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cyarskj1899 · 2 years ago

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Goapele’s ‘Closer’ Is an enduring anthem for the dreams and goals of Black women. Here’s why.

OPINION: In my circle of life-embattled Black women, "Closer" has been a psalm, a hype song, an anthem of affirmation and the lyrical encouragement to keep believing in ourselves.

Janelle Harris Dixon |

Dec 3, 2022

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Editor’s note: The following article is an op-ed, and the views expressed are the author’s own. Read more opinions on theGrio.

It starts with a gossamer wash of instrumentation, a light plinking of chords mounting into a melody, and in seconds when the beat drops and Goapele’s ethereal voice floats atop the music, “Closer” draws its listener into its introductory magic. It would be lovely even if it just stayed right there in that rhythmic pocket. But then Goapele threads in relatable lyrics about being stuck and pushing past fears and willing her dreams to be real and the song becomes church.

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Initially the title track of her 2001 self-released debut, which sold about 5,000 copies independently, “Closer” was re-released on Goapele’s 2002 followup, “Even Closer,” her first nationally distributed album. The inclusion on that record made the song a star. Two years later, Columbia Records picked up “Even Closer” to gift to a worldwide audience. I don’t remember when I first heard it. I wish I did have some poignant, the-first-time-I-heard-it memory, especially since, by glaring comparison, I can recall exactly where I was and how I responded the first time I heard “Scarred” or “Oochie Wally.”

Also Read: Xscape to receive ‘Lady of Soul’ honor at 2022 ‘Soul Train Awards’

Still, for me and several friends in my circle of life-embattled Black women, “Closer” has been a psalm, a hype song, an anthem of affirmation and the lyrical encouragement to keep believing that however marooned we are in challenges and stagnation, we’re not that far away from actualizing the extraordinary milestones and achievements we’ve been wanting and waiting to happen. That last part is especially important to sisters who’ve been denied, put on pause and otherwise dream-deferred — sometimes because of personal decisions that don’t serve us well, sometimes because of external circumstances that complicate our goal-reaching and dream-chasing but always compounded by systemic -isms and impediments.

This is the time of year, now that much of it has passed, when we start evaluating the wins and losses from the stretch of previous months behind us. Normally, we reflect on accomplishments from this year to shape the ones we expect to check off in the next. But these have not been normal times, and for those of us who were already getting impatient about the slow pacing of our personal achievements, the pandemic has made realizing dreams that much more Sisyphean and labor-intensive.

Also Read: OWN unscripted series ‘All the Single Ladies’ investigates modern dating from the Black female perspective

Once upon a time, I was a voracious vision boarder and compulsive goal-setter. Every New Year’s Eve, I’d buy a crisp piece of white poster board and sit in lotus pose on my bedroom floor to handwrite a massive to-do list — complete with color-coded categories in marker — for the upcoming year. And every year, when I didn’t complete enough of the items to allow myself to feel proud of what I did do, I’d harangue myself with merciless self-comparison and perfectionism, and subject myself to an audit of the regrettable choices that could have maybe possibly contributed to my delay. It’s hard to be a dreamer in arrested development, waiting for the fruition of things long worked, desired and hoped for to unfold in a magical timeframe. I never felt like I’d done enough to get to where I wanted to be so I, as a whole, never felt like enough.

Last year, in a study of more than 1,400 representative Black women and gender-expansive professionals, researchers Ericka Hines and Mako Fitts Ward discovered that 88% are sometimes, often or always burned out because of work. Sixty-five percent reported a lack of personal time and 75% said they sometimes, rarely or never have the energy to spare when they get home. Another report, “Women in the Workplace,” found that not only is burnout escalating much faster among women than men, one in three women have considered downshifting their career or leaving the workforce altogether.

The last two years have taught us many lessons, and the one I remind myself of regularly, especially as the world races to catch up on lost time and money, is to recognize the pressure to perform for the mirage that it is. I still set goals, but I’m not as obsessive about them. If they’re truly meant for me to accomplish, they’ll still be accomplishable if I snatch two hours from my day to watch a movie with the husband I at one time had stopped believing I would meet or block off an afternoon to visit a museum instead of laboring in front of my laptop screen.

There was a too long period of my life when I sacrificed 12, sometimes 14 hours a day to the matrix of the hustle, trying to achieve, achieve, achieve. But busyness — the kind that tries to make me feel like I’m doing something essential to fulfilling my dream when I actually hit my productivity high note hours ago — can be an illusion of time that compromises my ability to be present when it really matters and save some of my best self to invest into the people and activities that create joy.

I don’t know where Goapele was in her own litany of goals or all the dreams she was trying to breathe life into when she wrote “Closer.” But she gifted her fellow Black girls a source of empowering inspiration when she did. When life has been too weighty and difficult, my best friend and I have played that song during tearful phone calls and held the receiver up to the speaker to make sure whoever needed the message that day really heard it. My friends have texted each other YouTube links to the “Closer” video before major business meetings and job interviews, just to lessen the urgency of the moment and remind each other that, no matter what happens right now, an indubitable blessing is in fact on the way. For a while, it was even my ringtone — back when downloading ringtones was a thing — to keep my own spirits lifted when a bill collector or other bearer of bad news might have been on the other end of a call.

Janelle Harris Dixon is a freelance writer, journalist and editor in Washington, D.C. covering the intersections of race, gender, culture and class.

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donuts4evry1 · 2 years ago

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turns out one of my friends is afraid of jellyfish so i'm trying to help xem out a bit, do you have any suggestions on cute + harmless jellies i could show xyr? other than the obvious moon jelly lol

in lieu of me not being on my laptop right now, I've compiled a list of harmless looking jellies in nonthreatening positions to help you and your friend on your journey :)

The first types of jellies I'd like to recommend are Rhizostomeae jellyfish, which have relatively mild stings and short oral arms, absent of long tentacles, and thus look nonthreatening (though I'd recommend showing shots of them from the side- Rhizostomeae means "many mouths" and they can look kind of scary from a bottom view)

Here are some examples!

From top to bottom:

Cauliflower Jellyfish (Cephea cephea), Fried egg jellyfish (Cotylorhiza tuberculata), and Cabbagehead jellyfish (Stomopolus melagidaris)

We also have the famous Palau jelly (Mastigias Papua), which is even more nonthreatening and cute thanks to their mild stings, if any, and the yellow zooxanthellae that lines their body, giving them food

At the end of the Rhizostomeae category we have the Upside down jelly (Cassiopeia sp.) and this specific picture of the Flame jellyfish (Rhophilema esculentum)

I suggest showing xem exclusively side views of these jellies, as a full view of their oral arms is probably a little freaky, ehe...

The flame jellyfish usually only looks pretty scary but this particular one (paired with the caption "Orphan no parents") makes me pity it quite a bit, lol

I'm going in assuming that your friend is scared of most "conventional types of jellyfish", so I'll stay away from Sea Nettles and Lions manes (they do have numerous, long, and painful tentacles anyway)

Comb jellies (specifically the Lobed and Beroe varieties) are also a great option, granted you don't tell xem the creepier parts of them. Comb jellies are also aggressive proponents of queer rights, constantly displaying the rainbow with the movement of their cilia and many being simultaneous hermaphrodites (or male and female at the same time). These guys just don't do gender.

They also have no nematocysts, instead trapping prey with "sticky trap" cells, as Lisa-Ann Gershwin likes to call them.

Now for the final stretch, I'll show you some Hydroazoan jellies (categorized by the numerous peripheral tentacles on their bell, much like a moon jellyfish). They can vary on how scary they look, so I'll just put the nonscary images I have readily available to myself

Here, we have the freshwater/peach blossom jellyfish, found pretty much worldwide, and the snow globe jellyfish (a picture I took myself at the monterey bay Aquarium ehe 😎).

I think they're just cute, haha.

One last jellyfish for the road:

This one's a screenshot because the phone I took it on doesn't save files as png or jpg for some reason?? Whack. Anyway this is a juvenile purple spotted jelly (Chrysaora colorata), classified by the darker spots, small oral arms, and a lack of peripheral tentacles. It's just,,, a lil baby... I love it.

alright, I think that's all I have for now, but I'd like to add some words of my own ehe:

Jellyfish are, regrettably, creatures that aren't often conventionally attractive. Their movements may be rhythmic and hypnotic, but some are off put by the tentacles and their toxicity. I compiled the list with criterium such as "short tentacles" or "small body" but the reality is that the term encompasses an extremely diverse group of animals, and they can be quite freaky or scary.

I don't blame your friend for xyr fear. Jellyfish can be dangerous, and touching them is never recommended (unless you're me, bc you know most of the venomous jellies already lol /j). In that sense I kinda feel a kinship with them, since I don't really like being touched either (sometimes I wish I had deadly venom to prevent other people from making unwantef contact with me ehehe). Anyway, these are definitely species that are a "look, but don't touch" kinda deal.

Still, even just a surface dive in jellyfish lore (ugh, can't believe I'm saying that) makes you step foot into a surprisingly interesting and foreign world. Invertebrates are infinitely interesting, and jellyfish, being one of the oldest, are sure to reveal hidden powers and abilities that one would not even be capable of fathoming.

The optimistic side of me hopes that your friend overcomes xyr fear of jellyfish, but at the very least, I hope that xey can learn to be comfortable with the idea of jellyfish, haha.

#It's a bit difficult to compile a list without knowing exactly what your friend finds scary about jellyfish but hopefully this list helps!#These jellies all have varying levels of toxicity btw but the ones that are not harmful are the hydrozoans I've talked about and the comb-#-jellies #The upside down jellyfish has a reportedly mild sting but depending on the person something as bad as a poison-ivy like rash could develop #Same goes with the Papua jelly - but only slightly #Apparently the cauliflower jelly and Cabbagehead jellyfish don't have a terribly painful sting but they can pack a punch as well #Uh anyway #Hope you found this helpful :). I enjoyed talking about jellyfish #ask #mun rambles #jellyfish

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robertsbarbie · 4 years ago

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fuck it i’m not making a carrd anytime soon because i’m stupid so i’m just gonna list all my sideblogs. therefore, if you don’t enjoy the chaoticness of this blog at 3 am you have a more stable environment geared toward your interests

main: robertsbarbie (obviously lol) -> wide range of topics without any given warning including screaming about worldwide by big time rush at 3 in the morning

blogs solely for making and reblogging edits (aka NO personality):

@nobodylikesmovingon - my attempted pale/ writing blog that sucks and holds no real value in my heart

@affairsillicit - my t*ylor sw*ft blog, my swiftie friend are very talented and i want to love them but i hate how the fandom makes me feel

@fitzherberteugene - my animation/ disney side because i’m emotionally attached to animated movies and cartoons

@weliedtoeachother - olivia o’brien side where i mainly post and reblog edits ~sometimes~ a tiny opinion but i mostly do that on main

honorable mention -> i am apart of @/njhcreators which helps celebrate and boost artists and editors in the niall horan fandom and they’re all so talented and i love them

blogs where i edit AND give unwanted opinions/ glimpses of my personality on the subjects:

@floravia - my barbie blog (please i’m aware) focused on all things barbara millicent roberts

@sincewerealones - regrettably my niall horan side blog he’s stupid and i’m emotionally attached to his bangs what can i say

@laurenakins - my country music side blog yeah i know i don’t wanna talk about it okay

@molinajulie - my jatp side! i’ve spent way too much time and energy here but i love jatp with my whole heart and even though it’s getting a ton of hype it deserves more and i express that here

@christopherwilde - my starstruck/ disney channel blog where i mainly just reblog edits and scream about starstruck (2010) and sterling knight..... so this blog but i don’t tag anything

and yeah that’s all i believe one day i WILL make an organized carrd but please don’t waste your time on this mess when one of my other blogs may be geared more toward your interests 💜

also oop while we’re here TAG ME IN YOUR EDITS WITH #usereris PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU I WANT TO LOVE YOU AND I APPRECIATE EDITS FROM ANY FANDOM

#long post #eris: text #blogs*#don’t reblog lmao

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cramerchu87-blog · 5 years ago

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Why Should the Government Assist United States Automobile Producers

As a long-lasting homeowner of Michigan, I was elevated with the belief that we must buy just those vehicles created by an American auto business (yes, even if some parts were made in international nations). To today, I still hold that belief because of the fact that I find it incomprehensible to enable my very own self-seeking desires to impact the work overview of my relative, friends, next-door neighbors, colleagues and also my neighborhood overall. Yes, Detroit developed its share of lemons in the 70's, 80's and also 90's, but high quality has much enhanced ever since. Here's an example; I am a self-described vehicle nut, as well as my enthusiasm occurs to get the very best of me when that outstanding, most recent and also biggest "wow" automobile style is introduced. Therefore, I do not wait for discounts or motivations; I simply go all out as quickly as my desire cars and truck hits the showroom. The very first time I could afford to do so was over 10 years ago, when the '97 Ford F150 was introduced. I loved it, leased it and also never ever had a solitary problem with it. Then came the '99 Chrysler 300M. Once more, I leased this appeal as well as liked driving it. Regrettably, it was not as hassle-free as my Ford, but it was okay. I figured it still looked great, was enjoyable to drive and the lease would be up quickly. So, the following ideal thing came out, and also again it was a Chrysler product, albeit the Dodge line - the 2004 Dodge Durango. I rented this vehicle for four years and really did not wish to chance a potential lemon, so I bought the prolonged bumper-to-bumper warranty. Naturally, I never ever needed to use it; this automobile was abused by my household, pushing the towing ability to the restrictions, as well as throughout our four-year lease we never when required service. Also at its lease end, this vehicle drove perfectly. So, it is my viewpoint that Detroit's car manufacturers made a 100% improvement in quality in the brief span of just 5 years, from the late '90's to the year 2004.

