#being latino in that regard fucking sucks ;_;

[one-winged-dreams]

That last personal post reminded me, I need to start wearing glasses again like

DESPERATELY lmfao

[thrashkink-coven]

Okay here’s the hard part.

I think a lot about that guy, so called Jesus, and his philosophy of radical forgiveness and empathy. For a long time I thought that was just a line abusers use to force their victims to forgive them (AND IT IS)

But! I also think about Lucifer and the things he taught me regarding the concept of hell. If I was the ruler of hell and I had to manage all these terrible people, what would I do? Torture them? Give them endless suffering so they feel guilty? Do to them what they did to others so they can understand how bad it feels?

Latinos who voted for Trump, oh you disappoint me, but no, I don’t want you to be deported. Women who voted for Trump, *sigh*, no, I don’t want to see you get an ectopic pregnancy or carry your dead baby. No I do not want all those conservative gays to lose their right to marriage. And no, I don’t even want all of those fucked up fascist nazi racists to die.

It would be SO satisfying to see them get what they deserve, right?

God, I’m so sick of being apart of a species that loves to conquer. We bleed, they win, they bleed, we win. I’m sick of patching wounds. All I see is hellfire.

My friend Taylor Mcnallie is facing fraudulent charges because of an altercation that happened while she was protesting in Calgary. The bitch of a cop who assaulted her not only received no punishment, she got a fucking promotion. I remember during one of Taylor’s speeches someone said something like “I hope she gets arrested and goes to jail,” and Taylor said, “I don’t hope she goes to jail. Jail shouldn’t exist. I just want her to get fired and apologize. That’s all I want.”

Pacifism, true pacifism, like the kind that guy preached about, doesn’t mean laying down and accepting every terrible thing assholes do to you with a smile. It means taking away their ability to harm without harming them yourself. Eliminating the evil without becoming evil. Punching nazis does not make you a nazi, but praying for the death and destruction of people, human beings, because you hate them as much as they hate you? *sigh*

The hardest part about this whole radical empathy thing, is the fact that I cannot even wish harm upon those who want me dead. Isn’t that funny? That literal neo nazi, yeah, I hope he has shelter. Fuck I hope that rapist still eats tonight. I hope he feels shame until the day he dies, but I don’t hope he gets raped in prison. I don’t even want him in prison to be honest, I want him to be cared for, and I want his ability to do harm stripped away.

“Even if he hurts a child?”

God damn it, yes. I can’t add more suffering into the world, even if it is inflicted upon the people I’d love to hate most. I want to take away his power to do evil, I want everyone to know what kind of person he is and the terrible things he does so they can keep themselves safe… and then I want him to be safe.

I want all those terfs to have clean drinking water. I know they hate my guts, ugh, it is what it is. But praying that they experience the pain they’ve caused me, hoping that they die or suffer only makes me more like them.

WHICH SUCKS. This way of thinking is NOT satisfying AT ALL!!! Being vindictive and petty is FUN and it FEELS GOOD!!! That’s why it’s so fucking easy, and that’s why we keep eating each other over and over again.

Having said all of this, we should definitely bring back the guillotine lmao. I’m not saying that we should be super nice to people who are trying to kill us, do fight back. If the people need to kill their oppressors to be free then, hey, I’m not going to tell them they’re wrong for that. This isn’t a “we should all hug and sing kumbaya together! Kindness is always the way!!!” take. If the only way to bring death to the empire is to bring death to its owners, then so be it. Do so in the way that produces the least amount of degradation to your soul.

But wishing natural disasters on Texas, hoping that that racist woman’s parents get deported, out of spite and hatred… what are they doing to you? What are you doing to yourself?

Humanity is disgusting, truly truly abhorrent. I want to be able to look at us and embrace us with acceptance of that. Every single fucking terrible person on this earth deserves liberty, life, and freedom. Even when you spit in my face and hurt the people I love, damn it, I won’t hurt you. I see you as a rabid animal that needs to be sedated and slowly acclimated to compassion. And I will keep trying, even if you never learn. I can’t give up on humanity.

