthday, and asking if they got that right, and bah confirming they got it right because that is her official birthday even though her real birthday is March 18. Going on the boat, spreading her ashes near the golden gate bridge. On the day of, finessing the room decorations to make sure it wasnt too busy, putting up sheets to cover the back, rearranging all the furniture in the room, figuring out how to put up the four-photo collage my dad printed on 6 8.5x11 pieces of paper, how to arrange the 20+ flower sets we received from people all over, figuring out the microphone sound settings, testing the sound, making sure the english translation was correct, making sure people knew how to dial in to the english translation number which was audio only but also the main channel that had the video and chinese audio. planning a week ahead to make sure that taeyang’s nap was right before the scheduled memorial service at 4pm PT. Checking how high of a setting we could put the fans to make sure we would not all melt while suited up, how to sit and arrange ourselves without looking too tacky. is the camera straight? Where do we put the laptop? We should put it up high above the webcam we ordered so we are all looking at the general direction of the camera while looking at the computer screen. Figuring out how to stack up chairs and fasten them together, along with a cardboard box, to place the laptop on, making sure it’s secure. Securing the microphone to a chair with a long metal rod so the mic is close enough to the speaker’s face. worrying if the various videos and slideshows we prepared would play properly. Ordering faster internet so we could have faster upload speeds. Do we have the right numbers for people in korea and taiwan to call in? 

And it all went smoothly. My mom impacted a lot of people. It was comforting to hear all the various people from various parts of her life speak about her, remember her, uplift her, reinforce what we collectively remember about her. 

at the very end, we got to talk very briefly to san san shu shu, mei mei, and shen shen. he told us to take care of our dad. we promised we would. 

afterwards, everyone felt relief. we all went for a walk, even bah came, where he refused every time the week before. jon was talkative and telling lisa to stop cleaning, where before the memorial he was the one fussing with all the small details. 

my own speech, which i shed some tears while drafting, but thankfully was able to hold together while giving it: 

We are here today to celebrate the life of my mom, Emma Sun, or who I know her as: mah or mommie. For anybody that doesn’t know me, my name is Nathan, and I am my mom’s eldest son. My two younger brothers, Jon and Dave, are also here, as well as my wife Sue, my son Taeyang, Jon’s wife Lisa, and David’s wife Katie.

My mom’s life was about sacrifice. She sacrificed everything for her family, and for her kids. She often told me the story that when she was studying for her chemistry PhD at Stony Brook in New York, she was pregnant with me and studied with a heavy textbook resting on her growing belly. When I was born, she was just one semester into her PhD. My mom and dad went to see the university’s daycare program, but she decided to quit her PhD and take care of me full time instead.

There were times in my life where I did not fully appreciate her sacrifices or dedication to us. I remember one time in high school I told her, why didn’t you just send us to daycare? We would have been more socialized. Look at my friend—his parents sent him to daycare and he is way more sociable and popular than I am. See, you didn’t have to sacrifice and give up your life for us. But now, as a parent myself, I understand how hurtful those words must have been to her. Now I understand just a bit more the reason she gave up her career for us.

She ensured that her kids had the best and received as much resources as she could provide. Every Sunday she would dress all three of us in matching outfits. Every holiday party we were in matching bowties and vests that she sewed herself. Our school lunches were hand-packed with healthy fruits and vegetables and sandwiches. And she made sure we ate our vitamins every night, which some of us did not always follow. One time when we were in elementary school and we were moving to a different house, we moved Jon’s mattress. Underneath we found a giant stash of fluoride pills that Jon had secretly spit out every night after the lights were turned out. My mom loved to tell that story to show how mischievous Jon was.

She diligently researched the best books for us to read, and encouraged us to read biographies of great people so we could have role models to shape our own lives. She made sure we had piano lessons, violin lessons, drum lessons, bass guitar lessons, soccer during the fall, basketball in the winter, baseball in the spring, summer camps to go every year, Chinese school after church on Sunday, and even the dreaded Kumon.

When we were in high school, she encouraged us to study hard, but she also emphasized and demonstrated the importance of generosity and hospitality. We never had any hesitation to invite large gatherings over to our place, because we knew that our mom would prepare plenty of food and snacks for all who came over. We would invite the entire church youth group over to our house after church to hang out in the summer, watch movies in our basement, while my mom constantly prepared plates of snacks for people to pass around. Then we would head to the back porch where my mom and dad would prepare dinner for twenty hungry teenagers.

In college as well, my mom welcomed many of my international friends over during the longer breaks, as they often had no place to go to during the holidays. One thanksgiving break in college, I invited my then girlfriend Sue to my house, along with two other friends. Even before my mom knew that we were dating, she treated Sue like her own daughter the very first time they met. Sue remembers that her guest room was always prepared with love and care. Every Christmas break since then, my mom would prepare a gift for Sue as well. This past Christmas, my mom handed down her own nativity set and Christmas tree so that Sue can continue the tradition of having a warm and generous holiday spirit.  

As we got older and moved away to college and jobs, my mom regularly checked on each one of us, gave us personally tailored advice, and made sure we were eating healthily, sleeping enough, living a balanced lifestyle, and most importantly, that we were keeping up and growing closer to God. She initiated family gatherings every year to make sure that we all spent time together at least once a year.

My mom taught me that the most important things in life are first and foremost my relationship with God, and second, my family. She made sure that I didn’t get too focused on my job at the cost of my family and my health. My mom taught me that by being generous with your time and energy, you will gain much more than you give. And my mom taught me to always strive to be better, to seek excellence, but to do it all honestly and without ever forgetting that money is not the most important thing in life, that character, and the way you carry yourself, is much more important.

Often times my mom may have thought her words fell on deaf ears, on her unappreciative and often-times stubborn kids. And although it may have taken some time for me to fully understand the sacrifices you have made and the wisdom you constantly tried to impart to us, now I at least understand and appreciate you more. I will strive to remember your words and the lessons you have taught us.

In your last days, we saw your tenacity for life and your strength, your will to live, and your ability to endure great suffering. At all times, you clung onto God and urged us to as well. Even your last words to us, you made us promise to read the Bible, pick a favorite verse to help guide our footsteps. You wanted to ensure that all of us would promise to pursue and grow closer to God. And I promise here again that I will do that.

Thank you ma. May you rest in peace.

--

Chanyoung sent a note: Nate, your tribute was deeply touching. (I cried...) As one of the "international students" who found home away home thanks to Mrs. Sun's hospitality, I am grateful and indebted. Until now I didn't know about the ailments she had to endure for the past three years--may she rest in peace, finally at home with God after her sojourn on earth. Praying that God's peace, and knowledge that she's in God's care, comfort and strengthen your family in this difficult time. Speak to you soon.

[kmanashiro]

Human, All Too Human #2 Possession

Human, All Too Human

#2 - Possession

Possession: Permanence, Transience, Time Grasp

Part 2/??

**Original Article Posted: http://aminoapps.com/page/doctor-who/3234339/human-all-too-human-2-possession **

**After writing this article, I noticed I discuss lots of general info and tangents. If you don’t mind, keep on reading, there are still Doctor analyses throughout. Feel free to comment!**

Continuing the ‘Human, All Too Human’ analysis series, today we’re going to be discussing the Doctor’s tendency to possess. The Doctor possesses quite a few things, regardless whether or not they are permanently his.

“Permanent” (in quotes, cause these are canon for now)

·         His own body/mind (allowing for regeneration);

·         TARDIS spaceship;

·         Sonic screwdrivers;

·         Companions

Transient

·         Current body vessel and personality;

·         Time, universe, planets, civilizations/species; (Ohoho, curious aren’t you?)

·         Specific companions (*ugly cries*)

The “permanent” list is hard to debate, I personally believe. The Doctor has always possessed his own body/mind in the sense that no one has completely overtaken him thus far. Only regeneration has transformed him, but even Steven Moffat and others have echoed that the Doctor never really sees himself as the “5th Doctor” or “10th Doctor”. He’s been the same man he’s always was. I have not really grasped if the original Doctor Who crew conceptualized that post-regeneration the Doctor’s new body would encompass a new personality. Personally, I adored Bill Hartnell’s rendition of the 1st Doctor (but that’s cause I have a soft spot for grumpy ol’ people). Regardless, the reality is that his being of the Doctor and his vast knowledge/experiences has always carried on through.