Some might wonder why I would certainly have selected an American vehicle, after just recently experiencing issues with a previously leased American car. Well, the answer is basic, my pal. If even more people had my attitude, Michigan would certainly not be where it is today. You see, Michigan has been in an economic downturn for 5 years, and it harms to understand that my choice, combined with every one of the others who may choose foreign automobiles, will deeply impact others. While I concur that business model of U.S. car business needs extreme modification, I additionally have a clear understanding of what's in advance for the whole country if the government does not lend these suppliers the essential funds to see them with this really challenging period; we're living it currently right here in Michigan, and also the rest of the nation will certainly experience what we have actually undergone for a number of years. Michigan shed 330,000 factory work considering that 1999, and as a result many others have actually been impacted: My other half is an energy center driver for a producer straight connected to the auto sector. He's been given up a minimum of 5 times in as years, and also the hazard is constantly lurking. My dental expert has lost 27% of his business due to the fact that individuals that do not have insurance policy simply do not most likely to the dental professional. My OB/GYN found it necessary to get rid of 20% of her staff - once more, due to the fact that women's "female problems" are positioned on the back burner when they do not have insurance coverage and can't pay for an office visit.A buddy has actually taken a 10% pay cut in order to maintain his job. As a result, his house has remained in a near-foreclosure status twice within the previous year. My sibling, a medical biller, shed 2 tasks in the last 5 years as a result of our economic situation. She now functions two part-time jobs, simply trying to make the mortgage settlement. My buddy, a vice-president of the mortgage division for a neighborhood bank, lost her task when the bank was taken in by a larger national bank. Stunning communities are entrusted to abandoned homes since individuals have actually had to relocate simply to find work. Certainly, there are couple of people who can pay for to get residences, so these houses rest vacant. Communities are eliminating cops and fireman jobs since they're not accumulating the tax obligations required to pay the employees' wages. School systems are getting rid of educators, causing higher class sizes. My nephew, a packaging engineer, relocated to Pennsylvania due to the fact that there are no such tasks below in Michigan. The affect of our economic climate is likewise starting to hit Pennsylvania, as well as he's not exactly sure if he'll work in six months. The listing continues, as well as the loss of an additional 2.5 million jobs in this country will be definitely devastating; entire cities will declare bankruptcy and healing will certainly take years. The federal government didn't throw away a moment making a decision the destiny of AIG, that employs 100,000 people worldwide. Why are they so hesitant to save 2.5 million tasks right here in the USA? Most likely since they believe car employees are paid too much - and they are. The UAW requires to voluntarily take a 20% pay cut, as well as the company executives require to do the very same. Perks need to be eliminated, as well as survival needs to be priority number one. Each cars and truck firm need to be required to produce little, fuel effective automobiles within 18 months of acquiring entitlement program, as well as do whatever in their power to develop alternative energy for their automobiles - also if it means joint ventures. Exec greed requires to be a distant memory; the automobile business leaders can learn a thing or 2 from talking with Lee Iacocca, who kindly offered to bring Chrysler back from the brink of personal bankruptcy for an annual income of just $1.00 back in very early 1980's. Currently, that's a true leader, as well as a man devoted to seeing results. Possibly Steven Feinberg, owner of Cerberus, which acquired Chrysler in 2007, must do a something to assist with the U.S. production market, as opposed to just wanting to make a quick earnings. If the auto market in this country is mosting likely to make it through, and ultimately keep the USA from getting in an anxiety, everyone needs to offer. Customers require to take a review at American cars, the UAW participants need to take a 20% wage cut, along with beginning paying for a part of their medical insurance, as well as CEOs and also execs require to put an end to their greed. And also most notably - the key to the car companies' survival - the USA federal government requires to provide the money these firms need so that production and also its work continue to be an essential and also stable variable of this country's economic climate. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uPODSNAbkOU

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keenregine · 3 years ago

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ZeroProofReading

Turns out, that 'weird phenomenon' I was referring to, was an actual worldwide chaos. The system was down for about 8 hours, no Facebook, WhatsApp and Instagram. iMessage was somehow useful but also failing. In all honesty, I was kinda hoping it will be abolished forever because social media these days is ridiculously toxic. And it's not depending on how you handle it, whether controlled or not we all have these reflex to scroll through and through, watch videos after the next and the next and it's really time consuming. Many times I find myself glued to my phone, then in one instant I would snap and realize I'm wasting seconds, even hours of my life, for nothing. I'm trying to create ways on how to avoid seeing impurities without deactivating my account, although soon I will, for sure.

Previously. . . on my blabbering episode one. After I got the visa, I have approximately three weeks before my actual flight. I have this superstitious ideals where I try to keep my future travel plans to myself as much as possible. If necessary, only few people will know, better none. Reason? I don't owe anyone an explanation or giving the act of sharing my plans. My family of course they have to know, I even told them last minute where everything was finally settled and also I'm a firm believer of the word 'jinx'. Let's say due to your extreme excitement and happiness, you keep on telling people that you're going to this or that place. Unexpectedly, some random circumstance came preventing you to go or worse a cancelled trip. I can't afford that kind of embarrassment, I want that thrill of surprise, a mystery.

This is the part where I unveil all mystery, lol. I'm a 100% overthinker head to toe, worrying about something that isn't happening yet. Pessimistic on a time was ahead of me. I bought my ticket bound to Madrid online, the hospital travel agency was no use because I need to add a sum of 2800sar for a return ticket which was way too expensive that I'd rather buy my own. So I went ahead and did just that, regrettably I spent double but I have no other option. Every now and then I have a long list of things to worry about night and day. For example, I booked my ticket a day prior my visa validity, my inner senses told me that I'll just stay at the airport hotel until the next day it became valid. 'My Madrid friend' Alex (let's call him that for now) reassured me that's it's okay, they might let me pass considering it's only one day early, I am so afraid of public humiliation I didn't dare to risk that, but being a full blooded stubborn that I am, I still followed my instincts. Few days went, I was brushing my teeth before going to sleep then suddenly as if a lightning striked me. What would then happen to my check-in luggage while I'm a the hotel? Circling endlessly on the belt waiting to be picked up? That was my deciding factor to change my flight date to a more hassle-free situation. I had to pay yet again another extra for the changing, next flight available? after a week. So get this, I have a waiting time of one week before I can fly due to my carelessness. I deserve that. Or maybe it's for some good cause?

Every single day of that 'free week' I had to go to the hospital to arrange some important things. Gathering unfinished documents, exit-re entry visa etc. Until one day, right after I went home from the hospital, I receive an SMS from the bank saying an amount of $750 was charged on my account from some company. I researched and it's an online english school that I didn't know about, I immediately called the hotline to entirely close my account. I went to the branch to get myself a new ATM, went to the counter to report the incident and as expected they were no help at all. They instructed me to go to the nearby police to make an official statement regarding the stolen money then back to them for a '10 business days' settlement, no reassurance whatsoever if my money will be returned. I was devastated, the amount was no joke. My budget for the trip was depleted, I didn't know what to do. I just focused my mind on the bright side that what if it happened while I was already in Spain, then the more it will not be resolved. My account might be entirely hacked by that person and I'll be continuously losing money that I end up homeless, those kind of things. I was starting to get desperate and I came into a conclusion to send an email directly to that online english school. Luckily they responded, they were considerate enough and felt sorry for what happened. Of course they couldn't disclose the person/suspect, I didn't care anymore. I gave my details for proof, then God-send these people they return back my money thru Paypal (since my bank account was blocked online). But still, I was more than thankful, I could almost cry for the second time.

What would I choose for a place to stay? A whole month of hotel stay is too expensive, same goes with an Airbnb but maybe I can squeeze myself into those rented rooms, for a moderate price? no way. Facebook groups are so popular these days, I went ahead and check those and gladly there is one existing. Alex was actually offering me to stay at their home but I'm too shy, shy to be a bothersome, a disturbance. Because I need time to just lay around doing nothing, for sure I will be ashamed if I do that around the house, but mainly for the shy reason, so I had to decline the offer. There are tons who responded on my inquiries regarding my stay, all of them were of course Filipino. Deep inside I'm afraid to be too far away from that one person I knew in an unfamiliar place I would be staying at. I chose the closest within Alex's house which he knew and approved and most importantly the cheapest. Majority from the response I got has a similar speculation for the reason of my stay, to become an illegal alien. Felt like in a movie for a moment, they were expecting I would stay for good, get a job (not as a nurse) and achieve that dream of Spaniard residency and then eventually citizenship. Hmm, not bad. For sure my mom will kill me considering that idea. lol. A place to stay. Check.

Two days prior my flight, if it wasn't for this stupid pandemic I wouldn't need to take a Covid swab. But heck, it's a requirement what else is there to do. Like an old-school parent, I printed my documents in paper form just to make sure, and in colored no less *traumatized past. Good thing it was negative, then finally came Day 0. Cuz I'm leaving on a jet plane, I don't know when I'll be back again. Oh babe, I'd love to go. lols. I intentionally chose a flight where the layover is in Heathrow, for no reason. I also discovered that I have moved on from that last heck of a flight I had from Paris, so far everything was smooth, can't wait any longer. I landed in Madrid about noon time and as we both agreed Alex picked me up from the airport.

I knew doing this at work would not be efficient, my thought process interrupted repeatedly, my mind distracted. This is long enough for today I think. Therefore, I'll continue this next time.

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gapimnydiaries · 7 years ago

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Diary Entry #18

Dear Diary,

Lately, I’ve been increasingly fearful of my own death.

I haven’t always been fearful, though. In fact, I used to welcome it.

There was a time in high school when I thought about it extensively, with curiosity and dramaticism. I used to wonder how people would feel if I were to die. It was an attempt to validate my own existence, since I was lacking my own reasons to keep going. If someone needed me here for them, then, by gosh, I would make the heroic choice to stay. If no one wanted me, then why would I stick around? I relished in the possibility that someone might regret dismissing my presence after it is too late.

This lack of validation was the result of different thoughts that reinforced each other.

I felt somewhat disconnected from everyone. While I was growing up, my parents (God bless ‘em, they do their very best) constantly highlighted that we were different from other Americans. There were the obvious cultural differences. Food was one they talked about a lot. How Americans tolerate and even enjoy room temperature or certain cold foods was disgusting according to them. My parents would make sure every savoury food we ate was heated. There were also ideological differences. “Americans” supposedly did not value or trust family as much as we did. There was an implication that Americans were therefore ruthless. In order to be successful in the greater community, I was told to be more outspoken than my parents. I trusted their warnings and advice, wise from their experiences after moving here. They had created me, so I felt a duty to remember their words. They managed to sow some seeds of distrust and skepticism in my brain about American society at large. However, I also had my own thoughts on the matter.

Even though we were different and relatively new to America, were we not also Americans? Our whole family loved the ol’ American hotdog! American culture is something my siblings and I fully immersed ourselves into. We enjoyed and memorized many movies and songs as any other American would. I also saw no evidence of a systemic disregard for family. Most of my “American” friends were not particularly rebellious against their own parents; during my childhood, I would visit my best friend’s home every week, and his interactions with his parents appeared cordial. I wondered whether my parents were just paranoid or overly critical about America. I did not view the world as “dog eat dog” as much as they did (they were justified in thinking so, given how they grew up). It also felt a bit manipulative, to be advised to stay loyal to them without much reflection on the true reasons why or the pros and cons of living that kind of life. Stuck between loyalty to my family and affinity to my homeland, I felt myself lacking a strong group identity to align myself to.

