#and the it’s time to save the crime lord line like fundamentally changed me i swear

[alabaster-moon]

*I* want to hear about your stuff! Tell me about your stuff!

i- that is so ridiculously sweet of you… i thank you, truly (and also totally don’t know where to start ohmigod). this may be a touch long, as i have a lot of stuff, and much of it never gets voiced… apologies for the sheer length.

i mean first and major project (that won’t be posted here for reasons like enjoying being faceless) is my cosplay for an upcoming convention. i’ve been planning since literally last year to make a megamind cosplay, and it’s finally starting to come together! the cape’s nearly done, i have a solid plan on how to do the suit (after a tiiiiiiny mishap with my first attempt… like the cardboard i used to protect layers from paint sticking to the back of the thing… heh) and it’s just… it’s finally looking like it’s gonna work, and i’m Very Excited. i need to buy more spikes though. but that’s on brand.

i’ve also got another thing planned for that con - a dear friend of mine (who should be asleep now, she doesn’t know about it) is a brilliant fic writer, and i only ever see her for this con… i want to try and hand bind one of her fics to give to her. she has given blanket permission before, and it would be a single copy for her; i won’t have time to make one for myself. i’m very, very new to bookbinding: i have no skills, but i have the audacity, which is basically the same thing. fingers crossed i can get that done, i plan on doing the typeset on tuesday, wish me luck~

there are also another fic i was binding - i don’t think that author follows me on here, and they know about theirs, so i can state this too. but that one i was going to bind one copy for me, then one for them, so their copy was Nice and Pretty (and i can fix the bloody typesetting mistake on page 116 for theirs). but like, and this part they don’t know about, i was deciding on what i wanted for the cover of the fic when they said that they buy themselves sort of congratulatory rings when they finish a longfic, and posted a pic of them. so i’m going to find a way to make the cover of this book match the ring they treated themselves with as congratulations. i think it’d be cute. i hope they like it.

last week, i got fabric for two other cosplays; a william james moriarty and a james bond, and while i’m uncertain when i will be able to work on them, i am very excited. i plan to tailor both suits myself (again with the sheer audacity), and because of that i can make fun hidden things… like the crimson red lining in william’s jacket, and pastel pink lining the shade of bond’s manga cover in bond’s. i’m also considering embroidering the characters’ initials into the lining of their jackets too, because if you can go fancy, why not go all out? i managed to get my hands on a lovely wool for the waistcoats rather cheap, which was nice, and the patterns i have seem straightforward enough. i do plan to remake my sherlock’s jacket too, as the one i currently use was my mother’s; it is both too feminine and i would be devastated if i wrecked it… when i make his i’ll make the lining blue. small details, but the thought of them makes me so freaking happy.

a bit of a different one now, but i’ve also set myself on a little personal journey of transcribing the whole of the yuumori musicals - they have become so dear to me, and i want to appreciate them somehow. that being said, my primary art form is music, so short of covering them (which i’m tempted to do anyway, i’ve wanted to learn the violinist’s parts since the first ten minutes of op1) there’s… not a lot i can do. but making sheet music? yeah, i spent a three year degree on that, i can do that much. it’s a tough slog (@ sherlock’s actor specifically who very much enjoys going into free timing just on the good violin parts… hiraryo why you do me like this?) but it’s been so rewarding so far, and honestly im getting faster at it, which i’m also so glad to see. (i also have a very long meta about the role of the organ in op4 that i need to format into a tumblr post… it is currently across like six or seven paragraph messages in my friend’s dms. apologies to her notifications).

not so much a thing i did, but of late i’ve also had a wonderful time exploring the 2.5d musical scene; i had already known about hetamyu since like 2018, and the time between finding yuumori and finding morimyu was Very, Very Short. but i’ve had a friend guiding me through a bunch of others, which has also led me back to my very first manga fandom via tenimyu. i didn’t realise how much i’d missed prince of tennis until i saw those boys on stage… like those characters really were something so special to me growing up, and i’m thankful to have them back. i kind of want to have a look at the hakuouki musicals properly soon (the first live yaisa… iykyk), and i promised another friend that i’d watch the black butler musicals with them, so there’s a journey ahead of me and i am so excited to see what it brings.

there’s also a couple of bits and pieces, meta posts that i’ve been too scared to actually voice (i just see certain similarities between my last fandom and my current fandom and i want to write the comparison post to recommend the thing i enjoy to all my favourite people but Fear yanno cause what if they don’t like it) and all the plot bunnies that i either don’t have the time or don’t have the skill to complete (mostly the time one). i also lowkey decided on a whim to join flufftober, so that’ll be fun. i laid out the doc, and i have a really nice idea for two of the prompts, so we’ll see how that one goes.

also i’m thinking of reviving my university final project… i’d made an utau, and then wrote an album for her, but never got it to a state where i was content enough to release it. it’s like the one thing i regret… but it’s never too late to bring back, right? i can revamp the songs and bring her back properly… if i have time, i really want to do it.

but yeah. that’s my current stuff, barring one or two things that are group efforts and as such idk what i am able to say. hopefully the formatting is somewhat coherent. i thank you for giving me the mental permission to voice it all though… that was lovely of you ^^

[fieryphoenix0007]

Prologue/Introduction

In the beginning…

  God created the heavens and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.

And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.

And God said, “Let there be light”: and there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness.

Or so the story of Creation goes…

  Same, too, to say, that this was also the story of Michael’s first triumph against Samael’s Great Rebellion.

They say that the Bible is the Word of God, His Story, and His message to humanity, however, many theologians never fully understand all the words written by the great apostles, prophets and scribes of God.

  The writer themselves were puzzled with every word that came from the inspiration of God through their writing.

  ------------------------------ ------------------------------

  Facing with the punishment of being banned from the promised land of Canaan, the writer of the first five books, the “Pentateuch”, Moses, the great leader of the Exodus of the Israelites from Egypt, determined to himself that he will write and record, scribe what the Lord inspires him to write.

  He began with the words, “In the beginning…” notating the answer to the large mystery of ‘Where did everything started from?’

  From Genesis to Exodus, how they escaped slavery from Egypt, and Leviticus and Numbers and Deuteronomy, Moses played a large role in starting writing the original manuscript of the Holy Book.

  What is common on these books are that they present God’s power to the human realm, His influence, physically, on the Earth’s fundamental laws. The impossible made possible, the unthinkable made pursuable, and the improbable proven.

  Little do we know about the spiritual creatures that help conjure these so-called ‘miracles’, or as the humans call it, ‘abnormalities’.

  The power to bend reality into your will is something that cannot be achieved by mere human. The humans do have their wild imagination – concoctions to a colourful and advancing world, however, they can only so little to so much with their own bare hands and feet.

  They are limited and cased into the laws of physics and the laws of the universe, whatever they can produce beyond those boundaries were theorized to be with the help of spiritual beings upon the will of God.

