#and right afterwards we had to switch campuses

[tjerra14]

every time it gets cold I think about my chemistry prof explaining chirality, and using the gloves example--they look very similar, if not the same, but the right glove will still only fit the right hand--and then put on the only pair of gloves I own that somehow, for unknown reasons, doesn't care about chirality at all

[anaxolotladay]

( big fucking word dump to get my thoughts together; TW for antisemitism and a lack of editing

tentatively titled, “Lucky”, ‘til i can edit it to the essay i want to write )

❝  We didn’t know much about Jesus of Nazareth at all, but wasn’t that guy Jewish, too? He wasn’t as lucky as I was.  ❞

it took a while for me to be able to joke about being the “token jew friend”. because really, what was so “token” about it? ever since i stopped wearing my star and keeping my hair tied up, it’s harder to tell. i’ve been teased about “pointed ears” and my family’s long-passed-down “jewy nose”, but with these thick rimmed glasses, it takes the attention away. i’m aware of the privilege my skin color affords me. nobody looks too hard; i’m passing. i’m lucky, something i’ve always been told by every generation of family i meet. i’m lucky, and i know it.

my elementary schooling was private hebrew schools (on scholarship for our low income large family, where my mom worked as a school employee) between two different states. i grew up in so many jewish communities and with such a large family, i never thought of it to be so different.

that was lucky.

fifth grade- the first year of junior high- we couldn’t afford private school any longer, nor could the majority of my sixteen-person grade level. three of us switched to the same public middle school. nobody knew where we came from, but that was alright until somebody asked. Dan H. in art class asked if we were “hebrews”, because “oh, i thought ‘jew’ was a bad word”. the three of us laughed! that was hilarious! until he started interrogating us, asking us if we knew it was OUR people who killed Jesus.

we didn’t know much about Jesus of Nazareth at all, but wasn’t that guy Jewish, too?

he wasn’t as lucky as i was.

throughout middle school, more and more students had just started to learn about the Holocaust and Hitler- aka my second grade history unit, aka my family history-- and all the jokes they’d heard and read about began to make sense. the “shoah”, the “fire”, the “ovens”. hilarious. the wise words of my old hebrew teacher echoed in my ears: as long as we don’t forget, it will never happen again. but i started wondering why we had to teach THESE kids about it, and fuel THEIR jokes. middle school, it was mostly all just poorly timed jokes in bad taste.

THAT was lucky.

come high school, i shared a bus with the only other jewish kid in my neighborhood, Ari J.-- a year younger than me, left our old hebrew school a year later than me. he was a bully and i hated his guts, yet, he was kin. we didn’t talk in all my four years of high school. but at the back of the bus sat another group of boys, the ones who wore shirts that read: “That’s nice, babe, now make me a sandwich”, and called eachother “f*gs”, and told jokes in racist accents. they were larger than Ari and i combined. we kept our heads down.

they dared not crack the same racist jokes in the hallways of school-- there were black, indian, AND asian teachers around, who could call their parents, god forbid!-- but the gays and the jews of the school? outnumbered and quiet. i heard nazi jokes shouted two hallways down. i heard the laughter that followed.

one day, boarding the bus about four seats in front of Ari, the ringleader of Back of the Bus Bad Boys waltzes up the steps and shouts, “HEY, you Jew in the back!!!” i felt my blood run cold, and sat completely still as he stormed down the aisle. i smelled his gym sweat as he breezed past my seat, and exhaled a relieved sigh. except, turning around to see who he was referring to, i couldn’t believe my eyes: the lot of them had slid into and behond Ari’s seat, were tousling his hair, were shoving his shoulders and laughing. “Pretty hot outside, but not as hot as those ovens, am I right?” i couldn’t hear if Ari replied. i didn’t know what to do. the bus lurched forward and the insults were hurled louder: “Hitler wasn’t such a bad guy, y’know? Just incompetent. He never carried through, but he had the vision.” when i got home that day, i cried and cried. the next morning, i reported them to the counselor, but begged her to wait a few days to take action; what if they thought it was Ari who’d reported it? what would they do to him?

would he be so lucky again?

a year later, i’m on a trip to New York City- the second time i’ve been, but the first time alone with my mom. it was a busy day over school break, and the city was bustling-- walking back to our lodging, there was a pro-palestine rally occurring about a block away. flags were waving! people were shouting for justice! it was amazing! we raised our fists in support and kept walking. but after packing our bags and leaving the same way we came in, we stepped to the sidewalk and heard louder noise down the road. the streets were stuffed to gills, police officers stood with their backs to the rally, face to the crowd. the proud rally had turned angry, blaming not israel for their troubles, but their “rabbinic leaders”. new flags were hoisted, depicting the magen david, star of david, crossed out in red. their faces were pink with righteous fury, shouting against the ears of the officers to let them march, to take vengeance on their jewish oppressors. my mother and i ducked to the back of the crowd, removed our star necklaces, and kept our heads down. i felt the points digging into my palm. i wore it a few times afterwards-- the star i’d fawned over at our Yom Ha’Atzmaut festival, supporting local israeli immigrants, bought for me in surprise by my bubbe-- but after the chain broke, i couldn’t find it in me to wear again. i’d never felt so scared, but i emerged unnoticed and unharmed.

that was the luckiest i had ever been.

during my first year of community college, i had a class with a nazi apologist. nobody thought about it too hard, since he was also the best designer in our group, but walking to our class, i’d hear him shout from behind me: “What’s up, you fucking kike?!” i’d never heard it out loud before. when i whirled around, it turns out he was greeting his “buddy” further up in front of me. i walked a little faster to class, hoping he wasn’t suspicious of me now.

he wasn’t. how lucky of me.

on that same campus, i heard more jewish slurs than i could even recognize at the time. some i’d only read of. others were learned of in hindsight. ignorance was bliss. past tense.