Another factor to my lack of validation was the trivialization of my own problems. I viewed being selfless as a valiant ideal. Hence, I immediately perceived all of my problems as lesser to those of others. How could I complain about my emotional state when I at least had a place to sleep at night and food on my plate? Especially when considering what my parents had gone through before life in the States, I felt I had no right to complain. I was a lowly but fortunate person. There were more important things to battle, like worldwide hunger (which I was not even doing shit about), or even the problems of my friends. I wanted to shoulder others’ problems to an unnecessary extent. As a result, I didn’t take care of myself or my own issues.

Inevitably, when I could be “selfless” no longer, I looked for someone to confide in. I eagerly self disclosed as a way to get closer to the people I was interested in, so I confided in very few. Whenever I did, though, I found it never gave me the deep comfort or connection that I desperately needed. Constant misery is not the best environment to foster long lasting bonds. I am sure I scared people away. If they happened to take up the challenge, I would internally make up excuses not to take others’ reassurances that easily. I was skeptical that anyone I talked to had thought that deeply about their place in the world, let alone had made the conscious decision to live despite it all. I never thought that anyone would care for my well being so deeply without expecting something in return.

I also completely invalidated any parental love I had received prior. I was out to friends in as early as junior high, but my parents did not accept me when I tried coming out to them three years after that. It ended very poorly. I continued to live in their care under the false promise of changing myself to conform to their wishes. I had to deal with the guilt of what would appear on paper as grand theft (a whole life’s worth!). It bore this idea in my head that I had never really been loved by them. All my past memories with them were false because, if my parents knew who I really was, they would have never given them to me in the first place. How many other kids at school could say they have felt that?

This lack of validation was the source of many mental ruminations that did not serve me. It made me crave for attention, but never ask for it outright. I sunk into myself, constantly burying deeper into my thoughts. It made me test some of my friends, and treat some in regrettable ways. I had mood swings every other day. Most of all, it compounded with other conclusions I had about the world -- that Murphy’s law meant that I should never trust anyone with any important task, that not everything I desired is possible (thanks unrequited straight obsession), that nearly everyone is a predictable archetype, that there is lots unfair with the world and not a lot of momentum among commoners to rectify it -- to demotivate me from living my life.

I never told you about this, Diary, but I remember one of my lowest points from back then. It was sophomore year of high school. I carried a paring knife in my backpack for a while. I had this fantasy of committing suicide seppuku style in a bathroom, but no concrete plans to do so. I probably would never have done it in reality. I only entertained the idea as a way of simulating external affirmations.

One of my friends was complaining to me in English class about everyday life problems. At that point, I was so tired of people talking to me about what seemed like small inconvenient details when they were not even questioning or concerned about the bigger picture. In an effort to one up her misery, I flashed her the knife I had in my backpack. She was absolutely quiet for the rest of class, but, after school, she came to my house and ordered me to talk about it. She was adamant in getting me to talk to an adult, or else she would not leave.

My primary emotion was embarrassment, not so much gratitude. I felt so embarrassed that she came over to my house, since it may have hinted to my parents that something was off. As much as I wanted attention from certain people at school, I did not want to burden my parents with my unhappiness. Besides, what could they do to resolve this black hole in my heart, when I believed they would never fully accept me? I went back to school with her, as she had to go back to her extracurricular activity (drama club, coincidentally). I reassured her that I would be fine and that I would stop carrying a weapon around.

Like, what the actual fuck was I thinking? I was too much of a coward to actually take my own life, but dramatic enough to brag to someone about it? And I was not even grateful that she had stopped by because of the aforementioned mental loops above: I assumed that she never had to think hard about choosing to live, and that she was just doing what anyone else would do in her position. She was not someone who I was interested in getting to know any better than I already did. I am thankful for her now; she had the guts to call me out on my ridiculous antics. I also want to apologize to her for putting her through that. Back then, though, it was an unsatisfying bother.

I do not know if word ever got around. I’m sure it did, but no one ever talked to me directly about it. There were some displays of genuine care afterwards. There was a very supportive teacher that offered to listen if I desired. He is also gay. I never took up the offer. I assumed that he would not be as understanding about my situation with my parents. There was a lot of talk in the gay community about “making your own family” with people who accept you. I figured he would tell me something along those lines. I did not want that. My family was enough for me. I did not want to accept tearing up my family as a certainty; I did not want to abandon promises made to take care of them when they are older as they have taken care of me.

There is one additional person that I particularly remember: another girl, one I was not particularly close with, was talking to me after school. I was reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower at the time (I do not even really remember that book), and she had asked if I related to it. She made me pinky promise with her that, if I ever felt like dying, I would at least talk to her about it first. I did not initially make it in seriousness (I would not go out of my way to confide in her), but mostly for appeasement. The same mental loops happened. Looking back, though, it was a small turning point that I am also thankful for. I am pretty stringent about promises, and even a small promise like that influenced my thoughts. I did remember it at times, and, with courage and a desire to put that awful sophomoric year behind me, I eventually came around to address my demons.

I realized a few things upon thinking deeply about my situation. If I really wanted to die, I would have done it by that point, but I had not. I had survived past some pretty rough points, but never to the point where I actually attempted to end it all. I figured that there must have been something that kept me going. I was not going to take my own life, and I attributed it to some innate desire that I had.

The base of that desire was the want to keep experiencing. I did not want for grandiose experiences, though, mind you. At that point in my life, I felt that I had experienced little. There were no exhilarating, fairytale moments to draw strength upon or look forward to. The future is a fickle thing anyway; one can never be so sure that the sun will rise tomorrow. I remembered, rather, the smaller moments already lived that had, for some reason, stuck around. The heat of some smiley french fries my mother would make for me after a rainy day at school. The sunset walks home in the fall where everything was perfectly golden. Little details like that, that usually go unnoticed, I savoured, and I did not want to lose being able to comprehend those types of blessings.

Remember when I used to write in you every night, about things that I wanted to change in my life, and then about things I was grateful for? It was a writing exercise one of my good friends gave me to restructure the way I thought. It got me into the mindset of articulating what I want to improve in my life, without forgetting that I have countless blessings.

With that friend as an occasional talking board, I worked to reverse engineer my thoughts, to dig even deeper, to venture beyond the black hole, and to position once unproductive thoughts to my advantage - to be on my own side because, in the end, who else would be? I wanted to develop a basic, flexible mental model of how the universe works so that I could not only tolerate the “worst” of the world, but harness value from it. I wanted to balance all feeling and thought in some type of equilibrium so that I could always find my way back to myself if the scales happened to tip.

Instead of focusing on how I could not fit fully into Asian culture or American culture, I focused on the unique insight I was given. I understood why my parents may be wary of other Americans. They have their own histories backing their own conclusions. That does not mean that all of their conclusions apply to what I experience today. Like many other Americans, they just wanted to make a better life for themselves and their loved ones. I appreciated my own identity, which gave me the ability to be critical to both mainstream American culture as well as the culture my parents grew up in. Instead of perceiving myself as unable to fit completely on either side, I perceived myself as more of a bridge: neither here nor there, but a supportive structure that allows ideas and understanding to flow.

I learned that selflessness does not merely mean putting everyone above yourself. Paradoxically, sometimes helping yourself is the best way to help others. When I am emotionally exhausted, there is less mental room for me to think about anything else. I found the value in dealing with my problems first and foremost, as it allowed me to be better focus on others. It is as essential as getting your eight hours of sleep at night. Hell, you may even find out that your experiences in dealing with your own baggage can be offered as a stepping stone to others struggling with similar problems, as I have.

Instead of looking outward for validation that never fulfilled me, I fostered internal validation.

When I did not believe anyone else who affirmed me, and I believed my parents may never come around to accept me as I am, there is only one other person who could be my cheerleader: myself.

No one I knew ever talked about self-love growing up. It was never really a sexy idea, after all. What was sexy was what was shown in the movies, when a man whispers in your ear that he will never leave you, while firmly holding you despite anything that happens. I grew up thinking that I needed to find some magical being that could provide that for me, but that is completely unrealistic. How can you expect someone to love you, when you do not even love yourself? And what makes you “yourself” even? Among seven billion people, where your traits lie on some spectrum, what truly makes you distinct?

After so many years of digging deeper, analyzing the hell out of my own behaviors and finding out my true motivations, I felt I had found my most essential self. I realized that every human being is born from some fantastical phenomenon out of countless possibilities. I defined the boundaries of what I would and would not do in many situations. I came to visualize an internal framework of the world - a web of cosmic hidden connections - and saw possibilities of who I could get to know and who I could come to be. When I accepted all of this and promised to continually hold myself to a higher standard of action, it was like I hit a hidden spring. It was a never-ending source of water that filled up all the emptiness caused by my digging, and reinvigorated me with a thirst for life.

Do not get me wrong, I do not believe external validation is completely bad. We all live in a physical world, where feedback of that type lets you know whether you are doing good towards your fellow humans. External criticism can be extremely helpful in developing one’s self. Individuals do not live in a vacuum. In this world, we depend on each other in order to live life as fully and as fast as we do. However, the desire to live should start with yourself.

I learned that truly connecting with people, in any range of emotion, is one of the closest things to heaven that we have here on earth. It is probably where my strong appreciation for music comes from, which I consider a method of instantaneous empathy. I am constantly fighting the desire to connect as a means to an end. I want to connect for the sake of feeling the connection, of feeling some ancient synchrony. It has been difficult to find that when you have been predisposed not to look for it. After all, I had confided my sexuality in my parents, seeking their understanding as a fellow human despite the generational rift, but it almost tore up my family.

Even though I accepted the possibility that my parents may never love me if they knew the truth, I still loved them. My love for them was not invalidated. That was what felt more important after everything - what I felt towards them and how I was/could be affecting them. I was (am) thankful for them, for how could I have grown to realize self-love without them? They struggled a lot in order to raise four children. I could not reverse that. It would have been worse for me to uproot what they have planted and hoped to grow.

I grew to accept my own sacrifice of keeping the peace. I thought of the times they sacrificed silently for me many times, and so I accepted it. When I was my high school self, especially at 15, I was not mature enough to take on the role as teacher of the subject. Where they grew up, they did not understand homosexuality. Since it was an unknown, I know it scared them. I intended to grow to eventually pay them back and teach them that it is not something to be feared. One day (which may be coming up very soon), when I have grown self sufficient enough and I am not endangering any of my siblings, I hoped to finally have them understand.

I validated my own presence in the world. I became someone who, despite thoughts to the contrary, chose to live, using those thoughts as additional motivators to improve. As with many others like me, it has been a solitary challenge, but we also receive the gift of understanding and insight from it. I cultivated self-love as a way to constantly remind myself that I am worth this life.

As with a good amount of things in life, though, when you gain something, it comes at a price. With this gain in self love and the ensuing will to live, it also ignited a fear of death.

◆◆◆

Diary, I write to you now because I’m not sure when I’ll be able to write to you next. Not for time reasons (life sure does move fast here), but because more than ever, I am taking risks.

A common person would not even consider most of them as “risks,” though. Living life in general has insignificant risks for any person. People do not usually think about them. The thing is, fear of death amplifies the perception of danger exponentially. Hell, I once read somewhere that a non-significant amount of people die from accidentally falling out of their bed. Ever since then, I try not to roll around too much while sleeping. I am acutely aware—some would say paranoid—of these small, unfortunate possibilities that could happen to me in this crazy, interconnected world.

As a consequence, some may think that I consider the worst case scenarios a bit too much. I totally understand that, but, remember where I am coming from. Years ago, while suffering from my own neuroses and lacking validation, I had gathered all of my remaining casino chips. From what I could perceive, I could either cash out or keep betting on slim chances that the future will fit my desires.

It took years of soul searching to see that there was an alternative choice to make. Instead of betting on someone or something else to give me purpose, I could invest in my current self. I could create my own feedback loop. I would not be bound by another’s rules; I could set my own. I could help myself first and grow strong enough to help others.

After weighing the odds, the optimal bet was obvious. I went all in on myself. Because of this, every choice I make during this life has high stakes. I would be so damn angry if it all ended, especially if it were because of my fault or my carelessness. The scariest thing is having my decision invalidated by a meaningless death.

Since this past November, I have been finding that the number of risks that could threaten my existence have been exponentially rising, some personal and some out of my control. I have started attending more LGBT events since last summer and getting to know a lot more people, and I have been increasingly afraid of worst-case scenarios in the current political climate. I have gotten a bit lazy with watching my diet to the point where I worry about getting hypertension. My choice to live in a major city is like a choice to live in the center of a dart board. The rising likelihood of a magnificent death in a nuclear blast determined by leaders so removed from the quotidian sometimes leaves me motionless in bed in the morning for a few extra minutes. If this does not happen within my lifetime, I worry about the future of the world’s children, who might not even get the chance to choose to live. There does not seem to be many people alarmed enough by all of this. The amount of energy it would take to mobilize out of our collective complacency deeply discourages me. There is a lot to be pessimistic about when you inhabit a certain viewpoint. A fear of death makes that pretty easy to slip into.