  These spiritual beings took on faces similar to human, but were theorized to be genderless, their form changes according to their purpose and each of them has a different power that can bend even nature itself.

  In reality, the appearance of each was uncommon to the human eyes, and mind, looking like sword, flames, ray of light, wheel, beast, and winged creatures.

  They operated in the shadows, perhaps, secret agents, fashioned by God, effortlessly blending into the crowd to create opportunities for trials and temptations, and visited humanity time and time again in a particular way that sends shivers down your spine.

  ------------------------------

------------------------------

  Moses was an Egyptian scholar. Years of his life focused on grooming and preparing him to be one of the great pillars of the dynasty of Egypt, along with his father and brother, the Pharaoh and prince regent.

  In the middle of the great pyramids’ construction, some believed that Moses was the chief engineer in building those ginormous symbol of wealth and power of the Egyptian monarchs and elites.

  Moses, the brother of the prince, standing in the midst of the crowd, proud of his lineage, and assisting his brother, the regent, on his projects and plans for the future of the kingdom.

  He was always at the top of his game. His teachers taught him manners of the royalty, work ethics, and their religious gods, but nothing from his prestige education and training has prepared him for the upcoming events.  

  “Stop! Please!” An Israelite girl pleaded and kneeled in front of the Egyptian soldier as her salty sweat runs down her brows.

  The slaves have been tirelessly put to work for almost seven days now by one of the nobles who felt that he would die at any moment.

  Soldiers were assigned to monitor each and every slave to work and accomplish the great task of mounting one of the greatest pyramids of all time.

  As women and the children were assigned to distribute food and water, the men, the older ones, and the young ones, were assigned to the heavy duty of creating blocks of mud and bringing them to the construction.

  SFX: WAPOOSH! The sound of the whip echoed in the valley.

  The Egyptian soldier just wouldn’t stop.

  She looked away every whip, the sight of her grandfather, whipped to death for falling behind the line, blood oozes out of the pores of his back, blending in the mud and straw where the slave drenched as he fell behind the line, rashes start to appear as the straw’s unbearable dryness produced the itching reddish appearance as it touched and the heat torched the old man’s skin.

  Moses was sensitive to these kinds of things, he doesn’t remember ever getting to know a slave, nor does he know that he was from one of the slaves, but his heart ached every time a slave cried out, his mind exploded in frustration every time he sees someone lashed to death.

  He did not fully understand why, but his body followed his heart and mind, because of this, most of the Senate did not like Moses.

  To them, he looked weak, sympathizing with the slaves. Though, the current Pharaoh keeps him in his heart as his son, and the current regent treats him like a blood-brother, you will notice a difference in heart.

  “Father, I’d like a slave to be in my quarters.” The first time he heard this from his brother, the prince regent, it immediately broke his heart.

  He realized he is still too weak to do anything, but now, now, that he’s the chief engineer, maybe, maybe, he thought, Maybe I can do something about this!

  He quickly rushed to the aid of the old man with a collapsed lung, the soldier continued to whip the man to death until he submitted, wobbling standing up and tried to barely carry his load.

  Of course, he wouldn’t be able to stand up - you’re whipping him to death!

  He thought this through…

  But it was too late, he grabbed the soldier’s wrist to stop, but the old man collapsed again and was no longer breathing, his unmoving body lay still half-buried in the sand and mud and the straw that he grew up to pick up in.

  I thought I can save him.

  He expected a wave of rejoicing of gratitude from the slaves, instead, a wild, deafening screech from the weeping of the granddaughter of the old man echoed through the desert.

  He couldn’t comfort the girl, he couldn’t scold the soldier, he couldn’t punish the abuser, and protect the weak, stuck in the middle, he was faced with the greatest enemy of his life – the cruelty of his own father, or so he thought.

  That night, determined to get justice, and to be the defender of the weak, the sneaky vigilante snuck through the darkness and struck quickly in the moonlight.  

  “No, please, don’t kill me.” The soldier appealed with his life.

  But the more he beseeched for mercy, the more Moses got agitated, he remembered how the little girl implored for his grandfather’s life, and for that, he struck the blows even harder and harder, until there’s no recognizable feature in the man’s face.

  A sigh of relief rushed down his spine as he finished the task, he succeeded in sending that soldier’s soul to hell’s hottest and finest rooms.  

  The relief quickly brushed down his face, and terror and panic soon came charging in. The clouds that covered the moonlight passed on and as the light hit the sand, his murder handiwork reflected in his eyes. His hands covered in blackish hard liquid, as the blood dried out immediately in the cold of the night.

  What have I done?

  Alas, he thought he was doing a righteous task by taking justice in his own hands, but what he took was his own innocence, and send it off to hell.

  Sand! I’ll… I’ll bury him in the sand!

  He quickly scooped his bloodied hands in the sand, cold and rough, gasping for air as he dashed to bury the body in the middle of nowhere. He knew that no secret in this world that will never be revealed, but hoped at the least that his family doesn’t find out.

  As he was finishing his burial, his eyes nervously darted and scoped around like a cornered impala, waiting for the lion to strike.

  There’s no one. Good.

  He speedily head back to the palace, near at the river’s bank, and washed off his body and threw his clothes, the river stowed away with the bloodied evidence of his crime.

  He looked at the silver moon, it was not a good sight. His eyes filled with the red-stained blood that splashed around while he bludgeoned the soldier to death with a sharp rock.

  He wanted to go back in time, to undo what he did, but it’s too late, it’s already done.

  Forgiveness from a god was familiar to Moses, they have customs and rituals indicated in their history paintings and drawings, but this was the first time he sought forgiveness from the God of the Israelites.

  God, if you can hear me, please… please forgive me. I’ve been good, and I’ve helped many of your people. I hope You can help me this time.

  Every one of the Egyptians was well acquainted with each other, though they treated the Israelites as slaves, their definition of family was still pretty close, hence, the next morning, the family of the soldier petitioned a searching party from the palace.

  Alarmed by the missing soldier report, the Pharaoh quickly dispatched a team to rummage through the desert and the nearest kilometres of the borders.

  And within that day, a few volunteers discovered a body, unrecognizable, near the borders of Egypt.  

  So… so fast, I… I need to get out of here.

  God wanted to help Moses, though he murdered a man in the name of revenge, he was still the chosen deliverer of the Israelites out of Egypt, that was His plan.

  Then…

  God liberated Moses all from the anchor of his family, the pressure of Egypt and from his crime.

  “Aren’t you the one who killed this man? Are you not an Egyptian as well? Why did you kill him?”

  Someone whispered in the crowd.

  Moses darted his eyes through the crowd, there was no one.

  Who’s talking, then… who?

  An old man has his back turned from Moses, and that’s when his heart spoke to him, Approach the old man, approach him.

  And he did.

  That voice steered him to something that he could not fathom, at the least for that moment, or for the next forty years.

  He frantically stretched out his arms across the crowd and reached the old man’s shoulder.

