#at least julia was a full grown adult though

[lady-of-the-spirit]

Daisy Jones & the Six 🤝 How I Met Your Mother:

Sharing your/your closest friends' sexual history and a lot of your traumatic backstory with your children

[grantmentis]

Made a post the other day about expectations for rookies / new players in the league and how harsh it seems to be compared to the nhl and I have more thoughts on this. I haven’t like really properly researched this though so consider it off the cuff and full of assumptions

The PWHL draft is in a weird place right now because half of the people in the draft are like, grown, and have extensive experience playing in another high level league. Even the True Rookies are usually 22 as top prospects (as opposed to the nhl where most top prospects are 18) and played extensively in the ncaa where I’d say the level of play in some strengths of schedule is closer to the PWHL than any other hockey league is to the nhl due to the fact that there is just a lot more leagues the men are drawing from (obviously quite a of PWHL players have at one point played auroraliiga or EWHL or DEFL etc, but most either got drafted directly from the SDHL or NCAA or in the case of last year the PHF.) we only have One True Draft and half a season of those players in the league to go off of, and a decent % of those players have made an immediate impact, or at least be a good player, which makes it easy to go “hey why is my player not doing that.” I’ve seen this concern about Julia Gosling, for example, who of course gets the misfortune of being compared to Fillier and Thompson and Barnes

The PWHL schedule being so short doesn’t help either. A player struggling for five games in the nhl is just way less of a problem in terms of season impact than a player struggling for five games in the PWHL where that’s, like, a sixth of the season, even though it’s the same passage of time. This can definitely lead to fans being harsher

Still - I think it’s important to remember that no there is basically no ramp up to the PWHL and the ability to do what Fillier and Thompson are doing is rarer than it feels right now. We will probably see this more as the years go on and drafts become more “normal” that it’s less that Fillier or Thompson’s performance should be the norm for first rounders but more than they are exceptions and not the rule. Players right now barely get any time to get acclimated to their team before the season starts and the environment for training camp / preseason / where you’re fighting to have a job at all vs in the nhl where most are fighting between ahl and nhl, is very different. Teams are still figuring out their identity and their on ice systems, which makes it harder for players to adjust to a team that is still being defined. Additionally, teams don’t have the most coherent drafting strategy right now because of that nor do they have extensive scouting departments yet so they don’t have the tools to help a player adjust, either. For the franchise cornerstone players like Fillier, the team is going to build around her, but for someone like gosling going to a team where Nurse and Spooner and Watts have already claimed the top offensive roles, that’s not going to be the case. Finally, the true rookie players have to adjust to the pace of the game and what being a full time hockey player is, schedule wise. Just like you and me after college graduation, they are doing all this while learning how to be an adult.

The PWHL is already pretty “sink or swim” because there’s no place to go for development at the pro level while staying on contract, but there got to be some lenience to letting these players develop at the pro level and investing in them and that means they may not be producing for a while or make dumb mistakes and that’s pretty normal. Even the players coming in with professional experience need time to adjust, though they may be more equipped for the physical side of the game or the day to day grind of it all. And I’m not even getting into the “talent pool is quite a bit bigger than spots available especially if you’re a goaltender” thing

[ichayalovesyou]

In anticipation of Scotty being in Strange New Worlds soon (maybe/hopefully not as CE but maybe as a promising Lieutenant who arrives with the new CE)

I wanna talk about my Scotty headcanons and wishes for it he joins the core cast in SNW!

Scotty Speculation/Headcanons

Personal favorite casting ideas I’ve seen for Scotty in speculative articles are Sean Biggerstaff (I’ve loved him ever since I was a kid when I first watched the lame wizard movies) and Chris Doohan (talk about Legacy squared!!).

In beta canon he is a bit of a boy wonder between creating the Aberdeen Solution when he was 15 and almost beating the Kobiyashi Maru purely by knowing the ship in the simulation so well! I hope those little details from Kobiyashi Maru by Julia Ecklar become canon!

He’s probably in the early Lieutenant ranks as he’s in his mid 30s. I could see them maybe de-aging him a little? Especially if he’s not CE (right away at least) and don’t want people bitching about the Uhotty (if they decide to lay more groundwork for the relationship they develop in the TOS movies) age gap even tho 11 years is really not that bad when they’re both full grown adults in a post-gender equity sci fi utopia but I digress. I hope they don’t :/

Spock outranks him and he’s wayyyyy more comfortable in a Jeffries tube than the Captain’s chair, notoriously unambitious even though he’s got command track training. We know that the command chain is Pike > Una/La’an > Ortegas > Spock(?). Perhaps we’ll see, like with Uhura and Spock, a more uncertain, reserved, less confident Scotty?

I offer the highest offer I can bestow to Montgomery Scott, autism head-canon 🥰! His special interest is The Enterprise, he’s in love with her! Just like the Scotty we know and love! Young Scotty infodump and has a hard time not talking about engineering and Enterprise related things, terrible coordination outside of specialized tasks (mood), and is canonically awkward around people he really likes.

Astrophobia, he can swallow it for the most part because he loves star ships more than he fears the vacuum of space, but it does make him super nervous. He’s very good at working engineering miracles because he very very much would not like to perish in the vacuum of space.

Scotty & Uhura being together in The Final Frontier was like, super cute, but also had like zero buildup and if Scotty really is coming to season two of SNW. It’d make sense for them to build a platform to bridge out from, even if it’s just that they were friends! I’d love cute Uhura & Scotty friendship content! Maybe she coaxes him out of his shell with the help of what she learned from Hemmer? I think that’d be adorable!

[zwritestuff]

if you fall, i fall [jackie/nicky]

a/n: for the lovely layla @portfoliono​ ! i hope you like it, it’s 7.4K of tooth rotting nackie fluff, because you said you like jackie and your favorite ship is nackie, so i ran with it. i hope i did it justice. the prompt for this fic comes from @dailyau​ “We’re teachers and our students keep getting in trouble and causing general mayhem to try to get us together so let’s just pretend to date so they stop doing that and whoops I think I kind of like you now.”

 also- thanks for frey for beta-ing and catching the plot holes. what would i do without you?

ao3 link.

***

Jackie has to bite her lower lip to prevent a loud laugh from escaping her mouth, but as Nicky keeps on talking, it becomes nearly impossible. 

“And then they promised me they’d stop cheating on the tests if I asked you on a date. I wonder if they’d keep that promise, though, because some of them clearly cheated on these exams,” she finishes, holding up two paper sheets with same mistakes, and Jackie erupts in laughter.

It’s already a routine for them to have a second breakfast together in the teachers room on Fridays, since Nicky rarely eats breakfast on her own, and talk about the crazy stuff their students say and do to convince them they should date each other. Jackie’s not sure how it all started, nor where did they get the idea, but it had been going on ever since the school year started and at this point, they’re finding it more amusing than annoying.

Well, Jackie finds it amusing. Nicky not so much.

“The little shits are getting on my nerves,” Nicky declares solemnly, earning a slap in the arm from Jackie. “What? I’m not wrong,” she says with a cocky smile, sipping on her coffee.

Jackie cocks a brow, taking a bite from her toast. “No, you’re not. But don’t call the kids ‘little shits’,” she scolds her, and Nicky puts her hands up in mock surrender.

She’s not a fan of calling their students names —what teacher is?— but she definitely has to agree with Nicky. They are little shits. Not all of them, clearly, but the overwhelming majority is, anyway.

Jackie slouches in her chair, stretching her wrists as she sighs, looking at the pile of papers she has yet to grade. She takes a long sip from her mug and rests her head in her palms, watching closely as Nicky grades exams, muttering words in French and occasionally complaining to Jackie that an exam is clearly done with Google Translate. She chuckles softly, making the oh so typical comment about how they didn’t have Google Translate when they were in Middle School, and Nicky laughs wholeheartedly.

“When I was in Middle School, I didn’t have half the guts the kids have these days,” she says, grabbing her red marker and circling a few mistakes in a sentence. Jackie hums in agreement. “Not that it’s bad, it’s amazing. These kids are the future. I just wish they’d use it for something more important than convincing us to go on a date.” Nicky rolls her eyes, discarding the red marker and moving onto the next exam.

Jackie thinks for a moment that it doesn’t bother her half as much as it should, because they’re still children and it’s normal for them to act childishly, and that, if anything, she’s flattered the kids think her and —in their words— “the pretty French teacher with a nice accent” would ever go on a date with her if she tried hard enough, because half of the teacher staff is already after Nicky.

Well, anyone with functioning eyes is after Nicky, which only makes it more difficult to even have a shot with her.

She doesn’t care, though. Nicky and her have been good friends since Nicky started working at school eight years ago, and Jackie is fine with just being friends. For real. Nicky is fun, has great taste in movies, and always has a cup of wine ready when Jackie needs to vent after a bad day.

They work well as friends, no matter how many times the kids insist they’d go well with each other and that when Jackie is teaching the French revolution, she could have Miss Nicky over to help her with the class. 

Out of the blue, an idea crosses her mind. It’s stupid, not practical at all, far too cheesy, and, all in all, not something a grown woman in her thirties should be even thinking of doing — but it settles in her mind, buzzes around incessantly until she can’t help but say it out loud.

“We should just tell them we’re dating already, that’ll get them to stop, surely,” she says, trying to sound as convinced as someone who just suggested to their colleague they should fake-date to stop a bunch of twelve year olds from interrupting their classes.

Nicky cocks an amused brow, a smile creeping on her face as she sets her coffee mug down.

“You think? Isn’t that just adding gasoline to an already burning fire?” She inquires, sounding far too dramatic. Jackie laughs shortly, biting the inside of her cheek, regret slightly washing over. Until a complimentary idea pops up in her head.

“Well, maybe. But if we say we went on a couple dates, or, I don’t know, dated briefly and broke up, maybe that’ll be enough for the kids to drop it,” she suggests, chewing on her lower lip.

She knows it’s stupid to go to such a length to get the kids to drop it, but they’ve reported it to Principal Hall and she just laughed, saying it was just a matter of time before they stopped, or that it’d end once they advanced grades.

Nicky seems intrigued by the idea — how wouldn’t she? She loves those cheesy rom coms with that same trope, or the friends to lovers one, or anything that’s cheesy and sugary enough to leave her longing for a great romance.

Jackie’s not expecting her to say yes, though. Because Nicky is a responsible adult and-

“Alright, let’s do it.”

Oh.

Jackie blinks repeatedly before she registers what Nicky said. “For real?” 

Nicky shrugs, giving her a playful smile before taking a sip from her coffee. “I don’t see why not. It’s convenient for both of us, and if I get you to take me to a dinner during it, I have nothing to complain about.” She briefly looks up at her and gives her a sly wink.

Jackie stares at her for a moment. So it’s just as simple as that?

“Alright. Let’s do it,” she echoes, and goes back to grading papers.

And it is as simple as that.

 ***

 It may not be that simple.

For starters, they have to figure out a lot of details; like when was their first date, what did they do, and where did they go. 

They get together on a windy Saturday, in a cafeteria that serves the best pastries in the whole city, or so Nicky claims. The least thing Jackie cares about are pastries, but she appreciates it when Nicky buys her one and sets it next to her mug of hot chocolate, claiming that she has to try it or she’s breaking up with her. 

Jackie lets out an over the top offended laugh. “Why don’t we tell people that we broke up because we had an irreconcilable fight about pastries?” She suggests playfully, taking a bite of the pie. It tastes amazing, but she’s not giving Nicky the satisfaction of agreeing with her.

Luckily, Nicky is busy devouring her own slice.

“I think that’s a pretty solid reason to break up,” she replies, her mouth is half full, and Jackie scolds her softly, but Nicky dismisses her with a wave of her hand. “I don’t know why are we still fake dating if you don’t consider Shuga’s pastries the best in the whole city,” Nicky teases, and Jackie rolls her eyes with a grin.

“You got something here,” Jackie says, bringing her hand to Nicky’s chin and leaning over the table. Nicky freezes mid-movement, staring intently at Jackie as she gently brushes off the crumbles from the corner of her mouth. “There.” She smiles and withdraws her hand, not thinking much about the way Nicky brings her hand to touch where Jackie’s thumb was just seconds ago, hesitating before going back to what she was doing. She doesn’t think about it at all.

“Thank you,” she mumbles with a small smile. Jackie grins again, dismissing it with a wave of her hand.

They resume their conversation about what the hell they are going to say if questions about their relationship come up, which they will, and Jackie can tell Nicky’s seen one too many movies, because she comes up with stories worth of a Hollywood romance that Julia Roberts probably stars in.

Jackie turns her outlandish ideas a few notches down to make them more believable, and Nicky complains because, to her, it’s totally believable that their first date happened on the coldest day of the year, having dinner over at Nicky’s apartment when the power went out in the whole city, so they lit up candles, wrapped themselves in all Nicky’s blankets and cuddled until the next morning.

It sounds like something, but not a believable something.

Nicky folds her arms with a childish pout, mocking Jackie for her lack of ability to have fun with their little trickery.

“We’re already living our own Hollywood drama, we might as well have fun with it,” she debates matter-of-factly, raising her index finger and straightening her posture. Jackie knows that position and tone, it’s the one she uses when she scolds the kids. She chuckles softly.

“We could have fun, but we gotta make it believable. The kids aren’t idiots,” she points out, and Nicky clicks her tongue, placing her chin on her palm, tapping the table with her perfectly manicured nails as she thinks of another explanation.

Nicky hums thoughtfully as Jackie takes a last sip from her hot chocolate, setting the mug aside. She stares at Nicky, counting and connecting the beauty marks on her face. They remind her of the stars, and before she can get any more cheesier, an idea comes to her mind.

“You know this restaurant called Avril’s? The one that’s on a rooftop with the glass ceiling?” Jackie asks, Nicky nods shortly. “Let’s say we had dinner there and the waiters wanted to kick us out, because we stayed over closing time and were too busy stargazing, talking about everything and anything,” she offers, wondering if it’ll meet Nicky’s standards of romance. 

Apparently it does, because she claps excitedly, and her smile is so bright Jackie swears she could outshine the sun.

“That sounds amazing! And something you could treat your fake girlfriend to, y’know,” Nicky cheekily suggests, a playful grin growing in her face.