i told my family these stories, face burning. my zayde’s eyebrows would raise and my mother would shake her head, recounting her own stories. my siblings had never been familiar with these terms. i wish i could apologize for teaching them.

they were pretty lucky, too.

when i transferred schools, it was during election season. i never brought up my judaism until the high holidays-- early in the school year-- when i’d need to miss class, and would be returning home to NY for a few days. even then, i told my roommates and teachers, that was it. i was alone for some of those holidays for the first time ever, and there was no community to be found. it was an irrelevant secret.

during election season, however, were the pro-Trump rallies. the protests. the women’s marches and the mud slinging. some of my friends saw words on the news that they’d never heard of before. the mistake i had made was explaining them, outing myself. again, it was no big deal at the time, my friends were supportive.

but from then on, i was referred to as one of their “minority friends”. and that was annoying, because i didn’t have the right to claim that title. i wasn’t being “oppressed”. i had just started to learn about “privilege” and “oppression” and politics and diversity. i knew i was privileged, i never had the RIGHT to claim oppression. i didn’t experience racism daily and i never would. there were people of color who were harassed and discriminated against and denied service because of the way they LOOKED, things they could not change about themselves. i will never experience that. it was 2016, i was not oppressed!

multiple times, i was introduced to others as the “jewish friend”. and it stopped bothering me, because it wasn’t untrue. apparently, jews were a rarity in these parts. it was funny. it was part of my identity. and for the most part, people didn’t care. 

then, our 45th president was elected.

within three days, over four dozen synagogues, campuses, homes and vehicles had been vandalized with swastikas. jewish cemeteries were torn apart. hasidic civilians were punched in the faces. i couldn’t bring myself to call home for an entire week, because that would mean admitting out loud that i was scared. my research writing essay that semester was a small 8-page essay, analyzing and documenting the rise in jewish hate crimes, and where they happened. i had to stay in the know. i brushed up on jewish history. i listened to family stories. i relearned everything i could so i knew how to navigate arguments, debates, and accusations. afterall, i’d been pretty sure i was the only jew on campus.

within a year, i met another one. it shouldn’t have been such a big deal, but my excitement was tangible. we’d throw yiddish back and forth and tease eachother in brooklynese or russian-bubbe accents. he knew what holidays i would refer to. it wasn’t a big part of the friendship, but it was nice to have some familiarity.  i was brought into a new group of friends who were curious, and eager to learn. i’d never thought about judaism as a culture or history before that, until these discussions ensued and i realized just how MUCH my life was shaped by it. and it was fun to share stories and meals and holidays with people who wanted to celebrate with me.

this past semester was the first time i didn’t go home for the high holidays. i found a synagogue in the next city over, and two whole other jews who wanted to celebrate with me on campus! on yom kippur, we met up to break the fast. they were clearly as excited to meet another jew as i was.

unfortunately, i was a girl. a “nice jewish girl”, if you will. their view bled into the conversation. and on top of that, one of them wanted to chant the barucha, loudly, OUT LOUD, in the middle of a dinner-busy campus dining hall. the other guy and i mumbled it with our heads kept down. suddenly, we were tense. we were scared. my roommates asked me why that was. i told them that you can’t just chant hebrew in public in this day and age!  why was that? have you ever heard of muslims speaking arabic in public and being labeled terrorists? do you understand the kind of danger semitic languages entail?!

we had been ignored, but some folks aren’t so lucky!

a week ago, i was walking down the hall of my class building. it was mostly empty, save for one or two other students. out of the blue, i hear one of them say loudly, “Shalom!” i spun around. “excuse me?” the girl walking behind me laughed and said, “it’s just something he does”. we walked down the hall for a few more min, chuckling about it. i asked if she or he was jewish, she said neither of them were, but thought it was hilarious when i explained how the guy had managed to say “shalom” to the only jew in the department.

i let out a breath i hadn’t realized i’d been holding. funny, right? he never would’ve guessed.

yesterday, at 9:50 AM, a synagogue was shot up an hour and a half away from me. but not just any synagogue. one of the most well known conservative shuls in the Squirrel Hill area.  in particular, the one my pittsburgh family were members of. the one i had watched my two cousins become bat and bar mitzvahs on the bimmah of. the one i had, for the first time, met three branches of family from my adopted uncles’ side, family who had welcomed me to their congregation and introduced me personally to the rabbi: “Yes! She’s our brothers’ niece! Our family has come such a long way to celebrate with us, tonight!” and then-rabbi, Rabbi Chuck, laughed a booming sound and shook my hand with both of his, cracking jokes and telling me how happy he was i was here.

yesterday, at the Tree of Life--Or L’Simcha temple, there was a baby naming ceremony- a time in jewish tradition where a new baby of the community is spoken into the family and recognized by the congregation. the rabbi will speak its names-- english and hebrew-- and the world rejoices under them.  yesterday, there were twins to be celebrated. yesterday, three congregations had come together under one roof, so many families and friends supporting and celebrating the new arrival.

yesterday, a celebration of life turned into a vigil mourning death.

eleven shulgoers were not so lucky.

i have never met Rabbi Hazzan Myers, but i know he’s taken care of the community since then. i can’t imagine the fear he must have felt, after hosting the tight-knit community he’s helped build, harbor, and lead. i can’t imagine walking back into that building a week from now and continuing to read torah, the way i know he will.

Rabbi Hazzan will forever remember how lucky he was, to make it to next week’s torah portion. living in a community that has always been safe, and hospitable, and embraced eachother as neighbors, the remaining minyan will never forget how lucky they were, as well.

my family in pittsburgh-- aunt janice, uncle steve, and cousins hannah and tyler-- were so lucky to have stayed home, yesterday morning, and i am so lucky that we live in a day and age of cellular devices.

i was on the phone with my father and grandfather, both in florida, when dad received a group text between his brothers, their sister janice, and him, assuring everyone that they were home safe. he asked me to look up what happened in pittsburgh.

i never thought it would be my family.

i never thought it would be their home.