  “Wait…”

  His face quickly turned pale and devoid of any colour, as if the blood came rushing out, the old man’s face, it was the dead old man, the unmoving old man, whipped to death, bloodied with his back, and rashes in his whole body.

  “You killed him! You killed your fellow Egyptian! He killed him! I saw him last night!” The outlandish accusations of the old man seemed to be believable to the people around Moses.

  The Chief of the Army quickly posed a wanted poster and notice for the head of Moses, the man who killed an Egyptian.

  How is this possible? That old man already died, I avenged him.

His thoughts got scrambled quickly as puzzle as he packed up his things to escape justice for his murder charges.

  Pressed by the elites and nobles, the Pharaoh, issued a warrant to arrest and punish Moses for the murder charges.

  I have no other choice but go.

  MOSES! MOSES! The echoing soldiers and army ready to arrest him were now threading to the gates of Egypt.

  He quickly marched on to the death of the desert to escape his pursuers.

  *Huff, Huff*

This isn’t working, this isn’t what I wanted. I only wanted freedom for the slaves. Fair treatment for everyone, how did it end up this way?

  It’s too late, he was already miles away from the kingdom, in the vast desert. At least he knew how to find an oasis or something similar in this time of the day.

  Exhausted, lingering between life and death, Moses continued to march on at the cold of the night, his eyes barren of any life and hope, not knowing where to go, what to do, and if there is any future ahead of all of this.

  Then…

  SFX: Thud, thud

  His knee gave out, weakness due to thirst spread throughout his body and he suddenly fell on his knees, then his face on the sand.

  It’s as if he had lost all hope, closing his eyes to oblivion, his ears started tingling, there’s sound coming from somewhere.

  “Father, father…”

  The faintest sound of a lady woke him right up, his eyes dilated of joy and hope. He pulled out his arms from the sand, and pushed his body upwards, along with his torso and his legs.

  Flailing like his legs were going to give out, he struggled to find the sound.

  Where… where was it?

  “Aaa-, aa-, hee-“

  He doesn’t have that much voice in him, the sand dried up his throat, there’s vibration from his breathing, but sound, there’s nothing much, he’s too weak to speak, or even shout for help.

  “Father…”

  The whispers were getting louder by a minute, in what direction were they coming from?

  Moses closed his eyes, felt the wind and located where the whispers were coming from.

  South-east! South-east, go, go, go, move legs!

  And there it was, a small group of people, in tents surrounding a small oasis, supply of water, in the middle of the desert.

  Moses’ eyes lights up even more, shone, and the only thing he could see was the well besides the oasis.

  He ran and threw his face down at the water of the oasis, drinking, gulping, and-

  “Haaaaaaaaaaa.” Gasping for air. He lifted up his drenched face from the well, and looked up to the Heavens, the stars, the skies, the moon, it wasn’t bloody red anymore. He clearly saw the shining light reflecting to the water and on to his eyes.

  He wanted to cry his eyes out, but that’s not possible, he was still dehydrated from walking in the scorching hot desert for almost a day.

  Regaining his composure, his eyes wandered the premises, there’s no one nearby, no one awake, no soul that could whisper what he heard and yet he knows what he heard, he remembers what he heard.

  However…

  There’s something weird about the place. Everything was quiet, no one was definitely awake, particularly different from the bustling evening of Egypt.  

  Something even weirder caught his eye. A sword plunged shallowly on the sand near the well caught his curiosity, he began approaching the sword. It’s a double-edged sword.

  He was not familiar with this type of sword as Egyptians used a sickle-shaped, one – edged sword in their military.

  He’d only seen double-edged swords in their library of pictures, the walls that described their history and glory.

  In all the war pictures in those walls, he never saw a double-edged sword depicted in the drawings.

  Enthralled by the sword, he grabbed tightly the hilt of the shining silver sword and quietly pulled it out of the cold sand.

  “Moses.”

  “Ha!”

  Upon hearing a voice, he was startled and jerked off the sword out of his hands into the sand beneath his shoeless toes.

  What was that? Was that the sword?

  “Was… was that you?”

  What am I doing, talking to a sword? Is this a full-on hallucination?

  “Yes.”

  It talked! It talked, it talked, it talked! What?

  “What… what are you? Did you… did you save me and lead me here?”

  Definitely intrigued, he slowly approached the talking sword.

  “I am the messenger of God - the God of Jacob, the God of Joseph, the God of the Israelites.”

  You? A sword? Wait, Israelites?

  “So, it’s true, the God of Israel, is the true God?”

  There are many Egyptians gods that we pray to, but… I never felt a connection.

  Moses tried to grab again the hilt of the sword. This time, he made sure he tightly gripped the hilt.

  “Yes.”

  His heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t let go of the sword. Hard as it may seem but his mind accepted the fact that the talking sword is what led him there.

  “What do you want?”

  “Simple. To inform you something.”

  “Some… thing?”

  “You are of Israel, son of Jochebed, daughter of Levi, one of the sons of Jacob.”

  “What? That’s… that’s… impossible.”

  He gathered his thoughts, he’s an Egyptian, yet he has feelings for the slaves, pity, love, mercy, and the slaves are good to him as well, they knew something that he doesn’t.

  Flashbacks came flooding in.

  The time he felt pity for the first time for the slaves outside of the palace working on with the pyramids, and that time that he saw a little girl guiding him in the river, or that time that he remember in his dreams that an adult woman slave was singing him to sleep, those… those weren’t just dreams, they’re… they’re memories.

  They’re… my memories?

  “Your mother kept you alive in a basket for almost three years.”

  “Pharaoh, your adoptive grandfather has decided to slay the male Israelites to avoid increasing the number of the slaves, he was afraid that a rebellion will happen if Israel were to outgrow Egypt and overcome them in numbers.” The sword continued the story.

  “Numbers… wait, what? He… Grandfather…”

  “The history is not one pleasant thing to remember. The children howled and whimpered, and their mothers wailed and bellowed their cries, it’s as if the Heavens closed again its windows, this time, against humanity.”

  “So…”

  The reason why many Israelites hated my grandfather was… was…

  “The soldiers, along with their conscience, begrudgingly tossed the male infants to the Nile, only to be drowned, or subdued or eaten by the reptiles which roam about the river. That day, the Earth, the land, the waters grieved for the gifts of God shed blood unnaturally through the wickedness of the heart of Pharaoh.”

  “Then… I… I was about to be killed…”

  “Yes, however, your mother was able to get you hidden from the soldiers. Once she was fully aware that she will not be able to for the next years of your infancy, she… she prepared a basket for you to be able to float into the Nile. Guided by your sister, Miriam, Jochebed hesitantly watched you, and the basket sail within the most dangerous depths of the river to the chamber of Pharaoh’s daughter. That’s how you became the Prince of Egypt.”

  His eyes opened wide, his knee gave out again, but not due to hunger, not due to dehydration, but due to shock, he also lost the power to hold the sword and it fell, blade-first into the ground.