This is the most important and the hardest part. I’m not telling you to forgive, forgiveness is for you. If it doesn’t serve you, don’t forgive. But don’t let people without humanity kill the humanity that exists within you. Don’t let hatred fester in your soul. You’re allowed to be mad, hell, you should be furious. Let that fury keep you warm, but do not become a monster too.

To all you stupid fucking fascist pieces of shit, I hope you get exactly what you deserve. And what you deserve is not death, pain or suffering. It’s self reflection and growth, guilt and humility. As much as I would enjoy seeing you hurt, I refuse to become like you. And damn it I love you, I love every human being on this planet. I love you so much that I cannot become you. I love you so fucking much that I will continue to fight for your rights even when you’re trying to take mine away. and I hate that I love you like this, but I can’t stop.

So I will stop you.

- James Baldwin

[jacquesthepigeon]

I have personally seen cases where kids grow up as complete strangers to their heritage especially as is the case with my own cousin in California but that involved multiple factors

1) My aunt was isolated and practically estranged from boricua communities. There is a large latino population in California, yes, but it’s mostly Mexican, not a problem, but it’s drastically different from boricua culture. I cannot describe to you how sad it was to see her express relief at being around her people during holidays for the first time in over a decade.

2) Assimilation and shame was heavily encouraged. My aunt’s MIL, from Mexico, went as far as having her name legally changed to its English equivalent. Over the years since my aunt’s move to the states, there have been multiple incidents where she drastically exaggerated the state of the country and our living conditions (all way before the infrastructure, particularly electricity services, got noticeably Bad) based on sensationalist news articles. It got to the point where she called all of us “idiots” for staying.

Bringing it back to ML

According to a 2019 census, there were 71,500 parisians who reported being born in China, a figure that doesn’t account for descendants of chinese immigrants. That is a far cry from leaving Sabine isolated from her culture. She has ample resources to find and participate in a community of fellow chinese immigrants within the city.

In regards to assimilation and shame, just look at her fucking design and hobbies holy shit. It clearly doesn’t apply to her. As for her english (french?) name, it is a fairly common practice for people from various asian countries to adopt an english name. I’ve seen multiple explanations for this ranging from confucian self naming practices being influenced by exposure to western cultures all the way to workplace culture and convenience. In Sabine’s case, because her chinese name is so similar to her western name, I imagine it’s simply a matter of avoiding the headache of constantly correcting people on the spelling and pronunciation of her chinese name. It sucks that it’s something so many immigrants and even tourists have to do to be addressed respectfully but that’s also worth exploring within the narrative.

Which brings me to why it’s important that we recognize the crew’s intentions and POV when discussing how these characters and dynamics are written. They’re not considering any of these and countless other factors that affect how immigrants and their children interact with their own heritage. They want to be praised and lauded for being “inclusive” and “diverse” simply for commodifying a cultural aesthetic. They have no real concern for the people they’re profiting from or their lives and complexities.

So let’s assume for a moment that despite not being affected by any of the factors that I mentioned influenced my own aunt’s lack of educating my cousin about her culture, that’s still an issue that should be addressed specifically in regards to Sabine’s decisions in raising Marinette rather than pushing the blame onto Marinette for “not expressing interest” and learning on her own. The last few times my cousin has come to visit, we do our best to accommodate her and make her as comfortable as possible but when she inevitably lets it show that she is uncomfortable and would prefer to step away from the situation, my aunt has the nerve to shame her for not liking or participating in her culture. I assure you, my aunt was the only one blaming my cousin as we were all silently judging my aunt as she’s obviously the one responsible for it getting to this point, as we have been doing ever since we knew she wasn’t teaching my cousin spanish. So assuming this is the case with Sabine and Marinette, where Sabine had the means to teach Marinette at the very least the basics, and now Sabine is somewhat resentful of Marinette not figuring it out on her own, that is something that definitely needs to be addressed with close attention and care.