Jackie snorts. She’s not sure if she means it, but she agrees anyway. Besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen if Nicky texts her one night, demanding to be taken to Avril’s? They’ve had dinner together before, it’s not a big deal.

 ***

 It’s Valentine's Day when they decide to start with their little white lie.

The kids from the students’ council are selling flowers, with personalized little notes for an extra dollar. They do it every year to collect funds for some of the many projects they have going on. If you’re not courageous enough to buy a flower and send it to the person you like, they deliver it anonymously for five more dollars. The middle school kids are always sending each other flowers anonymously, with the occasional brave boy that walks up to his crush —usually a girl from higher grade— and gives them the flowers before running away. 

Jackie knows it’s Nicky’s favorite part of the entire year — of course it is — so she wasn’t the least bit surprised when Nicky suggested she gives her a bouquet of roses right in the middle of the hallway. Jackie preferred something a little more lowkey, but Nicky put on puppy eyes and batted her eyelashes prettily, and she said please several times, so Jackie lost the war before it began.

The bell for recess echoes through the entire school and Jackie calmly collects her stuff as the kids exit the class with clear enthusiasm. She bids them goodbye, tells them to remember to do their homework, and soon she’s alone in the class again, suddenly wondering if she should go with the plan.

Almost as if on cue, a text from Nicky comes through. 

I’m waiting for you already, xo.

She bites her lower lip. She can do this, it’s just buying flowers, walking a few feet to meet Nicky, and then hiding in the teachers’ room before she has to teach her next History class. Easy peasy.

Jackie walks up to the nearest flower stand, noticing how a few of the students she’s just said goodbye to are floating around. Perfect.

She greets the students, asks how the sells are going, and they chirp excitedly about all the anonymous deliveries they’re doing.

“Do you wanna buy some flowers, Miss Cox?” One of the girls, Melissa, asks sweetly, batting her eyelashes and pushing a bouquet of roses towards the teacher.

Jackie laughs wholeheartedly. “Sure, why not? How much for these?”

“Ten dollars.” Melissa’s smile doesn’t even quiver. Jackie quirks an eyebrow. She’s making Nicky buy her a slice of pie for this.

“Alright.” She pays for the roses, and the kids ask if they’re for her mother or someone especial. “Wouldn’t you guys like to know,” Jackie teases, thanking them for the bouquet and walking away, heart racing in her chest as she walks towards Nicky.

Nicky’s talking with the art teacher, Crystal, perched against the door of the art classroom, looking casual as ever. Sometimes Jackie wonders if Nicky really is as laid back and relaxed as she always seems or if she’s a great actress. 

Jackie takes a deep breath, and it’s not long until she can hear Crystal ramble about the art exhibition she’s prepared with the kids, and Nicky nods with a polite smile, saying something Jackie can’t quite make out.

It’s then when it hits her that other teachers don’t know about their little scheme.

Shit.

“Jackie! Hi!” Crystal chirps excitedly upon laying eyes on her, and Nicky turns to see her with a smile shiny like that day at the coffee shop. It makes Jackie feel a little lightheaded, but she manages to babble out a greeting. “How have your classes been so far?” She asks sweetly, and Jackie awkwardly settles herself next to Nicky.

“As good as they can be on a day like this, and you?” She politely asks back, and Crystal happily babbles about the cheesy projects her students turned in when she said the theme for today was love.

“One of them did a realistic portrait of a rose, and it was so pretty! It was like the ones you have,” Crystal points out innocently, but she stops for a second, blinks repeatedly, and looks back and forth between Jackie and the rose bouquet she’s holding. “Oh, you have roses. Are they for anyone in particular?” She asks, but by her tone Jackie can tell she hasn’t quite caught on the way Nicky leans against her, wrapping her hands around her bicep.

Nicky’s touch sends shivers down Jackie’s spine, and, for the love of everything holy, she tries not to blush and to keep her voice steady as she speaks.

“Yeah, they are,” she vaguely says. Because Crystal didn’t ask for who they are. And besides, she probably has an idea of who-

“Aw, that’s nice! I hope your Valentine likes them. I’m gonna buy some flowers for my own Valentine too, see ya around!”

Oh. So it really wasn’t a lie that Crystal is oblivious.

Jackie just stands there awkwardly, with Nicky still hanging off her arm. She turns to see her and hands her the bouquet.

“For you,” she simply says with a meek smile. Nicky coos, grabbing the bouquet, smelling the flowers and slightly pressing it against her chest. “You owe me a slice of pie from Shuga’s,” Jackie whispers in her ear, and Nicky rolls her eyes, smile still present on her face.

“Consider it a date,” she teases, tugging on Jackie’s arm so they start walking. “That went better than I expected,” Nicky mumbles close to Jackie’s ear and stands on her tiptoes to press a kiss to her temple. It makes Jackie’s stomach twist, but she dismisses it as nerves. A few students stare, but they act as if they didn’t notice it.

“I think so,”  Jackie replies, Nicky giggles as if she just said something funny and rests her head on Jackie’s shoulder.

For the rest of the day, Nicky sporadically texts her about her student’s reaction and how they all want to know who gave her the roses. Nicky never said her name, but she did act flustered when one of her students said Jackie’s name. It was all they needed to jump into conclusions.

Some teachers gaze at Jackie out of the corner of their eye when they see her in the teachers’ room, but she pays them no mind. 

At the end of the day, Nicky grabs her at the entrance of the school and kisses her cheek to say goodbye. Jackie’s heart skips several bits, but all she does is touch the mark of lipstick Nicky left behind, replaying the feeling of Nicky’s lips on her skin for what feel like forever, before snapping out of it and heading to her car.

 ***

 The next day everyone, teachers included, seem to know there’s something going on between them. Jackie feels as if she was sixteen all over again when she walks through the hallways, trying to keep her poised facade, while students follow her with their gazes and whisper something to their peers. 

And she thought she’d be more respected as a teacher. 

She doesn’t have any classes to conduct during first period, so she pathetically hides in the teachers’ room. The new maths teacher is there, too - Gigi, if she recalls correctly - and she stacks pens and pencils in her bun as she grades homework, seemingly not noticing Jackie’s there. So Jackie just settles herself, grabs the papers she still has to grade from her bag and sits on the other side of the table.

They exchange just a couple of words; the only time Gigi talks to her is to ask if she has white out, the rest is just her mumbling curses and wondering aloud what on God’s green Earth she’s reading.

“Do you have any idea who’s the literature teacher in eighth grade? It’d be really nice if they gave these kids some calligraphy exercises,” Gigi comments in an annoyed tone, and Jackie chuckles. 

“Oh, I tried it too. It doesn’t work, believe me. They either don’t do it or pay someone else to do it,” Jackie says with an eye roll, and Gigi quirks a brow.

“Huh, the worst part is that this is actually what I was doing when I got calligraphy homework,” Gigi chuckles, rubbing her eyelids as she sets the papers aside for a moment. “How long does it take until I can read chicken scratch?” 

Jackie laughs wholeheartedly, if Gigi knew that after all this years she still can’t read some of her students writing.

“Give or take, a couple of years,” she says instead, because she’s not about to stress this young teacher this quick and early in the morning. “It gets better the more you get used to your students.”

Gigi sighs heavily, standing up from the chair and walking up to the sink. 

“I wonder how Nicky deals with bad calligraphy, since most of the homework and exams she has to grade is already unreadable sometimes,” she says, and Jackie shifts in her seat a little, wondering if she brought Nicky up intentionally because she heard the rumors, or-

It’s too early for Jackie to be overthinking already.

So she snorts and rests her chin on her heel of her palm, loosely looking over her papers.

“She’s, uh, she’s used to it by now, I guess. She has this, um, this instinct that never fails her, y’know?” Jackie offers, trying not to stutter and failing miserably. But she sounds like someone that’s so excited to talk about her girlfriend that she can’t get the words right, so she guesses it’s a good thing. It’s the little things that sell this fake relationship.

Gigi turns around to look at her, taking a sip of water and quirks an eyebrow, the sign of a smile creeping on her face as she sets the cup down.

“How long have you been dating?” Gigi asks, straight to the point. Jackie bites the inside of her cheek. Well, that was quick.

“Couple of weeks,” she answers, suddenly noticing Nicky and her didn’t talk about how long they were dating for when they had planned this whole thing. Shit.

It seems like a good enough answer for Gigi, so she goes back to her pile of papers and takes a green pen from her bun.

“She’s never told me anything about it,” she mumbles. “You guys wanted to keep it a secret, I’m guessing? I’ve been told shit spreads quick around here,” Gigi says jokingly, causing Jackie to chuckle. That’s probably the understatement of the century.

“Sort of. We’re just taking things slow,” she comments softly, with her cheeks getting a slight shade of red. This is the first time she’s talking about her fake relationship and for some reason, it makes her feel warm and fuzzy, as if this was real and not a pretend game. 

Gigi looks up to meet her gaze one last time and smiles. “Well then, good luck. Nicky can be a bit of a pain in the ass sometimes,” she teases with a smile and goes back to grading.

Jackie mumbles a soft thank you, wanting to say that Nicky is actually funny to be around, that she always looks forward to seeing her because she always makes her laugh, and how everytime she smiles, Jackie feels lightheaded. 

But she doesn’t say anything, just goes back to grading in silence, and bids goodbye to Gigi when it’s time to leave for her class.

Her students have clearly heard the rumors, and they try to pry by asking if she’s hung out with Miss Nicky recently and if she would consider telling her to tone down their amount of homework. Jackie just laughs and announces she’ll give back the homework she took for grading. That shuts them up almost immediately.

Some of the students that like to cause problems once in a while try to bring it up again, but Jackie shuts them down at lightning speed, using the stern voice her mother used on her when she was their age. That gets the job done and makes the students fall back into silence. 

At the end of the day, she finds Nicky at the entrance, and she’s about to say goodbye to her, when Nicky places a kiss on her cheek, leaving her lipstick behind.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, honey,” she says, winking at her before turning around and heading towards her car. 

Jackie stands there for a second, watching Nicky leave as she smiles dumbly. She wouldn’t mind if this became a routine.

 ***

 “Do you wanna go roller skate tonight?” It’s the first thing that Nicky says when Jackie picks up. 

Jackie cocks a brow. It’s a Wednesday afternoon, and Jackie’s watching “I Dream Of Genie” yet again, cuddled up on her couch with a blanket. Their scheme had been going on far too well at school. Everyone knew about them, including Principal Hall, who had pulled Jackie aside to get all the information she could. And Jackie couldn’t lie to Jaida, she was her best friend after all, so she ended up telling her everything and made her swear on Beyoncé she wouldn’t say anything.

Jaida said she wished her luck trying to not fall in love with Nicky, that she’d seen how this plays out in movies, and that it was a matter of time before they end up dating for real.

Jackie had ended that conversation by leaving, saying she had work to do and hiding the blush on her face by burying her nose in her scarf.

“Nicks, we have work tomorrow,” Jackie tries to argue, and for some reason she can feel Nicky rolling her eyes on the other side of the line.

“It’s disco night over at this skating rink I know,” she says, blatantly ignoring Jackie’s complains. “Can we go? It’ll be just for a little while, please? We’ll be back before your bedtime!” Nicky teases, and Jackie laughs shortly.

“My bedtime is at nine.”

“The rink opens at seven thirty.” 

There’s a short-lived silence on the line as Jackie tries to fight back a smile. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say this is a date. 

“I’ve never roller skated before, will you teach me?” She asks, standing up from the couch and walking towards her closet. 

“Oh, I’ve never roller skated either,” Nicky confesses nonchalantly, and Jackie gasps, taken aback, immediately asking why she’s inviting her if she’s never skated before. She can almost see Nicky shrugging. “We can figure it out together. If you fall, I fall, cherié,” she offers, making Jackie blush just a teeny tiny bit.

“Alright. You’re picking me up, I suppose?”

“Of course! Wear something cute,” she says, and Jackie has no way of knowing, but she’s ninety percent sure Nicky winked when she said that.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” is all that Jackie replies before Nicky hangs up.

 ***

 Nicky is terrible at roller skating, but Jackie isn’t any better either.

They hold onto each other for dear life, rarely letting go of the edge of the rink and laughing loudly when one of them falls. 

The rink is filled with people far more talented than them, that skate in tune with the songs blasting through the speakers, and Nicky is just getting up and shaking off the dust from her butt when her favorite song, “Pookie”, comes in. It’s as if a switch is flipped. She grabs Jackie’s wrist and does her best to copy what the seemingly professional skaters are doing, while Jackie complains that she’s going to make her fall.

“I’m counting on it,” she replies with a cheeky smile, grabbing Jackie’s hands and chanting the chorus of the song as she drags her around. “Loosen up, babe!” Nicky exclaims happily, and Jackie giggles.

The fact Nicky called her babe most certainly does not make her heart race. Absolutely not.

Jackie tries to follow Nicky’s command, but she ends up stumbling again, except this time she brings Nicky down with her.

Nicky is laying next to her, and Jackie apologizes profusely once she’s able to sit up, but Nicky just laughs so carelessly and wholeheartedly that it infects Jackie too.

“Wanna grab a cherry cola?” Nicky asks, pulling Jackie up. Jackie cocks a skeptical brow.

“They still make those?” She inquires. Her hand is still laced with Nicky’s, but she doesn’t bring it up nor tries to break the contact. It’s nice, and Nicky is keeping her steady, anyway.

There’s an area with snacks and drinks, tables scattered around, so they take off their skates for a moment, and Jackie looks for a table while Nicky gets them drinks. Jackie complains, because Nicky won’t accept her money to buy snacks, to which Nicky simply replies, “I’m paying, because that’s what fake girlfriends do,” she assures her, though Jackie can swear she hesitated when she said “fake girlfriend”.

She tries to convince herself that it’s just her mind, because Nicky knows this is just a casual hang out and their relationship is still fake. They’re just friends. Nothing else and nothing more (a tiny part of Jackie wishes it wasn’t like that, though).

Nicky comes back shortly after, with two cans of coca cola and two bags of chips, jokingly saying that dinner is ready. 

“I haven’t forgotten about your promise of taking me to Avril’s,” Nicky teases, making Jackie chuckle as she sips on her coke, spilling some of the drink down her chin.