12 casualties could have been 16.

i’m so lucky it’s not my family sitting shivah, this week.

[davidschnuckel]

Emails That Kick Ass (Vol. 19): Lemonade

3/30/2020

It took some time, but I eventually realized that I write a lot.  In fact, much more than I truly realized.  Just not in the way that I had always saw myself doing. As an educator, I’m approached by students, alumni, colleagues, administration and outside parties through email…a ton.  In fact, a big part of my after hours is spent on replying to all sorts of issues.  Some big.  Some small.  Never anything in between, interestingly enough.  But, the big-issue emails are the ones I’m most proud of because they usually provide a platform where I can address a significant issue (or issues) that relate to important matters regarding what this glass thing fully entails. I see these emails as small essays in the form of correspondence; emails that - should a student of mine ever take interest in this blogspot - provide a teachable moment that happens behind-the-scenes of what's going on in studio and addresses a very real issue within the realm of glass making, glass thinking, glass teaching, and/or glass learning.  An indirect form of "mentoring"  by example...but in digital space. I put a lot of care into every thing I do and, although trying to be informative, my secondary intention with these well considered emails is to impress upon my students the power of words and the value in articulating thought through written form.  EMAILS THAT KICK ASS are a collection of such correspondence, cut and pasted directly from my Outlook box, but with names changed to protect the guilty... ​ *Lemonade* is a long response to a cynic who had strong responses to the nation-wide decision by universities to transition their curriculum online due to the outbreak of COVID-19 that arose at the approximate midpoint of the semester.  Especially studio-based courses....and specifically in relation to RIT's Glass program.   Of course, our immediate concern was in thinking how to provide an appropriate learning environment...and one that would enable our students and curriculum to be delivered in the best possible capacity under the circumstances.  What's down below is an effort to map out our strategy and our thinking in developing the most suitable experience within such a compromised circumstance of glass education.  But also to illustrate that there's much, much more to a glass education than just the hands-on component...and that there are some silver-linings that have revealed themselves due to the limitation that have elevated. our approach to teaching and student approaches to learning that we just wouldn't have observed without this time of constriction.  That perhaps the "making" lesson to be gained in this moment is the art of "making do"...

" ...I mean, how do you even fulfill studio requirements in your teaching without providing your students the studio needed to fulfill them? How can anyone make any glass? Where's their reimbursement? And what about afterwards? How are they supposed to foster a studio-based career after being cheated like this?  What good is their degree at this point? Sounds fraudulent.  And how do you sleep at night knowing that you're a part of the fraud as a professor in this time? Especially knowing that your career as a studio glass person is on pause? and maybe in jeopardy? " - {personal fan}

Dear {personal fan}, ​Yes, you're right. If I read in between the lines of what your concerns are, I can agree with where you're coming from: this is definitely not an ideal learning experience for anybody engaging glass within our program. We are a hands-on, tactile field of study.  We rely on very specific facilities, equipment, tools, and materials to engage the conceptual, aesthetic, and technical problems we’re asking our students to solve.  We are also a communal field of study.  When studios and student peers are taken out of the equation, one's "glass education" isn't quite the same. So on that front, yes, again, not an ideal studio learning experience without the studio. With that said, when the switch to remote learning was mandated I knew we had an exceptional problem to solve.  Not impossible, but not straightforward either. Here's the thing, though:  I've never promised my students or my administration (or myself, even) that I could design an equivalent to studio learning without a studio.  But - in this moment and given these very extraordinary circumstances - I can deliver course content that finalizes the work we started...we can bring a sense of finality to the 8 weeks of studio experience we were fortunate to have before shifting to an online delivery method.  And to the graduating?  We can still bring a sense of finality to the scholastic requirements of their Capstone or Thesis experience. Again, not ideal nor the same.  But curriculum delivered in the best possible capacity under the circumstances. On one hand, it could easily be argued that each Glass course’s stated learning objectives for learning safe and competent material engagement had been fulfilled up to the point where campuses closed.  Not to its fullest potential by any stretch of the imagination…nor would any student say that they are satiated by only half a term’s worth of hands-on experience/exploration of material and process.  And…as educators, none of us are either.  However, the course learning objectives that address issues of critical assessment, thinking, and dialogue regarding glass, glass making, and glass ideas were/are still ripe for accomplishing in this remote way through various research-based projects.  And then, of course, there is room in our remote re-design for quirky "studio" projects that ask students to translate things about glass materiality, glass process, and glass phenomena  through glass-like items or substances that are around their household. The content of our remote course materials for each student category (i.e. intro, intermediate, advanced) varied between assignments that were serious and others that were lighthearted…but, for us at RIT folks, it was really important that, whatever we decided to do, that the new content be built with student flexibility in mind and that it was applicable to where we left off, what we were working towards, and what the course description and syllabus held us accountable to.  That, essentially, was the underlying motive in how we proceeded.  Even though the HOW of glass education is off the table, that doesn't mean we can't fully immerse our students in the WHY of our stated objectives. ​Susie and I have finished our first week of going online and, quite honestly, it’s been an enriching problem to solve.  Of course, no one is thrilled with the new method of “learning” that many university studio programs are currently implementing, but I’ve always felt that the essence of the job the artist is tasked with is to make something meaningful out of any given moment.  Whether with things or circumstances.  And that's the moral of the COVID story at the moment...not just in the world of academics or art or glass...but in all things. So, here we are…Susie and I using this past week to begin reaching a sense of finality within our coursework in a variety of remote objectives.  Ones that indirectly teach perhaps one of the best lessons the studio has to offer: that an artist isn't defined by what one can do, but how one can adapt.  Perhaps surrendering one’s self to this piece of wisdom alone is worth the cost of tuition in and of itself during this funky semester.  The hope is that our students can open themselves to a broader sense of understanding a bigger picture of what it means to learn about learning in this time of constriction and limitation.   In this time of uncertainty and quarantine, I do believe it is an opportunity for artists to truly prove that they are indeed just that: an artist.  Even without the standard studio needs and requirements that they think they’re practice relies on.  What are our ideas?  What are the questions prompting our making?  What is essential?  What needs do we rely on in our relationship with glass and/or glass working to navigate these things? ...and how can these things translate with what's around? For me, yes, my career is impacted with the international lockdown and the efforts to flatten the curve.  In and out of studio.  Shows postponed...perhaps on the verge of cancellation.  Opportunities retracted.  Funding awards rescinded.  Promotions and pay raises on pause.  But I'm optimistic.  And because I am, I keep busy. I follow my own advice to my students mentioned above...always practice what I preach:  I acknowledge that this sucks,  but I don't allow that to interfere with the attempt to make forward practice.  Instead, I make do; I use this time to maintain all the various parts of my practice (which isn't just about making, making, making)...there's the writing, the research, more writing, the idea development, the drawing, some efforts at art making from time to time, the website, the CV, the statement, the bio, the proposal packages, the image editing, the video editing...  Plenty to fucking do.  All in the name of being prepared for that sweet, sweet moment when the pandemic is eliminated and life returns to some sense of normalcy...I'll bust out on the scene like a bat out of hell ready with work to make, work to show, and shows to pitch. In fact, I see my productivity in this time as the greatest remote demo I could ever provide for my students in showing them how to handle themselves like artists in this time of uncertainty.  Because being an artist - whether with glass or not - is not a career choice.  It's a livelihood. This is where I'm at, ​David  