But they won’t.

Sabine is not a chinese immigrant in the interest of other chinese immigrants

Marinette is not a white-passing diaspora child in the interest of other white-passing diaspora children

There is no diversity or representation in this show that isn’t meant to turn them into props to make white men look better, be they fictional or real

That is the issue, not the existence of borderline caricature-esque immigrants or white-passing POC in the real world possibly getting representation. It’s not about them, never has been.

[rotzaprachim]

syril karn and miles bron are on the same spectra of like, truly evil white men whose situational power has given them an ability to exact personal violence - upon a Black woman in one case and a Latino man, his elderly mother and their entire working-class community in the other. however, they are so fucking dumb. they are so unsexy and dull and unfuckable. sometimes evil is about situational power and control and the aesthetic aspects of it really fucking suck because they evil guys aren’t like, actually tortured princes or dark-fated fae, they are just white men who /think/ they’re the heroes of *this* story and are given the social leeway to get away with it whilst really being damp pieces of lettuce.

also very worth mentioning how much syril and miles work as commentaries not only as characters within film as a whole but constructed types with regard to the way that white men wield power in real life. the One Good Cop for whom any rule can be broken and any barrier of privacy or ethics broken because he’s Got A Hunch and is Right, the Tortured Genius Billionaire who makes himself a god in his own mind and can just... get away with Whatever, even murder. these are exactly the rolls that are constructed to justify exactly how the white men within them get away with racial, ethnic, gender and class-based violence.  but andor and glass onion establish the broad strokes of those character types and THEN rip them into little piggy incel cop with his little action figures and little fake elon musk with an upside down rothko in his ugly house and an inability to come up with a single original idea. and the fact the narrative grinds in the fact that it isn’t just about them being boring *and* violent, its about them, specifically, not being the Main Character in the way that Cassian Andor and Helen Brand ARE the main character. in a world where for the last couple of years it feels like no matter how many women and people of color are featured in a movie (and the answer is clearly not enough, always) the fandom and societal takeaway was Wasn’t this White Man Villain SOOOO Sexy and Fuckable it’s just incredibly fun and cathartic to have the moment of like what if he isn’t actually 

[bigskydreaming]

Hi, I'm not the anon that hassles you and I relaly hope you dont think I am. Im just curious about what they pointed out about Scott's parents ethnicities. How can that work then, with what you said about Scott's actor? I really hope you dont think Im just that anon again Im honestly just curious.

LOL its okay, I believe you. And I don't really intend to get sucked into discourse about this, but just to put it briefly, the fact that Melissa and Rafe are both played by white actors is absolutely irrelevant in regards to viewers not seeing Scott as Latino. Because the comment Posey made about Scott being Latino like him, came at the end of Season 2. Basically, ALL the arguments about how Scott isn't Latino originate from before Posey confirmed Scott is Latino, because a lot of people treated him meta-wise as though he were white and there were those of us saying no, he's obviously Latino because he's played by a Latino actor.

But the reason that's significant is......Scott's father didn't appear until halfway through Season 3. We knew NOTHING about him before that. So the fact that he ended up being played by a white actor doesn't actually refute Scott being Latino according to those specific kind of arguments, because even before we knew definitively that Scott's father would not be played by a Latino actor, thus making Scott definitively biracial, people were ALREADY making these arguments about him not being Latino even though his actor is. So....its a hollow argument, and it was never offered in good faith, so I don't have much patience for people who tried to use it to bolster that argument AFTER the fact because they never actually based their claims on it since it hadn't happened yet.

As for after Scott's father was cast....yeah, his parents are both played by white actors. It was a casting fuck up, done that way because Davis wasn't actually invested in thinking about things like that. But when you have such an obvious conflict such as the lead character being played by a Latino actor while his parents, who are at most recurring supporting characters, are white, like......honestly you just have to pick which to prioritize, and I can't imagine any reason why it makes more sense to look to recurring supporting cast when talking about the actual lead character, and prioritize them as more definitive to canon than again....the actual protagonist.