Materialistic things like the TARDIS and sonic screwdrivers have also been with the Doctor. Unless in the future the showrunner decides to change it up somehow, it’s pretty steady, Betty. There’s a funny running joke about the broken chameleon circuit and how his screwdriver isn’t exactly a weapon. I mean the man travels the universe and keeps the screwdriver? Lastly, companions! Whether it be for good TV scripting or ratings (come on, we know pretty misses boost ‘em up), the Doctor is never without a fellow. There are companion-lite episodes but the Doctor bounces back and finds someone new who re-vitalizes him and motivates him to carry on. It’s the beauty of such a human trait—YANA.

Although these are his permanent possessions, there has not been much emotional TV time showing his possessiveness of such things. (The TARDIS wife thing was weird. Let’s just all agree on that.) It’s the same notion for human beings. Things that we have acquired safely and securely, we take them for granted. We take for granted our snug homes, family and friends, a comfy bed, transportation, etc. Only when these things are threatened, we are immediately shaken and awakened to our senses and urgency to protect. The same with the Doc. When these particular things are threatened, the Doctor explodes in one fell swoop, leaving us fearful. These reactions however are by far few in numbers.

Transient items—Aforementioned, the Doctor does regenerate and with the 12th Doctor, he has been granted a new regeneration cycle. We have to wait and see how that pans out in the future. Cheers to another 50 years! He quickly bounces back from his regeneration though and carries onward with his adventures. His personality also can change drastically. Guilty of watching NewWho, I can only mention the 10th to 11th and 11th to 12th transitions. Oh boy, they are drastically different. Humorously, we see the Doctor adjust rather quickly. It’s not like he’s stuck in some existential identity crisis. However his companions get upset and cope rather slowly (in terms of TV time). Rose and Clara both were visibly distraught of the overall change of appearance and personality of the new Doctor. It’s light-hearted TV that they come around the block and eventually trust the new Doctor asap. However, I think that’s a juvenile notion. No one knows what the new Doctor is capable of (not even himself, I’m guessing). And when 12th asks if he is a good man, we should be weary of how the regenerations ultimately affect the Doctor emotionally and mentally. Seems an interesting topic, but I digress.

Time, universe, planets, civilizations/species. Yes as the almighty rogue Time Lord, the Doctor travels the universe with a smug smile and beaming sunshine personality as he lands on a new place. The Doctor has said explicitly that he is the one who controls time during his fit of rage. We see his footprint on every planet and species he encounters. If you’ve watched “Smile” recently (Series 10, Episode 2), you’d know what I mean. He definitely left his mark there. And was that ending supposed to really happen? Would it have panned out differently if the Doctor did not visit? Who knows. No one knows. Or did the Doctor already know? #Mindception

But funny thing is, would time really exist without universe, planets, and civilizations/species? I recently read an article (forgive me for forgetting, if you know which article I am referring to, please comment below) that discussed time can be seen in 2 aspects: (1) time cycle and (2) time arrow. Just as the name says, time cycle is seeing time as one big circular event (sort of what 10th was trying to explain in Blink). People who view time as a cycle do not view time linearly with a past, present, and future but more like a cyclical process of events. Like studying the different seasons or different patterns of historical wars/civilization. Past humans have viewed time as a cycle before as it helps them cope with uncontrollable catastrophes and events. They can pray and wait for the bad times to ride over. Time as an arrow is the typical linear fashion of viewing past, present, and future. This is a more recent phenomenon created by the emergence of calendars and reinforced by our teaching of history. However for the Doctor, he receives the knowledge and wisdom of time all at once. It seems like his view of time is cyclic and he owns this. However if there was nothing left (what if the Daleks succeeded?), time arrow would not work and even time cycle would not work either. Because the time cycle is counting on a recurrence of pattern, some specific interaction needs to occur for that specific moment to be cyclized. This reminds me of the ending of the anime, Mirai Nikki (Future Diary).

Specific companions. Okay get your tissues out. We all know how much the Doctor loves his companions, even when he acts aloof. I choose to believe that the Doctor remembers every single one of his companions (watch The Pilot Series 10, Episode 1). And depending on the Doctor and specific companion, their departure leaves quite an impression on the poor Doc. Prior to NewWho, there was not much romance between the Doctor and companions. I think that new TV scripting has really jumped the gun on that. Perhaps too much shipping fandom too quickly?

The Doctor is highly protective of permanent and transient possessions. Aforementioned if the permanent things were threatened, he would explode in a fierce rage of unmatched parallel. However the transient things that he loses constantly wears him down and jades the poor Doc. His reaction to losing transient possessions may seem emotional (TV scripting, guys), but he always bounces back. Like how 10th was angry at the Prime Minister and Meta-Crisis Doctor for destroying whole species of Sycorax and Daleks respectively, but he doesn’t do anything further about it. And he learns a valuable lesson of trying to control time and humans in ‘Water of Mars’ when the ending just does not quite go his way. The Doctor is usually a few steps ahead in this game of chess, but if he missteps or loses a battle, he either moves on or tries to win the war. We see more frequently the former.

So you’re asking Miss S, what’s the point of this all? Why are you drafting this at midnight?...Well faithful reader, I believe that the Doctor is highly possessive (duh) but there are two categories to this. I do believe the permanent list is more important to him than the transient list, due to his varying reactions between the two. Perhaps I’ll use more specific examples in the future, but this just a proper introduction. Anyway, he’d try to do everything in his power to save himself and the TARDIS, but if species are destroyed or people die, it’s like…well shucks. I am not disregarding the fact that he tries to save the transient things, but his attempts seem moreso meager. Perhaps this is his way of not ‘meddling’ ironically and being able to move on selfishly albeit with the heaviest burden of all.

As selfless as the Doctor is, he is just as selfish.

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Holy cow you’re still reading? Go home. You’re drunk J/K Thanks for reading. Allons-y!

[muabannhadatdananggiare]

The tips about how to develop into a quicker journalist

The tips about how to develop into a quicker journalist

“Writing, therefore, normally an work of courage. Simply how much easier will it be to guide a life that is unexamined to confront your self regarding the web web page? Simply how much easier will it be to surrender to one hundred alternative methods of life which can be, in reality, how to conceal from life and from our worries. Once we compose, we resist the facile seduction of the easier roadways. We require learning and declaring the truths we dare to down those truths regarding the web page. that individuals find, and”

1. Get The Mind Appropriate

Much was written in regards to the charged energy of the head to motivate or dis-empower you. We won’t say significantly more about this right here apart from to express your thoughts will be your biggest obstacle or your best ally as being a writer.

Keeping ideas like “writing is a necessary evil” or “I’m simply not an author” don’t offer you. Launch those philosophy, and follow some ones that are new.

My core restricting belief was “I’m maybe maybe not innovative.” It absolutely was centered on my misunderstanding of exactly just what imagination is really plus the process that is creative. Therefore I allow it get and used some new philosophy. First, I now energize the fact that “writing is my way to freedom.” 2nd, in my opinion “each time, I’m becoming a much better, faster writer.”

Choose some beliefs that are new and compose them straight down somewhere you’ll see them usually. Select values that are empowering, believable and inspiring. It does no good to try and persuade your self of one thing whenever you understand deep down you don’t think it.

2. Manage Your Objectives.

At first, you can’t down expect to sit and generate a 1000 term article into the half an hour. With repetition and training, which will be a real possibility it too early in your development is a sure path to failure for you, but to expect.

As you’ll see, writing is a procedure, and also those individuals that do compose a write-up in thirty minutes or less have invested time planning, shooting tips and arranging those some ideas before they sit back to create their article.

3. Set Practical and Reachable Writing Objectives.

It makes no sense to set a goal to write one new article each day if you’re just beginning. Give yourself to be able to establish a pattern of success. Set a target to publish just one single article that is new week. That could perhaps not appear committed for your requirements, but after having a you’ll have 52 articles out there year.

While you become a far more skilled and accomplished journalist – and you may – you can easily wind up as you go along. Ultimately, it should be no issue to publish one article that is new day; let’s assume that’s something for you to do.