  “That’s… how do you know so much about me?”

  “I already told you, I am the messenger of God.”

  “If you have saved me, then…”

“Yes, you will be Israel’s deliverer, you will deliver them out of slavery into the promise land.”

  “I… no, no, no… I just came out of there as a murderer! I’m a criminal, not some saviour, and who am I to… to…”

  “You’re not just someone, God set you up to be the Prince of Egypt and the Deliverer of Israel, you are Moses.”

  “How can I…”

  “Believe. For now, learn the way of the priest and the shepherd. I will be reaching you again when the time comes.”

  “When the time comes?”

  “Yes. “

  Moses, looking down, has realized his fate, and his life was a set-up to believe what’s in front of him, but now…

  There’s an even bigger person than father, than the Pharaoh.

  “Who… who are you?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes.”

  As soon as Moses became curious about the sword, what emerged from the back of the sword raised his interest even more.

  White, fluffy, and shining bird-like wings fluttered in front of his eyes, with a jaw-dropping beauty and elegant movement, the only thing that Moses can do is try to reach out the illuminating wings.

  He let go of the hilt of the sword and thus, it hovers in the air.

  “I am-“

[gffa]

I’ve been rereading a lot of this book, now that I’ve had time to settle my thoughts about it, to give it time to percolate, and I’m coming to a new appreciation of a lot of what it’s putting forth.  The thing is, while I recognize that Qui-Gon is probably meant to be more of a reliable narrator here, the context is startingly supportive of how he’s actually not that reliable. This is an interesting discussion of the Jedi’s position in the galaxy and just how far they can/cannot go.  Qui-Gon’s argument is that they should Leeroy Jenkins their way into this situation because what Czerka is doing is morally wrong, even if it’s not legally wrong, that they should take up their lightsabers and just go invade, basically.  Obi-Wan’s argument (and Yoda’s as well) is that they need to work within the system and better the system itself, so that Czerka will not be able to commit horrors like this. Qui-Gon is coming from an incredibly good hearted place, because the very obvious answer to slavery is that it shouldn’t happen and he’s absolutely right about that.  But where Qui-Gon loses me is in three places: 1.  In the very first part of this book, Qui-Gon himself acknowledges why this tactic won’t work.  When he’s facing off with the Hutts, this is his pov:

“It would only lead to bloodshed, at the end of which the Republic would remain triumphant and strong.  The Hutts would scramble and scurry through months of infighting, at the end of which a new set of crime lords would emerge to behave in exactly the same way.” One could argue that it’s different when it comes to real, live people and I don’t disagree!  But the problem is that this same logic would still apply because the other side doesn’t see them as people, but things.  Meaning, that same bloodshed would happen, including the killing of the slaves before Czerka would let the Republic have them. This paragraph describes exactly what happens in the book--Qui-Gon (well, Obi-Wan, as a representative of the Republic) is able to force Czerka to free the slaves by stating a Republic law that says they have to, where the might of the established Republic is the only thing that works to force Czerka into doing the decent thing.  Obi-Wan’s argument that they work within the system holds more water because his way is what works.  (No matter how bad the Republic got, there was still hope to save it, to make it better, in a way that the CIS and Empire never had.  Without Palpatine there to manipulate the worst parts of it, it was at least still possible to make it better, while the Empire was rotten down to every last root.) 2.  Which leads us to:  Qui-Gon ignores the consequences of what he’s arguing for.  Could the Jedi, if they all banded together, stop Czerka?  Maybe?  They’re not nearly as populous as people think, so it’d be like one Jedi fighting six billion people, if you pitted them against the entire galaxy.  Also, he doesn’t acknowledge or address what to do when Czerka--or another company just like them--would then rise up in its place and nothing would change, except all those slaves would probably be dead because that’s what happens when you go that route. Qui-Gon also ignores that the Jedi wouldn’t just be able to flout the laws of the Republic and invade a legal corporation (no matter how vile) without massive consequences.  The Republic isn’t just going to say, oh, hey, sure, yeah, that’s fine.  More likely, at best the Jedi would lose their legal authority--which means, hey, when that new tricky situation pops up, the Jedi will not be asked to help.  Without Republic funding, the Jedi would then either have to entirely disband or they would have to find a new source of income--and that means pretty much the only route for them would be by charging people or by finding some very rich patrons, who probably aren’t going to exactly welcome Jedi neutrality when it clashes with their political ambitions.  Which means only people or planets with money will be able to afford them, which are going to be the people who least need their help. At worst, the Jedi (given that the galaxy misunderstands them and fears them terribly) would be outlawed and/or driven out and/or hunted down.  (The galaxy REALLY likes to do some bad shit to Force-sensitives.  And they were certainly ready to turn a blind eye to the genocide of the Jedi and the slaughter of the children.) 3.  Qui-Gon’s argument is fundamentally, “We should just do whatever we want whenever we want.”  Obi-Wan’s argument is, “We need to work together with the Republic and the system, to make each other better.” This is reflected in the conversation they’re having at the same time about their relationship--Qui-Gon’s motivations for why he still has Obi-Wan practicing basic lightsaber skills is coming from a good place, but there’s a reason the scene ends on Obi-Wan’s killer last line:  Qui-Gon didn’t trust him enough to actually talk to him about it, to work with him. This is a recurring theme throughout the entire book, where Qui-Gon rarely actually talks directly to Obi-Wan, instead all his praise for his apprentice is internal, all his struggling with trying to be a better Master is internal, none of this is actually verbalized with Obi-Wan.  Their relationship is strained and difficult, it has been for the last four years, and the resolution of their tension?  Isn’t through talking it out, it’s just a sudden realization of OH LOL THEY PUT THE REBEL PADAWAN WITH THE REBEL MASTER SO YOU’D REBEL INTO BEING STRAIGHT-LACED and that’s kind of... it. This is echoed in how Qui-Gon misunderstands the Jedi Council (he thinks they’d never actually listen to him, meanwhile they value his differing opinions enough to invite him to join the Council), in how he misunderstands Obi-Wan (he always seems to say the wrong thing, he doesn’t trust him to actually tell him why he’s keeping Obi-Wan in basic lightsaber forms), it’s echoed by how Qui-Gon is offered a position on the Council where he could work to make the system better, but he turns it down flat, he won’t even make an attempt to make things better, because he feels closer to the Force by just going his own way.  Which, fair enough, but politics are a thing that none of us can escape, not if you want to make an actual difference. And seasoning the whole thing is an overarching theme where Qui-Gon’s interest in the prophecies--the thing that he bets everything he has on, the ones that don’t actually mean much of anything in the grand scheme of the PT or the OT, because Star Wars is not about prophecy, it’s about choice--being constantly compared with obsessions, and the logic he uses to determine if he’s right about this? "But this situation was different.  It had to be, because the only thing Qui-Gon knew to be absolutely true was that his vision was real." That’s it, that’s what it is for Qui-Gon.  His vision has to be real, so everything else has to be shuffled around to reach that conclusion.  Even when his vision is proven wrong, Qui-Gon says that he was meant to misinterpret his vision.  That vision he was so sure about, the one that he rearranged everything for, the one that he “knew to be absolutely true”. "But when facts collided with ideals, Qui-Gon preferred to change the facts."