And hell, its not like the show ever actually said anything that definitively proved that Scott couldn't have been adopted, so go that way if you really need to. *Shrugs*

Its really not complicated and people have done it without even blinking with other characters in the show. Malia's biological mom was played by a Latina actress. Nobody went around claiming that Malia was half Latina now. Y'know?

So basically, its just not an actual conflict that like.....causes problems when trying to work around it or reconcile it. Its only the discourse it is because people inflate the issue with hollow arguments.

[nyruratchet]

Time...

“...Why you punish me?”

So, I explained last time the situation regarding the creation of my music...monetarily. But let me explain and expand on how my time is utilized on a monthly basis.

If I haven’t made it clear, I hate my job. But here’s the thing, it’s flexible (for the most part), has benefits: (insurance, free-ish air travel, scheduled pay increases). Cons: passengers are allowed to treat crew like shit, always working with new people (that you may not mesh well with), anyone you try establishing a relationship with has pre-conceived notions/little to no faith you will ever be around, pay SUCKS until you get REALLY senior (7+), and...more, but I digress. But that flexible schedule, albeit limited, has afforded me the ability to work on music; until it doesn't. 

See, I was getting “comfortable” in my work situation a few years ago until certain a situation beyond my control forced me into deep debt, bad credit, and deeper depression. In order to fix all of this, money is needed. How do u get money? Work more. More work leads to more depression and sometimes health issues. So, I’ve been stuck in this seamlessly endless cycle of paycheck to paycheck living. And my desire and NEED to work on my music has not helped it (as explained in the previous blog post). Every time I get a bit more money, it goes to my craft. 

See, after you put all that money into creating art, you have to then put it OUT there. And in the case of a performer, you need to do live performances. That is a whole other situation in itself. There are lots avenues to get live performance experience. Open mics, concert showcases, live cabaret/karaoke bars, etc. Guess what THEY ALL COST MONEY. But not only money, LOTS of excess time is involved. 

This past spring, I was dragged into a showcase by my producer friend (who I’m partially in love with but he’s straight...but that’s another story). In order to do a showcase, you have to apply for acceptance. Applications involve you submitting current work and having a worthy social media following (which you have had to spend constant time building). Once you fill out the application, send the files and info, PAY your entry fee ($25) and receive your acceptance, you then have to sell tickets. Yes, how do they get people to come to the showcase? By having YOU bring them. And if you cannot find people to buy your tickets, all of those tickets come out of YOUR pocket. So, I was given 25 tickets to sell (last minute mind you); 25 tickets to sell at $20 bucks each. So, if I don't sell them, I owe the company $500 dollars. Yup, that’s correct. In order for me to perform my original content on their stage, I needed to make sure they got their $525 and help them get people in the venue so that they buy drinks at the bar (which we were given ZERO drink tickets for). Now before stepping on stage, you don’t get a sound check. So, you show up early before everyone to check in and simply check they have your correct music file(s) then wait...and wait...and wait. But your music has to be edited within their restrictions (this means more studio time. Remember, studio time =more $$...just making sure ur following me. Too many times you’ll hear big recording artists talking about how they have just sat in studios for hours creating a song from scratch. Yeah, only if you are signed to major label is this a thing! But anyway...back to the showcase.) 

Needless to say, I did everything I needed to. But I had some help since I asked to do this last minute and told them UP FRONT they would have had to get that unsold ticket money from me in blood. I landed from working a redeye the day before, got a nap in, did my vocal exercises in my car on my way to New Jersey, checked in and sat there. Since some people didn't show up on TIME, I was abruptly grabbed from drinking my whiskey at the bar and told “YOU’RE ON NEXT!”  Being the seasoned professional that I am, took that shot to the head, said “Actually, that’s not my slot...but ok, I’m ready.” NO SOUND CHECK, NEVER given TIME on the stage beforehand...I went on. Sung my ass off with a standing ovation from the judges. Then, went back to drinking with my friends who were in shock because they had never heard me really sing live. Then I had sit for HOURS while mediocre “rappers” and “singers” rapped over pre-recordings of their own vocals. Finally, they were ready to announce the winners. I won that sucker.