“You really haven’t, huh?” She replies, aiming for the tissues, but Nicky grabs them first.

“Let me pay back the favour,” she says, and Jackie is about to ask what she means, when she takes her chin with one hand and gently wipes away the drink with the other.

Nicky’s touch shouldn’t give Jackie chills down her spine, shouldn’t make her feel butterflies in her stomach, and on top of all, it shouldn’t make her heart beat uncontrollably.

It shouldn’t. But it does. And the smile along with the soft stroke of Nicky’s thumb against her skin when she’s done definitely don’t help.

“There. All clean,” Nicky announces with a satisfied smile. Jackie gathers herself to muster a thank you, and busies her mouth with the chips. “Hey, let’s take a selfie.” She pulls out her phone before Jackie can swallow, scooting herself closer and focusing the back, so it shows that they’re at the roller skating rink. It disappoints Jackie a little that this is probably a part of their scheme, but she smiles with her cheeks full of chips either way. 

“You look cute,” Nicky compliments her, and before Jackie can say anything, she adds, “You are cute.” There’s a softness behind her words that surprise Jackie, heat spreading down her neck, and she has no way of knowing, but she’s sure she’s blushing ever so slightly.

“You are pretty too,” she returns the sentiment once she gains her voice back. Nicky smiles sheepishly, looking down at her phone. Jackie stares at her out of the corner of her eye, and if she was a bit more delusional, she’d say Nicky is blushing.

Her own phone lits up with a notification and she sees that Nicky posted the photo they just took together, captioning it with “Love this goofball @cox_jackie” and a string of red heart emojis.

It’s the word “Love” that makes Jackie’s heart go wild.

Almost immediately she has Jaida in her DMs, along with other nosy teachers like Crystal and Brita, asking if she and Nicky are together-together for real. She covers her face with her hands, completely flustered, and hears Nicky giggle mischievously.

“I hate you,” Jackie says, her hands still covering her face.

“You love me,” Nicky teases, snuggling to Jackie’s side as she scrolls through Instagram.

“Maybe I do,” she mumbles quietly, hoping it got lost in the noise of the rink. Nicky looks unfazed, so maybe it did.

Jackie notices it’s not long before nine, but she doesn’t bring it up and neither does Nicky. Instead, they stay for as long as they can, falling flat on their butts and helping each other up, leaning on the other for balance. 

Her ass will hurt tomorrow, and she’ll have to lean on tons of coffee to survive her class during the first period, but it’s worth it. Having a nice time with Nicky is worth it.

 ***

 Their scheme is maybe getting a little out of hand.

Neither Jackie nor Nicky can step into the teachers’ room without being attacked with questions about how their relationship is going; Nicky is the cheesy one that comes up with intricate answers for simple questions. She talks about Jackie as one talks about their crush when they’re fifteen and experiencing love for the first time.

It’s adorable. It makes Jackie want this to be real oh so badly.

It was a few weeks into their pretend relationship when Jackie realized she might like Nicky more than a friend and a fake girlfriend; she wants to kiss her, give her hand a squeeze when they’re watching horror movies and there’s a scary part, buy her coffee on her way to the school because she knows Nicky doesn’t have breakfast most of the time, to text her random cat photos she finds on the internet, buy a succulent with her and take care of it, slowly adding more plants to their collection.

Well, they technically have done all of that already - except the plants part. But Jackie wants it to be real, to stop doing it to get coos in the teachers’ room and showing off on social media. 

Jackie blames it on the almost daily dates, the constant texting, the kisses she gives her at the end of the day, leaving her lipstick behind, the cuddles anywhere and everywhere. Plus, Nicky is a very convincing actress, apparently.

She’s getting too attached to all of it, but she can’t. They will “break up” eventually. So when the other teachers, and even friends out of school, ask about her relationship, she keeps her answers short, polite, and precise. Nicky always excuses her by saying she’s just very private.

Jaida, on the other hand, likes to make fun of her for the situation she’s willingly messed herself into, and the jokes only increase when Jackie admits through gritted teeth that she may or may not have fallen for Nicky. Jackie can only shut her up when she brings up how Jan, the new football coach, has been working at the school for less than a week, and yet she has a big crush on her.

It’s a Friday morning, the only day they have a little bit of peace, and Nicky is talking about how stressed the kids make her, because, apparently, they are still keen on using Google Translate instead of checking their damn notes. Jackie listens and tries to cheer her up, but there’s a question burning on the back of Jackie’s mind, though she’s not sure if she should bring it up right now.

“Do you have any plans for the weekend?” Jackie asks out of the blue, just to stop her mind from going back to those three words. Nicky shakes her head, saying something about spending it grading, binging Project Runway, and ordering take out. Then, Jackie remembers the promise she made Nicky when all of this mayhem started. “Do you wanna go to Avril’s on Saturday?”

Nicky blinks repeatedly before a smile breaks onto her face, nodding enthusiastically. “I thought you forgot,” she says softly, fidgeting with her fingers.

“I didn’t, I wouldn’t.” Jackie offers her a shy smile, biting the inside of her cheek. “Is nine okay for you?”

Nicky cocks an amused brow, “I thought your bedtime was at nine,” she teases. Jackie laughs nervously.

“You changed that, I guess.”

***

Jackie makes an effort for their fake date (but is it fake? who knows anymore), puts on her favorite dress, a pair of heels, and braids her hair carefully. Spring is coming, and so is the warm weather, but she brings a jacket just in case. Who knows, maybe Nicky might need one?

For a change, she picks Nicky up, and does her best not to crash the car because of staring at Nicky out of the corner of her eye. She looks beautiful, but what else is new? Besides, it’s the first time she’s seen her wearing a suit, and the sight makes Jackie easily flustered. It’s casual, yes, but it’s not what she would normally expect from Nicky - who definitely won’t be needing her jacket tonight.

Little did Jackie know, it was just the start of a night full of surprises. 

A waiter takes them to their table, leaves the menu and says he’ll be back to take their orders. Nicky whistles once he’s gone, looking at the place.

“Well, this sure is fancy,” she comments to break the ice. Jackie hums in agreement as Nicky looks up, her eyes widening at the sight of the ceiling. “It’s so pretty.”

Jackie’s eyes, however, are still glued to Nicky. “I’ve seen prettier things,” she says, and Nicky pulls her gaze to meet Jackie’s, a cocky grin setting on her face.

“Like what?” She inquires, and Jackie hums, feigning thoughtfulness. 

“Well, for starters, Shakira-” Nicky yelps, offended, clutching her chest. Jackie laughs wholeheartedly. 

“And here I was, thinking you’d say something nice to your fake girlfriend!”

Jackie hates how she adds the “fake” before “girlfriend”, but she doesn’t say anything. It’s not the time, not yet.

“If it’s worth anything, I think you look beautiful tonight,” she says earnestly, and her heart skips several beats when Nicky bites her lower lip, looking away with what Jackie can only hope is a blush.

“You look stunning,” Nicky returns the sentiment, and Jackie beams.

They place their orders and talk about random topics before their food arrives. Jackie can’t say she’s sure, but at times she swears she can feel a different air hang around them. An air of unsaid words and glances that linger a second too long, of blushes hidden behind drinks and flustered laughs. She hopes she’s not imagining it.

They fall into a comfortable silence once their orders arrive - well, the silence lasts just for a moment, because Nicky moans when she tastes her lasagna and insists Jackie has to try it. After a few moments of goading, Jackie complies, and is taken aback when Nicky holds out her fork and urges her to eat it before it ends up on the tablecloth. 

Jackie locks eyes with Nicky as she leans forward on the table and wraps her lips around the fork, and there’s something in Nicky’s piercing gaze that makes her shiver.

“Tasty,” Jackie concedes with a giggle, Nicky smiles proudly, but Jackie’s sure she sees her swallow thickly. She parts her lips slightly, but shuts them almost immediately, stuffing her mouth with lasagna, and Jackie follows suit by going back to her risotto.

Dinner goes by in the blink of an eye, and Jackie feels her skin prickle with anticipation and anxiety; she just wants to say it. To lay her heart out in front of Nicky in order to get an answer for once and for all, so she can start getting over a fake relationship that, for being fake, got under her skin.

She wants to bring it up, she’s itching to say it, but she can’t gather the courage to do so in a casual way that wouldn’t sound so calculated, but she doesn’t want it to be a spur of the moment either. Jackie wants to give Nicky the Hollywood romance confession she deserves - whatever happens after that, happens.

The night is coming to an end, and Jackie feels like throwing a childish fit. She can’t let it end without telling Nicky. Jackie wishes she had ordered wine, maybe that would’ve let her tongue loosen up a little.

“Should we order dessert?” Nicky wonders, vaguely looking at the menu. “I dig the chocolate fondue, honestly,” she says, looking up at her through her eyelashes, Jackie quirks an eyebrow.

“Isn’t that a little too much for one person?”

“We can share,” Nicky offers almost immediately, making Jackie snort.

“Alright, habibi.” The word slips from Jackie’s mouth before she can think much about it. It’s nice though, even if it feels a little more personal than just calling Nicky “babe” or any term of endearment in English.

“You should call me habibi more often, I like it,” Nicky comments with a giggle. And she may not know it, but it makes Jackie’s heart swoon with happiness.

***

The chocolate fondue is probably the best idea Nicky has ever had.

It’s tasty, messy, and they get their lipsticks ruined by the chocolate with the first strawberry they dip, but damn it if it isn’t worth it. Nicky repeats the action of feeding her, and Jackie feels bold enough to return the favour. Their eyes are locked the entire time, and Jackie feels as if she’ll drop the bomb at any moment.

It certainly doesn’t help that Nicky starts making jokes about never wanting to break up with her if these are the perks of their fake relationship. It stings only a little, though it creates an opportunity for her to tell Nicky the three little words that have been burning at the back of her throat for the past weeks.

“If we break up, can you still take me here? These weeks with you have been way better than most of my relationships,” Nicky comments nonchalantly, almost making Jackie drop her chocolate-covered strawberry. Her heart starts pounding against her chest, forcing herself to look up to meet Nicky's gaze.

She's staring right back at her, with a look she can't quite decipher.

Jackie inhales sharply, realizing her opportunity had arrived. She breathes in deeply, licking her lips and hoping her voice doesn't betray her.

“Aw, you're exaggerating,” she says, trying to play coy and hoping and praying it goes the way she wants to. 

It does, sort of. Nicky softens up her gaze, smiling gently at her.

“Well, not really. My relationships haven't been all that great; maybe because I'm too much of a hopeless Hollywood romantic, and I expected a lot of my relationships. I know that's bad, but- During all this time I've spent with you, it was easy to feel as if I was in a movie,” she confesses earnestly, evading Jackie's piercing gaze.

Jackie can feel her heart beating in her ears, a rush of adrenaline overtaking her as she grips on the fabric of her dress, trying to form a coherent sentence.

“Says the one who lives on reruns of ‘Breakfast at Tiffany's’,” Jackie teases, her voice coming out breathier than she would've wanted, but Nicky laughs and her nerves melt away. “If I'm being honest, I like being your fake girlfriend, it's probably one of the best ideas I've had, if I do say so myself,” she proceeds, trying to sound jokingly, but before she can get another other word in, Nicky interrupts her.

“Yeah, it's your greatest idea, though there's only one thing I don't like about it,” Nicky says, her voice quivers every other word, and Jackie frowns, not understanding for a moment until it clicks.

She stares into Nicky's eyes, and she stares right back. And then she sees it. The feeling Jackie couldn't grasp on—it's love. Or something awfully familiar.

There's silence between them for a moment, until it gets awkward, and Nicky frowns slightly, opening her mouth to say something, but Jackie interrupts her this time.

“I like you,” Jackie admits in a whisper, low and breathy, staring right into Nicky’s eyes. And for a moment she thinks it got lost in the noise of the restaurant, but by the way Nicky’s eyes grow wide, staring right back at Jackie with a sparkle she’d never seen in them, Jackie knows she caught it.

“I like you too,” Nicky says softly. “I’ve known for a while. Even before this,” she confesses, and Jackie can feel her head spinning, her heart is pounding so hard against her chest that she’s sure if Nicky tries to listen carefully, she’ll hear it despite the noise of the restaurant.

She can’t believe this is actually happening. 

“I wanted to tell you sooner, believe me, but the words wouldn't come to me, and I was afraid you would reject me, because you're so pretty and cool, and all the teachers have a crush on you, and I felt like I wasn't good enough, and-” Nicky interrupts Jackie's rambling by reaching across the table and squeezing her hand, looking at her as if she's the most precious human to have ever existed.

“All the teachers may have a crush on me, but I have a crush on just one of them. Guess who is she?” She teases, giggling giddily. Jackie smiles, her cheeks getting as red as the strawberries in front of them.

“You're so cheesy,” Jackie says with a snort, allowing herself to get lost in Nicky's soft touch for a moment, until the curiosity takes the best of her. “So, uh, does this mean this is our first real date?” She asks shyly, stroking the back of Nicky's hand.

Nicky smiles, bright and beautiful, and if it wasn’t because Jackie’s sitting, her knees would inevitably buckle.

“The first of many, hopefully.” She winks, and Jackie holds back an excited screech. 

“So, this was indeed my greatest idea,” she says, and they laugh happily, the night slipping away between giggles and blushes they don't bother to hide anymore.

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Taking flight on a magic carpet

Once in a while, you need a change in perspective. As someone who tends to look too closely and fixate on minor things, it’s easy to miss the big picture.

In other words, sometimes you need to hop on a magic carpet, fly up high in the air, and lose yourself to the vast blue skies.

When least expected, paths cross in ways you’d never imagine. I’ve had surprise visits from two old friends. First was Nathan, who wasn’t completely a surprise as we were making plans when we reunited at Astra. I basically told him to drop by anytime whenever he feels like it so that’s what he did.

With a busy semester finally behind him, Nathan figured that it’s about time he come and check out the camp. We’ve been making more of an effort to keep in touch often after realizing how much we missed each other’s company. How did we let the years slip on by?

The second visitor is someone who I occasionally see on my travels, usually with her companion/mentor/dad figure. It’s been a couple years since we last spoke and a lot has changed. For starters, she’s not with her partner - he doesn’t know she’s here - and second, her visit was completely unexpected. In fact, I don’t know how she found me - not that I’m complaining, I just didn’t think she’d reach out to me.