[michelletheemann-blog]

The Irony

There is no space more aptly named than the sanctuary in a black church. It is a meeting space, a room of creation and inspiration, a refuge from a country that often refuses to acknowledge your humanity.

At my church, our pastor can sing very, very well, and he can conjure the holy spirit at the drop of a hat in that truly Southern Baptist way. As a kid, I loved to look at the photo of Jesus—loose black curls, milk chocolate skin, and a short wooly beard—hanging crooked in the stairwell. My best friend from youth choir’s granny always sat in the same seat crowned with a new hat. With fondness, I used to look around at the giants, black kings and queens, clothed in their finest royal Sunday garb and always with a smile and hug to give to Tony and Colette’s baby girl. After service, I would lollygag between the pews, poorly helping my dad, the head usher, pick up any forgotten bulletins and whine about going to McDonald’s when I knew good and well I ain’t have no McDonald’s money. On special Sunday’s the smell of fried chicken and greens would waft up from the basement into the sanctuary, flirting with my nose, and when my friends and I would rush down the stairs to be the first in line we were chastised by Mrs. Somebody for running only to have an Auntie save us with a definitive, “let the babies eat, girl.”

This is a village that raises many a child, myself included, and reminds us children that it is our duty to honor those that have come before and work hard to make things better in the future. I grew up in love with everything church and it has always been my home and foundation, my sanctuary. So, one day in college when I finally stopped pushing down those dark, omnipresent feelings and said “I’m gay” out loud I knew I was going to have a few problems.

Twenty or so years ago my parents carefully chose a church, a village, to balance the experiences that my younger sister and I would have in the suburban life they hesitantly birthed us into. Yes, they wanted us to know God for ourselves and for us to have a strong sense of religion but they also wanted to make sure their kids would have a taste of the blackness they were raised on. They knew that our upper-middle-class, white education wouldn’t teach us about Henrietta Lacks or Madam CJ Walker and the name Fannie Lou Hamer wasn’t going to make it into our lessons about black history. Instead, my understanding of blackness and black excellence came from the Vacation Bible School talks, Sunday School Black History Month celebrations, and the pulpit. I was to have examples of all sorts of black people in my church and role models for me to look up to, a village to raise me. Though in the suburbs schools may have been better and the crime rates low, my parents made sure I knew that these white people were never supposed to be my everything because them white folks is crazy and my church, my people, are my real foundation in this world.

But herein lies the problem. “The fact that this particular child had been born when and where he was born had dictated certain expectations” (“Introduction”, xvi). For most of my life, these invisible expectations felt like simple—unachievable—goals and the drive to meet them was fueled by an incessant desire for perfection and affirmation. Follow your parents’ footsteps. Be successful. Achieve even more than your parents and your grandparents, they have worked so hard. Help your people prosper. You’re going to make us all so proud. As a girl, I remember that one lady who always dressed a little different, the woman with the short-cut who was whispered about at book clubs and post-church brunches. She was raised here too and she very quickly hauled ass out of the church, occasionally slipping into the back row on holidays. Yes, there was an expectation for her, an expectation for people like that, which I did not know how to articulate, but I knew that she was doing something wrong. “The child does not really know what these expectations are—does not know how real they are—until he begins to fail, challenge, or defeat them” (“Introduction”, xvi). I had a sense of these expectations and still one day I came home and broke my mother’s heart. Apparently, I had been keeping up my farce a little too well, both for hers and my own sake. “Since when??? How can you want this for yourself???” she pleaded. I am sorry, Mom, but when you imported boys from church for me to take to homecoming dances (the black boys at white schools “don’t go for black girls”, but that is another essay) I was looking over their shoulders at Grace, the only openly black lesbian at my school who, paradoxically, wanted nothing to do with me.

Anyway, there is indeed a difference for when black people are gay than for white people. It is not that black people are more homophobic nor do I believe that the black struggle can be compared to the white, queer struggle. The difference is that when a young black person is gay there is something more at stake: the possibility of losing the only community that accepts you. As a black geek articulated, “Blackness can be a rigid, didactic identity, with people stepping out of line facing ridicule and admonishment or, worse, condemnation. Those who reject the perceived identity of Blackness can be seen as rejecting the whole of black worth itself” (Johnson, 15).

Personally, I gained my entire sense of self, associated all my blackness with an organization that had very specific rules for what it meant to be black. The politics of respectability once disguised as a coat of armor and nobility now choked me like a straitjacket, locked into an idea of who I was supposed to be one day: a successful career woman, a role model in my church just as my parents had been, and, most importantly, a wife to a strong black man. I have always been gay but it is only recently that I have begun to accept and love myself for being gay, for changing a small yet fundamental part of that vision. Still, for a long while, I thought that I had betrayed my people and felt the need to hide that which would make me a stranger in my own village. I would return to the sanctuary and look upon the kings and queens with fear and sadness as “…they move[d] with an authority which I shall never have” (“Stranger”, 83). Instead, I would avoid going to church, stay at school for breaks, drop my girlfriend’s hand every time anyone who knew my family walked by. When I did go to church I felt like everyone could see all the lies pulsing just beneath my skin. My sanctuary became a jungle in which I did not know where to hide and where the possibility of being eaten alive felt invisibly imminent.

Then one day I met Audre Lorde. And Bayard Rustin. I learned that there is quite a bit more to Angela Davis’ story than just having a sick afro. Suddenly I had a new village and I had a reason to hope. After a lot of self-reflection, a very simple yet revolutionary idea crossed my mind. I realized, really considered for the first time, that I could be just as gay as I am black. I learned that the person whose love is most important in my life is that which I have for myself. “Coming out to yourself and to others, and then staying out as you walk out the door brings strength in its action,” and, yes, I could feel my strength beginning to build (Johnson, 17). At times the old thinking that lurks on the fringes of my memory, that which is embedded in my reflexes, begins to creep up and make me doubt myself and my wholeness once again, but now more than ever I refuse to let it control or define me. One day far from now my soul will look back and wonder how I got over.

Works Cited Baldwin, James. "Introduction: The Price of the Ticket." The Price of the Ticket: Collected Non Fiction. New York:St. Martin's/Marek, 1985. Print.

Baldwin, James. "Stranger in the Village" The Price of the Ticket: Collected Non-Fiction. New York: St. Martin's/Marek, 1985. Print.

Walker, Rebecca and Mat Johnson, “The Geek” Black Cool: One Thousand Streams of Blackness. Berkeley, Soft Skull Press, 2012. Print.