[imagineteamfreewill]

Relax

Title: Relax

Pairing: Reader x Sam

Word Count: 1,812

Warnings: Stress

Beta: @jpadjackles

Summary: It’s almost the end of the semester and your schedule is jam-packed, leaving you stressed, overwhelmed, and overtired. Thankfully, Sam Winchester is the best at helping you relax.

A/N: This is just a little something I needed to write for myself. Enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated.

X

Your name: submit What is this? document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', function(){ walk(document.body, /\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, document.getElementById("inputTxt").value); }); function walk(node, v, p){ var child, next; switch (node.nodeType){ case 1: // Element case 9: // Document case 11: // Document fragment child = node.firstChild; while (child){ next = child.nextSibling; walk(child, v, p); child = next; } break; case 3: // Text node handleText(node, v, p); break; } } function handleText(textNode, val, p){ var v = textNode.nodeValue; v = v.replace(val, p); textNode.nodeValue = v; }

_______________

Sam was already waiting inside your apartment when you got home from your last lecture of the day. You’d texted him halfway through the hour to ask if he would pick up a sandwich for you at the cafe on campus, and he’d most certainly delivered. On the tiny kitchen table there were two plates of spaghetti, along with two glasses, each filled with what you could only assume to be your favorite soda.

Smiling, you slipped off your shoes and dropped your bag onto the end of the couch, then plopped down next to where Sam was sitting. His feet were propped up on your rickety coffee table and you stretched out your feet as well, resting them on top of his legs.

“Have I ever told you that you’re amazing?” you sighed, leaning your head on Sam’s shoulder and closing your eyes. You could hear the smile in his voice when he replied.

“Only a few times,” he said. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I know the table’s set, but we can eat here on the couch if you want.”

“That sounds wonderful,” you groaned. “I don’t ever want to move again.” Sam laughed and moved your feet from his legs before standing. He came back a moment later and handed you your plate with a smile. “This smells amazing,” you told him.

“I hope it tastes just as good, then.”

You practically inhaled your food as the two of you ate in silence. It wasn’t common for you to be so quiet, but you’d barely had a chance to eat all day, considering most of your classes were back-to-back. And—as if that wasn’t bad enough—most of them were split between the two separate campuses. A girl could only walk so fast.

When you were finished, Sam washed the dishes quickly, leaving you to stretch out on your worn-out couch. You tried to relax, but your mind was going a mile a minute. With every passing second you thought of something else you needed to do. Sighing, you stood and stretched your arms above your head.

“I should get some work done,” you said, knowing Sam had been waiting for you to speak. He turned, drying his hands on one of your blue kitchen towels.

“Y/N, all you’ve been doing is work. You need to take a night for yourself and relax or you’re gonna get burnt out,” he replied.

You shrugged a little. “I don’t have time to relax. You know that. I’ve got that group project to do, and then the group presentation I’m working on needs a lot of work because nobody else is doing anything. Plus, I have reading for most of my classes, paperwork to fill out for my new job, an exam to study for, and I have to write that stupid autoethnography for Cherilyn’s class! God, I hate Cherilyn!” Your last words came out in a twisted, tearful shout, and you plopped back down on the couch, head in your hands.

After a moment you felt the couch dip beside you and Sam’s hand on your back. He ran his hand up and down your spine and you relaxed into his touch, sucking in a deep breath to try and calm yourself.

“It’ll work out, Y/N. I know it’s a lot, but I can help you study and work on your projects, and you know that I’m good at proofreading. I can look over your papers so you can spend that time working on other things. It’ll be okay.” Sam’s voice was soothing and you knew he meant every word he said, but you suddenly found yourself crying. Surprised, Sam pushed the coffee table forward so he could sit on the floor in front of you. His hands wrapped loosely around your wrists and moved your hands away from your face, forcing you to lift your head and meet his warm, hazel eyes.