At its worst, this fear hinders me from doing anything. When the inevitability of death comes to the forefront of my mind, it paralyzes me. As a being that exists, I cannot comprehend non-existence. It makes me doubt the value of everything I do. Death would most likely erase any value I got out of living. The very concept of value itself may not even matter outside of human minds, so why pursue the things I feel are important? The horror is Lovecraftian in a way. Through the eyes of an ancient universe, my existence is nothing. I blind myself with the boundless, unreachable future and forget the things I see now.

If the fear is not causing some sort of self-existential crisis, it is triggering self-preservation instincts. It has contributed to some of my apprehension to be fully out in public; I do not want to give any potential crazies on the sidewalk a reason to take me down. Being more vulnerable, either by sharing my thoughts or letting people in, is extremely difficult when I prioritize my own survival ahead of others’. In this current period of my being more open to experiences, sometimes I wonder if I may be letting the wrong people in. I get scared of the possibility of that one person who could take advantage of weaknesses I have shared with them.

It is not all bad news, though, Diary.

One “risk” that I find myself taking more often nowadays is flying. I blame work, although I probably take more leisure trips than work ones. I would never say I dislike flying—it is a miracle of human genuity—but it gets me into a very contemplative mood. I heard there are people that cry on the plane just from the mix of emotions. I guess I am one of those people minus the tears. The thoughts start as early as the night before the long subway ride to the AirTrain.

The fear always hands me this question before embarking: “Would I be satisfied if I died today?”

Every time, the answer has been no. There has always been more I want to do. I would compare my ambitions with what I have been doing with my life until that point and refine what I intend to do the days after my trip is over. After many trips like that, I feel thankful that I have my fears because, just as with so many other things in life, there’s another side to the coin.

At its best, the fear pushes me to truly perceive what I feel is most important. There is no reason to fret over frivolous things when I am aware of the bigger picture of my life and the even bigger cosmic narrative that surrounds it all. In every situation, I only have that one chance during this one life to do the action that is truest to myself. There is a constant sense of urgency to respect that action, lest regret happens.

Since choosing to live, I wake up and am subconsciously aware of all of the things I want to do still. I want to have more cozy, humble memories. I want to live to eventually take care of my parents. I want to continue to be vulnerable, despite my fear telling me not to. I want to deeply relate with other people, because it gives me a glimpse into what I imagine a heaven would be like. I want to reach the limits of what I can do. I want to keep adding to my life until I cannot add any more. I want to keep experiencing enjoyment responsibly and sustainably. I want to see the world on track to continue vigorously past my lifetime. I want to take some of the responsibility in ensuring a functional world for our future generation, and I want to inspire others to do that. I want to live all the possible lives that are afforded to me. I want to bring to general consciousness the experiences of being gay, of being Asian, of being both. Most of all, I want to live for myself: to respect this life I was given and this unique viewpoint that I have (dare I say, soul?) because I cannot imagine any other existence that could be as fulfilling as this one. These subconscious thoughts power my interactions with the outside world.

In a flawed, selfish way, I want some piece of my “soul” to continue living on when most of me passes. I want a way to circumvent death, even if just partially. I remember in 9th grade English class, when we read Epic of Gilgamesh (what a weird piece of literature to gain a life lesson from... but anyway). I learned that leaving yourself in writing is its own kind of immortality. That is partly why I try to write things like this -- to leave something of myself using the exact words that I desire. I want people to be comforted by these certified official perma-thoughts if they ever wanted to revisit my mind when I have been long gone.

As I get older, there are some events that make me wonder if death is even to be feared. A belief in the afterlife would probably assuage some of my worries. I would like to think that everyone gets their desire for an afterlife, with all of their personality and “soul” intact. I used to believe in it, but most times, I don’t. There are no whispers beyond the veil that I can hear. I just imagine what it is like to be non-existent, and then imagine what it is like to not be able to imagine, and crawl under the covers. There are times, though, most recently in the resting face of my recently departed grandmother, where I think that maybe death is some mysterious magic to us young folk, like how computers can seem to be a type of magic to the elderly. Maybe it’s just something so sufficiently advanced and higher dimensional that, at a young age and in an active body, we cannot comprehend the full capability or meaning of. It doesn’t make sense to me yet. As long as death is a one way street, though, I will take my time walking the tightrope.

As the plane rushes down the runway and I grip the armrests, I think of every single person that has been in my life thus far. Faces flash by. I hope that I have treated them well. I wonder if at least some true part of me can live on in them. I become supremely thankful. Thankful that, up to that point, the world has granted me another day through a combination of dice rolls, kindness, humanity’s hard work, and my own will. Thankful that my fear can inspire such a deep, conscious gratitude. So what if there have been failures throughout my life, branches of possibilities that have been closed off? Death has failed every day in taking my own life. I have survived to cultivate a life that seems to have as much potential as any other untaken path.

I accept that I will die someday. However, I have chosen to live now. That pushes me to continually choose to live for what I want to accomplish.

Just in case I have died by the time anyone reads this, here is a humble request to those still living: make the explicit promise with yourself to live. Respect that promise. Constantly choose to live. Remind your peers of this same promise. This world may be the closest shot to heaven we will ever get, and I am jealous that you get to stay in it a bit more. Count your blessings. Live consciously.

Kevin F. Chen

I could never have gotten through my thoughts if my friend had not been giving me the courage to do so. I understand that not everyone has a friend they can count on to do that. There are people who are silently suffering, and who may not even know that there is always someone a phone call away if they need it.

If you are ever in crisis, feeling suicidal, or in need of a safe and judgment-free place to talk, please call Trevor Project’s Lifeline at 1-866-488-7386.

#gaysian #death #depression #suicide #mental health #suicidal #queer asian #lgbtq #asian #gay #gapimny #gaysiandiaries

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thexxplace · 8 years ago

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As The xx gear up to tour their new album, I See You, Oliver Sim reflects on a new version of himself

It was during The xx’s residency at New York’s Park Avenue Armory in March 2014 that Oliver Sim found out what stardom really looks like. “Those shows were crazy,” he says of their 25 performances at the former military headquarters on the Upper East Side. “The response we got, the people who came, the whole experience was mind-blowing.” Each night - at an event more like an art installation than a gig - the band performed encircled by an audience of just 40 people, who watched them play in complete silence. On the last night, A-list attendees included Jay Z, Beyoncè, Björk, Anohni and filmmakers Wes Anderson and Noah Baumbach. “Throughout the show I was facing (co-vocalist) Romy, and Madonna was standing directly behind her,” he says, reliving the moment. “Every time my gaze went up an inch, I was staring straight at her. It was surreal.”

Recognition and the sense of worth it brings is a central theme of The xx’s stunning new album, I See You. Recorded in Texas, New York, Los Angeles and Reykjavik as well as London, it sees this extravagantly talented South London trio - Sim, co-vocalist/guitarist Romy Madley-Croft and programmer Jamie Smith - fully embracing their role as global players. “We wanted songs we could sing out,” says Sim, acknowledging the gaivanising effect Smith’s solo success with the rave-centric In Colour as Jamie xx had on the band. “We feel a lot more confident now. We want people to connect with the music and with us as people.”

While its predecessors - 2009′s xx and 2012′s Coexist - only contained arrangements the band could reproduce live, I See You is full of sonic surprises. From brassy opener Dangerous and the Hall & Oates sampling On Hold to the spooked space-gospel of Test Me, it nods to club culture while maintaining their trademark emotional intensity. As we’ll discover, however, for pop’s premier wallflowers learning to look the world in the eye hasn’t been easy.

London Fields, 3 January 2017, and the sky is the colour of flooded ashtray. It’s the first day back at work after the holidays, and a chance to catch up on the events of the last fortnight. Like the rest of the music community, Sim is still reeling from the death of George Michael on Christmas Day. For The xx, the star’s music holds a special significance. When Sim and Madley-Croft started making music as naïve 14-year-olds at the music-focused Elliott School in Putney, an early staple of their set was a cover of Wham’s Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go. “I’m a huge fan, we did it because that song is fun,” he says. “It was easier in the beginning to take ourselves not too seriously.” You sense that Michael must have loved The xx. With its minimalist beats and murmured vocals, their debut ushered in a new kind of suburban soul music: intimate, yet desolate. Sultry and seductive, the intertwining voices of Sim and Madley-Croft made the listener feel as though they were eavesdropping on private conversations as they quarrelled, confessed and made up. Yet the simmering sexual tension was illusory - both, like Michael, are gay.

Winner of the Mercury Prize and one of only three gold-certified debuts by a British band in the last decade - along with Mumford & Sons, and One Direction - The xx’s stripped-bare sound quickly became a byword for understated cool. Sampled by Rihanna for Drunk on Love, covered by Shakira and an atmospheric staple of TV (CSI, Grey’s Anatomy, Gossip Girl), their ability to express complex emotions in a simple way was summed up by Kanye West after one of the armory shows. “He told us that our music reminded him of Steve Jobs, who’d taken something as big as the computer and put it into a cell phone,” says Sim with a grin. “Was he right? It’s not really for me to say, is it?”

Oliver Sim, 26, has the languid delivery of a late-night radio DJ and the dashing good looks of a 40s matinèe idol. Scrupulously polite, he exudes a warmth rarely found in pop stars. He’s also immaculately dressed. Today his 6ft 2in frame comes swathed in black turtleneck, trousers and boots, all by Ann Demeulemeester, giving the impression that he’s arrived off the catwalk rather than from his East London flat, ten minutes away. He modelled for Dior Homme last year, and is passionate about the relationship between fashion and music. “I think they can feed into each other so much,” he says, citing the example of gender-fluid Venezuelan producer Arca as someone willing to push the sartorial boundaries. “One of my favourite movies is Depeche Mode 101. Seeing these English musicians walking around small-town America in fetish gear - it’s such a bold image.”

A teenage fan of James Dean - “I liked the Hollywood rumours about him; the love affairs with men, that he was a masochist” - Sim’s firs pop-star crush was Chris Isaak. “I remember seeing the video for Wicked Game and thinking, ‘Now that is a cool man,’“ he recalls. “I had the same feeling when I saw Josh Homme. They made me excited, made me think, ‘That’s how I want to be.’“

Equally inspired by the look of 90s R’n’B artists The fugees, D’Angelo and En Vogue - “I’ve never seen wearing black as a goth thing, to me it’s chic” - his own signature look is central to The xx’s carefully cultivated image. “The xx do simple things very well,” explains Imogen Snell, creative consultant at label Young Turks. “They’re consistent and there’s a wonderful confidence to that. Oliver personally has a wide appeal. He’s confident, charming and beautiful, but also has a wonderful gentle sensitivity - as well as being incredibly down to earth and kind.” If Sim appears to have been born with impeccable taste, blame his parents. Raised in a council flat in South London by his mum (a social worker) and father (a charity administrator), he was encouraged to express himself from an early age. His dad - a fan of Talking Heads - brought him his first bass, while his mum took him to his first gig, The White Stripes at Brixton Academy.

Friends with Madley-Croft since nursery school - their parents were close - it was natural for the pair to play music together. Both cripplingly shy, they would initially exchange song ideas by email, with no ambition, at least on Sim’s part, to take it any further. “I left school thinking I wanted to be a nomad,” he says, almost wistfully. “Free-floating. Of course things didn’t work out like that.”

Signed by record label XL at 17, The xx were internationally famous while still teenagers. “We had no idea what was going on. We were thrown into it,” he says, recalling a rabbit-in-the-headlights showcase at New York’s CMJ in October 2009, reviewed by Pitchfork with the words: “Their live presence is not exactly dynamic.”

“We were promoting the album and we just didn’t have the answers,” he remembers. “Where does the simplicity come from? Where does the space come from? The truth was that those things happened through mistakes, who we are as people, and our own limitations.”

When The xx’s global touring commitments finally came to a close in 2014, Sim suddenly found himself at a loose end. “It was the most anti-climactic feeling,” he says, running his fingers through his hair. “We’d been on the road for so long with a tour manager looking after us and telling us where to go and suddenly I didn’t have that.” With Madley-Croft temporarily relocating to Los Angeles and Smith promoting In Colour worldwide, Sim filled the void by plunging headlong into the capital’s nightlife. “I wanted to celebrate being back in London - get a bit of life in me,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “I wouldn’t change it, but it wasn’t necessarily successful. I learned that I need something: not a routine, but a structure. Being idle is not my friend. I did a lot of regrettable things...” This self-destructive side of his personality reveals itself on I See You. “Am I too needy, am I too eager?” he sings in Say Something Loving, while the spectral Replica hints at an uncomfortable reconciliation. “Twenty-five and you’re just like me,” he sighs. “Is it in my nature to be stuck on repeat?”