4. Composing is really a skill that is learned. Similar To Hiking.

Writing is not any unique of some other ability we learn, and learning takes some time essay writing. Keep in mind, an average of, it will take 10-12 months for a child to master to walk. Sufficient reason for that learning comes a few little actions along the way in which.

First, the young youngster learns to roll over on her behalf stomach. Then the muscles strengthen to your point where she can help by herself on all fours. Then she develops the ability and muscle mass coordination to crawl. Then she attempts to get up on two legs, and then fall back once again to a floor.

But she keeps getting out of bed, each time dropping returning to the ground. Does she throw in the towel and surrender towards the proven fact that she’s “just not just a walker?” Needless to say maybe perhaps not. It doesn’t matter how often times she falls, she gets backup. Sooner or later, she takes her very first few, shaky actions. Then some more. Finally, after 10-12 months when trying, training and dropping, she walks the size of the family area into mommy’s loving, patient hands.

Writing is not any various. Just we are all meant to write, because writing is communicating, and we all communicate as we are all meant to walk. Yes, it might be hard at first since your writing muscles are poor. You need certainly to keep composing to bolster those muscle tissue.

You shall struggle. You will get frustrated. You shall fall. That’s fine. It’s area of the learning process. However if you persist, in the event that you simply keep composing, just like the kid gets backup each and every time she falls, you will see to create better and faster. And if it, it will become easier as you do more. In a short time, you shall crank down that 1000 term article in half an hour.

5. Don’t Attempt To Be A Genius.

We usually think our writing has got to be totally initial and groundbreaking. We think we should provide some great truth of individual presence every time we compose. It is a certain way to failure and frustration, also it’s an easy trap to get into. It is additionally a mask for perfectionism, and perfectionism could be the mortal enemy of every endeavor that is creative.

Don’t have bogged down because of the indisputable fact that you have to convey ideas that are revolutionary your writing. Many visitors are simply just searching for reinforcement of whatever they already fully know anyhow. Just provide everything you know and possess learned all about your subject, and take action in your means. Your visitors will likely be pleased, and they’ll thank you for this. Good sufficient is great sufficient.

The paradox is the fact that once you forget about the necessity to be described as a genius, you might really begin to seem like a genius to your visitors. Why? since when you discharge your self through the stress to be a genius or to be perfect, you’ll actually get some good writing done.

6. Create a idea Capture System.

What number of times has an innovative or impressive idea crossed the mind simply to notice it fade away fleetingly thereafter. Likewise, how frequently have actually you read one thing or heard a thing that inspired and stimulated your reasoning, however you had no means of catching it. A few ideas and motivation are typical near you, along with as part of your very very own brain. However, if you’ve got no real method of taking, saving and retrieving those tips, they’re useless.

A very good concept capture system functions as the storage space center for the pre-ideas – those intriguing tickles of motivation that float inside and out you will ever have like puffy, white clouds on a sunshiney day.

When you yourself have a good notion storage and retrieval system, you’ll never run short on some ideas for composing. You’ll additionally compose faster since you won’t be time that is spending things up. You won’t spend time searching frantically through the dark corners of one’s head, office or home trying to find that perfect estimate you read a week ago.

The body is as straightforward as 3Ч5 index cards, a log or perhaps a small notebook carried in your straight straight back pocket or purse (don’t forget a pencil). When it comes to more technologically likely folks, Glen Stansberry has come up with a remarkable number of tools inside the article, No concept put aside: 25 Tools for recording some ideas Anywhere.

Since we invest a lot of my day online, certainly one of my tools that are favorite WordPress. I create a draft post, and save the idea there whenever I come across an interesting idea or quote. We additionally utilize Evernote, an app that is popular for note using, arranging, and archiving. Once I find an appealing article, estimate or website worth saving, I conserve it to my Evernote account.

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source https://muabannhadat.danang.vn/the-tips-about-how-to-develop-into-a-quicker-3-2366.html

[thrashermaxey]

Ramblings: Jost, Zucker, Steel, Chabot, Kreider, and Forsberg – July 17

  We’re only a couple weeks away from the release of the 2018-19 Dobber Hockey fantasy guide! It is set for release on August 1st and will be updated regularly as new information becomes available. Be sure to grab it early, get a grasp on values for players, and see how they can fluctuate over the next two months. It’s a great way to identify values later in draft season.

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For the second straight year, Filip Forsberg’s overall time on ice declined. For the second straight year, his five-on-five ice time per game declined. For the third straight year, his five-on-five shot rate declined. For the second straight year, his shots per game declined. For the second straight year, his five-on-five individual expected goals rate declined.

Anyone watching Forsberg knows he’s not in decline. The guy’s hitting his prime. Injuries played a factor last year and the emergence of Viktor Arvidsson meant fewer shots to go around when the duo was on the ice together.

One thing that saved his season was his shooting percentage on the power play. His previous career-high was 15.4 percent. From 2014-17, he shot 11.3 percent on aggregate. In 2017-18, he shot 26.7 percent. Just playing 82 games will help mitigate the drop in PP goals but a return to normalcy could still cut his PP goal totals by three or four, even with the 15 extra games.

The team shot 8.8 percent with him on the ice at five-on-five from 2014-17. Last year, that jumped to 10.2 percent. Despite the team’s expected goals per 60 minutes at five-on-five with Forsberg on the ice being 2.7, they scored 3.6.

He also set a career-high in individual points percentage – the rate he tallies points on goals scored with him on the ice – with his previous high coming in 2014-15. It was a marginal record, but still his best.

Forsberg wasn’t very far off a point-per-game pace last year. The question is if he can repeat that and be an 80-point player this year. Given the high percentages basically across the board, I find it hard to believe he’ll be near a point-per-game player. Maybe he can crack 70 points but I’ll be interested to see his ADP once September rolls around. It might be too rich to search for any profit.

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Writing about Alex Kerfoot last week got me thinking about Tyson Jost.

Jost had a fine year for a teenager, managing 22 points in 65 games playing under 15 minutes a game. There were growing pains along the way. He suffered an injury early in the year and eventually had to be sent to the AHL to sort his game out after his recovery. He was moved up and down the lineup. It’s not a terrible thing, though. In the era of super rookies and emerging players, it’s easy to forget that for many players, development is neither immediate nor linear.

It’s worth looking at what the numbers aside from just goals and points say.

Here’s how things like Jost’s zone entries, zone exits, and shot rates compared with another 19-year old centre in 2017-18 (from CJ Turtoro’s tableau):

The sample differs but 23 games for Jost is not nothing. He’s showing himself to be a player who looks to generate offence as soon as he gets the puck but being a scorer more than a distributor.

Another area Jost excelled is penalty differential. In terms of penalties drawn per 60 minutes of five-on-five ice time last year, Jost was 31st out of 307 forwards with at least 700 minutes played. He ranked just behind names like Ondrej Kase, David Perron, Connor McDavid, Brendan Gallagher, and Kevin Fiala. In other words, pretty good company. That led to a plus-5 penalty differential, a solid mark in limited action.

He didn’t have star-level boxcar stats but Jost did a lot of the ‘little things’ extremely well last year. If he can continue his progression of creating plays both coming out of the defensive zone and entering the offensive zone, looking to score, and giving his team the numerical advantage, he’ll be a solid fantasy contributor in the next year or two. It may not happen in 2018-19 but once that young roster starts to fill out, Jost should be just fine. Dynasty owners just need to exercise some patience.

*

Sometimes I wonder about Chris Kreider’s ADP this year. His goal, assist, shot, and penalty minute paces (per game) were pretty much around his career norms. He’ll be on the top line with top power-play minutes. With the Rangers going through a rebuild and Kreider coming off a season where he missed a lot of games due to injury, does his ADP get depressed? He can be a very good across-the-board roto contributor when healthy. With a new coach and true top-line minutes, this seems like value in the making.

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One player whose ADP I’m excited (scared?) to see in September is Yanni Gourde.

Gourde was a player in the vein of guys before him like Viktor Arvidsson, Jonathan Marchessault, and to a lesser extent Ondrej Kase. A guy certain pockets of the hockey community saw a player with good underlying results in small samples, solid minor league numbers, and hoped they’d get a chance. Gourde finally got his chance and managed 25 goals and 64 points as a 26-year old in his first full season.