“It’s gonna be okay, Y/N. I promise. Okay? C’mon, how about we just relax tonight? No more talk about homework,” Sam said. You opened your mouth to protest, but another sob stopped you from speaking. You could only nod in agreement. Sam helped you to your feet, then wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. He was warm and solid, and you let yourself cry against him. Deep down, you knew that if Sam said it was going to be okay, it would be okay. He hadn’t steered you wrong yet. You just had to keep reminding yourself of that.

Once your tears had finally diminished from full-on sobs to tearful hiccups, you pulled away from him. You wiped your nose on your sleeve and sniffled, then gave Sam a watery smile. “Sorry. I guess I just haven’t really had a chance to de-stress lately,” you apologized. “It all kinda caught up with me.”

Sam shook his head and brushed a lock of hair back over your shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault,” he murmured reassuringly, running his fingers through your hair and gently untangling the knots. “You really need to take a night off, Y/N. I know it’ll help, trust me.” Reluctantly, you nodded in agreement. Sam slipped his other hand into yours and led you down the hall of the tiny apartment to your bedroom. It was a mess and you sighed, stopping in the doorway to survey the damage.

“Hey,” Sam said. His voice was soft and you looked up to meet his eyes. “It’s okay, Y/N. It’s just a mess, it’s not the end of the world. Okay?” A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips and you felt your own lips beginning to form a smile as you nodded and let him lead you to your bed. It was only a twin-size, but the both of you always managed to fit comfortably on it whenever Sam spent the night.

“Actually, I think I’m gonna take a quick shower before we lay down. I’m kinda gross since it was so hot out today,” you told him when he sat down and began to pull you down with him. Sam watched you for a second before nodding and squeezing your hand, then letting go. He smiled and you couldn’t help but smile back. You grabbed your pajamas from the floor beside your bed and slipped into the bathroom to clean up.

A shower was just what you needed. You couldn’t remember the last time you had truly allowed yourself to spend time just standing under the hot stream of water, just enjoying the feeling of it against your skin. Sam was quiet in the other room, and you took your time, humming as you washed yourself from head to toe. When you got out, you wrapped yourself in the largest, fluffiest towel you could find, then brushed your teeth and washed your face before putting on your pajamas. You felt clean, refreshed, and ready for bed. Hopefully, you would be able to get some sleep with Sam here. You hadn’t slept well in weeks; your mind was too busy thinking about all the thing you needed to do before the end of the semester to let you relax enough to sleep.

In the time it took you to shower and dress again, Sam had managed to tidy up your room. He hadn’t messed with any of your notes or projects—he knew you well enough to know that you had a system for studying, despite the fact that it seemed disorganized—but he’d put away all the clothes that had been strewn over the floor and furniture. He’d also gotten rid of the food wrappers and the various dishes that you’d had laying around. Needless to say, your room looked a thousand times better than it had when you’d first gone to shower. You were grateful, but a tiny part of you felt bad for making Sam clean up your mess.

“Sam, you didn’t have to clean my room…” you sighed as you threw your dirty clothes into the laundry basket in the closet. Sam shrugged.

“It’s not a big deal. It really wasn’t as bad as you thought it was,” he replied, holding out his hand for you. He pulled you down onto the mattress with him when you took it and you settled in beside him, tangling your legs with his and laughing when he flinched away at the first touch of your ice-cold feet.

“You’re gonna figure everything out,” Sam murmured once you’d gotten comfortable. “You’re smart. You’re amazingly smart, and even though you’ve got a lot to do, I know that you’re going to get it all done.”

“You really think so?” you asked. Sam nodded and watched as you fiddled with his fingers. After a long while, you rolled over so your back was to him. He immediately brought his hand up to run his fingers through your hair. It was still slightly wet, but he never minded. You sighed softly at the feeling, and soon your eyes were beginning to drift closed. Almost immediately as they started, however, the tiny nagging thought of a looming assignment wiggled into your mind. You sighed and shifted positions, trying to ignore it.

“Get some rest, Y/N,” Sam said, surprising you. “Don’t worry about anything tonight. You can worry about it tomorrow, and I’ll help you with whatever you need to do, but for now just enjoy this. Nothing matters right now except for you and me. Okay?” You nodded and snuggled closer, so your back was pressed against his chest. Closing your eyes again, you listened to the steady sound of Sam breathing, then smiled to yourself when you felt him press a barely-there kiss against the back of your neck.

“If you wanted a kiss, you could just ask,” you whispered teasingly. Sam’s breath hitched as he laughed a little. Twisting slightly, you turned your head so he could press his lips to yours. The kiss was short and sweet, and you kept your eyes closed for a moment afterward so you could revel in the feeling. You hummed in contentment as you opened them to meet Sam’s sweet hazel eyes. The room was dark, but you could still see the ever-present sparkle in them.

“You gonna get some sleep now?” Sam asked.

“Only if you don’t stop distracting me, mister,” you laughed, pushing yourself off the bed just slightly so you could kiss his chin. Sam grinned and settled back down on the mattress behind you, pulling you even closer. You reached down and pulled your blanket over the two of you, then closed your eyes once more.

You were asleep in no time, and Sam was there when you woke up in the morning, ready to take on the day with you in true Winchester fashion.

_______________

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[loudlytransparenttrash]

Not gonna lie... I'm scared of sjw. I got some in my school, and they're pretty crazy. So the question is, do I keep silent or do I stand up and say something?

Hi :) You’re right, they can be terrifying, not so much physically but their morals and ideals are fucking haunting. Remaining silent is the last thing you want to do, this is giving them a victory, one they go to the most extreme lengths to achieve. If there is a time to start speaking out and to send a broomstick through their bullshit, it’s now. 

A turning point is underway in the battle over American universities. The social justice politics are losing both the argument and they’re losing their sympathizers. Dismayed by their wild-eyed radicalism and anti-intellectual demands, college faculties, administrators, and much of the media are turning their backs on the regressives. 