But what did I win? ...A promise to be put into another show... *DICK FACE*  No money to recoup what I just spent getting to this moment. No free promotion on social media to help me and my art. NO, some bullshit. So, I took the experience fore what it was and cut my losses. I got some exposure and was able to test out an unreleased song...but besides that. Nothing but wasted time and effort. I left there feeling somewhere between elation and disappointment. Not to mention, I was exhausted; I had done all this after working my full time job, and had to work again the next day. So all I had time to do was drive home and sleep. 

“Like a wave bashing into the shore...

Since this, I have had some money issues and mental health issues, so I have just barely been able to work on music. On my days off, I have to sleep and get back in the groove of being a real person instead of a redeye zombie. Then when I’m feeling slightly normal, I’m back to work...it is a vicious, irritating, restraining cycle. I’ve tried working shorter flights so I’m home more; nope, the pairings (schedules) for those flights work you in a way that leaves you feeling raped. My company will build a pairing with a duty time of 27hrs and only pay you for 15-17 of those hours. DOESN’T MAKE SENSE. Then on top of that, your rest time at the hotel is set to 11hrs...WTF?? 

Let me explain this for those of you with normal jobs. On these pairings, you are schedule to work a number of flights each day. So, 3 day pairing means you work 3-4 flights each day and have 2 layovers. Now lets say FLIGHT time is 1.5-2.5 hrs each (8-12hrs). Then you land from your final flight for day one. We’re usually delayed at our carrier...honestly, rarely on time. So, you have minimum rest at 11hrs. BUT, before you can leave the aircraft we have to get all passengers off the plane, CLEAN the seats, wait on our shuttle which is probably late if your pilots are sucky human beings and haven’t called ahead to make sure they’re there (Pilots aren’t required to clean; just us lowly peasants). So, by the time you get to the hotel, down to 10hrs. If you get there and rooms are ready, great. IF NOT, another 20-30 min or longer. But, lets say you’re down to 9.5hrs now. Get to your room. Hopefully your key works, air/heat works, no one is already in you room (yes...it happens all the time), room already cleaned, no bed bugs, and you aren’t by a noisy ice machine/elevator. You then have to shower and eat. Let’s say you get all that done in an hour. You now have 8.5 hrs to sleep...BUT WAIT, the van is scheduled to pick you up from the hotel 45 min to an hour before you are supposed to report at the airport and you need to be dressed and ready to make that van. So instead of 8.5hrs, you actually have 7hrs at best to sleep and pop outta bed, get dressed and properly ready to do the shit show all over again; all the while, knowing they are really only paying you for the time you spend on the aircraft, AFTER THE DOOR IS CLOSED AND THE BRAKE IS RELEASED. Time before like boarding, checks, delays? nope...no pay. Just us waisting our fucking time. Literally.

Why, is this? cuz everyone does it is the answer. That is how all airlines do it, so you have no leg to stand on. Got a union, the company retaliates like a reprimanded toddler. Now as I said before, once you get to be a super senior in your company and can choose what you want to work, when you want to work, in the position you want to work, getting $40/hr at base hours and a crazy amount for premium (overtime) hour, etc. the job is GOLDEN. (Unless that company gets purchased/merged.) But for a young person/flight attendant in debt, living in NYC, with a high cost of living, life ain’t fun. I tried living in New Jersey for a lower cost; that came with its own issues. I’ve taken out loans, became a hermit to save money, worked holidays, etc. Dug my hole deeper is what I did. And I’m pretty good at setting goals and managing my time and getting things DONE. But for some fucking reason, life is not working in my favor. This job is not working for me. I see younger people coming up behind me doing LITTLE to no work, getting musical accolades with trash “music” (I know, matter of opinion...but really. C’mon now), young white/latino/asian twinks shaking their ass for anything that breathes and getting rich men to pay their bills or marry them, all the while telling me they just want my BBC or other racist BS like that (Yes, I have receipts) and I’m just like WTF AM I DOING WRONG?! Have I spent my time stupidly? 