[hash-include-sec-blog]

Week 2 Recap

Trust

This week’s lectures started with the concept of trust. The answers were pretty bleak.

“Trust no one, least of all yourself.”

Sounds like a line out of an action movie, but at least know I won’t roll my eyes whenever someone says it because it applies to everyone, not just the tragic hero on his quest to save the world.

Weakness of the Week: Self-Interest

Self-interest and trust are closely related - you can only trust someone as much as your self-interests align. In other words, so long as you and another person are working towards the same goal, you can consider them an ally. However, you can’t say the same once those interests diverge.

Lord Acton was correct in saying “power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely.” It made me think about how much I trusted people in power such as the Vice-Chancellor of universities, CEOs of Fortune 500 companies and my own government. It is my belief that everyone is always working for their own self-interest and the self-interest of those within their immediate social circles - it’s why the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. 

There is a fundamental principle in economics that states that the market (our economy) will eventually reach an ideal state should we let people trade freely according to their self-interest. And although it makes sense in theory, there are too many forces of power that are always trying to sway the market in their favour. It’s the same in cybersecurity - the internet (or, more broadly, the “digital realm”) is a wildly unregulated space. People can say or do anything they want and, compared to “irl” interactions, the penalties of doing as such are much lower. This is, then, equivalent to a free market. But there are still forces like Facebook and Google, Microsoft and Amazon that play a large role in how we use the internet, where we spend our money, where we store our data, etc.

Just,,, food for thought, I suppose.

Defence in Depth

The idea is simple: design something so that if one area breaks, your entire defence doesn’t collapse. Picture if you will the city of Ba Sing Se.

The city is built in rings and, similar to other real-world castles/cities, the closer you get to the inner-most ring, the higher the social standing of people living within a particular section. This structure is based on the idea that there are sacrificial levels of the proverbial onion that is the city - the most important people/places are the hardest to get to because even if you breach the other wall, there are still many more walls to get through afterwards.

This also ties in with the idea that security engineering is all about leveraging the “work ratio” - it is impossible to build or program something that is impenetrable, so a common tactic is to simply place enough defences within your structure so that attackers simply give up. I found this concept to be very clever and not immediately obvious (to me, at least, who is used to watching crime shows wherein the tech guys always prevail). It also explains why the One Time Pad and Enigma code work so well - any decryption of an OTP is not guaranteed to be the correct decryption due to the nature of the English language. Enigma code was notoriously difficult to decipher during WWII due to the changing encryption “settings” used on the plain text each day.  Unlike OTP however, it is clear that once the code has been cracked, it is unlikely that there are any other possible decryptions (i.e. there is only one answer).

Data Destruction

It’s surprising how hard it is to destroy data. Even after wiping the disk and overwriting it with random numbers (is anything really random, though?), drilling holes in it and filling said holes, breaking it into pieces and throwing those pieces in different places and wow Richard really didn’t want anyone to read what was on his laptop, huh. Yet even then he could not confidently say that he has properly disposed of his computer in a way that prevents attackers from restoring it. It almost makes me want to go dumpster diving to see what information I can retrieve from old devices people throw away yet it also makes me worry - the fact that I could probably find more than I ever imagined means that the general public are woefully unaware of how un-secure their data and private information actually are. 

Anatomy of an Attack

We are most likely going to be talking more about this in week 3, but I was pleased(? this is not the right emotive word I’m looking for) to hear Richard mention that most attacks aren’t even that technical. And, before you call the cops, hear me out. It reinforces once again just how easy it is to gain access to information you shouldn’t have. In the story Richard told us about his former student, the entire plan centred around social engineering, wherein you befriend someone in a position you can later exploit by using their credentials and clearance. Rinse and repeat with as many people as needed and bada-bing bada-boom, you eventually hit jackpot.

Some part of my brain smirked at the imposter syndrome lingering within me to say ha, you could probably pull that off too - its all sweet talking and no tech. Not that I would, by the Good Faith Policy, but still.

[aion-rsa]

The Many Origin Stories of The Joker

https://ift.tt/2OhrRwu

The Joker has had many different versions of his origin told over the years, including in the new movie.

facebook

twitter

tumblr

This article contains some spoilers for the Joker movie. We have a completely spoiler free review right here.

The Joker is probably the most recognizable supervillain in the world. Loosely ased on famed German actor Conrad Veidt in The Man Who Laughs, the Clown Prince of Crime’s unique look and penchant for elaborate, themed murder has left a giant mark in the public consciousness.  His real world origins are in dispute - Bob Kane claims the Joker was his creation, but Kane was so full of it that Jim Steranko, the legendary artist behind the groundbreaking Nick Fury: Agent of SHIELD, once went upside Kane’s head because Kane patted his face like some nobody kid. The general scholarly consensus is the Joker was created by Jerry Robinson and Bill Finger rather than Kane.

And while the Joker’s real world origins are disputed and nebulous, his in-continuity origins are generally pretty thematically consistent. The real variation comes from a creator’s fundamental view of the Joker: is he a character within the Batman universe? Or is he a primal force standing in opposition to what Batman represents? Or are you...whatever the hell Gotham was? Let’s take a look.

THE RED HOOD: VARIATIONS ON A THEME

Most Joker origin stories hit several of the same notes. A man is involved in a crime in a chemical plant, falls into one of the tanks, and comes out a crazed psychopath with chemically bleached skin and a shock of green hair, often with a permanent smile of some kind. 

In most of those, the man involved is a flamboyant criminal known as the Red Hood. While the Joker’s first appearance was in 1940’s Batman #1, his actual origin wasn’t fleshed out for more than a decade. In 1951’s Detective Comics #168, it was revealed that a dapper master criminal in a domed red helmet was planning a heist at Ace Chemicals. He was caught in the act by Batman and Robin and dove into a catch basin full of chemicals to escape them. Those chemicals deformed him, turning him into an evil-looking clown, so he leaned into the gimmick and became the Joker.  

This origin is the foundation for a lot of variations. In Alan Moore and Brian Bolland’s The Killing Joke, the unnamed man who becomes the Joker was originally a lab assistant at Ace Chemicals who took up the most dangerous job known to man, stand up comedy, to make extra money to support his pregnant wife. When that didn’t work, he then signed up with some mobsters to rob his former workplace as the Red Hood. After his wife died and he was forced to stick with the robbery anyway, he jumps into a chemical vat to escape Batman, with the usual results.

read more: Every Batman and DC Easter Egg in the Joker Movie

And in Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo’s “Zero Year” from 2013, the story is basically the same, only with the Red Hood being a gang of criminals instead of just one. It’s the mysterious Red Hood One, the leader but possibly one of any number of rotating primaries, trying to escape Batman by jumping into a vat of chemicals as a planned heist of Ace goes wrong.