While he doesn’t go into details, it took private interventions from his band mates to make him seek help. He’s been off alcohol for a year. “I’m in the programme,” he says, referring to the 12-steps of the AA. “I go to meetings. It’s fine. But I’m still figuring out how to celebrate.”

Spending an hour with the sparky, energised Sim, it’s clear sobriety suits him. He enthuses about Duncan Macmillan’s 2016 play about addictive urges, People, Places and Things and cites Trumbo - about blacklisted Hollywood screenwriter Dalton Trumbo - as the last film he saw; his New Year’s resolution, he says, is to “read more”. Being clean has also brought some unexpected bonuses. When The xx played across Europe in December, it was the first time he’d played live without having had a drink. “Booze took away a lot of nerves but it also dampened the highs,” he explains. “I’m not sure if it’s a spiritual thing, but when I’m up there it’s really intense. The connection with the audience is the strongest thrill there is.”

It’s time to go but there’s one last thing. Rather than play arenas in support of I See You, Sim explains they’re deliberately playing smaller, more intimate venues, including a record-breaking seven-night run at Brixton Academy. For Sim these shows will have a special significance. “I can still remember staring Jack White in the face,” he says, recalling the thrill of seeing The White Stripes there at 14. “Those are the nights you don’t forget. The album title is a message to the fans, saying that we can definitely spot them when we’re on stage.”

For Oliver Sim - songwriter, musician, model, A-list magnet and all-round pop visionary - it’s all about recognition. He says goodbye, offers a firm handshake, and strides away down the corridor. He’s got people to see.

(Interviewed by Paul Moody. Photos by Alasdair McLellan)

#oliver sim #the xx #another man

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dememarquette · 8 years ago

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Intermission

“But...but that wasn't you," She stammered. "You were gone. You'd...you were gone by the time...It was just--”

I don’t know why that argument was on my mind.

Her body draped over my arms. Limp, bridal style and significantly colder than she was when I was pleading Charon, for the love of God, row faster. I don’t regret the argument. It was unfortunate that had been one of our last conversations, but right now all I want to do is understand. Does thinking of bodies like a vehicle help with grieving? Was she okay? Or was this how it was for her too: numb?

Just- numb.

In truth, I’ve never grieved. I’ve watched it. From the sidelines I’ve set a world record for funerals attended. But what I’ve observed doesn’t feel right for how I feel right now.

I walked through the streets of Los Angeles for what felt like forever in its twilight hours. Cars ran off the roads, fires blazed here and there, news coverage had no clue where to start. Screaming and crying filled the air when the supernatural suspense the world was strangled in was swept away, and the consequences fell like a hammer.

I don’t feel like crying. I feel like acting.

- -

I caught a mortician ahead of the curve. His office had a ‘For Sale’ sign out front that I had the honors of knocking down for him. Regrettable. My cringe after walking inside was painful. He had clearance stickers on his selection of coffins- everywhere. Gross.

Probably not as gross as storming in, bloody, with a dead body though, but now’s not the time for semantics. The owner caught one look at me as I turned to leave, and rounded his desk. Phone in hand, presumably for an ambulance: “What’s this- sir, are you alright?!”

“I am.” I said, monotone. Severity of the situation was hardly on my mind. Shock was funny like that. “She is not.”

Flustered, he stumbled for his words. “So you just-...brought her in?!”

“You don’t do walk-ins?”

“W-well. NO, but considering the circumstances...”

He was eager to help take her from my arms. Once on a gurney, he assured me she’d be safe and sound in the morgue. I dodged the questions on the hefty gash on her side, mumbling some excuse about a carjacking while on the verge of hysterics until he stopped his prodding. We decided it would be best to postpone the nitty gritty until I could get myself cleaned up. Reluctantly, I agreed there, only because I had other arrangements to make in the meantime.

That was only step one of a very lengthy process of showing Adria how it’s done. Lachesis had already given me some pointers on where to start with the headstone, and I was shooting for the funeral at the end of the week. The priest would be booked by Friday. My next stop, however, was the police station.

I decided to stay in LA for the time being. The last place we were together would be the first place anyone would look. Common sense, right? The variables just came when I didn’t know how it’d happen, or when. Would she be able to reach out? Reply? Is she even wherever she needs to be to do so? The lack of participation on both our halves on our first go-round of this game didn’t illuminate much. I didn’t let it get me down.

The next day I stopped at the reception desk, adjusting my cuff links. New suit, no blood this time. “I’d like to file a missing person’s report. Last seen in here Los Angeles two days ago. Here.”

I dropped a folder on her desk. After a brief visit to Kinkos, every photograph we took on my phone was printed in 8x10’s.

The clerk opened it up, skeptical at best. “These are very complicated times. While we understand your concern we are advising waiting a week unless there is more- wait.” She adjusted her glasses, peering closer at the prints. “Isn’t this the drug dealer from Macedonia?”

My eyes widened. Oh shit. How did I forget that?

“-Yes! Yes it is. Except she’s not a hooker- I mean drug dealer.” I leaned on her counter, trying to remember how my lawyer persona went. It didn’t feel natural to slip into when that memory had actually been so fond. “I lost her in the hustle when everyone started dropping. I’d like to file a report to see if anyone’s seen her. You know I can’t go back to Macedonia without some evidence one way or another.”

She frowned, although sympathetic. “We’ll do what we can, but you’ve got to understand law enforcement has their hands full at the moment. Everyone does.”

“I’m not asking for her face on milk cartons- unless you can do that? Then by all means, go for it, but all I want is it to be on record to search. Let’s make it happen.”

She frowned. Her concerns in its reliability were understandable, but I didn’t care. Adria’s name and photo wasn’t as important as the contact information I left with it. She’d know what to do with it.

Though leaving her with the last name of ‘Angel’ out of lack of creativity on my part didn’t help much with the hooker allegations. Oh well, we’d laugh about it later.

But- for now, that was all I had left. Once the report was filed, the world again felt empty. There weren’t any obvious trails to follow. Adria didn’t leave bread crumbs anywhere and there was hardly any protocol for finding dead people in the afterlife.

I considered returning to Hell.

I know, I know- it was the opposite of helpful. It felt entirely too soon but an alternative wasn’t there. Getting back into the rhythm of things was actually the perfect solution to not being in the condition to get back into the rhythm of things at all. I should know by now that I can’t stay still. If I wasn’t actively solving the problem, I fell into a destructive loop of fixating. I’d go over her death in my head hundreds of times. For God’s sakes, I knew she was mortal at the time! There was no excuse. If I was thinking, I could have blocked him. If I had taken the blade instead, I would have been fine. If I had been a better fighter, I could have taken him! If I made her stay outside the cave, she’d have never been in danger at all. Everything was a bunch of ‘if’s; it was enough to drive me insane. I learned quickly couldn’t sit around for a phone call.

(Hell- that’s even if she had my number. She probably doesn’t, ack. I didn’t need any more reminders that I am a very shitty friend.)

It was frustrating. But while I was in between breaks, I had to keep busy. I knew there was at least one thing I can do.

Luckily, things were wrapped up with the pizza kid fairly easily. As it turns out, the kid would be perfectly happy with a console that wasn’t even new anymore if and only if I gave him a ride to the local Gamestop for games to go with. He obviously drove a hard bargain. I couldn’t refuse.

We shook hands, and I bounced back to my office with a lone folder file.

Except, when I popped in- my office wasn’t there. All my things were gone. My shelves, desk, photographs- even the wallpaper was changed. A new name plaque sat on the desk where my gold plated one used to be. I didn’t even recognize whoever this guy was as a co-worker.

“What in the hell-?!” I wailed.

I stomped out into the hall to make sure I was in the right building when I just stopped short of smacking into the boss. Stoic, she didn’t flinch.

“Welcome back.”

In that instant, gravity crashed down around me. Three syllables had the power to make me realize a year of running around, and only one contract for a PS4 to show for it was dangerously under quota. The whole saving-the-world part wasn’t even a blip on the radar as far as Hell was concerned.

I spilled. “Julia- the contract. It lead me on a wild goose chase. One thing lead to another, and-”

“I know.” She replied, cool. I don’t trust her when she’s calm.

“You do?”

“Who doesn’t? Save your excuses. I looked into the contract when you stopped showing up to work without a word. The Shears of Atropos meant nothing to me until the deaths stopped.” I eyed her warily. “You- I still assumed to be dead when word got around that Heaven wanted it too.”

“...Thanks for checking up.”

She scoffed. “I had no time. Hell was undergoing its own renaissance, Demetri. No one had inhibitions. It was a free-for-all. You could have helped, but it was hardly needed.”

“What are you saying here? A newbie has my office now?”

“Yes and no.” She lead me out, closing the door behind us. The wood still had the shadow letters of my longass name where they couldn’t completely scrape off the stenciling. “You were immediately replaced when I concluded you were dead, I’d say roughly one month into your absence.”

I mulled over this, quiet. What all of this meant wasn’t yet obvious. I kept her pace as we moved down the corridor. The vast windows lining the outer wall served as a grand example of what she was talking about. Hell was so much brighter when souls of the damned moved on the edge of the cityscape, flaring in a massé like the sea.

“It wasn’t until your cameo on Ghost Chasers that I discovered you were still alive. Tacky, although damn gusty to kill Heaven’s ambassador on live television.”

I stopped cold in my tracks. “You can’t be serious. I didn’t KILL-”

“I know you didn’t.” She said, disgusted by the notion that I thought she believed that. “Of course I know you didn’t. Look at you-”

She gestured my being as if being innocent of homicide was akin to refusing to bathe.

“-But that’s what they think, and that’s what we’re going with.”

“Why?! So I can have a huge target on my back?”

“They’d kill you without a second thought regardless, don’t kid yourself. Were you listening?” She glared, resolving to dumb it down for me. “The Holy Kingdom is at war with much more than Hell. Before thousands of viewers, worldwide from every religion that is in peril, you cut down Heaven’s chances at attaining universal power. I want you to represent what you started. Enjoy your promotion, Marquette.”

“-Promotion? I don’t want to be a general or whatever you’re thinking.”

“Oh, no.” She barked a laugh that somehow offended me. “You are only good as a catalyst. Nothing more, simonist.”

(A slur for useless on this half of forth.)

“Then what are you wanting me to do? I don’t have the scissors; I never had them.”

“I don’t give a shit about the scissors. Just don’t fuck up what you started.” She grabbed me by the shoulders, and pointed me toward the window, facing one of her other buildings several blocks away. It was much nicer in the sense that the walls didn’t bleed. “Monopolizing the afterlife isn’t a chance that springs up often. You’re a flagship for something a lot bigger and better than yourself. Be a nice figurehead and stay out of the way.” A pair of keys dangled in front of my face. “I’ll come by for some statements once you are settled in.”

Nothing about this was alright. I’ve made it painfully obvious I’ve never been on Hell’s side where it mattered. Being a representative against Heaven was far from where I wanted to be in my life. In addition, being pinned for my friend’s murder (further proof to shitty friend theory) wasn’t high on my to-do list either. But looking now, at my new office in the distance, I could see a couple doors that were previously closed open up.

Renown spiritual anarchist could get me places.

- - -

Around the time I settled furniture into my new office in Hell, Craig gave me a call that the headstone was finished. I wiped my schedule for the day, and popped over for a visit.

Is it backwards that I cried over the headstone before I cried over her? Yes. Probably yes- definitely, but I couldn’t help it. Craig stole inspiration right from behind my eyes. It was a beautiful piece- GLISTENED in the sun, so much that you could not grieve your dead grandpa in that lot without mourning the loss of Adria via ‘AUGH GOD, why is it blinding me.’

Within the next twenty four hours, everything else fell into place. The funeral was conducted on a beautiful Saturday morning. The ceremony was small but I liked it that way for a change.

“See you, Adria. Soon.” I turned towards the priest, who was skeptical of the ‘soon’ bit. I chose not to elaborate. “Thanks, Father. I owe you one.”

And I left.

With all of that out of the way, the search really began.

- - -

My recent promotion offered leverage. I could get about anywhere I wanted to go under the guise of strategic necessity. If you could start and stop an apocalypse and slay an Power in the process, you were someone to rub elbows with. Granted- I never wanted to explore the lower levels of Hell, nor did I have a need to, but these were options now, and ones I fully planned to take advantage of if I had to.

My hopes, though, were that Adria wasn’t that far down. So I started at the top: purgatory.

“Well look who it is.” Familiar eyes blinked out of sync, over the cover of an outdated Vogue.