And the most recent shit that really hurt my feelings: If any of you remember (to the three of you reading this lol), a few months ago I posted about help getting into bartending. Well, I had actually asked a friend in person before that about bartending and if he knew any directors who could do a music video. This “friend” told me “no, not really”. Didn’t know anything about that, he just does movies and short films (which I’ve donated to his kickstarters for btw...) but no one who he thinks does music videos. THEN, I asked this same “FRIEND” how much he would charge to be IN a music video, as I had a song (the one I won the showcase with) that he would be perfect for as it deals with subject matter he rallies for. I wanted to help his career out in turn by help my video out, because I’m ugly and having beautiful actors in my video would be a better sell (as again, I need this song to make money. He then tells me me, he’s not sure how much he would charge for that. SEVERAL MONTHS LATER...this bitch releases a music VIDEO to his NEW SINGLE about a SIMILAR SUBJECT!! Without promotion, he gets instant 2.2k hits on the video on youtube. MIND YOU, he would always be shy to sing around me and I told him, “you need to give yourself more credit. You have a beautiful voice.” Meanwhile, I’m asking for some knowledge from him, and he wouldn’t help me with ANYTHING. I have NEVER asked for a hand out. Just tell me where the door is, I will get in even if I have to pick the lock. But he not only pretended he didn’t know where the door was, he was holding the keys, had lock picks on the side and duplicates to share; But, for whatever reason...didn’t want to share that with me. Even though, I was going to include him in MY art without any thought and was willing to pay. Now, I have some thoughts on why he did this. But seeing as I’m on the verge of tears, I’ll end on that note.

...You wash away my dreams.”

[toxicbolts]

armeniandyke ha respondido a tu publicación “Just say you dont respect certain cultures (some of them that are...”

you deserve to be respected and i'm sorry ppl are being asses to you

this is gonna get long and rant-y so im sorry in advance.. im glad you sent me this.... and im sorry im using your answer to say what’s on my mind

the thing is. im tired of outright bigotry being disguised as something “woke”.

i’m very much aware of my personal circumstances that put me at advantage compared to other people. but specially regarding language and culture, people should shut. the fuck. up. and stop being ignorant assholes

i am white. my mother tongue is spanish. speaking spanish may be an act of protest in the us when you’re hispanic (bc for most people spaniards and latinos are the same people even if WE ARE NOT. NOT EVEN REMOTELY. COLONIZER =/= COLONIZED and all that jazz). But to me, and for latinos who live in hispanoamerican countries... it isn’t.

i am basque. my other language is basque. i dont speak basque bc of assimilation and my language and culture (adopted, since im not basque by blood, but i am by birth) have been at risk because of fascism. similarly (not in the same way, but let me make the comparison for it to be graphic) the cultures of native ppl in currently hispanoamerican countries and their languages were almost erased bc of again, “forced assimilation”, imperialism in this case.

if i were spaniard aka not a cultural “minority” in my country, i could be... idk María. The same name that a latina can have. So is it a white person name, or is it a latino name because people have the cultural knowledge and sensitivity of a fucking rock? which one is it? which one????? is you (and i mean people aka a generic you. i will be using that okay? it’s easier for me to express myself like that) refusing to say my metaphorical name a “suck it white people”, or an insult to latinas? does it make a difference in the end? just be respectful to my fucking name

but im basque. i have a basque name. basques are culturally white. im still a part of a cultural minority. my language has still been in the verge of disappearing. i have still faced shit because of my name, culture, and language. is refusing to learn and pronounce my name a “suck it white people”, or is it people being again bigoted assholes because they feel entitled to it because of something i have not done and i have suffered?