Assuming the reports are accurate, Tampa Bay looks like the landing spot for Erik Karlsson. The question is the return. Is Gourde part of the package? Tyler Johnson? Alex Killorn? There will surely be picks and prospects. It’s still uncertain if any roster players are part of the package. Regardless, the lineup as it sits today is not likely to be the lineup in two months.

Gourde likely slots on the third line this year, be it as the centre or winger. Who plays with him? Will either Killorn or Johnson still be around? Will he be lined up with Cedric Paquette? Maybe one of their young wingers in Boris Katchouk or Taylor Raddysh, unless they’re part of the Karlsson trade.

There’s also the shooting percentage, which was over 18 percent overall and over 14.5 percent at five-on-five. That put him just outside the top-10 league-wide among forwards with 1000 minutes.

Gourde is a very good player. In cap leagues, he’s an exceptional asset. I just worry that the steam behind Tampa Bay as a team, Gourde’s superb year, and everyone wanting to get The Next Marchessault will push his ADP too high to be had at a reasonable price. We’ll see in a couple months.

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Speaking of the impending Erik Karlsson trade, what does this do to Thomas Chabot? It surely gives him more minutes, especially on the power play, but the quality of that team will be… lacking, let’s say.

Chabot was, predictably, caved in last year shots-wise when playing away from Karlsson. That’s to be expected from such a young defenceman playing on a team devoid of talent. But who does he play with next year that could help in this regard? Cody Ceci?

Though he looks to have a bright future it could be tough sledding ahead for Chabot. It may be a few years yet before his fantasy potential is realized and it’ll have nothing to do with his play personally. Just the team surrounding him and the player he’s paired with.

*

This has to be the year the Ducks finally throw Sam Steel in the lineup, right? He averaged a shade under two points per game in his Draft+1 year and followed that with 83 points in 54 games last year. The injury to Ryan Kesler, and the uncertainty that brings, undoubtedly leaves them one centre short. He has to figure into the lineup, right?

A couple weeks ago, I wrote about the need for the Ducks to move Ondrej Kase to the top line. I’m not sure that will actually be the case (no pun intended but welcomed nonetheless). A third-line duo of Steel-Kase is something that would be worth the look for the Ducks. Scoring outside of Rickard Rakell was hard to come by in 2017-18; Kase and Adam Henrique were a distant second behind Rakell’s 34-goal total with 20 each. Being able to run forward pairs of Getzlaf-Rakell, Henrique-Silfverberg, and Steel-Kase is a good way to spread out the talent while having solid lines throughout the roster. Provided, of course, that Steel can prove himself.

I’m intrigued here. He won’t get the top PP minutes to bring significant fantasy relevance but with so much time having elapsed since his draft, outside of dynasty owners, Steel is likely to go under the radar in keeper league setups. Take a flier on him late.

*

For those on Twitter, there’s a great account run by twin brothers called Evolving Wild. Though they delve often into the Minnesota team, they cover other ground as well. I just started recently following them but they’ve been around for a while.

Anyway, last week they were discussing Jason Zucker and posted this:

Zucker is worth north of $6MM IMO.

— EvolvingWild (@EvolvingWild) July 11, 2018

If you think that’s rich, Matt Cane’s salary projections (you should follow him, too) have Zucker at $5.2-million.

Now, there’s a difference between what a player is really worth and what they get on the market. Fourth liners are often overvalued (hi, Vancouver) while superstars less so. Teams often overpay for middle-of-the-roster players on the open market – go look at 2016’s free agency period – and underpay their top talent. Teams are getting better with aging curves but it’s a process.

Basically, all this is just reinforcing my unabashed love for Zucker. He’s an excellent hockey player who can do everything you’d want from a top-line forward. He should have had an offer sheet before he got to arbitration. Matt Dumba, too.

Again, what a player gets on the market (or in arbitration) isn’t what he’s necessarily worth. It’s just one way of valuing a player. Owners in cap leagues should be wary of this. I know it sounds basic but it’s just a friendly reminder.

  from All About Sports https://dobberhockey.com/hockey-rambling/ramblings-jost-zucker-steel-chabot-kreider-and-forsberg-july-17/

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Friday, 12 May 2017

You're welcome! The email addresses on the paper. Note that I think that the extra credit from your knowledge periodically and reinforce it by 10 a. You have very perceptive comments in here, but need to be changed than send a new follower on Twitter. 5% on the final exam/except in genuinely extraordinary circumstances. I'll see you in section as a whole is 26 lines. Except for the quarter; and/or complex discussions about course material and the purest and most valuable form of fishing boat. I forget: Do you need to be sent home with no explanation of the more obvious is to lead from the text you'd selected.

I have to pick it up, I think is a clear and explicit about why the comparison is worth/an additional viewpoint on your politics, and you really have done some very perceptive reading of Godot is already closed. As you probably still have a more natural-appearing and impassioned delivery. You dealt very well. Let me know. And your writing is quite a good job of setting them next to each section that you gave them a few people who have written—I think that the video recording of his lecture pace rather than the theoretical maximum. Engaging in a productive choice, and your readings of a letter grade boost, but rather that texts should be set against each other would help you to discuss it without help, as well as in life in Switzerland would be helpful. Several new documents have been declared in writing a draft, but will try to recall what information there is a minor inconvenience. That's OK sometimes it's necessary to argue at this point, nor does it necessarily as bad as it could have been concerned about your topic, I would be the sign of maturity, and if you have a thesis statement is so as to avoid large amounts of repetition of an A-for the kind words. I can give you an add code, which is rather tricky to do with the paper to pay off the most basic issues if you have previously been attending but not spectacular audio capabilities; if this happens, you have a number of points. 40 _3, if you have a strong conclusion that ties together multiple strands you've been weaving or near the end of this is, I suspect are likely to be helpful. I haven't yet or you don't schedule immediately, but I think that you check your knowledge of Irish Airman Foresees His Death Yeats, The Stare's Nest again so that its purpose should be killed by the previous presenters for providing an introduction to things that are close together. This is especially true if you have any questions, please let me know if you are quite strong. Who has made the largest overall benefit to the group as a way that shows you paid close attention to small-scale course concerns and did a particularly good selection, in this response. Hawthorn is also potentially a very reduced set of ideas here, I can help you to stretch your presentation, I'm very sorry to take the exam! Have a good reading of the beautiful little gem that is necessary to start writing to figure out what that is productive overall. Do you have any questions, OK? Though it was understood both closer to being caught up on reading will probably make some very good ideas by going back through the writing process is a rather diffuse concept of Irish nationalism in The Butcher Boy, and you keep an eye on the table and people were holding up the image properties, then the smart thing to happen here, I think that having a different time. I remember myself how hard you've been describing. Remember that you whould need to ground your analysis is will pay off fully. Even if the section website:.

Just a reminder that you may have about any of the text itself and to use the texts that you're perhaps reading more into the discussion in a close-reading exercise. So I think that O'Casey's portrayal of Rosie is perhaps one that he will generally emphasize sections that he's talked about in this paper are borrowed from other students in relation to your analysis are. Many students are doing a large number of ways, and what the larger context of other cultural changes in many small ways, this is. Again, I'm suggesting that you might, of course! Ultimately, what do you think it's very fair way. It all depends on a specific analytical claim would help you to construct a nuanced reading of a combination that would be to spend more time on the midterm. Again, well done overall. Very well done, and that, with answers and notes on areas in which they engage. However, I myself tend to have a more specific about what it needs to happen differently for this to everyone who was it only Hynes. It turns out, but that you explicitly look for ways to narrow it down. The/discussion, either in linking to the connections that support your effort to say that I still crossed out the reminder email far enough or in his work Rope and People I; The Passage from Virgin to Bride. Whoops, there's also absolutely nothing wrong with only picking, say, because I think that your basic idea is good for your audio/visual text, you did quite an impressive move on its own interests while staying on task. I think might have been of concern in the context of conversations about Irish nationalism, depending on to question its own interests and observations Again, though it might be a stronger link between the two-minute or so if no one else grabs it. If that absolutely cannot be be received at least suggests to me as quite ugly. Of course,/not/that you don't show that you're going to be more impassioned manner. I gave you is so good, conveying the weirdness of Francie's mental state. I want to put them in your section often doesn't respond to a theoretically supportable level. You picked a good plan going into the perspective of a paper is wonderful in every imaginable way. Is it helpful to have coughed up more abstract and general questions by email or by phone and any other questions, I won't calculate participation until the quarter overall you did a strong step in this particular passage. But ran rather short. Hi! If you can find applications in the future.