“Hey there, Croixuhr.” I planted my hands on her desk. “I hear you got a piping hot shipment of new souls in. Mind if I take a look?”

“Greedy, aren’t we?” She mused.

“That’s what the ID says, at least.”

“Too bad. Demons aren’t allowed to meddle with the souls. You know this.”

“It’s not meddling if it’s just a quick chat.”

“Oh sure,” She said, flipping the page in an ancient tabloid. I quickly lost her attention to a FRIENDS themed personality quiz. Limbo was determined to never have anything from the current millennia. “A quick chat, says the devil.”

I miss the days people just believed what I said half the time just because I was a priest. Nowadays it’s the complete fucking opposite.

“Hey now. I’m not here to recruit.” I say, tightroping on the very probable chance that news of my promotion had yet to hit this sector yet. “What do I need- to be monitored? I’ll agree to be fully babysat. I just need to talk to her, honest.”

“No. It’s against the rules.”

I leaned in, raising a brow at the page she was working on. All of the answers were already filled in, clearly secondhand. “What if I get you a new 6-month subscription to whatever you’re reading there? Hot off the presses, hand delivered monthly for just one visit, off the record?”

Her pen stopped, and her gaze slid over to her computer screen. We both knew it was one search away.

“A...D...R...” I prompted, with a cheeky grin. “I-A~”

“...Last name?”

My face fell flat. Why does this continue being a problem when you are trying to find a specific person?

“I don’t...know. Why don’t we look through them all. There couldn’t be that many that died two weeks ago, right?”

Croixuhr slowblinked at me. I could already tell the extra keystrokes were going to cost me.

“I’ll bump it to a full year.”

- - -

That was a glorious waste of approximately $75 dollars. I spoke to a couple Adria’s, heavily supervised. All lovely, bright shiny souls, and equally confused and terrified as to why they were being squeezed into a broom closet to talk to a demon. Unfortunately: none of them mine.

I thanked Croixuhr for her cooperation, and left her be until the 15th of every month.

The trail went cold after that. I considered diving straight into Hell, before I was bombarded with a queue nauseatingly long. Unlike Purgatory, Hell isn’t organized for efficiency. Rather, a garbage heap their damned indentured servants will ‘figure out eventually.’ Being on the other end of that during the Bubonic Plague, I could corroborate that. Even if Adria had been sent here, they were nowhere close to processing the mass influx of souls any time soon. It became a question of what would be more beneficial to do with my time. For that, I switched my sights back to the surface. A certain Greek witch became my next objective.

I consider that maybe I shouldn’t be going at this alone. Lachesis has a knack for appearing when we needed her most. Emphasis on the ‘we’ because the second I lost my Wonder Twin, she was NOWHERE TO BE FOUND.

I looked everywhere. From Atropos’ mansion, to the parking lot outside Pizza Hut. I knew it was sort of futile from the start. I’ve never caught Lachesis at the same place twice aside from her shop in Germany or wherever way back in the day. That, and I understood they all might be in hiding from the whole ‘Heaven is going imperial’ schtick but I hoped I could draw her with intense feelings of dread and fate.

I, unfortunately, could not. So I did the next best thing: Googling.

There was a whole slew of articles about her and her sisters. None of them so much as the slightest bit helpful until I hit an ad. Lachesis: fortune-teller extraordinaire. In my desperation, it almost sounded promising. Almost.

The first clue that something was wrong was that I was lead to a circus.

The second: the flair. We can all agree the crone entirely squanders her omnipotence- this is too much. It was a tent. Bright teal fabric, with gilded tassels all framing a blinking themepark attraction labeled “LACHESIS.”

I stepped through the shower of beads. A middle-aged woman greeted me with her nose wrinkled. She might not be who I am looking for, but her manners were on par. “You are not Lachesis.”

“Read the sign.”

I read it, and yeah sure, that’s what it says. Along with a price list written out like a menu. Palm reading for two tickets, fortune for five tickets, tarot for ten...

“But maybe we should be less concerned with who I am and who you are.” She continues, pro bono. “A great evil follows you. This aura is stifling.”

“Imagine that.” I stole the seat across from her. “Must be the chain letter I opened. Anyways, maybe you can help. I am searching for my friend.”

I stuffed a wad of tickets into her jar.

“...A female, yes?”

“At least I think so.”

She closed her eyes, fingers dancing around a crystal ball whose mystical lighting effects obviously weren’t plugged in.

“I see her...”

“You do?”

“I see you two together…Dark room. Plentiful drink...The way you look at each other. You are both in love...yes?”

Love? My shoulders sank. Don’t try to kid me with any ‘we love each other as friends.’ My face fell flat when I realized this was another dead end. But who was I fooling? My hopes were only so high when I saw her peddling autographed books in the corner.

“Oh yes.” I say, response siphoned dry with sarcasm. “Passionately in love.”

“And you are worried you’ve done something wrong…That you will lose her to an old flame. You regret some choices you have made.”

I facepalmed. The vague gerrymandering between emotions was too easy to see when she was in the entirely wrong ballpark. “Yeah. That’s it.”

“But it will work out. She will forgive you…”

“I certainly hope so.” I stood up, ready to leave. I can’t believe I thought this would work for a second.

She grabs my arm, peering through the sheer veil over her eyes. “Wait. You want to find her, don’t you?”

I paused. “I do.”

“Your answer lies in Ashwater.”

“I have never heard of it.”

The cherry on top was the woman didn’t know what it was when I asked where it was either. Great.

- - - I tried to dismiss it. I tried to call her crazy. I didn’t want to get my hopes up for anything after she was so blatantly wrong about our dynamic and my priorities, but something was telling me Ashwater was significant. The thought festered. Hope, probably. She could have told me I’d find her in Elvis’ bathroom and I would have RSVP’d for a tour. Isn’t that pathetic?

Sigh.

I wrestled myself for a long while before I decided I was sane enough to give it a shot. Just one! It couldn’t hurt to try. If I assume going in I won’t find anything, then I couldn’t be disappointed. I am a natural cynic at heart, I could handle those odds. When I finally came to terms with that, I trusted myself to plug it into a search engine.

Google offered me a grand total of nothing. A parish in England with not even seven hundred people? It didn’t sound right at all. At worst, it’d take me an hour to run through myself but I didn’t waste my time. Instead, I switched up the game plan to look through Hell’s channels. To my surprise, a book result popped up. Not the kind you can order online, either.

I needed a snow jacket.

- - -

Now that I was a ‘big deal,’ getting a library card down in 9th wasn’t so hard. It sounds dorky in theory, but this is qualified VIP material. Hell prefers its minions to be stupid. If you can be let in, well.

Someone sees some potential in me. I shudder the snow off my shoulders.

The building is massive. It towers over the snowy wasteland that is the last circle of Hell. Some say Lucifer stole the Library of Alexandria to plant it here. I’d probably have to agree; it’s protected like it’s a high security prison, and smells like a mausoleum. I couldn’t walk two feet without feeling the creepy prying eyes of imps observing my every move.

I kept to myself. There’s an unnatural silence looming over this place. I’d pass other demons but no one dared utter a word. It didn’t feel prudent to even ask about the whereabouts on the text about Ashwater. It didn’t bother me too much. This felt like the closest I had been in awhile.

(I was reminded again about Hell’s sense of organization. I have a pretty good guess Melvil Dewey went to Heaven.)

I didn’t find the book on my first visit. Nor second, or third. Rather- scouring the library had become something of a hobby in my spare time. I had a map on my phone to keep track of where I’ve been and where to go next. It was quite awhile before I struck any sort of luck- but when I did, it was more than I could have hoped for.

I don’t know how I got away with squealing when I pulled it’s antiquated spine from the shelves. What is this, from the 1800’s? Who cares! Ashwater was plastered all over the first chapter. It was known in Hell’s circles as the residence of a then-popular cult.

They were notorious for their innovation. Under the guidance of some demon’s name I could never hope to pronounce, they constructed pathway. It was revolutionary in its time- and apparently, even today. All manner of the supernatural could come and go as they pleased. Pictures illustrated your usual pillaging, murder, sex, and scandal until one day it was locked up by some higher powers working for the other guys, and the cult was snuffed out.

I glossed over a lot of their practices. Dark, bloody sacrifices, lots of your typical cliche motifs except one line stood out in particular: their gate between worlds needed maintenance. What that meant to me is that it could still be open. It’s not Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory, but something else entirely. Also a damn good reason why neither Lachesis or I could find her just yet.

I was kicked out when I shut the book too loudly; fuck it, at least I know where I’m going.

- - -

Ashwater was exactly what it promised. Gate between worlds- just not mine, but you wouldn’t catch me calling it a waste of time. I needed that. I needed to see her face, I needed to see her alive and well. The cop get-up was bonus points, HA.

I cackled to myself in the quiet of my office. Laughing, until tears leaked from the corner of my eyes. I couldn’t wait to tell my Adria. I should have grabbed a picture- I really should have. I knew I could go back if I really wanted to but...

I think I will focus on finding the real one first.

#after the events of Bait and Switch and Ashwater Visit #intermission #story #adria #Been wanting to get into the habit of posting more of my stuff lately

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jerripittard133-blog · 7 years ago

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Replicas Of The Statuary Of Freedom Worldwide.

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crowleysqueenandlucislover · 8 years ago

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In Response...

Rules: Tag 20 amazing followers you want to get to know better

Tagged By: @generalgoldfishldrm

Name: Alannah

Nickname(s): Lannah, Lonny, Londa, Yolanda, Londa-Bonda. All but the first have been given to me by my older siblings so naturally i had no say in the matter. The first is what my friends call me and is much preferred.

Gender: Female

Star Sign: Taurus

Height: 5″5

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Favorite Color: Black

Favorite Animal: Bear

Average Hours Of Sleep: Usually like 12 haha! I always go to sleep at different times; i might be asleep at 6pm or 6am, but i always sleep for about 12 hours. I love to dream a lot, it usually leads to some of my greatest thinking.

Cat Or Dog Person: Dog, I have 3 and they are all my spoiled babies I would probably die for them I love them so much.

Favorite Fictional Character(s): Severus Snape, my favorite sinnomon roll. Sherlock, i can relate to him on an emotional level aka I lack one. Lemongrab, he is the only character I can't figure out I would really love to study him but he's hilarious in his ways and my favorite thing about Adventure Time. The Doctor, what’s not to love. Lucifer and Crowley, the kings of my existence.

Number Of Blankets I Sleep With: Usually just one, if i’m super cold or needing some cuddles i’ll grab one or two more and just bury myself under them.

Favorite Singer/Band: Too hard to pick but what i can say is anything by Andrew Lloyd Webber and i’m probably melting over it.

Dream Trip: Worldwide, visit every country in Europe and stay until i learned the language. Country wide, Travel up and down the east coast then retire in New Orleans, that city was built for me.

Dream Job: Either Writer/Director or hair and makeup artist on the set of one of my favorite television shows. In a magical world i’d do both if i could.

When Was This Blog Created: About two years ago

Current Number Of Followers: I think like 800 and something

When Did Your Blog Reach Its Peak?: Oh Glob i hope it hasn’t yet! I think maybe when i started a fanfic series called I Owe You One. I posted majority of it almost a year ago. It seemed to take with a lot of people, definitely one of my more popular postings, and it might have been my proudest. Regrettably i never did finish it. Despite the handful of messages requesting i do so and my personal love and ties with the series i kind of hit a wall. I’ve recently tried picking it back up but being completely honest i might have lost some motivation; too much time might have passed for me to try and continue but i’ll still try to finish what i started. I had high hopes for it and plenty of material mapped out, i’d hate to see it all go to waste.

What Made You Decide To Make A Tumblr?: At first i just wanted to read Supernatural Fanfiction because up until two years ago i didn’t even know fanfiction existed. I loved to write (i still have a leaning tower of journals filled cover to cover) and fell in love with the stories i found. I was relieved to know that other people put real thought into scenarios and situations that could happen in the Supernatural universe and also inspired that they actually did something about it. The show casts such a large shadow and i think a nice sized portion of it has yet to be explored on the screen. To me fanfiction is like (an) unexplored episode(s) of Supernatural that we’ll probably never get to see on screen. Yet it’s more than real here and that’s good enough for me. I jumped into the madness that is Tumblr right away and have been merrily lost ever since.

Tagging: @just-a-touch-of-crowley @oldsoul1967 @whovianayesha @hislilkittenn @icemutt22 @merrychristmaschristmas @lynnliciousadnan @crowleyshellhoundproductions @lpstreetsoldier13 @lucifer-in-leather @crowstielean @deansweetlittlemistletoe @sam2dean @supermerwholocked1450 @happyflora50 @doctoress4104 @destielwhotrash @sammie303 @fandommaniacx @destielshipperog

#tagged #tag game

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azworkingdogs · 4 years ago

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How To Stop A Dog Thief

Globally, dog theft has been on the rise for the past few years. So if you think your dog isn’t at risk… you may want to THINK AGAIN!