There are small differences to each of these origins, but they’re all fundamentally the same - one bad day turns a regular person into a super-psychopath. It’s worth noting that two of the four modern movie interpretations of the Joker also go roughly down the “chemical bath” route. While we never learn the exact details, it’s a safe bet something along these lines happened to Jared Leto’s nameless Joker of the DCEU before Suicide Squad. But other big screen Jokers took a slight detour...

JACK NAPIER 

Tim Burton's Batman from 1989 followed a similar premise, only without the Red Hood aspect. Jack Napier was set up by Carl Grissom, his immediate supervisor in the mob, to die in a robbery at Axis Chemicals. Napier caught on to the setup and killed Grissom, but falls over the side of a catwalk and is accidentally dropped into a vat of chemicals by Batman, who was trying to save him. There, we get the added bonus of a bullet ricochet scarring and paralyzing the facial muscles of the vain and handsome Napier, hence the permanent grin.

read more: What the Joker Controversy Gets Wrong

This is also pretty much what his origin was in Batman: The Animated Series. Jack Napier is referred to by name several times throughout the series, and a gangster who Bruce is convinced eventually becomes the Joker is responsible for the death of Andrea Beaumont’s father in Mask of the Phantasm. However, this takes some piecing together, because to the best of my knowledge, it’s only ever referred to and not directly shown. 

WANNA KNOW HOW I GOT THESE SCARS?

Not every origin story for the Joker follows that pattern. Or any pattern at all, really.

Heath Ledger’s Joker is probably the one that is most solidly planted in the current popular consciousness. Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight very pointedly did not give a clear origin for the character, opting instead to present him as a force of chaos, a kind of psychotic antibody to the Batman’s rigid order. He gives two vastly different (and terrifying) origin stories at different points in the movie, one where his father carves up his face because he’s a violent drunk, and one where he does it to himself to make his wife happy after she gets her own face disfigured by bookies. We’re never told if either is true, but that’s the exact point the movie is trying to get across - it doesn’t matter where he comes from, just what he’s doing. The Joker in The Dark Knight is less a character, and more an elemental reaction to the existence of Batman.

read more: The Many Deaths of the Joker

Grant Morrison did something similar with the Joker in his epic run with the character in the late aughts. In the first, pre-Batman, Inc. part of the story, Bruce is led to believe that his father is still alive and a servant of the dark Bat-god Barbatos. One of the primary goals of the arc is for Morrison to weave together all of the disparate eras of Batman - the wackiness of the Silver Age, the grim and gritty Batman of the post Dark Knight Returns/Year One era, the street level guy who fights regular old murderers in the Golden Age. 

Morrison really wanted the reader to understand that everything counts. In doing so, he set the Joker up as Batman’s foil - while Batman was using his Zurr-En-Arrh personality as an emergency backup, to reset and run on automatic while Bruce Wayne healed, the Joker was also resetting his own personality periodically. This Joker, he argued in a bizarre and wild prose issue (Batman #663, if you’re checking), was super-sane and would alter his own thoughts and methods to match the times. So for this Joker, nothing was true and everything was true at the same time.

GOTHAM

And then there’s Gotham. Good Lord, there’s Gotham. Bear with me now, because we’re about to enter “Xorn’s brother Xorn” territory.

Jerome Valeska is a violent, mentally ill anarchist son of a circus performer with a signature laugh. He kills his mom, confesses, and gets tossed into Arkham, where he inspires a cult. He and his cult escape, and they kill Sarah Essen to help someone run for Mayor, before getting killed by that Mayoral candidate to tie up loose ends. He gets resurrected by his cult, collects a team of supervillains, sows anarchy around the city, and dies again. In the process, he hoses down his identical twin brother Jeremiah with assorted chemicals, which turn Jeremiah insane. Jeremiah is a much more low-key serial killer, and in the last season, he gets tossed into a vat of chemicals making him even crazier. 

read more: The Actors Who Have Played the Joker

It’s important to note that at no point were any of Jerome or Jeremiah or any of Jeremiah’s personality changes ever actively identified as the Joker. They just shared almost all of the Joker’s characteristics at varying points. And there was lots of laughing when they were around. Heavy allusions and all. Man, Gotham was a lot.

THE JOKER

Arthur Fleck is a wannabe (and terrible) standup comedian who lives with his mentally ill mother. Awkward and shy, Arthur has some issues, including an unnerving laugh that has nothing to do with humor. Instead, a brain injury (brought on by years of physical abuse he suffered as a child) causes him to break out into fits of uncontrollable, mirthless laughter, which is sometimes seems painful, like a coughing fit. Lest you feel too sorry for him, Todd Phillips’ Joker movie makes it clear early on that Arthur leads an unhealthy (and thoroughly narcissistic) fantasy life.

read more: 10 Times the Joker Almost Nailed Batman

Arthur reaches his breaking point after a mugging, the loss of his job, the continued deterioration of his mother...and a triple murder he commits on a subway car. His spiral continues as more facts about his past are brought to light, and he finally snaps, donning clown makeup (rather than something more permanent) and embracing his destiny. Of course, the movie offers a slightly ambivalent ending that makes it clear that, like Ledger’s conflicting stories, this may be only one of Joker’s POSSIBLE pasts…

Joker is in theaters now.

Read and download the Den of Geek NYCC 2019 Special Edition Magazine right here!

facebook

twitter

tumblr

Feature

TV

Books

Jim Dandy

Oct 4, 2019

DC Entertainment

Joker

Batman

from Books https://ift.tt/2VbU5du

[universeinform-blog]

Cat Marnell's How to Murder Your Life offers a master class in make-up

New Post has been published on https://universeinform.com/2017/03/20/cat-marnells-how-to-murder-your-life-offers-a-master-class-in-make-up/

Cat Marnell's How to Murder Your Life offers a master class in make-up

Beauty editor, social media magnet, privileged birthday celebration woman, tablet pepper, repeat rehabber and now a fine selling writer. Interest-grabbing labels connect themselves to Cat Marnell like glitter but, as she tells Britt Mann, there may be not anything all that glamorous approximately tablets and bulimia.

There’s a picture of Cat Marnell at awards right in Ny Metropolis, in October 2012. She stands pigeon-toed and vacant-gazed before the digital camera, black and blue eyeshadow smudged across her temples; berry colored lipstick smeared over bee-stung lips.

In a single hand, she clutches a highly-priced fur coat, in the other, a chrome rosary. Extremely inexplicably, she has the word “Chinese” daubed in black marker down one forearm, “Democracy” on the other.

Marnell, a former Beauty editor for a number of The USA’s maximum famous women’s guides, changed into at that time writing for the information and culture website, Vice.

Her column – Amphetamine Good judgment – exact her nocturnal debauchery inside the Town that by no means sleeps, in bleak, manic element. They have been so popular they were being translated into German and Italian.

Less than three months after the awards, Marnell penned her very last column for Vice, illustrated with an image of her right hand. It’s accessorized with a callous from a decade of self-induced vomiting and a diamond ring.