Peony is the kind of person who’s like an iceberg. There’s more to her than meets the eye, to put it simply. Appearance wise she looks like a kid (though now she looks more like a teen so that solves the question of whether or not she can physically age) but she’s actually in her early twenties. Her personality can flip flop between a hyper child, a defiant adolescent, and a jaded adult.

At times Peony seems like a different person. She’s still sassy and quick to anger, but also restless yet self assured. When she declared that she has grown up, I can see she’s being serious. Obviously she still has a lot to learn but Peony has a point when she says that she deserves to be taken seriously. 

Over the years Peony and Tomomi’s relationship has been on shaky ground. Tomomi, or Doc as Peony calls him, is like a vigilante medic who specializes in surgery. He’s basically a mad genius who breaks all the rules, making him a polarizing figure to many. Peony was sort of an accidental creation and since no one wanted her, Tomomi took her in. Peony went from idolizing him to becoming disillusioned and now she’s struggling to find an in-between.

Tomomi won’t admit it but it’s obvious he cares about Peony a lot. He claims to be the type not to make attachments, yet he does have a heart, which is why he does what he does. Not everyone agrees with his methods but you have to admit that he keeps his word. He’s also the kind of person who cuts and runs as soon as his work’s done so it’s a big deal if he sticks around. Jamie crosses paths with him occasionally so that’s how I got to know him.

So Peony’s kinda like a daughter to Tomomi, though as she’s gotten older she’s become more like a younger sister. Clearly their dynamic has changed a lot since I last saw them. It’s still a bit strange hearing Peony talk about Tomomi like he's a nagging older sibling instead of this super cool mad surgeon who could do no wrong.

Basically Peony and Tomomi have been at each other’s throats for a while. Peony went from being his assistant to his apprentice, leading to high tensions between them. Peony’s at that stage where her mentor is becoming more of a hinderance than a helper. Not only she’s becoming equal to him in terms of skills, she’s even surpassed him in some areas - particularly in making medicinal elixirs, something she was always good at. It also doesn’t help that Tomomi still treats her like a little kid, often disregarding her opinions whenever she thinks outside the box. 

I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s jealousy and resentment on his end with Peony becoming more independent. Not that Tomomi’s controlling of her but with Peony taking on more responsibility I can see how he might feel threatened by that. Peony doesn’t want to be him or his rival, she just wants to forge her own way by being a medicine master, as she puts it. Given that she’s pushing into territory that’s beyond Tomomi’s scope of practice, that marks off another reason why he’s holding her back.

Then last week everything went to hell when Peony defied Tomomi by giving a patient a dangerous cocktail of drugs that was certain to kill them. Tomomi thought treatment was futile as the patient was too far gone, Peony wanted to take a leap of faith. It was a risky moved that paid off in the end but Peony’s victory was short lived when Tomomi blew up at her. Then that escalated into a big argument, ending with Peony giving her mentor a black eye. After that uncharacteristic display of anger, Peony thought it was best to leave so they both can cool off.

She admits to being a bit too stubborn and bull headed, which is something I didn’t see coming. Sure she wants to be respected and treated like an adult but at the same time she still needs guidance. It’s tough being in that position flip flopping between needing someone dependable and not wanting to rely on them as a crutch. She doesn’t want to go back to the clinic until she figures out a way to work things out with Tomomi that doesn’t involve another bodily injury.

It’s strange seeing Peony so rational and trying to be the bigger person. The old Peony would’ve probably thrown a fit and begged for forgiveness. She really has grown up.

Nathan can see where Peony’s coming regarding becoming at odds with someone you once looked up to. It’s one of those situations where both sides aren’t exactly in the right or wrong. His experience is less extreme and stormy thankfully but he can understand what’s going on. In his case it’s Sophia, who he still struggles to see as a parental figure rather than an older sibling because of their upbringing and age difference. Both were raised by Sophia’s mom until she died and Sophia was forced into the role of being the parent, which she clearly wasn’t ready (or fit) for.

While Nathan and Sophia get along well, there is some sort of disconnect between them, especially as Nathan got older. Sophia tries her best and means well, but it’s hard to draw a line when there was never a distinction between being a parent and being a friend. Much like other well meaning parental figures, they don’t always know what’s best despite their good intentions. 

It’s a hard pill to swallow but it’s important to accept that the people you look up to (and probably idolize) are just as flawed and messed up like everyone else. Sometimes you have to push them away in order to allow yourself to grow. If you have a good relationship, then you’ll come out of this stronger.

With Peony going through a rough patch and Nathan in need of a well deserved break from his studies, I figured that it was a good time to do something fun that wasn’t a campsite event. There’s nothing scheduled this week so it works out perfectly - to be honest, we wouldn’t be up for something big anyway. 

Today was pretty much a chill day, much like the other two. Then came Julia, Leo, and a magic carpet! Julia always wanted to create a flying carpet so with Leo’s help, they were able to put something together. They’ve been doing test flights last week so everything would be perfect for the big reveal, which was this morning. Almost everyone in the camp has flown around on the magic carpet, declaring it an unforgettable experience.

When it was time for me, Nathan, and Peony to take flight, we opted to take the scenic route.  There’s something so exhilarating about being so high in the sky where everything looks and feels so small, yet so vast and full at the same time. We’re literally sitting on top of the world!

A magic carpet ride won’t fix your problems or make life less stressful, but it can provide a good escape as well as a lovely view from above.

[danbensen]

August-2030

The sun is hot on my back, and my thighs burn with the effort of holding this position. My back doesn’t hurt, though. Those stretches work.

My face is full of leaves. They come in triplets, saw-edged, each the size of the space between my thumb and forefinger. Hard, unripe berries tap against my glasses. Somewhere too close, a yellow-jacket buzzes.

I put one hand down and reach with the other into the shadows, scattering leaf-hoppers. The sweat sticks to the inside of the glove as I squeeze the handles of the garden sheers. A growing resistance, then a dull snap, and a brown, prickly cane shudders behind the leaves.

The dead cane tears away from the bush like velcro, exposing a patch of soil, the wall of my parents’ house, and a small volume of empty space, dangling with raspberries.

I grab one and put it in my mouth. It tastes like the dirt and leather on my glove, ash from the recent forest fires, and decades of piled summers.

Raspberry canes take a year to grow up from the root, another to produce fruit, and then they die in the third. My job is to clear out the dead canes of last year to make room for next year’s shoots. I’m also exposing more of this year’s berries to my daughters and their cousins.

I wanted to do this in my garden, which is just old enough to have its own raspberries. They’re planted in rows away from the house, just the way my grandpa had them. And I have already done the chore of cutting out that patch’s first crop of dead canes. But my kids were firm: if we were going relive someone’s childhood today, it would be theirs.

I decide that my back is hurting after all and slowly stand.

My parents’ garden hasn’t changed much since Julia was a nine months old and pooping in the wading pool. The lilacs have grown thicker, the apple tree has died. The bird bath is now at our summer house three valleys south of here. Julia manipulated my parents into giving it to her.

But there’s still the enormous rhubarb plant next to the compost. To the east, beyond the rhubarb, the hill slopes down to the Interstate, the web of aerial traffic, and the houses, condos, restaurants, business incubators, network hubs, and micro-factories of Lolo, Montana.

Julia and Mikhaela move through the garden like a hummingbird and a lawnmower, respectively, with the other teenagers strung between them. Some are talking or doing incomprehensible things with their key-rings and charm-bracelets, but an impressive amount of berry-picking is still getting done. Mikhaela said she wanted to make a pie for the party, and they already have enough for two.

I glance to my right, where my younger daughter is methodically mowing her way down the raspberries. I can’t tell whether she’s listening to an audiobook or sharing her POV with some other kid in Saudi Arabia or just thinking her thoughts.

I remember my grandpa when he drove me home from the airport one summer. I had wanted to read a fantasy book, but he wouldn’t let me. He kept me talking that whole drive.

“What did you learn in drama camp today?” I ask her.

“Diegesis,” she says.

There’s a conversation starter! But my attempt at a follow-up question is interrupted by a delivery drone descending onto our lawn. Its brown plastic carapace is emblazoned with the logo of the nearest hub, which means only that this isn’t a delivery from a Lolo caterer or micro-factory. The kids could have ordered something from Seattle or New Zealand, and it would still get routed through the local hub. My guess, though, is that it comes from Sofia, Bulgaria.

“What did you forget to pack, Yooli?” I shout at my older daughter, Julia, as she runs toward the drone, waving her wallet-key.

Last summer, Julia packed almost nothing for our trip to the US. She told us she thought it would be easier to just mail herself stuff when she remembered she needed it. When we saw the international shipping bill, we got her her own bank account and wallet-key, which might have been the whole point of the exercise.

The drone sees her key, releases the box it was clutching, and zips back into the smoky air to join the sky-traffic.

“I didn’t forget anything.” Julia shakes her hair out of her face and lets go of her key-ring, which zips back to her belt on its recoil line. The belt is bright pink, with green and blue Kazakh embroidery patterns. Each key on the ring is a different color and pattern, for a different digital purpose. “This is for our party.”

She pulls open the self-storage box, revealing an irregularly-shaped pink crystal the size of a melon. It’s a salt-lamp.

Generational cycles are funny things. Growing up means doing whatever your parents didn’t do, but we all have a soft spot for our grandparents. I want to be firm and practical like my grandpa, Mikhaela wants to be strong-minded like my mom. My older daughter Julia, for her part, cultivates a free romantic spirit like my mother-in-law. This, for me, is an endless opportunity for spiritual growth.

“Your salt-lamp.” I repeat. “Why do you need a salt-lamp for a party? Why do you need your salt lamp? You could have ordered a brand new one and it would have been a lot cheaper.”

I know what she’ll say next: “it’s my money. You‘re the one who told me to get a job and now I have eighty.” I open my mouth to tell her that she still ought to save her money for something important. And what is it exactly that she’s doing in these eighty jobs anyway?

But Julia hoists the salt-lamp and says, “it has to be this one. My friends and I licked it into just the right shape.”

I have no idea how to respond to that. I close my mouth and process data while my daughter skips away, tongue-sculpted lamp cradled in her arms. I’ve been out-maneuvered again.

I strip off my gloves and hat and go to find my wife.

Pavlina is on the balcony, sipping chilled white wine with her brother and sister-in-law. They’ve lived in California since the early 2010s, and in some ways they’re more American than me.

“I need to go to the teenager party,” I tell Pavlina.

“Zashto? Ti li si tineidjar?” Why? Are you a teenager?

Pavlina’s brother lifts a bottle of beer in my direction. “Ne trevozhi, bre. Veche si imam pushkata.” This is an in-joke.

According to Bulgarian tradition, Julia’s and Mikhaela’s first teenager party means we adults are all exiled here, to my parents’ house. We’re supposed to have a party, too, but I suspect it will be more like a military command center. Lots of tense pacing while we try to imagine what chaos is unfolding on the front lines.

“What are you talking about?” My dad appears from the kitchen with a tray of cheese and the tactical situation becomes more complicated. Neither of my parents approve of the teenager party, and we’ve been tip-toeing around the topic all week.

“We could be in the attic,” I tell Pavlina. “Or the basement.”

“That is where I’ll lock you when you go insane, yes,” she says.

Pavlina’s brother cackles and my dad says “What?” in a tone that means “I am playing the doddering cyborg grandpa, but I really am angry that you’re talking over my head.”

“It’s the teenager party.” I look out over the balcony, where our kids are doing incomprehensible and scary things in the yard below us. “I mean, what if something happens?”

My dad doesn’t say, “exactly! We have to cancel this whole barbaric ritual.” He says, “I’m worried too.”

“Yooli and Mishi will take care of it,” Pavlina says. “That’s what they’re learning to do.”

“What if someone brings dope?”

“They’ll tell him to smoke it outside.”

I check to make sure my mom isn’t in earshot. “What if things get…physical?”

“Zdravko and Boris are big. They’ll beat him up.” These are Julia and Mikhaela’s cousins, who seem to be engaged in some a virtual sword-fight right now. Mikahela is directing it.

“Now you say, ‘there can be only one sun, one moon, and one great khan!'”

I look around for support, but even my dad is nodding. “You don’t need to worry about boys,” he says.

I pick up a piece of cheese. “Well, at least I got them to pick raspberries with me. Mishi’ll make a pie.”

Pavlina looks serenely out at the Sapphire Mountains. “Sore wa kokuteiru no tame da to itta yo.”

‘She told me they were for cocktails,’ in Japanese, a language which nobody within earshot speaks but me and my wife.

I try to slow my breathing.

It isn’t just the underage drinking. It’s the social situation. My kids keeping secrets from me. Me keeping secrets from my dad. I reach down inside of myself for that still, small, voice. It says “be honest.”

“Mikhaela is making cocktails?” I say.

Everyone stiffens.

The US and Bulgaria have very different ideas about what constitutes proper behavior for teenagers and police officers. My dad, brother-in-law, and sister-in-law now all agree that the teenager party is a terrible idea.

Pavlina, meanwhile, looks steadily at me, letting me know that I have now become her opportunity for spiritual growth.

I put my cheese down on the balcony railing. “I’m just worried. Our kids are going to be alone in the summer house, which we just finished. They’re going to be drinking and smoking and licking salt-lamps.”

“Huh?” says my brother in law.

“What’s going to happen? What are we going to do when something does happen?”

“You’ll deal with it.” Pavlina declares, standing. “Nali si moyat mesten vodach?” Aren’t you my native guide? Another in-joke.

She pats me on the shoulder. “In the mean time, meditate on trusting your children, or at least trusting God to watch over them.”

“The God of fools and children,” I mutter. But that still, small voice speaks to me. “Go pick some more raspberries,” it says.