Dog theft is devastating to loving pet owners. It can bring your life to a standstill and can cause devastating depression.

Let us face it, it is sad enough to lose a dog to old age and disease, sometimes via the difficult decision of euthanasia. Losing your dog to a THIEF… not knowing where he is, if he’s safe, if he’s even still alive? It would be torture.

Unfortunately, real numbers and statistics of pet and dog theft are hard to find. In most countries, the United States of America, the United Kingdom, and even Australia dogs are considered property. Many times, the only viable statistics available come from those who report these thefts to their insurance companies. Think of how many dog owners and pet owners don’t ever consider filing a claim and you will realize how little we truly know about dog theft around the world.

However, the little information that we do have shows us two very frightening facts.

#1. Pet and dog theft is a gateway (or first sign) of animal cruelty and/or torture.

#2. Certain dog breeds are more at risk to be stolen from their owners in certain places or areas of the world. French Bulldogs, Pit Bulls, American Staffordshire Bull Terriers, Bull Terriers (think Spuds Mackenzie), Yorkshire Terriers, Siberian Huskies, Chihuahuas, and even Labradoodles, as well as purebred Retrievers, make the list.

Rarely is the sheriff’s office called, and even when the sheriff’s office or police department is contacted, the act can seldom be proven. Thankfully with the invention of cheap and easy to use home video systems, these crimes are being caught on camera more often.

Different states have different laws but most dog theft or pet theft does not qualify as a felony or grand theft in the third degree. If the value of the pet is over five hundred to over one thousand dollars in some states it may qualify as grand theft versus petty theft (which is often only a misdemeanor); making the penalties higher if the individual can be or is caught and the case can be proven.

Reasons Criminals Steal Dogs

Monetary Reasons

Yes, it is sad but it is true. Many times, immoral people and drug addicts steal things that will help them to profit and or fuel their illegal habits.

How often have you seen “Lost” or “Missing” pet signs, around your neighborhood, that offer a large sum of cash as a reward?

Sadly, especially in affluent or wealthy neighborhoods dogs and other pets can become targets as a means to make quick money.

Purebred dogs often can be sold for thousands of dollars and distraught pet and dog owners will often pay more than what they are worth to get their beloved pet back.

Puppies are even more at risk, because they are easily “flipped” or resold for profit.

Stolen dogs can be big business.

Research Institutions

Wicked people looking for easy money often target pets left outside, go to animal shelters, animal auctions and take pets offered “free to a good home” and sell them to research institutions that offer money for animals that they can conduct research on with very little financial output.

Although research institutions try to avoid stolen dogs, especially on paper, many stolen dogs are taken to these places for profit.

Bait Dogs

Dogs are often stolen or adopted off Craigslist or from shelters to be sold as “bait dogs” for the illegal world of dogfighting.

Wretchedly, the world of dogfighting is very profitable and still exists all over the world. Don’t believe me? Volunteer at your local shelter and you will see the wounded and scarred Pit Bulls and other fighting breeds come in and be held until their court case works through the system. Most often these dogs are euthanized before even given a chance to go up for adoption due to animal aggression issues (as you can well imagine).

In the beginning, in order to get these fighting breeds to adequately and vigorously fight one another to the death they introduce them to much weaker dogs that are easily killed; “bait dogs.” This process builds their confidence and often makes them more willing to fight.

Bait dogs can be sold to people who profit from dog fights (yes, there is big money in this underground and illegal enterprise). Remember the worldwide attention quarterback Michael Vick received when it was discovered (while investigating another crime) that his Pit Bull “breeding” kennel “Bad Newz Kennels” was involved in dogfighting and illegal gambling? In 2006, just one year before charges were filed Michael Vick was the highest-paid NFL player.

Gambling purses alone went for upwards of $26,000, which is a lot of money. According to witnesses Vick and his other cohorts were known to laugh when their trained fighting Pit Bulls killed pet dogs.

Regrettably, the world of dogfighting exists and is still big business and gambling in and around the world.

Insurance Fraud

Yes, this also exists although probably to a smaller extent.

When I was a young, young dog trainer, I knew a breeder of Cocker Spaniels. They happened to have a very rare color within their breed. Oddly they bragged about the color and how they had taken out pet insurance on the puppy.

Oddly enough, their puppy died suddenly and they used the insurance money to buy a $20,000 boat.

And, although this is rarely a reason for dog theft (unless a third party is paid), it is still something that sticks in my mind when it comes to pet insurance.

As far as I know, it was never proven as insurance fraud. But, to this day I have my doubts that the death of the puppy was accidental.

Other Reasons, Beyond Financial Gain

Animal Torture and Abuse

As we are well aware due to many studies in modern psychology, animal torture, cruelty, and abuse is linked to antisocial behavior and severe and disturbing mental disorders. Alarmingly, the act of animal torture and cruelty is known to psychologists as “Intentional Animal Torture and Cruelty” (IATC). There are many types of Intentional Animal Torture and Cruelty including religious sacrifice, artistic sacrifice, psychopathic personality disorders (zoosadism), or sexual disorders.

In the 1970s when behavior profiling was in its infancy one of the most consistent findings of the Federal Bureau of Investigation was that Intentional Animal Torture and Cruelty was seen as a common behavior, in childhood, of early serial murderers and rapists.

I really hate to go into this more, as just doing the research for this article sickens me; but let me assure you that this kind of behavior still exists in the human or inhumane world of humans and neighborhood pets are often used as a likely source because they are easily available.

Stealing To Get The Dog You Can’t Buy (Or Afford)

Yes, it seems ridiculous; but some people steal pets or specifically purebred dogs because they cannot afford to buy the dog that they want.

You can search the Internet and find videos of often women sticking pure breed puppies in their purse or shirt and walking out of pet shops and pet stores. These puppies are often upwards of $1,000.

Sometimes the thieves think that they are giving the stolen dog a better life. And, honestly sometimes stolen dogs get just that.

I am embarrassed to admit that I have known people who have stolen dogs. These dogs were often chained outside day in and day out; sometimes they were left with no shelter and no food or water. I can think of one I used to drive by every day when I lived in GA. I watched him grow from a puppy into an adult. He had barely a shelter and animal control wouldn’t do anything about his conditions. Never did he get to go inside; EVER. Someone in the animal community took him to give him a new lease on life while he was still a year or so old.

I have often seen a Pit Bull that is my best friend’s neighbor’s dog. He also is never invited inside and sits outside no matter how cold or rainy it is in our climate. I wish I could steal him and give him a better life. A life where he can actually have a “pack” and a loving human and the food and shelter and warm bed that he desires.

Pet theft and dog theft comes in many forms.

Although all are illegal. You judge what falls in the parameters of morally acceptable and what is not.

At least dogs thieved to be personal pets are more likely to have a better chance at life than other dogs or companion animals that are stolen.

The truth is, good pet owners never want their dog to be on that list of stolen dogs that the police or insurance company has to investigate!

So let us talk about how to keep our dogs safe!

Protect Your Dog from Dog Theft

Secure Your Area

The first thing to keep in mind is to secure your area. Make sure that you have locks to lock your fence. Wooden fences provide more security and keep neighbors and passers-by from being able to see your dogs.

Wooden fences also keep dogs from being reactive and overexcited because they limit what they can visually see.

Keep An Eye on Him

Don’t put your dog outside for hours on end, even if he likes to go outside be sure that you keep an eye on him.

Every 20 minutes or so check on him and make sure that he is still in your yard and safely secured.

No Signs

Although many people believe that they should get signs that announce their dog’s presence in their home or in their yard; these signs may actually do more harm than good.

“Dog on Premises” or “Warning Guard Dog” signs simply alert would-be thieves to the fact that you own a dog!

If you want to keep someone from breaking into your home, I suggest that you use a security system sign or an alert to video surveillance.

Don’t Leave Your Dog Outside While You Are Gone

Dogs left outside for hours at a time and especially dogs left outside while their owners are gone make perfect targets.

These are the dogs that often bark (which alerts the neighbors to them being alone and can also irritate neighbors). Dogs left outside consistently make easy marks for would-be thieves who may be “casing” or watching for dogs that would be easy to steal.

Leave your dog secured inside while you are gone to keep him safe.

Tools If The Unthinkable Happens

Microchip

Microchips are easy and will keep shelters are research companies from accepting a stolen dog or cat. Nowadays, microchip readers are also universal so that owners can be tracked down no matter what microchip company the pet owner chooses.

Your veterinary hospital will be happy to microchip your pet.

But, please, please, please register the microchip and keep it up to date when you move. There are thousands of microchips that go unregistered and an unregistered microchip is as good as not having one at all!

Tattoo

There are some places that will also tattoo your pet. Many show dogs are not only microchipped but additionally tattooed with their owner’s social security number so that the owner can easily be tracked down.

Tips for tattooing is NOT to tattoo the ear of the dog. As sick as it sounds, ears can be cut off and dogs can still be turned in for money or financial gain.

Those who tattoo their dogs usually use their social security number and have the tattoo put on the thigh of the dog where it will be easily seen and identified on exam.

GPS Collar

GPS collars can also give you information if your pet goes missing. You can track down the time the dog was taken and if the would-be thief is not astute he might not realize that the collar has a GPS locator.

Video Surveillance

Thanks to modern technology and the ability to mass-produce technology for the masses camera systems like the “Ring” are often now used both outside the home and inside the home to keep theft at bay.

As with any crime, make sure that your dog’s yard and his space is also under surveillance.

Criminals avoid video surveillance like the plague and sentencing and proof is much easier if you have the crime caught on film.

It is always best when your home and your equipment can help you avoid having crime or getting the police involved.

Neighborhood Watch

A neighborhood with a good and active neighborhood watch will keep many criminals at bay.

There are also lots of pets alliance groups that you can look into in your area. These groups will help keep your beloved pets safe and in their home.

Help Change Laws

Many people are afraid of the government taking away their rights and becoming involved in our lives. I for one, agree. However, I would like to see laws change, and thankfully they are slowly changing. Pets and animals are slowly evolving from “property” into sentient animals. A sentient animal is an animal that is capable of being that has interests and is aware of its environment. It feels hunger, heat, cold, and has desires and wants. It is an animal that is capable of feelings. Pets are not inanimate objects or property. Pets have feelings and shouldn’t be abused or tortured any more than humans should suffer the same fate.

Pets are not property, they are way more important than any motor vehicle that can easily be replaced. Property can be disposed of and abused at will. Police should be involved with animal cruelty and abuse because this is a predictive crime.

We need laws that keep our pets safe from abuse, if not just for the animal’s safety but also to identify human sociopaths and predators.

The law should swiftly deal with animal abuse and neglect with a stern hand. Empathy and kindness should be our goal when dealing with sentient animals. After all, they have feelings too.

Support legislation that gives our companion animals and other animals rights to be treated humanely.

Looking to get involved contact your local kennel club. Kennel clubs often know about what is going on in their area and can put you in contact with great people. Rescue groups can also be a wealth of information.

Be Careful What Non-profit You Support

Not all not for-profit or 501(c)(3) organizations are created equally. Not all animal welfare organizations or even humane society groups do what they say.

Some of these animal nonprofits are more like cults.

I remember when I was 18 and one very well-known animal rights organization was strongly opposed to showing dogs in conformation. At the time I was involved in the conformation world with my male Rottweiler. My intent was never to breed him, but to show the world his beauty and perfect physical conformation. This said animal rights group was going to prestigious conformation events and poisoning dogs… because they felt that the dogs lived abusive or sad lives.

I can say wholeheartedly, that some do. Some of these dogs are not much more than livestock being paraded around to win trophies so that their owners can charge more money for puppies. But, many of the dogs were like mine; well-loved family pets that wen home and lived happy and prosperous lives. I for one have NEVER bred one of my dogs no matter what title they have won. I enter into the dog show world only to compete alongside the best with my happy pets.

Do your research! If you are going to support an animal rights organization financially or otherwise make sure that you know the ins and outs of their ethics.

I am not one for putting anyone on blast but PETA is known for their extremist views and the killing of animals.

The truth is that dog theft is a big problem throughout the world. But there are simple steps that you can take to educate yourself about the act itself and why it is profitable and then ways that you can keep your dog from becoming a statistic!