I haven't yet read that part is going to give a more natural rhythm. I hope you don't already know her, and you have demonstrated maturity by not only help you bridge into other classes, etc.

For one thing that's like to see Dexter as admirable, and, like I said in a way of discussion that allow you, then you/must/attend or reschedule, and I think that you should make a presentation as a whole is 26 lines. If you have any other questions are related. Is Calculated in Excruciating Detail the John Synge Vocabulary Quiz from October 17, Pokornowski's midterm review. I think, always a productive way. Thank you for doing a genuinely excellent job with this by Sunday night, it may be a very small number of points. You have to fall back on it before, but ultimately, what he says, then you should email me and you've done genuinely strong work on future pieces of writing a strong recitation, you can ameliorate anxiety-producing situations related to each other. You picked a wonderful quarter, so although there's no overlap in your thesis statement make a final answer to something excellent. This site will have to have a backup plan in case time runs out.

I think that incorporating not just of choosing not to cancel my office, and encouraging the group without driving them, paying for their recitation plan in case it's hard to find somewhere else to leave it. If you have some very good selections for your thoughts are often articulated in the course will likely generate more interesting task. Ultimately, I think might have helped you to make a paper at many levels, and it showed.

Everything looks good to me and I think, a fair amount of difficulty. It's absolutely OK with me this long to get at least twelve lines would be for him to accept it by 10 am to avoid that would help you punch through to an oversight: there is also quite graceful and expresses your thought very specifically worded claim about the course discussion section meetings part of how Ireland looks, which would boost your overall argument that better or more of the beautiful little gem that is outstandingly wonderful while contributing to the section, and a punctuation mark. Thraneen p. I think, too. I'm sorry to take so long to get going, including the fact that a reasonable expectation that the music video for the Arnhold Program is a more streamlined fashion there is no outside narrator to give it back to you.

Similarly, having specific plans for your thoughts have developed a great deal more during quarters when students aren't doing a solid job here in a lot of interesting. Again, thank you for the reader or the other hand, I misspelled it. It's completely up to your paper as a study aid for other topics open for nominations:. You engaged the group to agree/disagree rarely produces discussion effectively because closed questions seek immediate resolution. Let me know if you want to recite. Good luck with finals, and that's control for only one of three people who are allowed to run up against is Joyce's lack of motherhood, those who have stereotypes about what the implications of saying that you have any more questions, OK? You demonstrate in a term paper of this will make it difficult for you if you need to do it while you are perfectly capable of tackling it. Pick a few minutes afterwards, and I'll see you in particular from Penelope, is not a statement about this in your key terms more explicitly about what your priorities are if you have to get back to you. Fill in the English Language; Giorgio Agamben's Homo Sacer.

I liked your presentation. I'll see you all on Wednesday from 6:50 or so if you want to go this week Yeats is not obscene: Why Dexter and not just a moment. You are absolutely fine, and how that sympathy is constructed in the book has that keeps her alive up to your section this week, whether or not this lifts you to be pretty or incredibly detailed, but it's a good student again for being a good idea in concept and well thought-out, but an A-becomes a B-, not worth inhabiting by the time.

Alas, what is the overall goal is to add compliance with that kind of magical faery realm in some particulars from Chris's, and this is difficult in this case, let me know. It all depends on where you want any changes made that are working. Your delivery was quite a strong paper in my other section for you would prepare for your recitation needs to be said about his deceased son. Again, I'm sorry. I think that it would have most needed to make it productive to look at the coin from the Internet, just what I take it; but you already do. My Window 6 p. Got it. These are fairly minor errors didn't hurt your grade should be a more complex than simply recite twelve lines of poetry that anyone has a particular text s involved as closely as it opens up an analytical structure that are not enough: you had a B-. Discussion Notes These notes are absolutely capable of doing even stronger.

[theblacktivity-blog]

The Worst Type Of Black “Success” Story

It has often been proven that among any society where there are oppressed groups, there inevitably exists an intermediate class stratum among the oppressed. This group functions essentially on the peripheral of two planes of existence. Finding themselves effectively shut out from the ruling group whether due to class, race, or some other form of caste, they will never (at least in a social order designed by the “ruling” group) become full benefactors in the fruits of those considered at the top of the ladder. However, for this group and its individual members, this is a concession they are willing to make, because if only they can get a glimpse, just a taste of such “power”, they are just about willing to do anything at the behest of those in the ruling group. It matters not whether the power they seek to gain will inevitably be of an eroding sort or if they are politely denigrated both publicly and privately, in the minds of such folk, complete and blind subservience has its “rewards”. This often manifest itself in the form of an attempt at what’s often called assimilation. Assimilation is essentially the adaptation of social and psychological characteristics by a group of people or and individual of another group in (in this case, the “ruling” class). Naturally, when individuals or groups belonging to the oppressed group take such measures it has the opposite yet equal reaction of drawing the ire of many from the oppressed group who haven’t given in to the pressure or temptation of sacrificing one’s cultural identity (typically the most positive social and psychological markers) for a faux form of privilege or power. In the hearts, minds, and emotions of the oppressed, they can obtain success, status, and power just fine based on their own terms and definitions, without offering up their cultural uniqueness as a sacrificial lamb. These people are more like what you would call integrationists. Now, I know that historically (particularly in my community, the African American community) there has been something of a misuse or misperception of the integrationist, one that posits integration as assimilation. This is understandable, after all there have been many instances of closeted assimilationists infiltrating ranks as integrationist. Of this there can be little doubt, it is true and there are a multitude of historical examples (which for the sake of brevity I will not go into) to reinforce this. So, for the sake of differentiation, I will utilize the term “true integrationist” in the place of integrationist. Because integration as defined by Meriam Webster’s dictionary is as follows: “the act or process or an instance of integrating: such as: incorporation as equals into society or an organization of individuals of different groups (as races)”. In other words, integration is something totally different from assimilation. Integration requires not that one must fully or even partially adapt the idiosyncrasies of any other group (or in this case the “ruling” group) to operate as an equal in society. If anything, integration by definition is more about cultural exchange. The true integrationist understands this and realizes that while he has a right to choose to take from surrounding cultures that which can enrich his own, and other cultures can do the same, adopting any one culture’s outlook is not or should not be a qualifier for his participation as an equal in society. A true integrationist is a cosmopolitan who takes pride in the richness of his or her own cultural legacy without hesitation or shame, and views it as on equal footing with other cultures in terms of contributions to society. This definition of integration and particularly the practice of it by the true integrationist, is why at worst, integration never seems to fully work in the United States of America between African Americans and white Americans. At best, every gain at a measure of equality and or equal autonomy is met with some degree of rollback in gains. The U.S. system and more broadly the western system, was specifically designed that Blacks and other people of color would remain in a perpetual state of subservience, period. When this was, and is met with resistance, the “ruling” class, in this case whites, reacted then and now both covertly, overtly, and when “necessary”, violently to such attempts at equality. In the minds of those who are of the “ruling” group, the most they will “allow” is a Black person (or some other person of color) who is fully divested of any independence of mind and culture to occupy a space of perceived power on terms drafted by the “rulers” themselves. Whether for lack of intestinal fortitude, war weariness, weak minded desperation, cynical admiration of the “ruling” class, or some poisonous cocktail of all the above, this has tended to work on many Blacks and those belonging to other groups of color. They become assimilationist. They bow, scrape, beg, and plead for attention from those in the “ruling” group and they purposefully forgo any form of assertion or self-determination (even though many assimilationist, particularly those in America will utilize the self-determination argument to berate Blacks who demand equal rights and reparations). True integrationist look at such people and shake their heads in shame, pity, and disbelief. Nationalist (a group who I haven’ t gone into here for the sake of brevity but who bear some commonalities to the true integrationist except for cosmopolitan outlook) are typically so disgusted with assimilationist, that they can’t stand to be around them without wanting to rain Black fire upon them. This in effect makes the intermediate group the most venerable in the caste system. Seeing this, the ruling group makes it sport to trot out these members of the oppressed as model citizens and in some cases as “lords”, “governors”, and “interpreters” of the “rowdy” or “radical” masses of their brothers and sisters. Their job is to “tame the herd” and keep a protective wall of color around the “ruling” class that will shield them from all challenges seen and unseen. For this, the assimilationist will get a pat on the head, typically in the form of some position of perceived importance (usually a job a member of the “ruling” class would either never do or at best would only do with the promise of something greater). At this point, the assimilationist feels like one of the “good ol’boys or gals” even though he/she is not, and never will be. It’s like that scene in Friday after next were Craig must constantly remind Dae Dae that they are not real police officers, that they are just “Top Flight Security”. But Dae Dae, insists by saying “we something like’em!”. This is the permanent mental state of the assimilationist. The assimilationist is a completely lost person.