[ladyslounge-blog-blog]

If you're bored, you're boring

Dear Jennifer June, I follow you on Instagram, Facebook and twitter. You seem so down to earth and fun, even now, during this global disaster. I don't know how you do it! Sorry for writing about something so depressing, I'm sure you have more interesting things to do than read this, but I'm having a hard time coping with this whole Corona Virus thing and you're basically my idol and there's nobody's advice I would cherish more than yours at a time like this. It's hard enough living alone in this 3 story house, with nobody to talk to but my extraordinarily independent, mute, non-shedding, hypoallergenic cat, and nothing to do but play my baby grand piano, cook in my Wolfgang Puck inspired kitchen, and watch the plants in the solarium grow, without having to try to make sense of all the contradicting political and public service announcements on the news - on top of it all. How do you stay so grounded and levelheaded during this crisis? Anxious and alone, with nobody to share any of my wine with, Samantha P.S. I love your hair like that. You’re so pretty. Dear Samantha, Thank you so much for following me, and for your very kind words. I know that times like these can be very trying for anyone, and I honestly can't imagine how hard it must be for you to have all that empty quiet space to occupy all by yourself. The solarium alone sounds dreadful. I don't know if they will be of any use to you but here are 10 of the tools that have kept me calm, reflective and mentally grounded over the last few weeks. Regular exercise - At least 4 times a week (weight training, cardio, stretching etc.) Ritual - meditation, prayer, lighting candles, manifesting and projecting feelings of love and positivity for others, iChing, vision cards, visualizing acts of kindness etc... Weekly check-ins with a fabulous therapist who reminds me to honour all of my feelings and be true to myself. Minimum of 90 minutes daily gentle hand-picking of individual cat hairs out of every single inch of fabric/carpet/my body that I can find. Poking my lettuce seedlings with a chopstick several times a day to "check" if they're growing. Robert Mondavi Private Selection Cabernet Sauvignon Bourbon Barrels Sartori Valpolicella Superiore True Zin Puglia Boisseaux-Estivant Réserve de la Chèvre Noire Bourgogne Santa Julia Biologique Cabernet-Sauvignon Mendoza Hope this helps!  JJC Dear Jennifer June, I've been to pretty much every single show you've ever done, and I love how funny you are. Everything you say on stage is so relatable even though you're obviously cooler, smarter and prettier than me. I got 3 cats and 1 dog because of you and I named them Phoebe, Flo, Willow and Nina, just like yours! But not in a creepy way. Anyway, enough about me, but not really because I'm writing to you about me, because this quarantine vibe has me so down, I can't take it anymore. Ugh, Montreal is supposed to be the city of lights, or the city that never sleeps or whatever but I'm so lonely and bored, I literally almost thought about inviting my pharmacy delivery guy in for a drink yesterday when he came to deliver my topical rash ointment. You post the coolest stories on IG and you seem to be actually having fun. What do you do all day? How are you not dying of boredom right now? PS Prescription guy - cute a f Bored Becky  Dear Bored Becky,  Thank you so much for the kind words. I'm so glad you enjoy the shows. I'll be honest with you Becky; I have never once been bored in my adult life. I am actually fortunate enough to be able to work from home at the moment. I also have many projects on the go at all times.   I love spending time with my family, listening to music, reading, and cooking. I also try to truly  savour the rare moments that I get to just sit back and relax, whether it's in an Epsom salt bath, in a pile of blankets and cats (hair) on the sofa, or in a pool of my own nap drool /cry-orgasm-tears at the foot of the basement stairs. I think that first, it's important for you to ask yourself, are you truly bored? Or are you feeling something else. Possibly, what you're feeling is avoidant. Maybe you're trying to procrastinate.   Perhaps you're simply paralyzed with terror because the whole world has the fucking plague and people are smashing into each other in the streets like a swarm of contagious germ feast zombies. Or maybe you're truly bored, Becky. And if you are.... Well, I don't want to be the jerk who says "If you're bored, you're boring" but I am, and it's true. Seriously Becky, there are 22 different species of squirrel (in Canada) to post photographs of on Instagram, 165 shows on Netflix, over 100 knitting stitches you can learn, 19054 different red wines at the SAQ, millions of bananas that have not yet been baked into loaves of bread, and 64 editions of Guinness World Records, compiling thousands of really fun, super safe feats for you attempt to break, from the comfort of your own home, including heaviest weight lifted by human beard, most apples crushed with the bicep and longest fingernails grown by a woman. Hope this helps! JJC Dear Jen, First: You’re hilarious and I LOVE your dog. Second: I have a never-ending to-do list that I always say I don't have enough time to tackle. Thanks to the global pandemic, I am currently unemployed and under quarantine, which means that I have all the time in the world. I don't know why, but for some reason, I can't seem to get my shit together and do any of the things on my list. I basically just scroll through Instagram, watch television, drink wine and bake cookies. I feel so lazy, I'm even embarrassed to be sending this to you. I mean, I know that this kind of life changing event is enough to cause anybody trauma and make them feel creatively blocked, if not paralyzed. And I get that I should try to be self-compassionate and realistic about what I my limitations are under these times of great stress, but I can't help but feel a little bit guilty for not being able to do more. Is there something wrong with me? Shauna Dear Shauna, I think it's super important to remember that despite all the extra time you might have on your hands, it can be difficult to find inspiration for anyone right now. The fear of the unknown, being inundated with a storm of anxiety-inducing news and so much contradicting information that leaves us entirely confused as to whether to go for walks or not go for walks, wear masks or not wear masks, stay 6 feet from people or 6 meters from people etc... It's a lot and can be really demotivating and even completely draining. That having been said... Get off the damn sofa and do the shit on your god damn list. If months go by and you come out of this with nothing done but 15 new pounds gained on your lazy ass, you're going to fucking hate yourself. Study your damn Italian, post the dumplings on your vegan web site and do those stupid stair push-ups every stupid day or you will keep crying every time you can't do more than 10 of them. Oh! And write your book already!!! You have time to send 86 memes back and forth with your kids and post pictures of squirrels on Instagram every single day, sew 4 pairs of pyjamas, bake cookies you don't want to eat, watch every single episode of Game of Thrones in under 2 weeks, set up a photography corner in the basement that you don't use, and try all 19054 different red wines they sell at the SAQ, meditate, pray, light candles, manifest and project feelings of love and positivity for others, throw the iChing, pull vision cards, and visualize acts of kindness, and write not 1, not 2, but 3 drippy whiney love songs that you'll never let anybody hear because they're "not funny", "not done", and "not good enough", but you can't write a single chapter for your book? Are you kidding me right now? Jen seriously! Get it the fuck together. Hope this helps! PS My dog smells like rotting Doritos. JJC   Read the full article

[ask-melitta-rilow-blog]

Orange & Purple- whichever you want to answer! ~Ernst

Hi, Ernst!

I feel like oversharing today, so here you go.

ORANGEBuff Orange - Would you consider yourself athletic?Not really. I mean, I’m not out of shape, but sports aren’t my go-to pastime.Burnt Sienna - Favourite smell?Honestly, just about anything you’d find in a scented candle. Campfires eke out a win, I think, but it’s a close thing.Melon - Do you like to dance?Do I like to? Yes. Am I good at it? Probably not.Carrot - Do you bake?Not well. See above.Copper - What is your favourite kind of day?I really like days when you have the whole day free and you have literally no obligations, so you can do whatever you want and hang out with your friends and family as long as you like, but also have plenty of time to yourself. Unfortunately, I think I’ve had maybe two of those days. Here’s hoping for more to come!Orangeade - When do you feel alive?I’m not a very good dancer, like I said before, but when I do dance, if it’s to a fast and/or upbeat song, that’s exhilarating. Gamboge - Where do you want to travel?Where don’t I want to travel? I’d love to visit the U.K. and Ireland, New Zealand, Australia, France, Greece, Italy, Spain, Mexico, Egypt, South Africa… Peach - Favourite texture/s?Soft things will generally win me over. Kittens’ and puppies’ fur before they’ve grown up and grown adult coats, babies’ skin before they’ve grown up and gotten calluses all over–incidentally, the most direct way to my heart is with a soft blanket. Those insanely plush ones that come in a roll? They’re the best.Vermillion - How brave are you?Thankfully, I haven’t had much opportunity yet to find out.Though since I said ‘thankfully,’ I think the answer you’re looking for might be ‘not very.’Bittersweet Shimmer - What is your favourite memory? I’ve been blessed enough to have a hard time picking a favourite, since my friends and family are all so amazing, but if I had to choose, it would probably be a year or two ago, on Christmas Day. Thea, Hanschen, and I were together in the living room after opening our presents, and we were just talking and laughing and generally having a good time being civilized people, and it just felt so good and pure. We spent the first several years of our lives together aggressively not getting along. Whether it was genuine, or if it was because we saw other kids not getting on with their siblings and we thought that was how the world worked, I don’t know, but it was at about this Christmastime when we realized that that wasn’t necessarily the best course of action, and from then on, we’ve gotten along really well for the most part. I wouldn’t trade that for the world.

PURPLELilac - Would you want kids?Eventually, yes. There are days when I start daydreaming about being an Adult With Children and it’s terrifying, because I do not trust myself with the life of another human being, but then I get to play with baby Hansi and I find myself saying “I want one.” And if I’m lucky enough to have someone helping me along the way, I think I could do it.Lavender - What is your favourite time of day?My favourite time to be outside is that no-man’s-land between morning and afternoon or afternoon and evening, where it’s not usually too hot or too cold, and it’s calm and delightful. My favourite time in general (inside or out) is nighttime, because when you’re outside, the stars and moon are beautiful, and when you’re inside, it’s easier to get things done (at least for me).Mulberry - Could you betray someone?Only if someone I loved was in mortal peril. And maybe not even then, depending on which loved one it was (that sounds awful, but I just mean that I can picture several of my loved ones being the dramatic movie character who’s like, “I’d rather die than see you lose your integrity,” or “I’d rather die than see the information you have fall into the wrong hands,” you know? Also, I don’t know if I’d ever be able to forgive myself for betraying someone, and I have a few loved ones who probably wouldn’t).Eminence - Favourite sounds?Music is especially nice. Non-music sounds…I really like the sound of a log fire crackling, and of dry leaves crunching.Palatinate - Do you think you’ll make it to 100 years old?Honestly, who knows. Our family tends to live longer than average, but I don’t know that we’ve ever had anyone make it to 100, and we have to take my clumsiness into account.Prune - Do you ever think about dying?I think about it more than most people do, I imagine, but I don’t think it’s reached worrying levels. I just have a random thought about death, and then it spirals mildly out of control but eventually goes away on its own.Fandango - Do you spontaneously start singing sometimes?Only all the time.Thistle - If you could become wise, rich, or intelligent, which would you rather?I think I’ll have to go with wise, because richness goes away eventually, and doesn’t mean all that much anyway, and with intelligence, you run the risk of becoming a know-it-all and/or full of yourself. There is too much of a good thing. Also, I like to think I’m relatively smart already. Maybe.Mauve - What would you name your kids/pets?I have thought about this way too much.Baby girl: Julia, Celia, Naomi, or RachelBaby boy: Thane, Marcus, Aaron, or DavidDog: Remus or AtalantaCat: Loki or ArtemisIf I were to have a pet that weren’t a dog or a cat, its name would probably be a pun of some sort.Royal Purple - What’s your favourite emotion?I really like bittersweetness. Is that strange? I prefer to experience happiness, of course, but I tend to like sad books/movies/plays/etc. better than their happier counterparts. So bittersweetness is a nice middle ground.

Thanks, Ernst!

Love,Melitta

P.S. What are some of these colours? Is gamboge even a word? Is palatinate? They don’t look like words.

[vicbartons]

could you write a drabble for robron and number 7?

“How long has it been?”

5 months, 3 weeks, 2 days and almost 13 hours. He wasn´t going to tell Julia that though, that he was still counting. That he still hoped that at some point he´d be able to stop the clock.

It would just make him look pathetic and desperate.

Not that that wouldn´t be true, but they had only known each other for about 15 minutes and the fact alone that he was spending his Friday morning sitting on a dark brown leather couch in a small cosy room, surrounded by bookshelves and with a pillow in his lap; instead of lying in his bed, hiding under the covers and nursing the rest of last nights whiskey, made him feel vulnerable enough. Thank you very much.

He most certainly wasn´t ready to let her in on the full extent of his desolation and self-hate. At least not yet. 

Maybe if he kept staring at the clock on the wall behind her he could somehow will time to go by faster. 

"6 months,” he said. 

Robert looked at her then, trying hard to act somewhat nonchalant. His voice was void of emotion, but his hands were gripping the pillow tightly by its edges. So tightly that his knuckles turned white. If nothing else, Robert had gotten good at hiding his real feelings again over the last couple of months.

 “I´m doing fine.”

"No, I´m not drunk."

“Yes, I´m eating.”

“You don´t have to worry about me.”

The lies rolled off his tongue far easier these days. 

Right after, they hadn´t. 

Aaron had taken a sledgehammer to all of the walls Robert had carefully built over years, but at least he had still been a closed book to everyone else. That was until everything had fallen apart and he hadn´t been able to keep up the pretence any longer. Hadn´t had the strength to play tough. Not that he had talked to people about it, but the dark circles under his puffy eyes and his ashen complexion had been enough of a giveaway for anyone who had still cared enough to notice.

Julia gave him a kind smile and nodded. She was maybe in her late thirties, sitting across from him in a matching brown arm chair, her legs crossed, her long blonde hair in a braided bun on top of her head. It reminded him of Liv.

God, Robert missed Liv.

“And how would you say you´re coping with the separation?” Julia´s voice was soft and gentle. She sounded like she actually cared, not as if she was only pretending to be interested, because making him feel welcome and getting him to open up about things he didn´t want to share was her job. Not the way Diane sounded when she called once in a blue moon.

Robert let his eyes wander across the room, unwilling to look the therapist in the eye in fear of being found out and psychoanalysed, until they settled on the window. It was slightly fogged by the cold November air, little drops of condensation making their way from its top down to the windowsill, but he could still make out the row of cars driving by down below. People driving to work or bringing their kids to school. Functioning, well-adjusted adults, who had managed to get out of bed that morning and were able to go about their day without a pit in their stomach, without a constant feeling of dread.

It was so much easier to focus on them than to look at the counsellor in front of him, when he didn´t feel like he deserved the sympathetic look in her eyes. 

"I´m coping,” he answered.

It was bullshit. Obviously. 

Sure, nowadays he held out on opening a new bottle of alcohol until the early hours of the afternoon, instead of diving in as soon as he woke up in the morning. He had actually managed to send out two application letters that week (London flats were expensive and his savings wouldn´t last forever), but that was about it.