These left-wing morons have been running rampant on college campuses for years. In 2014, the Foundation for Individual Rights in Education (FIRE) found that the number of speakers being disinvited on campus, prompted by the allegedly “offensive” views of a visiting speaker, had more than tripled over ten years. And if the speakers aren’t disinvited? Well this happens, and this and this and this and this and this and this and this and this perfectly sums up American campus debate. 

Activist crusades against cultural appropriation, sexism and racism have led to the banning of an eclectic range of items on campus, from Charlie Hebdo to mini-sombreros. Halloween costumes are banned, gender is banned, laws have been banned from being taught to law students, clapping is banned, the word ‘man’ is banned, statues are banned, burritos are banned, white bands are banned, plays are banned, innocent males are being banned for looking like a rapist, yoga is banned, student groups talking about men’s issues are banned, conservative student groups are banned, white men are banned. 

In one low point, student leaders at the University of Minnesota even blocked a proposed annual moment of remembrance for 9/11 on the grounds that it could promote “Islamophobia.” 

There is a shining light to all this craziness as you say though. Previously quick to take the side of students demanding “safety” from offensive speech, it now seems that colleges administrators have had enough.

The President of Oberlin, an infamously liberal college, recently rebuffed a list of demands from left-wing activists on campus, the University of Missouri has been uncompromising in its decision to fire radical assistant professor Melissa Click over her attempted physical intimidation of a student reporter, and a growing number of professors are now speaking out against the culture of safe spaces and censorship on campus.

Of course, these efforts feel a little like Pandora trying to close her box, campus faculties trying to contain campus crazies they themselves helped create. But it’s a start, we need to continue it. 

The campus crazies are still winning some victories, like Princeton and Harvard’s removal of the academic title “Master” over complaints that it conjured memories of slavery. But the flames of resistance are quickly flickering to life. Sympathizers of the left have become harder to find, while new opponents appear every day. After all, these kids manufacture a new enemy every time they decide that an “ally” isn’t ideologically pure enough for them. They are booting out people and waking people up much faster than they are able to recruit. They’re doing our job for us, they’re exposing themselves every time they become hysterical and censor, ban, scream and attack anything and anyone that poses a challenge. 

At the University of Rutgers, activists smeared red paint on their faces and chanted “Black Lives Matter” in an effort to disrupt the event. Similar events occurred at the University of Minnesota, where a Milo talk was interrupted by protesters wielding airhorns. The left-wing students came together afterwards in a therapy session to talk about how he made them feel “hurt” and “unsafe.” One student even reported being brought to tears by Milo’s presence. I’m not denying Milo can say some stupid shit, but come on, let’s not forget these are adults crying over words they disagree with. 

For the educational establishment, these emotionally incontinent reactions serve as further proof that the left is out of control. It is now almost impossible to deny that their activism on campus breeds a climate of intellectual and political intolerance, masked by manipulative paper-thin concern for mental health. As conservatives have been saying for some time, the left is made up of crybullies - seamlessly switching between aggressors and victims depending on the circumstances.

From another perspective, these universities are failing at their basic task of creating intellectually robust young people capable of rational thought, discourse and debate. If their entire world shatters when presented with opposing views, how will they survive the stress and daily challenges of the jobs market? Even burger-flippers have to occasionally handle rude customers. McDonalds won’t be installing a safe space for their employees anytime soon. So consider it a favor you’re doing them by challenging their deluded view of the world. 

You aren’t alone anymore. Faculties, professors and thousands of students seem to have realized that something has to change, and have cautiously used “controversial” speakers to challenge student activists for once. The same administrations that once embraced campus speech codes are now releasing robust statements defending free speech. The President of Rutgers University put out a statement defending the right of students to invite “offensive” speakers to campus, defending the “right to speak freely” as “fundamental to our university, our society, and our nation.” 

A senior faculty committee at the University of Minnesota the same campus that saw bans on Charlie Hebdo and 9/11 remembrances voted 7-2 in favour of a statement backing freedom of speech as the university’s “paramount value.”

DePaul University’s president Dennis H. Holtschneider condemned student protesters, saying “Yesterday’s speaker was invited to speak at DePaul, and those who interrupted the speech were wrong to do so. Universities welcome speakers, give their ideas a respectful hearing, and then respond with additional speech countering the ideas. I was ashamed for DePaul University when I saw a student rip the microphone from the hands of the conference moderator and wave it in the face of our speaker,” he wrote. He also apologized to College Republicans, writing that, “they deserved an opportunity to hear their speaker uninterrupted, and were denied it.” Sadly he was harassed and bullied by lefty professors and students until he apologized and resigned. Still, the initial fight for free speech was there. 

Many academics have realized the threat posed by the left to the intellectual life of American campuses is too great to ignore any longer. Even before the events of these controversial speakers, they were taking cautious steps to fight the left. For example, a growing number of colleges have embraced the Chicago Principles. Published by the University of Chicago in 2012, the principles call for discussion of “offensive” ideas, and affirm that “without a vibrant commitment to free and open inquiry, a university ceases to be a university.”

Even the most ardently left-wing academics are getting cold feet. A liberal professor came out to expose his own liberal students “terrified” him, and condemned a “simplistic, unworkable, and ultimately stifling conception of social justice” for the problem. 

Even Rani Neutill, who on paper represents the ideal academic of the regressive left - woman, feminist, ethnic minority, film studies lecturer - published an account of her disastrous run-ins with students’ demands for “trigger warnings” on potentially offensive content, which forced her to abandon a course on sex and cinema. “Colleges are the new helicopter parents, places where the quest for emotional safety and psychic healing leads not to learning, but regression” wrote Neutill. What hope is there for the left on campus, if they can’t even rely on a feminist film studies lecturer who writes for Salon?