what i am doing is calling people out of their shit. of their ignorance. and of their bigotry. this as a part of a collective. and personally, because i am not ANYONE’S fucking emotional punching bag. nor is my job to feel continuously guilty while i get jabs bc people refuse to be anything but ignorant.

im just tired. very, very tired. you all know that i care about people and that i try my best. but i am, again, nobody’s punching bag. if you refuse to learn and pronounce my name correctly, you’re a fucking xenophobe, it’s as simple as that, but not only that, you’re also a fucking asshole. i have decided to just. keep my political blogging to a minimum because im tired of self righteous bigots who have no idea about anything at all because everything they know is because they read it online from people who are exactly like them.

people want to unfollow me after this? block me? i don’t give a shit anymore. i dont want you if you’re not going to respect me. and with respect i mean the bare fucking minimal. i am TIRED. i am even thinking about deleting my account and remaking and just following like ten people i know and trust. because i get treated like garbage enough offline, to have to deal with it too when i log in to just have a little of fun

grow some fucking basic empathy and learn a little about the world around you. jesus fucking christ

[m0rla]

“SELF”. #makestuffaugust week 1, day 5 [100818]. 

original post on ig

linktr.ee | ko-fi | twitter | instagram

This post is long. It consists of three parts: (1) my OC “Morla”; today marks the third birthday of my original character Morla. (2) gender awareness and identity; (3) thank you to @gawki and @skoptsy .The two pictures feature Morla, drawn by them and I can never thank either of them enough for their beautiful work. Challenge by @anastasiatasou

(1) Today marks the third birthday of my original character Morla. Today three years ago I finally had a vision of a character that would really mean something to me, and it all happened while having a good nap. Not just that, but through them, I finally started thinking about creating my own little universe and planet for them and other characters. And I very much hope to be able to work on them in a concentrated and dedicated way, when I finish my Bachelor’s degree next semester.

(2) Additionally, through Morla, I also felt I could express the troubles I have with the binary gender, since they [Morla] can change their whole appearance from genderless, male and female as they please, and their skin can change colours depending on their mood. This may sound quite superficial when I just say appearance, and I am sorry for that, I don’t mean to seem shallow. I personally struggled with femininity since I was a child and I much preferred to be a boy, despite loving girly anime besides shows for a predominantly male audience and disliking most girlish activities. I guess I’ve always been a kind of tomboy - or just disapproving that I should dress and behave a certain way.

Looking back, I disliked binary gender roles back then already. Puberty sucked - but for whom not? Maybe wanting to be a boy was me coping with my body developing to a “grown-up woman”. While I was the first in my class getting breasts and my period in third grade, at age nine (almost ten), I got laughed and stared at by my peers, classmates thought they could just touch my breasts as they pleased, adult men started catcalling and whistling and I became more shy and reclusive and I actually was quite misanthropic, disliking most humans for the next ten years. (damn what a rant, sorry) Although my dysphoria was never really strong, I still often wish my body wouldn’t do some things it naturally does, like having ovulation pains, bleeding, wobbling boobs (although it makes me laugh when I say it), having dark latino body hair and a bit of a moustache (I’m a native Portuguese).

Nowadays, because gender is actually being discussed more and the majority of people are made more aware of the issue, too, and I my repressed and ignored feelings have been “rekindled”. The wish and urge to be more than what has been assigned to me at birth, the truth that I am not just a girl and that I want to not be defined as just a girl, are being reflected in my OC. Bit by bit, I finally have gained the capacity to give less fucks about the hair on my head, on my face, armpits and legs. Getting a buzzcut last year must have been the most liberating thing, apart from leaving my ex (who I am on good terms, bless him, he’s my “bro”).

Today I run around braless, in a dress with hairy legs, oxford shoes and it feels great. I’m feeling good.