Victoria had called it progress. Robert new that it was nothing more than mere survival, unworthy of her praise. 

Even four months after his move, his place was still covered in unopened boxes of flat-pack furniture. A manifestation of his reluctance to accept his new living situation and everything that came with it as fact, staring back at him every time he entered the place. The scattered boxes and emptied bottles mocking him for every terrible choice he´d ever made. But what really was doing him in now - months into this newfound so-called life of his - was the lack of human interaction. These days, Victoria´s daily calls, which had grown more and more concerned as time passed by, and the two lines of small talk he shared with a rotating number of delivery men every night were the only reminders he had of the fact that there was indeed a world out there behind his four walls.

Julia didn´t push for more right away. She just slid her round, gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose with her index finger and scribbled something into her notebook instead. It made Robert nervous. Made him feel like he hadn´t pulled that line off as well as he had hoped. It made him feel like maybe she knew.

He tightened his jaw and crossed his arms over the pillow. Drew it a little closer, until it was pressed against his chest, because the look on Juila´s face made him feel exposed and that was the only bit of protection he had in here. 

“I know that this isn´t easy, but I can only help with whatever is going on with you, if you open up…” Julia said, but it was Victoria´s voice he heard it in. 

It´s what she had been telling him ever since he had crashed on her couch that first night after Aaron had kicked him out. And she hadn´t let it go, even after Robert was out of her sight and trying his best to keep her worries at bay by sounding as convincingly okay as possible on the phone. Victoria hadn´t bought it, of course she hadn´t. She had always been able to see through his facade. So instead of giving up and letting it go, she had started to drop hints about therapy. About how it might be easier to talk to someone who wasn´t so involved in all of it, someone he wouldn´t feel pre-judged by. 

Actually, it was her who had given him Julia´s number in the end, begging him to at least give it a try.

It had taken weeks, but in the end he hadn´t been able to refuse his little sister. Especially not since she was the only one still willing to put up with him after everything. His pride wasn´t worth losing that.

Wasn´t worth losing her.

“It´s…,”  Robert didn´t quite know how to explain the way he had been feeling for the past couple of months without giving away too much too soon. 

“It´s been really hard,”  is what he settled on.  

There was more. Of course there was more. 

I miss him. I miss my home. I miss my family. It´s hard, because in the end it was all my fault. It´s even harder, because I always knew that I would disappoint him. It was just a matter of time. 

There was a voice inside his head, that unsurprisingly sounded a lot like his little sister, telling him to let it all out right then and there, just for the slight chance of feeling a little bit better afterwards, a little bit more like himself. It had been a long six months and Robert had grown so incredibly tired of pretending. He was desperate to just once go to bed without feeling like someone was punching him in the gut repeatedly, while his mind was running in circles. Just one night without the image of a crying Aaron clouding his every thought.

He didn´t though.

Because at the end of the day, no matter the pain, he was still Robert Sugden. He was still Jack´s son, which meant that he knew the consequences of letting other people in on your feelings and sharing things they might not be ready to hear far too well. It was going to take him more than twenty minutes to trust the woman in front of him with all of his deepest darkest secrets, if he ever would.

But at least this felt like a start.

He wasn´t sure if this would actually help, but he owed it to Victoria to try.

He certainly owed it to Aaron.

And maybe Robert even owed himself the chance of getting better, no matter how badly he had messed things up.  

Especially, if he wanted to keep his hopes of ever being allowed to come home again alive.

[writingguide003-blog]

'I completely lost it': the movie scenes that made our writers weep

New Post has been published on https://writingguideto.com/must-see/i-completely-lost-it-the-movie-scenes-that-made-our-writers-weep-2/

'I completely lost it': the movie scenes that made our writers weep

From Toy Story 2 to Under the Skin, writers pick the cinematic moments that made them cry and explain why. Spoilers ahead

Aunt Lucys trip, Paddington 2

On the face of it, Paddington is a fairly broad kids film franchise about the hijinks of a CGI bear, and so probably shouldnt make a grown human cry hot, salty tears. But that description ignores the fact that Paddington is a really, really well-made kids film franchise about the hijinks of a CGI bear, one that completely gets the pathos of its central character, a little lost immigrant searching for something resembling a family. Both films ably tug at the heartstrings, but the second film got me sniffling as early as 15 minutes in when Paddington imagines giving his only living relative, Aunt Lucy, a tour around London, something that in reality is impossible as shes stuck thousands of miles away in darkest Peru. When at the end of the film spoiler alert Aunt Lucy arrives on the Brown familys doorstep and she and Paddington hug, I completely, unapologetically lost it. Lord knows what surprises Paddington 3 has planned for my tear ducts. GM

When She Loved Me, Toy Story 2

Just before writing this, I put When She Loved Me from Toy Story 2 on YouTube once again, just to check. Yep. Just as always, I choke up, in the same abject, lip-wobbling, head-bowed way. It still has that terrible power.

When She Loved Me is the song written by Randy Newman and sung by the devastated toy cowgirl Jessie and in fact performed, beautifully, on the soundtrack by Canadian singer Sarah McLachlan. The song is Jessies way of telling Woody why she has grimly decided to submit to the airless world of the toy museum, because it is better than the inevitable heartbreak and delusion of loving a fickle human child. She reveals her anguish that her owner, Emily, has fallen out of love with her outgrown her, in fact. As Emily entered the world of adolescence, pop music and boys, Jessie was left under the bed and finally dumped.

When I first saw this scene and misled by the size disparity between toy and owner I thought it was a parable for a childs anxiety over being abandoned by the parent. But now that I am a parent I can see the truth which is completely the opposite way around. It is about the parents fear of being abandoned by the child: the terrible fear, actually the terrible certainty, that the kid one day wont want to play with you. They will grow up and want something else. This song is utterly devastating. It is modern cinemas equivalent of the Vesti La Giubba aria from Pagliacci the tragic clown smiling on the outside but crying on the inside. Im afraid to watch it too often. I dont want to break down over and over again. But I also want to preserve its power over me. PB

Ruths death, Fried Green Tomatoes

In many respects, Fried Green Tomatoes is not a movie for the modern age. It is a story about racism in the deep south told largely by way of eliciting our sympathies for wealthy white characters; it is a story about a lesbian relationship that had to slide its lesbian relationship in unnoticed, by presenting it as a very close friendship fulfilled by food fights, poker games and heads leaning meaningfully on shoulders. But I am deeply fond of this 1991 Sunday afternoon classic. Ive seen it more times than is healthy, and so I know exactly what is coming and when, and yet am still unable to resist the inevitable guttural sobbing that comes with the death scene.

There are plenty of teasers for it, too: Buddy on the train tracks, even Mrs Threadgoode talking about the death of her adult son. Nothing, however, can prepare the viewer for Ruth asking Idgie to tell her the old story about the frozen lake thats now somewhere over in Georgia. It doesnt so much pull on heartstrings as play a full symphony on them, and its devastating. As Sipsey puts it, a lady always knows when to leave. RN

The rooftop dance, Eat Pray Love

While I was repelled by the mere existence of the Eat Pray Love book, I found something strangely charming about its big-screen translation. It was a mixture of glossy food porn, glossy travel porn and glossy Julia Roberts emoting porn (she remains one of the best fake criers in Hollywood) all wrapped up in a rather unique tale of a woman trying to unshackle herself from the men in her life. But while that all provided mostly surface-level enjoyment, one scene cut deeper and the extent to which it cuts surprises me still.

As is often with the case with movie tears, these were tied to a real-world experience that had happened not long before I sat down to watch. I was dumped by a long-term boyfriend without much of an explanation and without any sort of warning. I was heartbroken and seeking some form of closure that was kept cruelly out of reach. I didnt understand why it had happened and it was the not knowing that felt harder than the break-up itself.

In the film, Roberts character has left her flighty husband and remains haunted by the heartbreak shes caused. On a rooftop in Delhi, a vision of him appears and they dance to Neil Youngs heart-grabbing Harvest Moon, the song that was supposed to accompany their first wedding dance. She reminds him that she did love him. He tells her he still loves and misses her. They cry and continue to dance. At the end, she tells him that it wont last forever, nothing does. Its a short scene but it hit me like a bus, it still does now. My tears are for the film but theyre also for something deeper: the sting of loving someone who stopped loving me and the ache of an ending I was never allowed in real life. BL

The thunderstorm, Click

Adam Sandler can make me cry harder than hes ever made me laugh, the true test of a clown. Yes, even in the underappreciated comedy Click about a dad who finds a magical remote control in the Beyond section of Bed Bath & Beyond.

Sandlers workaholic architect fast-forwards through the worst parts of his day the dull weeknight frozen dinners with his family, the repetitive arguments, the gross times everyone gets knocked out by the flu in order to get to his next promotion so he can buy his kids whatever they want. His plan doesnt go well, of course. But whats shocking is how gut-rippingly painful it is to see Sandler hit play on his life only to realize hes skipped past everything that matters. His bodys been present, the bills have been paid, but his emotional engagements been staticky a trade-off too many of us can understand.

In the climax, old man Sandler sobs in a thunderstorm as he arrives at his daughters wedding only to learn shed rather her stepdad walk her down the aisle, and his son has grown up to mimic his job-first, family-second example. I rarely cry at unavoidable tragedies where no ones at fault. My weakness is characters regretting choices they cant rewind. Click isnt Ingmar Bergman Sandler gets a happy ending but I barely saw his relief through the rainstorm on my face. AN

The courtroom, Kramer vs Kramer

By all accounts, Robert Bentons film Kramer vs Kramer skews heavily toward Dustin Hoffmans Ted, whose wife Joanna has left him and their six-year-old son Billy. Billy and Ted make french toast together, or argue about eating ice cream before dinner, or visit the nearby jungle gym. Were it not for Meryl Streep and the trenchant, intuitive way she humanizes a woman who, in the 70s, would have otherwise been made to seem mawkish and unstable Kramer vs Kramer might be just a schmaltzy panegyric on fatherhood.

But leave it to our greatest living actor to turn a film on its head with a single scene. You know the one: Joanna, during the custody hearing, is subjected to a string of sexist questions about her failure as a wife and a mother. When asked why shes seeking custody of Billy, she blinks three times, beginning the monologue Streep herself wrote in an effort to redeem her character, who she initially perceived to be an ogre, a princess, an ass.

Billys only seven years old. He needs me, she says, reciting the word need with a whispery uptick as she glances at her ex. Im not saying he doesnt need his father. But I really believe he needs me more. After catching her breath, she becomes more emphatic: I was his mommy for five and a half years. Since I was about Billys age when my parents got divorced, ergo, too young to understand or even care, Ive always been astonished and, by proxy, moved by how compassionately Streep plumbs the depths of Joannas truth. JN

The beach, Under the Skin

Little focuses the mind more effectively on human distress than the arrival of your own kids; scenes in films which I might once have snoozed through now induce boggle-eyed terror OH MY GOD, DONT LEAVE THAT BABY NEAR THAT COFFEE TABLE, IT HASNT GOT A CORNER PROTECTOR! But nothing has topped at least, not yet the scene in Under the Skin where Scarlett Johansson murders a swimmer and drags him off to eat him.

Its not the murder thats so epically upsetting, though its gruesome enough: Johansson, playing an alien visitor permanently on the lookout for human nutrients, simply bangs him over the head with a large stone as he lies prone and exhausted on the beach. Its what goes on in the background that is so awful. A woman goes into the water to try and rescue her drowning dog, and her male partner instinctively rushes in after her, leaving their toddler alone high on the shore. Johanssons chum the only other adult on this lonely Scottish beach goes to help too.

With the speed of falling dominoes, a nice little day out unravels: the mother and father are swept away to who knows where, and the alien takes her chance to acquire their would-be rescuer as a food source. Meanwhile, the suddenly abandoned kid is shrieking in terror as the night closes in. Another, less astute film-maker, might cap the scene with the alien scooping the kid up and adding him to her dinner menu, but what Glazer contrives is absolutely horrifying. Johansson-alien simply ignores it, and leaves it alone. The film moves on, this incident consigned to the past.

I have to confess I was absolutely blindsided by the scene; mostly, I think, because of the its sheer unexpectedness. I think I was gripped by a kind of internal hysteria: shock, hyperventilation, a feeling the back of my head might explode. (I cant say I actually cried though I may have, but in the confusion I cant really remember.) I certainly had to hold on to the seat to stop myself bolting out of the cinema then and there. I am aware theres a some degree of self-indulgence here: the fact that my daughter was about the same age as the kid in the film undoubtedly super-sensitised my reactions. But everyone has their weak spot; this is very much mine. AP

The birth, Cheaper by the Dozen 2

Cheaper by the Dozen 2, if you havent seen it you probably havent, why would you have? is the sequel to the remake of family comedy Cheaper by the Dozen, and Im sure it was made because Steve Martin, the star of the franchise, needed to pay his mortgage. The main gist of the movie is that Martin and his wife, played by Bonnie Hunt, have 12 children who get into various japes. Its asinine. But during a time in my life when I was making a lot of transatlantic flights, Cheaper By the Dozen 2 was always an option on the British Airways seatback televisions, and one day I found, because of the frequency of my flights, I had watched all of the other films.

What choice did I have? At the climactic scene, where the oldest daughter, played by Piper Perabo, gives birth, and then names the baby after her father because he has shown her that there is no way to be a perfect parent, but a million ways to be a really good one, I cried so much the man sitting next to me regarded me with what appeared to be real concern. There may have not been enough cocktail napkins on the whole plane to dry my tears. Was it the recycled air? Was it the two miniature bottles of white wine? Or was it that a joyful childbirth scene can warm the cockles of even the coldest of hearts? JHE

The accidental reunion, Manchester by the Sea

Weve got a real talent for repression back in Massachusetts. Kenneth Lonergans searing Manchester by the Sea plays out a 15-minute drive from my childhood home and, true to life, the characters all struggle to articulate the perfect storms of emotion raging within them.