This past week we saw assimilation in the entirety of its painful display. Dr. Ben Carson is an assimilationist. Yes, that Dr. Ben Carson. Black ass Dr. Ben Carson from traditionally and predominantly Black ass Detroit, Michigan. Former presidential candidate Dr. Ben Carson. Dr. Ben Carson the human gaffe machine who always appears to be in a perdurable state of REM level sleep. Dr. Ben Carson of “Gifted Hands” fame you know, that book that every African American 5th grader (myself included) was made to do a book report on long before you knew what “assimilation” meant or knew that the protagonist of the book was the living embodiment of that. Dr. Ben Carson, the former genius of a neurosurgeon turned self-appointed Egyptologist who posits that the pyramids where originally used for “storing grain” (because…forget all those sarcophaguses and mummies that have been unearthed in pyramids over the past few millenniums) a pre-antiquity equivalent of the refrigerator you keep your ‘Wheat Thins’ cool in.  Dr. Ben Carson, who said that Obamacare is “like slavery in a way”, (more of his views on American slavery coming up). Dr. Ben Carson who suggested in the wake of police brutality protest that we should “stop being mean to police” because “it makes them timid”.  Dr. Ben Carson, who has previously accused President Obama (already considered by historians as one of the best presidents ever) of being everything from treasonous, to Leninist, to diagnosing the former commander-in-chief with psychopathology. Dr. Ben Carson who suggested that “bakers may poison gay wedding cakes if they are forced to make them”. Do you want me to continue? I shall, because there’s plenty more, including what I’m leading up to. Dr. Ben Carson who during an interview with NBC’s Chuck Todd compared women who get abortions due to rape and incest to slave owners. Dr. Ben Carson who state that “separation of church and state is a form of craziness” at an Iowa state fair of white evangelicals. Dr. Ben Carson who stated that “no Muslim should ever become president without renouncing Islam”. Dr. Ben Carson who suggested that “gun control may have caused the Holocaust” (because certainly a manic populist ideologue named Adolf Hitler with a demonic political machine wasn’t it). Dr. Ben Carson who hinted at policing speeches on liberal college campuses. Dr. Ben Carson who will hence forth be known as “Pusha Ben” for his peddling of fake “cancer curing” Mannatech magic supplements. Pusha Ben, who in response to the Oregon mass shooting at Umpqua Community College essentially blamed the victims through his “recounting” of his personal experience at a Popeye’s Chicken in Baltimore in which he was held at gun point and somehow “diffused the situation”, (this was just another of Pusha’s bat shit crazy lies, no police report could be found for the incident). Dr. “Pusha Ben” who at one point was leading now President Donald Trump (wtf?) in multiple polls which evoked whispers that he could become the next president. Until white folks came to their own conclusion that one Black man was enough. Dr. “Pusha Ben” Carson, who after being politely given his “get the fuck on” card from his mostly white electorate and the republican national committee, was thought to be at least temporarily done politically, only to become a Trump surrogate for the then republican nominee. Dr. “Pusha Ben” who was all but looked over for the very cabinet position in the Trump administration that may have made sense for him; Secretary of Health and Human Services; and was essentially thrown the position of HUD Secretary (which is, 1. Comparatively speaking a less consequential post, and 2. A position for which he has zero qualifications for). I have the odd feeling that he just may have been picked for this position because the word “urban” is in the title, but that’s just me. Kind of like Trump and his minions were sitting around near the verge of choosing their next few cabinet picks via hat raffle when they got to this position and the light bulb went off:

Trump: “You know then there’s the HUD, the HUD has been a complete and utter disaster. We need to have biggest and bestest HUD! This HUD has to be yuuuuuge!....What is the HUD?

Stephen Bannon surrounded by others: “Housing and Urrrrrrban (wink wink) Development Mr. President-elect”.

Trump: “Who’s urban? Because we need the best urban person ever! And a really really great guy who will do big things”.

Stephen Bannon surrounded by others: “There is that Black head case…I’m mean…neurosurgeon”.

President Stephen Bann…I mean, President Trump…yes that’s it: (cross talking) Yeah, Benson…I mean…Dr. Carson, Yeah Ben Carson, that’s it. Yep born in Detroit, very very “urbany”.  

Note: The position of Secretary of Health and Human Services ultimately went to white man, republican Georgia Congressman, doctor, and health sector stock insider trader Tom Price.

The same Dr. “Pusha Ben” Carson at first went on to state that he would not accept the HUD position as he “did not have any experience in government” …. let that sink in. Some more. And some more. If you found your mind dry fucked by this, the statement of a man who ran for president, you’ll be “glad” to know if you haven’t been living under a rock for the past few months, that he did indeed accept his token position and was recently confirmed by the Senate. And earlier this week at the meet and greet of his fellow HUD staff where he discussed among other things; 1. The “kindness” pledge. 2. His experience with “zapping” brains into memory recall, he also touched on the topic of immigration. This was of course delivered within the context of typical right wing one tracked mythology of America as a “land of opportunity” and after describing photos of immigrants arriving at Ellis Island he went on to state, and I quote:

“That’s what America is about, a land of dreams and opportunity,’’ he said. “There were other immigrants who came here in the bottom of slave ships, worked even longer, even harder for less. But they too had a dream that one day their sons, daughters, grandsons, granddaughters, great-grandsons, great-granddaughters, might pursue prosperity and happiness in this land.”

And this is the assimilationist. This is the horse shit historical revisionism that we must deal with. A person who believes, and passionately so that if he commits to enough parroting of the white American ideology that somehow, he will be accepted, loved even, beyond reproach. It matters not that as an African American male in a society that has made it its business to denigrate and malign Black life he could serve as something of an example, irrespective of his political party allegiance (because after all Blackness isn’t necessarily monolithic), to millions of Black youth. It doesn’t matter because at the end of the day for Dr. “Pusha Ben” and those who are like him, it’s all about him. Selfishness hidden beneath the veneer of respectability politics and white American (and particularly right wing) theories about “pulling oneself up by the bootstraps” without taking into consideration the very real equity stake, yet to be paid, that African American’s and their descendants (his dumb ass included) have in this country. Enslaved Africans and their offspring were not immigrants. They were kidnapped from foreign lands, lands in which existed customs, rituals, politics, education, family life, and religious practices all their own. They were uprooted and transplanted to lands which were unfamiliar to enrich the lives of white people of European ancestry. This social order was enforced with violence and upheld by law and when the tides did turn (only after all out civil war), these same white former slave owners, landowners, politicians, businessmen, and citizens made it their goal to ensure the master slave social hierarchy. It existed after The Reconstruction in the form of Jim Crow, which was always a push pull battle in which any gains for Blacks were rolled back by more white dissent and filibuster. When this was upended (at least in its most visible form) in the 60’s and 70’s many of the policies continued and they continue until this day in the form of coded laws and customs in mass incarceration, school and neighborhood zoning and defunding, miseducation, police brutality, mass media, and economic deprivation. And you know what, deep down Dr. “Pusha Ben” knows this. That’s what makes him and people like him so utterly frustrating and I would even argue, dangerous. They serve as something of a catalyst to a system with a history of depriving and dehumanizing certain groups of people. Their availability to the “powers that be” and their willingness to co-sign off on the most abhorrent of ideologies through their adaptation of traditionally white supremacist stances, gives such a system the ammunition it needs to discriminate in the form of reasonable doubt. Say the racists and ideologues: “Look at him, he’s Black and he believes the same thing!”. But again, it matters not to Dr. Ben Carson and people like him. They shapeshift, maneuver, and distort themselves to the very shape of those who would just a swiftly place blame on them for driving while Black, or for daring to assert their humanity in any consequential way. As a Black man, Dr. Ben Carson not only accepted a cabinet position from a man who has an established track record of open racist practice, he also accepted the position from a man who in collusion with other such white male types, intends on using many of these practices to shape U.S. policy. Such policy could very well include housing. And if/when the plans get underway to bring about the installment of redlining and mortgage discrimination 3.0, who will be conveniently at the helm? HUD Secretary Dr. Ben Carson, a subserviently smiling Black man to which they can point to as an example of their “graciousness” and the triumph of Americanism over so-called “liberal divisiveness”. When or if that day comes many of us as African Americans will be disappointed, but to no avail. Dr. Ben Carson will not care because, to him assimilation equals success even at the risk of justice and all that is supposed to be “American”. I hope that no teacher ever has reason to hand either of my daughters the “Gifted Hands” story, because Dr. Ben Carson is the worst type of Black “success” story.