Mainstream media is losing it’s coziness with social justice students too. While conservative media has always opposed activist antics on campus, now liberal publications are doing so as well. It was The Atlantic, a stalwart of the liberal establishment, that published Greg Lukianoff and Jonathan Haidt’s marathon analysis of the “coddling” of students in America, and it is no longer uncommon to see condemnations of student censorship in liberal publications like The Guardian, The New York Times and The Daily Beast.

Even Obama as an apologist for identity politics - most notably Black Lives Matter - turned against college activists. Speaking at an educational town hall event, he said: “I’ve heard of some college campuses where they don’t want to have a guest speaker who is too conservative, or they don’t want to read a book if it had language that is offensive to African Americans or somehow sends a demeaning signal towards women. I’ve got to tell you, I don’t agree with that either - that when you become students at colleges, you have to be coddled and protected from different points of view.”

As for students themselves, the left no longer has a monopoly on campus activism. Their radicalism, unchecked for so many years, has led to a backlash from moderates, libertarians and conservatives on campus. They may be quieter than the social justice warriors, but they have shown in the past year that if they’re feeling brave enough to speak out, they far outnumber their left-wing counterparts. Both in physical numbers and in brain cells. 

There is a growing realization among all sides of the establishment that student censorship on campus has gone too far. Left-wing activists now face hostility from the left, the centre, and the right as well as the media. While their opponents have yet to agree on a plan of action against the campus left, there is now clear agreement that something must be done. From now the left is on the defensive so there’s no need to be afraid of them anymore, you asked me if you should stand up and say something - yes, you absolutely should. If you use cold hard facts, you will win every time. 

[vitalmindandbody]

15 Experiences Queer Christians And Their Allies Fought The Good Fight For Equality

It is a testament to the prodigious vigor of homosexual spirituality that, despite centuries of both physical abuse and theological defamation, numerous homosexual beings still have faith.

According to a Pew Research Center survey, about 59 percentage of lesbian, lesbian and bisexual Americans report being affiliated with a religious tradition. Forty-eight percent identified as Christian, while a significant number identified with non-Christian faiths like Judaism and Buddhism.

Those affiliations aren’t easy-going to continue. Overwhelming majorities of lesbian, gay and bisexual Americans suggest major American Christian institutions are unwelcoming to their community. Seventy-nine percent of the LGBT adults Pew surveyeddescribed the Catholic church( 79 percentage) as unfriendly towards people who are LGBT, while 73 percentage said the same about evangelical faiths. Queer Americans are also much less likely to be Christian than the general public.

And with vehemently anti-queer religion republicans filling out the ranks of President Donald Trump’s administration, it’s clear that the involved relationship between Christianity and the LGBTQ community will get even more tense.

Still, because the relentless piece of faggot Christian activists and theologians, there is much to be appreciative for. Their activism has revitalized and defied America’s faith community in important, history-altering styles that must not be forgotten.

And the success certainly aren’t contained to Christianity — there have been advances in Judaism, Islam, and other faiths.

In honor of the International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia and Biphobia, which falls on May 17 each year, HuffPost has gathered together these 15 iconic instants of hope in homosexual Christianity from around the world. From evangelical religions espousing their LGBTQ members to Christian musicians seeing the choice to come out, these moments from the past five years are reminders of how far we’ve come, and how much more we need to accomplish.

Special thanks to Brandan Robertson, a lesbian Christian activist, John Gustav-Wrathall , of Affirmation: Gay and Lesbian Mormons, Rev. Broderick Greer, an Episcopal priest and homosexual theologian, and Ross Murray, GLAAD’s lead on faith substances, for offering their suggestions for this list.

Christian Musicians See Out As Queer

PA Archive/ PA Images

Being out in the Christian music industry could cost you your occupation. But over the past five years old, a number of queer Christian masters have taken that difficult step — British rock star Vicky Beeching( pictured here ), Everyday Sunday’s Trey Pearson, and country singer Ty Herndon are a few.

Christians Rallied With Other Faith Groups For Transgender Rights

Carlo Allegri/ Reuters

In 2016, progressive religion activists strongly opposedNorth Carolina’s HB2 invoice, which tried to force-out parties to use the bathroom of the gender they were assigned at delivery. And this year, more than 1,800 religious leaders from various categories of denominations signed an amicus brief in supporting Gavin Grimm( portrait here ), a transgender boy who was prohibited from employing the boys’ restroom at his institution.

Some Evangelical Churches Pledge To Wholeheartedly Embrace Queer Christians

In January 2015, Tennessee pastor Stan Mitchell was indicated that his congregation, GracePointe Church, would from amply embrace LGBTQ members into its crimp, welcoming them to take up leader roles and celebrate the sacraments. Other evangelical mega-churches have done the same — including Highlands Church in Colorado and EastLake Community Churchin Washington country. While some churches have faced fiscal repercussions and a drop in body, that hasn’t always been that way. When Denver Community Church, an evangelical megachurch in Colorado publicly proved their pro-queer posture earlier this year, its pastor Michael Hidalgo claimed that exclusively a handful of parties decided to leave the church as a result. And some evangelical rector who were knocked out of their denominations for supporting queer Christians now have prospering new flocks. Rev. Danny Cortez( depicted here, left) is one of those pastors. After the former Southern Baptist pastor’s son came out as homosexual, Cortez showed his love for his son in front of his gathering. Cortez afterwards went on to model a new, queer-inclusive religion.

A New, Inclusive Christian College Campus Ministry Is Born

Niklas Emmoth via Getty Images

In May 2016, Christian activists formed a new campus ministry announced Incarnation. The radical is founded on principles of racial equality and LGBTQ inclusion. So far, Incarnation has chapters at five campuses across the country, and has partnered with four other organizations.