When Lee (Casey Affleck) has a chance encounter with his ex-wife Randi (Michelle Williams), the shared history between them is literally unspeakable. They sputter out fragments of sentences that act as a shorthand for vast reservoirs of guilt and self-loathing they cant bear to express, and because they know one another so intimately, they can intuit all the meaning they have to. Theyve both shoved a lot deep down inside just so they can look at themselves in the mirror, and when in the presence of the only other person on the planet who understands what theyve been through, some of it has to come out. Randi does most of the talking, inviting Lee to lunch so they can get some closure, and he ends the conversation by walking away. Shes ready to face her past and be fully present in the new life shes built for herself. Lee, a North Shore boy born and bred, feels more comfortable starting a bar fight as his form of therapy. CB

The hotel, Unrelated

Joanna Hoggs first film, Unrelated, has had something of a second life on account of being the debut of Tom Hiddleston, and set during a Tuscan summer, which means swimming pool, which means toplessness, and lots of it. Its nice to imagine the Loki-lovers streaming this masterpiece of English upper-middle-class excruciation. As its ending shows, specificity is no barrier to emotional oomph.

The story sees a woman in her early 40s, Anna (Kathryn Worth), holidaying with old friends and their teenage children. She finds she prefers the company of the kids, especially the charming Oakley (Hiddleston, then 26, playing eight years younger). The holiday implodes. Anna goes to stay at a grim airport hotel. Her friend visits, crossly wanting to know whats behind her behaviour. Anna explains that, quite recently, she thought she was pregnant but no, in fact, it was an early menopause. Shell never be able to have children. She sobs and bends double on the bed. It is shot in one take, from the middle distance, acted with a banal frankness which feels like eavesdropping.

When I saw it a decade back, it floored me: a twist I hadnt foreseen, a pain I could only imagine. A few years ago, I began consciously avoiding the film, fearful a similar fate awaited me. Now I can safely watch it again or, I thought I could, but Hogg is much too superb and mysterious a film-maker for that. It isnt simply the information which is terrible, it is the dreadful catharsis of its expression, coming after so much obfuscation. The stifle has gone; instead there is the most awful sadness. Buttoning up is often the bravest way. CS

Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/us

[kidsviral-blog]

Backfire? People are still wondering about CNN's live clip of a mother and son reunited after being separated at the border

New Post has been published on https://kidsviral.info/backfire-people-are-still-wondering-about-cnns-live-clip-of-a-mother-and-son-reunited-after-being-separated-at-the-border/

Backfire? People are still wondering about CNN's live clip of a mother and son reunited after being separated at the border

We have to admit, we love this live clip from CNN just for the fact that the reporter on the scene says he won’t use the woman’s last name “for her own protection” — just seconds after the anchor gives out her full name on the air.

But something’s up. We’re not saying there’s anything fake about this video, but we’d bet good money this is not what CNN was expecting to get when it sent a camera crew to Dulles International Airport to capture the moment a mother was united with her son who was separated from her at the border.

Happening right now: A mother who has been separated from her 7-year-old son for a month reunited with him. pic.twitter.com/AXvuT0P0fL

— Meg Wagner (@megwagner) June 29, 2018

This aired Friday, and people are still passing the video around days later, saying something seems … off.

Anyone else find this strange https://t.co/LpG2u2fwSs

— Bethany S. Mandel (@bethanyshondark) July 3, 2018

Yes. Someone posted it on FB and I was all prepared to say “kids handle emotional circumstances differently” until I watched but I watched and something is way off

— MLH ♥️ (@just_mindy) July 3, 2018

Same

— Bethany S. Mandel (@bethanyshondark) July 3, 2018

Um … unless this kid is low affect or generally undemonstrative or was severely traumatized during their time apart … seems like an underwhelming moment on both sides. Weird. 🤔

— H e a t h e r ☕️ (@RealCatholicMom) July 3, 2018

Again, we’re not saying it’s fake, but it’s certainly not the heartbreaking reunion CNN was hoping for. Nice try, though.

This looks strange. The boy was told he was going to see his mom. He keeps looking away like he is still looking for her. Are we sure the children are being given to the correct adults?

— pete (@peteweeks) July 3, 2018

Does he even know this woman? Obviously he had such a good experience that he did not even miss her.

— DeeDee👠 (@dkrwilliams) July 3, 2018

Something feels off here. I don't see what I expect to see when a child is reunited with mother after a month of separation. Do these people even know each other ??

— Trump from Day1🇺🇸👍🏻 (@techmaster58) June 29, 2018

This is so fake, if one of my children had been separated from me for a month they would have ran into my arms and not left!

— Julia (@jewels2889) July 3, 2018

Not her kid. I bet she is an aunt or a family friend. #NotMyResident

— Tombstone Eyes (@BanEnemedia) July 3, 2018

The reporter said she was his mother. If I hadn't seen my child in a month wild horses could t have kept me from running thru that airport with tears streaming down my face.

— SunInTheRain (@SunInTheRain14) July 3, 2018

Does this child even know this woman?

— Weeki1 (@weeki1) July 3, 2018

Has this been verified🤔

— Mary (@MaryUK) July 1, 2018

I must say whatever you all at CNN we’re trying to do with this video was an EPIC FAIL

— Ex-Dem🇺🇸Latina (@ExDemLatina) July 3, 2018

Give me a break. Not a tear in her eye and that kid could care less about this woman. He isn't even looking at her. WHO is she? I doubt she is his mother. She didn't act like a mother. No emotion….another LIE from the left. Geez.

— Ellen Atkinson (@eatkinson48) July 3, 2018

The kid looks traumatized. He’s been detached. Or in shock. I’m no expert.

— Aaron Casillas (@AC_Creates) June 29, 2018

This is not how children would react seeing their mom for the first time in a month. Where is his real mother?

— Jen Jussely (@JJussely) July 3, 2018

This boy does not appear to have an emotional attachment to this woman. Curious.

— CherryRed🍒🇺🇸 (@92cherrybomb) July 3, 2018

Body language says it all.. Did he really miss his mom? Was that really his mom? 🤔

— Seimron Llipder (@truthseeqr) July 3, 2018

That little boy acts like he doesn't know the woman at all. If he knows her, he clearly did not miss her. He doesn't even look at her.

— GOD'S ARMY (@Brenda06135) July 3, 2018

Looks like a set up to me. CNN wanted some kind of emotional reunion. What they got was truth.

— AirborneRecondo 🇺🇸 (@airbrnrcndo76) July 3, 2018

@CNN if you didn't stage this, then please take a break from your narrative and think about the welfare of the child! Someone needs to check on him and make sure that everything is okay! This reaction to being reunited after a month apart is NOT normal!!!

— Jenna (@jennabean) July 3, 2018

Having grown up near the border in Texas I can only tell you that I'm praying this is not a trafficked child. That is NOT his mother!

— Chloe Cat (@SherylMerville3) July 3, 2018

He's acting like he barely knows her!

— Mia Rivera (@miaculpepper2) July 3, 2018

You sure they even know each other? The kid sure doesn't act like it…

— Texlaw57 (@Texlaw57) July 3, 2018

Why does that child pull AWAY from her? Something is horribly off in this video. That boy doesn't act like he knows ANY of them. They even force the little girl to hug him. Somebody needs to check in this kid.

— MeMe Best (@asia742) July 3, 2018

After being separated for a month, my child would have AT LEAST embraced me. This is a bit scary. No emotion at all from the child. You all are pushing a very dangerous situation…you are helping traffickers. IF this is her son, I’d really question his life with her.

— LC (@LynseyClarke8) July 2, 2018

Definitely doesn't seem right to me… My kids were in tears and wouldn't let go of me after a week at camp….. strange…..

— Tanya Nicole (@HPFanTanya) July 3, 2018

That kid has no clue who that woman is.

— Elliot Whitter (@elliotwhitter1) July 3, 2018

This child is not her son. Look at his body language!

— DC Cesspool (@dontcha_know1) July 3, 2018

His body language says: "somebody please make this lady stop touching me!"

— tbtmo (@tbtmo3) July 3, 2018

He didn’t seem to care about her. She said he has gain weight. He said he was fine and he has a new toy car. She said you’re tan did you go to the beach? He said no we went outside to play… Looks like he was happier without her 🤷🏻‍♀️

— VA🥀ESSA #KAG2020 🇺🇸 (@oceanview55555) July 3, 2018

No way that is that boys mother. He looks COMPLETELY uncomfortable and acts like he has no idea who she is. If I were to claim to be a liberal with fluid pronouns it would be more believable than this video. Have you any integrity left at all?

— Tick Tock (@QisComing4u) July 3, 2018

Is this a joke? Do these people even know each other?

— truthie (@TruthieKr) July 3, 2018

That’s not her son, can’t be. Or he had a better experience away from her?

— Jen Morton (@JenMorton10) July 3, 2018

The kid acts like he never saw her before.

— Tom Britz (@tombritz) July 3, 2018

It doesn't appear that the child even knows this woman, much less a child who has been missing his mother for a month. She doesn't seem the part either. Please find out if this child is actually hers.

— Judy Huggins (@Elfinmirror) July 3, 2018

This whole thing seems odd. Sure didn’t seem like a mother and her child. 🤔

— Amy Ostrom (@OstromAmy) July 3, 2018

The kid doesn’t look like he missed her much. Something just don’t seem on point

— 💀👽EZYRDR👽💀 (@19tmtaylor77) July 3, 2018

That kid did not want that lady

— 🇺🇸TrumpsStyle 🇺🇸 (@TrumpsTime1) July 3, 2018

A month and no crying, no real hugging, the kid barely looks at her. This doesn't look on the up and up.

— Vaughn Blaschke (@vaughnjb) July 3, 2018

This is just plain weird. Not sure what I expected, but this was not it.

— Scott Beason (@ScottBeason) July 3, 2018

Oh yeah, kid acts like he's so happy to see her, also acts like he's been so abused in a cage for a month. Probably isn't even her kid. Holy hell @CNN could you even TRY to do a better job??

— Linette (@linmger) July 3, 2018

I'm calling bs. This video is off.

— Alexander (@144Knight) July 3, 2018

She asked him if they went to the "playa" (beach)?? Where did she think the kid had been all this time? I call BS, CNN.

— Overpaid AT&T Lobbyist (@OLobbyist) July 3, 2018

So why did she ask if he went to the beach? Also he says he given a toy…So what are you trying to do here CNN…Lie some more??? This was very awkward…

— #LegislationNOW (@Sit4Something) July 3, 2018

Wow….that is a strangely cool reaction from a son who hasn't seen his mother in 4 weeks. Is that really his mother?

— George (@gvalkuchak) July 3, 2018

My 13 year old son about knocked me down when I got home from work today….he saw me this morning when I left….WTH is going on here?! He either doesn't know her, or they weren't separated, or he was happy where he was.

— Amy Kernan (@AmyzKernan) July 3, 2018

No way that's his mom.

— Bless Your Heart (@thesassysavant) July 3, 2018

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[2017mdia4120-blog]

Emily Delaney

1.          

a. My earliest memory of social media use myself was AOL Instant Messenger. I would love adding new friends and changing my screen name to whatever I was into at the time. Reading through everyone’s “away messages” became a favorite pastime even. Creating them was a whole other ballgame. They had to be in at least 3 different type colors and more often than not contained some irrelevant song lyrics. It was my first time communicating with people through a screen and I truly did love it.

b. I remember in 4th grade my uncle was really strict about his children’s use of technology. My cousin, his daughter, Julia really wanted to make a Myspace. She did end up making one, but she made it under a fake name. Her Myspace presence was Julia Gladstone (taken from the character of Joey Gladstone in Full House, of course.) Every time her dad would walk into the room while she was using the computer she would quickly pull up the game of solitaire she had at the ready in her dock. For years her dad thought all she did on the computer was play card games. Looking back on it, it seems so interesting that at one point in our lives social media was so new and strange that parents’ and a lot of the general public didn’t trust it at all.

2. I check in on recipe and lifestyle blogs periodically but there are not many I can say that I read regularly. I have always loved to bake though and there is a blog titled Sally’s Baking Addiction that I get a majority of my recipes from and have for a long time. I initially began reading it because it had a recipe for “the best chocolate chip cookie recipe ever” and I obviously had to see what that was all about. That experience was interesting because I didn’t know that people were positing recipes online and detailing their experiences making the food and giving it to their family and how their Saturday afternoon was. I liked having a little background to how the recipe came to be and that’s what made me keep coming back. Today I read similar blogs that detail the experiences of creating recipes and I really enjoy it. Other blogs I check in on deal with lifestyle tips and those are different because they aren’t as personal as the cooking blogs. They deal more in generalities than they do in everyday life.

3. I have held multiple social media management positions in various student organizations throughout my time at college. It has really helped me learn how to communicate with a specific audience and understand what grabs people’s attention. I have also tried to maintain a strong social media presence myself so that I can personally promote the organizations I am a part of. I think my sense of commitment and passion that have come out of doing social media for different groups will really help me and continue to grow in the future.

   1. Something that was just brought up in class the other day was the origin of the hashtag. It was honestly something that I hadn’t thought about before. I understood how hashtags worked, I understood why they worked, and I had even used them myself. Yet there I was, with no idea of how the hashtag came to be. I did some research and learned that it was first used in 2007 when a man named Chris Messina suggested the symbol be used on Twitter specifically.The first hashtag was born and most people didn’t think it was a good idea. However, the people that were championing the hashtag pushed far enough to see it through. In July of 2009 for the Twitterplatform to even fully incorporate the hashtag into the site. It seems silly now that there was never a built-in function to find key words through Twitter, yet it was the users who created the function and it’s a good thing they did. Additionally, Twitter has made other changes to its functionality because of users. On September 19th 2016, the social media site changed the types of content that counted towards their 140-character limit. This allowed users more flexibility when creating their tweets. This was much anticipated by many users including myself. One big appeal to Twitter is the quick snippets of information, but adding content like photos or videos slashed character limits further. It made it harder to get a message across with a picture and it was frustrating to many users. After what seemed like ages, Twitter finally bent its own rules and allowed for 140 characters plus content. Social media has become less general and more personal as time has gone on. Advertisements on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram are tailored to users’ specific preferences. If you’ve been looking at snow boots on Amazon, Facebook is going to start showing you advertisements for snow boots. This is a really interesting feature, but many people don’t like it. According to a survey, 86% of young adults say they don’t like tailored advertising. This rejection of specific marketing has caused multiple social media sites to change their advertisement methods. Many ads have a sidebar next to them. You can click on it and a drop down bar will appear with options such as “Why am I seeing this?” or “Hide ad.” Many sites even allow you to choose why you don’t want to see the advertisement. This change has come about as a result of the rejection of so many advertisements in general.  