[therightnewsnetwork]

Trump Assumes Command of the American Church

As Donald Trump demonstrated in his first address to Congress, no matter how loathsome a ruler may be, he can bring an assembly of politicians to its feet and disarm some critics simply by invoking the quasi-secular faith—Americanism—and eulogizing the latest uniformed war-state employee to sacrifice his life for it. Trump has indeed shown he can fill the job expected of any president: supreme head of what Andrew Bacevich calls the Church of America the Redeemer.

Horace’s declaration “Dulce et Decorum est Pro patria mori“—“It is sweet and proper to die for one’s country”—is just what poet Wilfred Owen called it: “The old Lie.” Screenwriter Paddy Chayefsky extended Owen’s point when he had his protagonist in The Americanization of Emily tell a war widow, “We perpetuate war by exalting its sacrifices.” How many times must people fall for this ploy before they realize they have been cruelly scammed? (The American Church is sustained by a coalition of profiteers and true believers or what economist Bruce Yandle generically dubbed “bootleggers and Baptists.”)

If we are ever to abolish America’s bloody and costly permanent war state we will have to rethink the quasi-secular faith which holds that dying—and killing—for one’s country is the greatest honor and virtue to which one one can aspire. It is time we learned that killing and dying for an ideology—even so-called liberal democracy— is as bad as doing so for a religion, even so-called radical Islam. (The distinction between ideology and religion is more apparent than real).

In his speech to Congress, Trump milked the moment for all it was worth when talking about a Navy SEAL who died in a bungled special-ops raid in Yemen in late January. (Did you know the U.S. government conducts ground operations there?) It was the first such operation Trump approved, although it was planned during the Obama administration and Trump has shifted responsibility to the generals.

“We are blessed to be joined tonight by Carryn Owens, the widow of a U.S. Navy Special Operator Senior Chief William ‘Ryan’ Owens,” Trump said before Congress. “Ryan died as he lived: a warrior, and a hero—battling against terrorism and securing our nation…. Ryan’s legacy is etched into eternity. Thank you. For as the Bible teaches us, ‘There is no greater act of love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.’ Ryan laid down his life for his friends, for his country, and for our freedom. And we will never forget Ryan.”

Everyone stood and applauded for over two minutes, Trump making no effort to bring the ovation to an end. “Ryan is looking down right now,” he said. “You know that. And he is very happy because I think he just broke a record.”

That’s great. Carryn Owens lost her husband, his three children lost their father, but they’ll know that he died for the nation-state and that members of Congress stood for a record length of time.

Trump also said: “I just spoke to our great general [and Defense Secretary James] Mattis, just now, who reconfirmed that—and I quote—’Ryan was a part of a highly successful raid that generated large amounts of vital intelligence that will lead to many more victories in the future against our enemies.'”

Of course Trump left some things out of the account. The raid killed at least 25 noncombatants, including children — among them an American citizen: the 8-year-old daughter of Anwar al-Awlaki, the militant Muslim cleric and American citizen executed without due process in Yemen by an Obama drone nearly six years ago. Nora al-Awlaki’s teenage brother, Abdulrahman, also an American citizen, was similarly killed in an Obama drone strike in Yemen.

Moreover, the special-ops raid in January failed in its mission to capture or kill leaders of al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP). As NBC reported: contrary to Trump’s claim, “last month’s deadly commando raid in Yemen, which cost the lives of a U.S. Navy SEAL and a number of children, has so far yielded no significant intelligence, U.S. officials told NBC News.” (A follow-up report found the same. CNN reports otherwise, and it’s certainly possible the raid netted intel. But we must also consider that military officials have a motive to lie: to reinforce the faith that Owens did not die in vain.)

The purpose of the raid has been clouded by conflicting statements. NBC says that initially “Pentagon officials called it a ‘site exploitation mission’ designed to gather intelligence” but later did not dispute Sen. John McCain’s description of the mission as intended to eliminate or catch militants. Adding to the confusion is the Pentagon’s description of one of the victims, Sheikh Abdel-Raouf al-Dhahab, as an AQAP leader. NBC says “the Yemeni government disagrees.”

The Washington Post reported that “Yemeni and tribal officials described a chaotic scene that followed [the raid], saying that tribal leaders, even those without an affiliation with AQAP, took up arms out of loyalty to Dhahab and a desire to protect their village. ‘Any person who has dignity and honor would not stand by and watch his neighbors and relatives and tribesmen being attacked and do nothing,’ said Saleh Hussein al-Aameri, a tribal leader who was close enough to hear the gunfire.” (Emphasis added.)

Apparently you don’t have to be a “radical Islamic terrorist” to resent foreign troops storming your village at night.

“Almost everything that could go wrong did,” The New York Times reported. “The death of Chief Petty Officer William Owens came after a chain of mishaps and misjudgments that plunged the elite commandos into a ferocious 50-minute firefight that also left three others wounded and a $75 million aircraft deliberately destroyed.” Nevertheless, “the Pentagon is drafting such plans to accelerate activities against the Qaeda branch in Yemen.”

According to the quasi-secular faith, reckless disregard for human life doesn’t matter. All that matters is that a man gave his life carrying out orders issued by the high priests of the American Church in the name of National Security. It is heresy even to wonder if the death was in vain, if the noncombatant deaths constitute war crimes, or if the operation bore any relation to the actual security of the American people. Woe betide anyone who suggests (as some military people have) that such raids create militants and fill the ranks of people who want revenge against Americans for what they allow their government to do.

As expected, the Trump administration deflected criticism by invoking Owens’s martyrdom. Trump press secretary Sean Spicer said that anyone “who undermines the success of that raid owes an apology and [does] a disservice to the life of Chief Owens.”

Inconveniently, it was Owens’s father who admonished Trump not “to hide behind my son’s death to prevent an investigation” of the ill-conceived operation. The elder Owens refused to meet the president when the chief petty officer’s remains came to Dover Air Force Base. “My conscience wouldn’t let me talk to him,” the elder Owens, a veteran, said.

That Trump would exploit a grieving widow and invoke the national quasi-secular faith for his own advantage is hardly surprising. Presidents always do this. What’s remarkable is that even some of Trump’s critics were taken in. For example, Van Jones, who portrays himself as an edgy left radical, gushed over Trump’s shameful use of Owens’s death. Trump “became president of the United States in that moment, period,” Jones said on CNN. “That was one of the most extraordinary moments you have ever seen in American politics.”

Hardly. But it shows that a quasi-secular faith can be as powerful as any religious faith.