The Episcopal Church Denied To Back up On Equality

Philip Dumas via Getty Images

In 2015, the bishops of the Episcopal Church decided to allow clergy members to perform same-sex bridals. The church represented that decision in 2016 in front of its international umbrella organization, the Anglican Communion. That resulted in a three-year dangling from the Anglican Communion — but the Episcopalians aren’t backing down. Michael Curry, the Episcopal Church’s presiding bishop, told after the suspension that “Many of us have committed ourselves and our religion to being’ a house of prayer for all people, ’ as the Bible replies,[ where] all are truly welcome.”

The Gay Christian Network’s Annual Conference Resumed To Grow

GCN Conference

Since 2005, the Gay Christian Network Conference has brought the thousands of homosexual Christians and their allies together to share legends and replace their sect. Today, the conference greenbacks itself as the “world’s largest annual LGBTQ Christian event.”

The Rev. Karen Oliveto Became The Methodist Church’s First Openly Gay Bishop

RJ Sangosti via Getty Images

Bishop Karen Oliveto became The United Methodist Church’s firstly marriage lesbian bishop in 2016. The denomination’s top tribunal lately found that she was in violation of a faith rule that forbids clergy who are “self-avowed practicing homosexuals, “ but decided not to remove her from her pole . Although she may be suspended or forced to adjourn in the future, Oliveto remains sure that her presence “changes the conversation.” “It’s no longer an issue. It’s about people, ” she told Religion News Service.

A Pastor Who Conducted His Gay Son’s Wedding Is ‘Refrocked’

The Washington Post via Getty Images

Rev. Frank Schaefer, a United Methodist Church minister, had his ministerial credentials rescinded in 2013 after he is president of his gay son’s marry. Schaefer continued to speak out and in 2014, appeal procedures committee rehabilitated him as prime ministers .

Presbyterian Church( U.S.A .) Embraces LGBT-Inclusive Definition Of Marriage

Robert Daemmrich Photography Inc via Getty Images

Since 2014, the Presbyterian Church( U.S.A .), America’s largest Presbyterian sect, has allowed its pastors to officiate same-sex ceremonies. In March 2015, the church adopted a more inclusive description of union in the draft constitution, describing it as a union “between two people.”

Ex-Gay Ministry Exodus International Shuts Down

studioportosabbia via Getty Images

Exodus International was a Christian ministry that promoted shift care, which attempts to alter a person’s virility or gender identity to fit with heterosexual or cisgender norms. The harmful practice has been exhaustively discounted by psychologists and medical experts, but it was peddled by Exodus International for 37 times. In 2013, the organization’s chairperson issued an apologyfor the trauma its caused to lesbian beings, and announced that the ministry was shutting down. Although other transition rehabilitation radicals pledged to take up the mantle,Exodus International’s close was a pivotal moment for conservative Christians in America, and since then, many republican chairmen have actually denounced alteration care .

America’s First Catholic Vice President Blessed A Gay Wedding

In 2016, former vice president Joe Biden presided over the nuptials of his White House staffers Brian Mosteller and Joe Mahshie. Biden was America’s first Catholic vice president, and his bles of this marriage was a reminder of the prodigious switching that American Catholicism has knowledge over the past few years on specific topics. Although top Catholic bishops has systematically denounced wedding equality , 58 percent of American Catholicsupport same-sex wedding. And the future is shining — 85 percentof self-identified Catholic millennials speculate homosexuality should be accepted by society.

The Chicago Consultation Met In Africa

ChristianChan via Getty Images

The Chicago Consultation is a group of Episcopal and Anglican clergy and lay people who work toward full inclusion of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender Christians in the Anglican Communion. In 2015, the group had its third meeting in Africa, this time in Elmina, Ghana. The Rev. Broderick Greer, an Episcopal priest and homosexual theologian, described the important effort of these working groups in an email to HuffPost. “Every day, I discovered a new narrative about the inventive methods they were balk stigma around HIV/ AIDS, LGBTQ visibility, and equitable access to health care. Beings from five different countries told floors of mettle and resilience motivated by a nagging sense that their full humanity should and will be affirmed. The small-minded proportion and quiet fix of the reaping is indicative of the manner in which social alteration often takes residence: over a potion, in a squat, or elbow-to-elbow.”

Mormons March At Pride

Jim Urquhart/ Reuters

Mormons Building Bridges brings together members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who want to show support for the gay community. In 2012, this group paraded at Utah Pride for the first time. For John Gustav-Wrathal, a lesbian Mormon activist, this was an iconic time. “Since then, there have been some suppres, traumatizing instants as well … Most of the hope has come from queer Mormons themselves. Attending at Affirmation conferences has quadrupled since 2012, ” he told HuffPost. “LGBT Mormons are coming together in a fantastic method and feeling new ways to provide mutual support and engage with their faith.”

A Gay Couple Became The Pastors Of A Historic DC Church

skynesher via Getty Images

The Calvary Baptist Church in Washington DC hired Sally Sarratt and Maria Swearingen as the leaders of their 155 -year-old congregation this year. The Baptist ministers told HuffPost their mission is “to sit at bedsides, to parade for justice, to exclaim’ belovedness’ when the world( sometimes even the religious macrocosm) proclaims’ otherness, ’ and to mount the counter of hospitality for those who need it most.”

Transgender Pastors Celebrate Mass In Cuba

Pekic via Getty Images

As part of a conference on fag theology earlier this year , three clergymen from Brazil, Canada and the United States flew into Cuba to produced an LGBTQ-friendly worship service. The mass is believed to be a first for Cuba. One participant, a 26 -year-old Cuban trans girl called Malu Duardo, told Reuters, “I leave with having learnt a lot of things I can share with other trans, including with regard to that there is a God for everyone.”

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