2. I believe that the future of social media and technology in general lies in wearable technology. We are already seeing a rapid emergence of virtual reality headsets. In a recent US survey, 92% of participants knew what “virtual reality” meant and only 4% of people between 14 and 19 said they were uninterested in it (Burch, 2016). This statistic was released in July, and it is likely the numbers of people aware of VR technology have grown significantly. I can easily see a future in which our devices are built into things we wear every day and our screens are right before our eyes without having to move our hands. I also believe live content will become even bigger than it already is. Facebook Live, Periscope, and Meerkat are already making a huge push for its advancement. Clearly, people like the attention of being seen and heard. Personally, I am getting notifications left and right lately about my friends starting a live stream on Facebook or Instagram. It seems like a new person I know starts one every day. Posting a still image or text is not enough anymore and it won’t be the norm for long. I believe that social media will become more and more fleeting much like Snapchat’s functionality. There is a time limit to Snapchat. There’s a sense of “privacy” around it. You can pick and choose who you let see things and the things you send are not there forever. I believe that social media will become more private and segmented like this. There will be less of the Facebook way of doing things where you’re friends with everyone you know and there will be a push towards a close circle of people seeing only the content you specifically want them to see for the amount of time you want them to see it.

 Burch, A. 2014. https://touchstoneresearch.com/infographic-virtual-reality-stats/

[writingguide003-blog]

'I completely lost it': the movie scenes that made our writers weep

New Post has been published on https://writingguideto.com/must-see/i-completely-lost-it-the-movie-scenes-that-made-our-writers-weep/

'I completely lost it': the movie scenes that made our writers weep

From Toy Story 2 to Under the Skin, writers pick the cinematic moments that made them cry and explain why. Spoilers ahead

Aunt Lucys trip, Paddington 2

On the face of it, Paddington is a fairly broad kids film franchise about the hijinks of a CGI bear, and so probably shouldnt make a grown human cry hot, salty tears. But that description ignores the fact that Paddington is a really, really well-made kids film franchise about the hijinks of a CGI bear, one that completely gets the pathos of its central character, a little lost immigrant searching for something resembling a family. Both films ably tug at the heartstrings, but the second film got me sniffling as early as 15 minutes in when Paddington imagines giving his only living relative, Aunt Lucy, a tour around London, something that in reality is impossible as shes stuck thousands of miles away in darkest Peru. When at the end of the film spoiler alert Aunt Lucy arrives on the Brown familys doorstep and she and Paddington hug, I completely, unapologetically lost it. Lord knows what surprises Paddington 3 has planned for my tear ducts. GM

When She Loved Me, Toy Story 2

Just before writing this, I put When She Loved Me from Toy Story 2 on YouTube once again, just to check. Yep. Just as always, I choke up, in the same abject, lip-wobbling, head-bowed way. It still has that terrible power.

When She Loved Me is the song written by Randy Newman and sung by the devastated toy cowgirl Jessie and in fact performed, beautifully, on the soundtrack by Canadian singer Sarah McLachlan. The song is Jessies way of telling Woody why she has grimly decided to submit to the airless world of the toy museum, because it is better than the inevitable heartbreak and delusion of loving a fickle human child. She reveals her anguish that her owner, Emily, has fallen out of love with her outgrown her, in fact. As Emily entered the world of adolescence, pop music and boys, Jessie was left under the bed and finally dumped.

When I first saw this scene and misled by the size disparity between toy and owner I thought it was a parable for a childs anxiety over being abandoned by the parent. But now that I am a parent I can see the truth which is completely the opposite way around. It is about the parents fear of being abandoned by the child: the terrible fear, actually the terrible certainty, that the kid one day wont want to play with you. They will grow up and want something else. This song is utterly devastating. It is modern cinemas equivalent of the Vesti La Giubba aria from Pagliacci the tragic clown smiling on the outside but crying on the inside. Im afraid to watch it too often. I dont want to break down over and over again. But I also want to preserve its power over me. PB

Ruths death, Fried Green Tomatoes

In many respects, Fried Green Tomatoes is not a movie for the modern age. It is a story about racism in the deep south told largely by way of eliciting our sympathies for wealthy white characters; it is a story about a lesbian relationship that had to slide its lesbian relationship in unnoticed, by presenting it as a very close friendship fulfilled by food fights, poker games and heads leaning meaningfully on shoulders. But I am deeply fond of this 1991 Sunday afternoon classic. Ive seen it more times than is healthy, and so I know exactly what is coming and when, and yet am still unable to resist the inevitable guttural sobbing that comes with the death scene.

There are plenty of teasers for it, too: Buddy on the train tracks, even Mrs Threadgoode talking about the death of her adult son. Nothing, however, can prepare the viewer for Ruth asking Idgie to tell her the old story about the frozen lake thats now somewhere over in Georgia. It doesnt so much pull on heartstrings as play a full symphony on them, and its devastating. As Sipsey puts it, a lady always knows when to leave. RN

The rooftop dance, Eat Pray Love

While I was repelled by the mere existence of the Eat Pray Love book, I found something strangely charming about its big-screen translation. It was a mixture of glossy food porn, glossy travel porn and glossy Julia Roberts emoting porn (she remains one of the best fake criers in Hollywood) all wrapped up in a rather unique tale of a woman trying to unshackle herself from the men in her life. But while that all provided mostly surface-level enjoyment, one scene cut deeper and the extent to which it cuts surprises me still.

As is often with the case with movie tears, these were tied to a real-world experience that had happened not long before I sat down to watch. I was dumped by a long-term boyfriend without much of an explanation and without any sort of warning. I was heartbroken and seeking some form of closure that was kept cruelly out of reach. I didnt understand why it had happened and it was the not knowing that felt harder than the break-up itself.

In the film, Roberts character has left her flighty husband and remains haunted by the heartbreak shes caused. On a rooftop in Delhi, a vision of him appears and they dance to Neil Youngs heart-grabbing Harvest Moon, the song that was supposed to accompany their first wedding dance. She reminds him that she did love him. He tells her he still loves and misses her. They cry and continue to dance. At the end, she tells him that it wont last forever, nothing does. Its a short scene but it hit me like a bus, it still does now. My tears are for the film but theyre also for something deeper: the sting of loving someone who stopped loving me and the ache of an ending I was never allowed in real life. BL

The thunderstorm, Click

Adam Sandler can make me cry harder than hes ever made me laugh, the true test of a clown. Yes, even in the underappreciated comedy Click about a dad who finds a magical remote control in the Beyond section of Bed Bath & Beyond.

Sandlers workaholic architect fast-forwards through the worst parts of his day the dull weeknight frozen dinners with his family, the repetitive arguments, the gross times everyone gets knocked out by the flu in order to get to his next promotion so he can buy his kids whatever they want. His plan doesnt go well, of course. But whats shocking is how gut-rippingly painful it is to see Sandler hit play on his life only to realize hes skipped past everything that matters. His bodys been present, the bills have been paid, but his emotional engagements been staticky a trade-off too many of us can understand.

In the climax, old man Sandler sobs in a thunderstorm as he arrives at his daughters wedding only to learn shed rather her stepdad walk her down the aisle, and his son has grown up to mimic his job-first, family-second example. I rarely cry at unavoidable tragedies where no ones at fault. My weakness is characters regretting choices they cant rewind. Click isnt Ingmar Bergman Sandler gets a happy ending but I barely saw his relief through the rainstorm on my face. AN

The courtroom, Kramer vs Kramer

By all accounts, Robert Bentons film Kramer vs Kramer skews heavily toward Dustin Hoffmans Ted, whose wife Joanna has left him and their six-year-old son Billy. Billy and Ted make french toast together, or argue about eating ice cream before dinner, or visit the nearby jungle gym. Were it not for Meryl Streep and the trenchant, intuitive way she humanizes a woman who, in the 70s, would have otherwise been made to seem mawkish and unstable Kramer vs Kramer might be just a schmaltzy panegyric on fatherhood.

But leave it to our greatest living actor to turn a film on its head with a single scene. You know the one: Joanna, during the custody hearing, is subjected to a string of sexist questions about her failure as a wife and a mother. When asked why shes seeking custody of Billy, she blinks three times, beginning the monologue Streep herself wrote in an effort to redeem her character, who she initially perceived to be an ogre, a princess, an ass.

Billys only seven years old. He needs me, she says, reciting the word need with a whispery uptick as she glances at her ex. Im not saying he doesnt need his father. But I really believe he needs me more. After catching her breath, she becomes more emphatic: I was his mommy for five and a half years. Since I was about Billys age when my parents got divorced, ergo, too young to understand or even care, Ive always been astonished and, by proxy, moved by how compassionately Streep plumbs the depths of Joannas truth. JN

The beach, Under the Skin

Little focuses the mind more effectively on human distress than the arrival of your own kids; scenes in films which I might once have snoozed through now induce boggle-eyed terror OH MY GOD, DONT LEAVE THAT BABY NEAR THAT COFFEE TABLE, IT HASNT GOT A CORNER PROTECTOR! But nothing has topped at least, not yet the scene in Under the Skin where Scarlett Johansson murders a swimmer and drags him off to eat him.

Its not the murder thats so epically upsetting, though its gruesome enough: Johansson, playing an alien visitor permanently on the lookout for human nutrients, simply bangs him over the head with a large stone as he lies prone and exhausted on the beach. Its what goes on in the background that is so awful. A woman goes into the water to try and rescue her drowning dog, and her male partner instinctively rushes in after her, leaving their toddler alone high on the shore. Johanssons chum the only other adult on this lonely Scottish beach goes to help too.

With the speed of falling dominoes, a nice little day out unravels: the mother and father are swept away to who knows where, and the alien takes her chance to acquire their would-be rescuer as a food source. Meanwhile, the suddenly abandoned kid is shrieking in terror as the night closes in. Another, less astute film-maker, might cap the scene with the alien scooping the kid up and adding him to her dinner menu, but what Glazer contrives is absolutely horrifying. Johansson-alien simply ignores it, and leaves it alone. The film moves on, this incident consigned to the past.

I have to confess I was absolutely blindsided by the scene; mostly, I think, because of the its sheer unexpectedness. I think I was gripped by a kind of internal hysteria: shock, hyperventilation, a feeling the back of my head might explode. (I cant say I actually cried though I may have, but in the confusion I cant really remember.) I certainly had to hold on to the seat to stop myself bolting out of the cinema then and there. I am aware theres a some degree of self-indulgence here: the fact that my daughter was about the same age as the kid in the film undoubtedly super-sensitised my reactions. But everyone has their weak spot; this is very much mine. AP

The birth, Cheaper by the Dozen 2

Cheaper by the Dozen 2, if you havent seen it you probably havent, why would you have? is the sequel to the remake of family comedy Cheaper by the Dozen, and Im sure it was made because Steve Martin, the star of the franchise, needed to pay his mortgage. The main gist of the movie is that Martin and his wife, played by Bonnie Hunt, have 12 children who get into various japes. Its asinine. But during a time in my life when I was making a lot of transatlantic flights, Cheaper By the Dozen 2 was always an option on the British Airways seatback televisions, and one day I found, because of the frequency of my flights, I had watched all of the other films.

What choice did I have? At the climactic scene, where the oldest daughter, played by Piper Perabo, gives birth, and then names the baby after her father because he has shown her that there is no way to be a perfect parent, but a million ways to be a really good one, I cried so much the man sitting next to me regarded me with what appeared to be real concern. There may have not been enough cocktail napkins on the whole plane to dry my tears. Was it the recycled air? Was it the two miniature bottles of white wine? Or was it that a joyful childbirth scene can warm the cockles of even the coldest of hearts? JHE

The accidental reunion, Manchester by the Sea

Weve got a real talent for repression back in Massachusetts. Kenneth Lonergans searing Manchester by the Sea plays out a 15-minute drive from my childhood home and, true to life, the characters all struggle to articulate the perfect storms of emotion raging within them.

When Lee (Casey Affleck) has a chance encounter with his ex-wife Randi (Michelle Williams), the shared history between them is literally unspeakable. They sputter out fragments of sentences that act as a shorthand for vast reservoirs of guilt and self-loathing they cant bear to express, and because they know one another so intimately, they can intuit all the meaning they have to. Theyve both shoved a lot deep down inside just so they can look at themselves in the mirror, and when in the presence of the only other person on the planet who understands what theyve been through, some of it has to come out. Randi does most of the talking, inviting Lee to lunch so they can get some closure, and he ends the conversation by walking away. Shes ready to face her past and be fully present in the new life shes built for herself. Lee, a North Shore boy born and bred, feels more comfortable starting a bar fight as his form of therapy. CB

The hotel, Unrelated

Joanna Hoggs first film, Unrelated, has had something of a second life on account of being the debut of Tom Hiddleston, and set during a Tuscan summer, which means swimming pool, which means toplessness, and lots of it. Its nice to imagine the Loki-lovers streaming this masterpiece of English upper-middle-class excruciation. As its ending shows, specificity is no barrier to emotional oomph.

The story sees a woman in her early 40s, Anna (Kathryn Worth), holidaying with old friends and their teenage children. She finds she prefers the company of the kids, especially the charming Oakley (Hiddleston, then 26, playing eight years younger). The holiday implodes. Anna goes to stay at a grim airport hotel. Her friend visits, crossly wanting to know whats behind her behaviour. Anna explains that, quite recently, she thought she was pregnant but no, in fact, it was an early menopause. Shell never be able to have children. She sobs and bends double on the bed. It is shot in one take, from the middle distance, acted with a banal frankness which feels like eavesdropping.

When I saw it a decade back, it floored me: a twist I hadnt foreseen, a pain I could only imagine. A few years ago, I began consciously avoiding the film, fearful a similar fate awaited me. Now I can safely watch it again or, I thought I could, but Hogg is much too superb and mysterious a film-maker for that. It isnt simply the information which is terrible, it is the dreadful catharsis of its expression, coming after so much obfuscation. The stifle has gone; instead there is the most awful sadness. Buttoning up is often the bravest way. CS

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