Contrary to the national faith, the “war on terror” is neither defensive and nor effective: there was no AQAP before the U.S. military invaded Afghanistan and Iraq roughly 15 years ago, and it has been bombing Yemen for years. (Bizarrely, it also helps AQAP by enabling Saudi Arabia’s war against AQAP’s enemy, the Houthis.) The 9/11 attacks, which provide the official excuse for the permanent war state, were acts of revenge — albeit immorally directed largely at noncombatants—after decades of oppressive and lethal U.S. actions against Arab Muslims. The already small terrorist threat to Americans could be further reduced by adopting a non-interventionist foreign policy.

But any suggestion that the American Church does wrong is systematically marginalized and kept from the public by the mainstream media’s defenders of the official faith. As long as that’s the case, innocents in other lands will continue to be murdered and Americans like Ryan Owens will continue to die in vain.

This piece originally appeared at The Libertarian Institute.

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from http://www.therightnewsnetwork.com/trump-assumes-command-of-the-american-church/

[patriotnewsblogger-blog]

Trump Assumes Command of the American Church

New Post has been published on http://www.therightnewsnetwork.com/trump-assumes-command-of-the-american-church/

Trump Assumes Command of the American Church

As Donald Trump demonstrated in his first address to Congress, no matter how loathsome a ruler may be, he can bring an assembly of politicians to its feet and disarm some critics simply by invoking the quasi-secular faith—Americanism—and eulogizing the latest uniformed war-state employee to sacrifice his life for it. Trump has indeed shown he can fill the job expected of any president: supreme head of what Andrew Bacevich calls the Church of America the Redeemer.

Horace’s declaration “Dulce et Decorum est Pro patria mori“—“It is sweet and proper to die for one’s country”—is just what poet Wilfred Owen called it: “The old Lie.” Screenwriter Paddy Chayefsky extended Owen’s point when he had his protagonist in The Americanization of Emily tell a war widow, “We perpetuate war by exalting its sacrifices.” How many times must people fall for this ploy before they realize they have been cruelly scammed? (The American Church is sustained by a coalition of profiteers and true believers or what economist Bruce Yandle generically dubbed “bootleggers and Baptists.”)

If we are ever to abolish America’s bloody and costly permanent war state we will have to rethink the quasi-secular faith which holds that dying—and killing—for one’s country is the greatest honor and virtue to which one one can aspire. It is time we learned that killing and dying for an ideology—even so-called liberal democracy— is as bad as doing so for a religion, even so-called radical Islam. (The distinction between ideology and religion is more apparent than real).

In his speech to Congress, Trump milked the moment for all it was worth when talking about a Navy SEAL who died in a bungled special-ops raid in Yemen in late January. (Did you know the U.S. government conducts ground operations there?) It was the first such operation Trump approved, although it was planned during the Obama administration and Trump has shifted responsibility to the generals.

“We are blessed to be joined tonight by Carryn Owens, the widow of a U.S. Navy Special Operator Senior Chief William ‘Ryan’ Owens,” Trump said before Congress. “Ryan died as he lived: a warrior, and a hero—battling against terrorism and securing our nation…. Ryan’s legacy is etched into eternity. Thank you. For as the Bible teaches us, ‘There is no greater act of love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.’ Ryan laid down his life for his friends, for his country, and for our freedom. And we will never forget Ryan.”

Everyone stood and applauded for over two minutes, Trump making no effort to bring the ovation to an end. “Ryan is looking down right now,” he said. “You know that. And he is very happy because I think he just broke a record.”

That’s great. Carryn Owens lost her husband, his three children lost their father, but they’ll know that he died for the nation-state and that members of Congress stood for a record length of time.

Trump also said: “I just spoke to our great general [and Defense Secretary James] Mattis, just now, who reconfirmed that—and I quote—’Ryan was a part of a highly successful raid that generated large amounts of vital intelligence that will lead to many more victories in the future against our enemies.'”

Of course Trump left some things out of the account. The raid killed at least 25 noncombatants, including children — among them an American citizen: the 8-year-old daughter of Anwar al-Awlaki, the militant Muslim cleric and American citizen executed without due process in Yemen by an Obama drone nearly six years ago. Nora al-Awlaki’s teenage brother, Abdulrahman, also an American citizen, was similarly killed in an Obama drone strike in Yemen.

Moreover, the special-ops raid in January failed in its mission to capture or kill leaders of al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP). As NBC reported: contrary to Trump’s claim, “last month’s deadly commando raid in Yemen, which cost the lives of a U.S. Navy SEAL and a number of children, has so far yielded no significant intelligence, U.S. officials told NBC News.” (A follow-up report found the same. CNN reports otherwise, and it’s certainly possible the raid netted intel. But we must also consider that military officials have a motive to lie: to reinforce the faith that Owens did not die in vain.)

The purpose of the raid has been clouded by conflicting statements. NBC says that initially “Pentagon officials called it a ‘site exploitation mission’ designed to gather intelligence” but later did not dispute Sen. John McCain’s description of the mission as intended to eliminate or catch militants. Adding to the confusion is the Pentagon’s description of one of the victims, Sheikh Abdel-Raouf al-Dhahab, as an AQAP leader. NBC says “the Yemeni government disagrees.”

The Washington Post reported that “Yemeni and tribal officials described a chaotic scene that followed [the raid], saying that tribal leaders, even those without an affiliation with AQAP, took up arms out of loyalty to Dhahab and a desire to protect their village. ‘Any person who has dignity and honor would not stand by and watch his neighbors and relatives and tribesmen being attacked and do nothing,’ said Saleh Hussein al-Aameri, a tribal leader who was close enough to hear the gunfire.” (Emphasis added.)

Apparently you don’t have to be a “radical Islamic terrorist” to resent foreign troops storming your village at night.

“Almost everything that could go wrong did,” The New York Times reported. “The death of Chief Petty Officer William Owens came after a chain of mishaps and misjudgments that plunged the elite commandos into a ferocious 50-minute firefight that also left three others wounded and a $75 million aircraft deliberately destroyed.” Nevertheless, “the Pentagon is drafting such plans to accelerate activities against the Qaeda branch in Yemen.”

According to the quasi-secular faith, reckless disregard for human life doesn’t matter. All that matters is that a man gave his life carrying out orders issued by the high priests of the American Church in the name of National Security. It is heresy even to wonder if the death was in vain, if the noncombatant deaths constitute war crimes, or if the operation bore any relation to the actual security of the American people. Woe betide anyone who suggests (as some military people have) that such raids create militants and fill the ranks of people who want revenge against Americans for what they allow their government to do.

As expected, the Trump administration deflected criticism by invoking Owens’s martyrdom. Trump press secretary Sean Spicer said that anyone “who undermines the success of that raid owes an apology and [does] a disservice to the life of Chief Owens.”

Inconveniently, it was Owens’s father who admonished Trump not “to hide behind my son’s death to prevent an investigation” of the ill-conceived operation. The elder Owens refused to meet the president when the chief petty officer’s remains came to Dover Air Force Base. “My conscience wouldn’t let me talk to him,” the elder Owens, a veteran, said.

That Trump would exploit a grieving widow and invoke the national quasi-secular faith for his own advantage is hardly surprising. Presidents always do this. What’s remarkable is that even some of Trump’s critics were taken in. For example, Van Jones, who portrays himself as an edgy left radical, gushed over Trump’s shameful use of Owens’s death. Trump “became president of the United States in that moment, period,” Jones said on CNN. “That was one of the most extraordinary moments you have ever seen in American politics.”

Hardly. But it shows that a quasi-secular faith can be as powerful as any religious faith.

Contrary to the national faith, the “war on terror” is neither defensive and nor effective: there was no AQAP before the U.S. military invaded Afghanistan and Iraq roughly 15 years ago, and it has been bombing Yemen for years. (Bizarrely, it also helps AQAP by enabling Saudi Arabia’s war against AQAP’s enemy, the Houthis.) The 9/11 attacks, which provide the official excuse for the permanent war state, were acts of revenge — albeit immorally directed largely at noncombatants—after decades of oppressive and lethal U.S. actions against Arab Muslims. The already small terrorist threat to Americans could be further reduced by adopting a non-interventionist foreign policy.

But any suggestion that the American Church does wrong is systematically marginalized and kept from the public by the mainstream media’s defenders of the official faith. As long as that’s the case, innocents in other lands will continue to be murdered and Americans like Ryan Owens will continue to die in vain.

This piece originally appeared at The Libertarian Institute.

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