Talking by means of a telephone from her Chinatown rental, Marnell says the acclaim she garnered from the column were “magical, nearly a present”, after an entire life of self-loathing. The sector’s media wanted a bit of the wild infant who had a way with words. She becomes more famous than ever.

A Brief History of the American Felony Murder Rule

THE PENNSYLVANIA Homicide GRADING STATUTE

After our American Independence, a number of the new states started out legislative reforms to codify the crime of Murder. One of the earliest states to accomplish that became Pennsylvania. In 1794, that state enacted a Murder degree statute which divided Homicide into first diploma capital Homicide and 2nd diploma Homicide. The Pennsylvania legislature constricted the penalty for felony Murder via enforcing capital punishment only for such felonies as befell inside the perpetration of arson, rape, robbery or housebreaking. The statute similarly furnished that each one Homicide in the state apart from ones committed inside the perpetration of One of the not unusual regulation felonies specified in their diploma statute become to be 2nd-degree Murder.

Later the prison of kidnapping was introduced to the listing of designated felonies for purposes of felony Homicide. simplest first-degree Murder served as a basis for hanging. The Pennsylvania statute did no longer actually formulate a legal Homicide rule or outline the factors of Homicide. Rather the statute identified participation in certain felonies as a grading element that annoyed Homicide legal responsibility. The statute prescribed that: All Homicide, which will be perpetrated by poison, or by means of laying in wait, or via another form of willful, planned and premeditated killing, or which shall be committed in the perpetration or try to perpetrate any arson, rape, robbery, or housebreaking, shall be deemed Homicide inside the first degree; and all other types of Homicide will be Homicide within the 2nd diploma.

The implication of the statute is that Murder in the course of One of the enumerated felonies did not require willful, planned, and premeditated killing. The language of the statute does no longer advise that the mere inflicting of demise within the path of any criminal turned into always Homicide. This concept is a good deal extra in line of what Lord Hale turned into presenting in his writings on the stop of the 17th century and is just like Choose Stephen’s jury training inside the Serene case: that it might be Homicide best if the felonious act become recognised to be risky to lifestyles and probable to purpose death. The word “deemed” inside the statute implies the perception that a Judge or jury ought to weigh the facts of the case and determine whether or not the behavior of an accused warranted a fee of Murder for which the accused may be changed.

The Pennsylvania statute was fairly influential, shaping murder reform statutes in two-thirds of the then existing states for the duration of the nineteenth century. Twelve states followed Pennsylvania’s grading scheme with very little modification, the states which adopted the Pennsylvania statute as drafted were: Virginia in 1796, Kentucky from 1798 to 1801, Maryland in 1810, Louisiana from its admission in1812 to 1855, Tennessee in 1829, Michigan in 1838, Arkansas in 1838, New Hampshire in 1842, Connecticut in 1846, Delaware in 1852, Massachusetts in 1858, and West Virginia, getting into the Union with one of these statute in 1863.

Living Thankfully Within the Theatre of Life

If revel in is set wealth, then I’m a totally rich character.” – Dr. Gregory Smith (former sociopath)

As I sat there looking the Yr 4 students as they were led via a drama elegance, the trainer taught them an element of drama that I in no way earlier than knew. The drama revolves around a problem – if there’s no hassle then there’s no story, no narrative, nothing stimulating to pique the onlooker’s interest.

Dr. Gregory Smith is a very exciting person. His tale, right here. A person who grew up inside the dramatic horrors of domestic violence,

Changed into orphaned, convicted of arson but relieved of the load of deciding to buy that crime due to motives of temporary madness; who lived in a woodland for ten years. Subsequently, in his late Nineteen Forties, he got here upon an epiphany. He found out something that grew to become his global upside down (as if he hadn’t already lived an the other way up existence).

Smith learned that his severe delinquent patterns of behavior were because of the reality he was preventing himself all along. He became primary to his personal issues.

That spoke to me. It reminded me of an epiphany I had with the Lord on July 7, 2015. Having found out this powerfully fundamental and paradoxical truth – that after we admit we’re the trouble handiest then are we unfastened to offer our own answers – Smith became Eventually capable of commencing the wrestle of reconciling the drama of his astonishingly theatrical life.

Whilst we Sooner or later find out that problems are inherently part of the theater that existence is, we’re located to go beyond our troubles thru the provision of solutions, which couldn’t come in any other case.

The theater of life is handiest thrilling, and best inspires passion, Whilst we’ve issues to overcome. See how problems are basically a part of God’s plan?

Accept that troubles are part of life and, with passion, top you for adventure.

Whilst we take this approach, thankfulness informs our narrative, gratitude emerges, and, as men and women, we thrive.

Enhance Fertility With Master Cleanse Diet

When you have completed a whole lot of studies on the Internet, you will have to stumble upon a heated debate on the successful use of detox diets and frame cleanse programs and whether it can beautify fertility. But, are you able to truly repair fertility troubles with a master cleaning weight loss program? This is a query that you may determine for yourself primarily by way of trying it for yourself.

You could have heard approximately the master cleanse diet by way of other names along with the lemonade eating regimen, or the maple syrup frame cleanse. There has been a variety of buzz in the information reporting fabulous success in alleviating lengthy suffering fitness problems including overweight and fatigue. Regardless of all the fulfillment that many people have said, the controversy rages on approximately all the claims from human beings. Lots of human beings and celebrities alike have taken the grasp cleanse with superb a success fitness advantages. Nevertheless is a master cleanse detox a sensible remedy for infertility challenges? There are many motives why this may be quite a few assist to couples to decorate their fertility health.

Now not relatively, conventional answers encompass hash tablets and occasionally surgery. But it isn’t the handiest option to do not forget. Increasingly studies have been offered to natural options like the usage of the master cleanse to decorate fertility opportunity. Arguably, some fitness practitioners consider that it’s miles simply a hyped up trend without real effects. Yet, according to the enjoy of those who have taken the master cleanse, since it genuinely has furnished a tremendous experience for lengthy and brief time period dreams. it may additionally be argued that during mixture with the conventional way of increasing fertility that This is an advantage to appropriate trendy fitness that undoubtedly affects many health issues which include infertility.

Increase fertility the usage of the master cleanse to is a simple perception. The master cleanses weight-reduction plan, in essence, is a periodic short fasting food plan even as using a totally herbal fusion of elements in a juice shape so one can assist flush out the heavy excess of pollution, heavy metals and years of accumulated waste saved inside the body that probably reduces an extra hazard of fertility.

Taking a frame cleanse will assist to create a more healthy environment in the body for its natural recovery and promoting of foremost organ functions. Among the ingredients available nowadays are considered to have a completely excessive content of hormones from meat to dairy that may be uncovered to a healthful machine. it could also be determined in the environments that are not usually privy to.

The master cleanses gadget literally washes out the overabundance of unhealthy hormones and over manufacturing of pollutants saved within the body. advertising of wholesome living is assisted in regulating the herbal cycles the body to without difficulty do away with wastes on its own clearly.