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getlatestfreestuff · 5 years ago

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Coronavirus N95 face masks - what you need to know

We need to comprehend the truths. Comprehend the principle of the virus, just how it spreads, Understanding where the infection is infected will aid you shield yourself efficiently. My name is Peter Lin as well as I am a family doctor in Toronto, Canada. What is a coronavirus? Coronavirus is a collective name for a class of infections. These infections can trigger light signs like a cool, It can additionally trigger significant lung infections like SARS or MERS. This virus is shaped like a tennis ball and is covered with little bumps. Different kinds of protrusions allow the infection to connect to various surface areas. Some protrusions on the surface of the infection are especially affixed to the human nasal mucosa. Generally just trigger a cold. However SARS infection as well as this brand-new type of virus, Its surface protrusions can connect to the lung cells. After connecting to lung cells, These outcroppings release genetic information as well as begin to replicate themselves. In other words, the virus uses the body to recreate. "Based upon the existing worldwide break out of the new coronavirus, I proclaim here that the globe remains in a state of public wellness emergency situation. " Where does the infection come from? Many coronaviruses are parasitic in pet hosts. The present outbreak of the brand-new coronavirus originates from a seafood market in Wuhan, China that markets live wildlife. In the beginning, it was guessed that the virus initial hid in wild animals. It was then sent to humans. Nevertheless, new cases have actually appeared ever since. This consists of medical personnel, as well as family members that have actually remained in close contact with the individual, All this implies that the infection can now be passed from one person to another. How does the infection spread? Infections look for receptors, and the receptors for brand-new coronaviruses are lung cells. Nonetheless, the infection itself does not have the capacity to move. So it commonly spreads through passive networks. Attempt to keep away from the individual who sneezes to prevent the virus from getting in the body through the respiratory system system. Beware not to touch the face, to avoid the infection from getting in the body with get in touch with. A mask can provide sufficient defense, but it is not required as it does not offer an outright seal. The normal masks on the market can not totally fit the face and also can not obstruct the intrusion of infections. However masks can properly stop people from touching the face. Individuals with signs and symptoms will be required to use a mask to avoid transferring the infection to those around them. Those who actually need to use protective masks can select N95 face masks. The N95 mask is a covered mask. For healthcare employees that have straight call with patients. What are the signs of a viral infection? The initial signs of a coronavirus infection are similar to those of the cold as well as influenza. As an example, stale nose, drippy nose and so on. But know that when the virus begins to increase in the cells of the lungs, Begin a great deal of self-replication and also spreading, as well as healthy lung cells die a great deal, Because of this, oxygen can not be traded generally through breathing, So among the early signs and symptoms of coronavirus infection is shortness of breath Along with breathing problems, the patient was eventually taken to the healthcare facility for support. Exactly how is it treated? Regrettably, no coronavirus is directly offered on the market to day Medicines that eliminate the infection. So the present treatment technique is adjuvant therapy. Such as giving oxygen to people who have trouble breathing, aiding to take a breath, Instill people who can not swallow. Individuals with kidney failing will certainly also give targeted treatment. The therapy procedure is primarily helped. Given that this is an entirely brand-new virus, The body's existing body immune system as well as defense system do not have a mature mechanism to combat it. Usually, the body fights viruses by making antibodies. The antibodies will adhere to the protrusions of the infection, Coronavirus activity is gotten rid of and also the patient recovers. So contrasted to other people, Older populations as well as babies with infections have a higher death price, Since their body immune system is more vulnerable, The ability to make antibodies is weaker, as well as it is not also feasible to make them. Just how to avoid infection? Bear in mind that both hands go to risk of being revealed to the infection. The virus can not go into the body via the skin barrier, However if I touch my confront with my hand, I give a method for the virus to pass through. So bear in mind not to touch your face with your hands. If you think you have been contaminated on an aircraft or have been infected via straight get in touch with, Contact your healthcare carrier quickly and also let them understand you might be contaminated. If you currently have obvious signs and symptoms, To look for clinical assistance, please call as well as alert the various other event first. Whether it's an ambulance, an appointment with a family doctor, or a thrill to the emergency clinic, Make sure to tell the various other celebration that you used to fly. If there are no noticeable signs, please isolate yourself in the house. Avoid straight call with the group. Do not go to events, fulfill good friends as well as loved ones, as well as prevent mass transit. The longest incubation duration for currently known infections is 7 to 2 week. For that reason, via 7 to 14 days of self-isolation, Can minimize the spread of the infection. If there is no paresthesia after the isolation period, you can return to typical life without fretting. Do I require to worry? What we require to do is to acknowledge the realities, not to worry way too much, Via personal proper and also effective practices, we ensure the security of ourselves and also others. If everyone has this understanding, The spread of the infection will certainly be managed. Vectors are needed for infection transmission as well as self-replication. Without vectors, infections can not spread out. So start with me and also begin currently.

#n95 #face #mask #coronavirus #flu

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businessthreesixfive-blog · 6 years ago

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Entrepreneur Lawrence Jones MBE, CEO UKFast

Uncle Peter

It's often said that misfortune happens in threes. Whilst I am not superstitious, this year has actually been especially challenging.At the beginning

of the year we had my Uncle Phil's funeral, a fantastic man, and whilst it is always a big blow losing somebody special, he was 105, so it was expected.Pretty much directly after that, a few days into our holidays with our kids in the Maldives, we then learned that Gail's grandad passed away. Referred To As Fantastic Grandad to Gail and I, and our 4 daughters, he was truly a motivation from the day I satisfied him. Constantly fascinated by how were doing at UKFast and always so proud of his granddaughters' accomplishments, he showed authentic interest in mine too. Surprisingly enough he was among the main motivations behind why I was so figured out to make UKFast successful and buy a big office developing one day after his very first check out to our two-man workplace back in 2000. Showing Fantastic Grandad around he said, "So all this is yours, the entire building?"

I was a little ashamed having to explain, "No Grandad, just this little workplace here ..." I so wanted him to be happy of me and know his granddaughter was in safe hands.In his final years, it was a fantastic moment to proudly wheel him around the UKFast Campus and show him that we had in fact lived up to his expectations. Great Grandad was 101, so whilst losing him was very sad, he had a complete and delighted life.It was on the last day of that same holiday, we got a call to come by at the medical facility as quickly as we landed in Manchester. My Uncle Peter was in Intensive Care.Truly belonging Many people most likely don't understand simply how deep the family connections run in UKFast

. Jonathan my cousin is handling director and Uncle Peter is his father.I had a fascinating upbringing to state the least. Uncle Peter was a child psychiatrist, a calm,

thoughtful and kind person. My earliest genuine impactful memories of him were when my parents requested his aid to evaluate me in expert capacity.In my parents 'defence, I was a handful. I was not happy in the house or at school and on the last day before I left for my scholarship to Durham Chorister School at the age of 7, I decided(together with a variety of others )to play a prank.To state the prank left hand is an understatement. Whilst waiting for evensong at St. Asaph Cathedral where I sang in the choir, we rather foolishly began tossing

things on the roof. Things escalated and we ended up throwing a shoe from every individual in the school up there.I left thinking, that was that.The school certainly very upset called my parents and so Uncle Peter was called.Jonathan talking about Peter explained his own aggravations maturing. "I was a rebel, "he said."This was really challenging when whatever I did, no matter how disagreeable, was consulted with,' Outstanding" or" What an excellent idea'

."Uncle Peter was no various in this circumstance. At the end of the conference a seven-year-old, really scared young kid asked him, "so what is wrong with me?" "Oh definitely nothing

, young male, you are a completely normal little young boy. "He stopped briefly and then stated with raised eyebrows and an understanding smile,"I am not sure I can state that about your moms and dads."

This sort of humour instantly put me at ease and we were friends since. As I grew up, he inspired me to begin running. Every time they came to Denbigh where I lived we would go on runs together. I

could never ever beat him, he was fast and competitive.When I left for Manchester to seek my fortune at sixteen, as with the majority of my experiences, things didn't always go to plan. After a year of having a hard time, I wound up relocating with my Uncle Peter and Aunty Lesley. Jonathan, among 3 kids, was probably

around nine years old.Jonathan and I grew truly close and, for the very first time in my life, I was treated as an adult and Peter and Lesley welcomed me into the family.When I got my hair cut in a semi mohawk design, my mother threatened that I wouldn't be welcome in your home at Christmas, fretted at what the neighbours would believe. Peter believed the hair cut was completely great and said I might stay with them. Seeing Peter's reaction, my mum right away relaxed. This was Peter's result on people.Finding a house at

Bowers 'Towers I remember my years at Bowers 'Towers (as their home was known )with real fondness and whilst I can inform unlimited amusing stories, let me make no mistake, that time I invested under that roof with Peter which excellent household was a life saver and both affected and formed me to become the guy I am today. Most significantly as a dad. Seeing Peter in action was mesmerising.I recall Anthony the youngest (then around four years old)

throwing handfuls of spaghetti around the space at the supper table. Peter simply raised his eyebrows especially high and said very extremely calmly, "Anthony. is that wise?"Anthony shook his head and just stopped. Amazing! I 'd have been thumped for behaviour like that. Peter never ever raised his voice and everybody simply got on. No matter how rebellious Jonathan and I tried to be, it was met Peter's acceptable peace of mind that whatever we were doing was accepted.That peace and patience that were intrinsic in Peter are two qualities I admire most in individuals. When interviewed recently by Gordon Burns he asked me,"what are Gail's finest characteristics?"It was the same two qualities I listed.I saw a similar vibe the moment I was invited to Gail's house meeting her mum and daddy. I quickly felt safe and at home.Calmness and Perseverance The reason I value these characteristics most in people, is due to the fact that they are not qualities I intuitively go to when under pressure.I can get defensive under pressure and I am far from patient. I

am definitely ending up being more patient with age, but I have some work still to do in this area!The combination of Gail and I together is undoubtedly a strong one because together we have her peace and my impatience, and in some way it just works.Arriving in Manchester after my flight, Peter had actually

been taken into a caused coma. He 'd been struggling to breathe after contracting pneumonia. The family were told there was no hope.

Yet, as the physicians altered every couple of days, so did the guidance. It was a rollercoaster of various perspectives and, plugged into around 20 machines all carrying out components vital to keeping Peter alive, none of us ever provided up.The days went to weeks, and the weeks rolled into months. Still the family saw him around the clock, never providing in. He remained in his seventies, but still very younger and healthy as a fiddle. It simply didn't make any sense.After about three months things started searching for. He ultimately was brought around from his coma. He

was provided a tracheotomy, so whilst he was totally conscious and understanding everything we stated, he was not able to speak. Although we had his eyebrows and facial expressions, and young boy was he funny!Finally we got the opportunity to speak with him as they started unwinding the tracheotomy for a couple of minutes every day.Saying bye-bye It was amazing. Peter, being a medical professional, completely understood the scenario he was in and appeared to comprehend much better than us that it was still unlikely he would survive.It was Peter one morning who made the decision to stop and turn off his life support. The fight to survive was just undue even for such an extraordinary and competitive man.This is the hardest thing to come to terms with as his brain was working completely. Talking to him and saying goodbye is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I can't picture how Lesley, Juliet, Jonathan and Anthony felt.There are few times in life when a grown male sobs hopelessly like a child, but leaving the health center after speaking with Uncle Peter that

early morning, saying bye-bye, understanding the pain the entire household was in, the discomfort he was in, was unbearable.As well as having an

amazing effect

through his work, Uncle Peter was typically found in the cooking area, baking.So in a jam-packed church where there were not adequate chairs to go around, listening to all the fantastic accomplishments, it advised me of my second opportunity with my avalanche mishap. Whilst I am a far better person as a result of that regrettable experience, I am conscious I still have some way to go.What would Peter do?There are many times in our lives

when Gail and I ask,"What would Peter do?" when challenged by a challenge, specifically one where are kids are worried. Eventually the gap that is left worldwide when someone unique like Peter dies has to be filled by the individuals left around.It got me believing is it not up to us as people to continue to enhance as individuals, as parents, hubbies, organisation leaders? If we are not motivated by the fantastic characters we enter into contact with, albeit briefly, then what is the point?Hearing my cousins say, "We were fortunate to

have him in our lives, some individuals never get to experience somebody a terrific as that. We were fortunate to have him

even for too brief a time."Fortunately I have numerous terrific and delighted memories. Among those, from the early years, was Sunday lunch. Peter always prepared a casserole (from a package!). I utilized to opt for years before and after my stint living at Bowers'Towers. At the end of the meal, like clockwork, I used to

say, "That's the very best meal

I have ever had!"Everybody would constantly laugh, since I 'd say it consistently. What everyone around the supper table didn't realise, it really was. It wasn't just about the food, which when you haven't consumed for days, tastes like manna from heaven, it was the celebration. It was belonging to the Bowers household. Transferring to Manchester on my

own at 16 or 17 years of age was extremely lonesome. They got me through those difficult times and Peter offered me the grounding to end up being the father I am today.

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