Regarding gender identity, I’d have to say that I am not yet sure of what suits me best. Genderqueer, Demi-Fluid or/and Maverique - or a mix of them, I’m not sure yet.

(3) The two pictures feature Morla, drawn by @gawki and @skoptsy and I can never thank either of them enough for their beautiful work. Both of them know quite a bit of my character’s story and I am just glad to know them, even if it’s “just” via the world wide web. You guys are exceptionally kind, among some other people I have come to know (you know who you are 💗). Tell your idols, your friends or anyone who leaves a positive impression on you, how they make you feel. I am sure they will be touched, and if they don’t know how to thank you don’t be cross with them, they may be overwhelmed but I’m sure they’ll be happy.

Take care. Kudos if you made it down here, gimme a 🐰 in case you did. Thank you.

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

Yeah shit man who better to trust with Hercules than Gus-Gus and Gus?

They are amazing in Cinderella.

Its not the first time Christina Hendricks has used the Gus-Gus and Gus analogy on Declan and Annabelle.

It is always so dam cute y'all know Gus-Gus and Gus is always one of your favorites, you can't help but love their characteristics!

This one is hilariously greatly excellent!

And extremely visual!!

And you know i believed they could save him because her adorable hilarity is true but their actual size made them just tall enough to save him

Declan had a plan to jump in the tub to pick up his head from the front and send Annabelle to fetch me. The only thing Declan was unsure of and this is beautiful if the tub plug should be pulled first and him get cold while they waited or if Declan had enough strength "to hold this giant man up to save his life"

So Declan thought if they were fast enough to get very little water in his lungs and I took too long, Declan could stop holding the "giant man" long enough to pull the plug and then return to,his face to assess the damage then again. But Declan hoped the speed was in him "to save the giant man that Declan loved"

Because in your last video short it ended in Declan eavesdropping and opening the door to say "you can apologize to my face!"

And he did. Brian picked up Declan and said "I am sorry yoh are just too cute and I was too scared to realize every thing would be alright and when I saw your face in horror I actually felt bad but I didn't know how to show it tonight at dinner"

"Oh it's alright. You can put me down now"

Which resulted in Annabelle Tears because she, too, needed an apology but he hadn't realized it.

Then when things calmed down I felt a deep seriousness in the air which was very tactical and not dark nor light, tense but not relaxed but calm.

And so I asked "well what were your plans to save him then?"

And Declan went into the spill as I said above with great creative energy and it was mind blowing.

Declan and Annabelle were both So so small. I wouldn't had ever thought that they would climbed in the tub to save him and risk their own life if he woke up and thought they were terrorists in the middle east but Declan did consider that and Declan said "that was a risk I was willing to take -- he knew he was in the bath and you were there and stuff so I figured I would be safe if I just talked and said "this is Declan and I'm here to save you so you don't drown" I figured I ought to be generouslu safe then and I'm strong and I could say "open your eyes and he could see if it was me" but if I was behind, I would certainly be killed, my head in the toilet or something""

Declan had so Much care and compassion built into these plans to save him from drowning when I had had none.

And so we actually let them practice with him in the tub and all in bathing suits to help us all including Dan from drowning in the tub and we all learned how to lay to prevent our own drowning in the event of sleep.

Which Tree will produce that safety video for us. He said.

So it is also something you families can do at home in Quarentine.

Because hot baths are excellent for bone and muscle pain (healthcare and restaurants and store workers) and for the lungs to breathe and I have fallen asleep in December - March from just being exhausted from work and the stress of reducing human trafficking to zero. And apparently y'all even seen video of it.

Which was funny I am sure. But it felt so so so so good to fall asleep and it sucked having to wake up to wash my hair. Because the sleep was so good.

Declan now today says on 4-25-2020 "God i could had a heart attack but all i did was laugh but now I know why. I prepared you to sleep and not slip and slide and drown. Now i feel relieved and a deep safe darkness around my pride to protect me"

Blessed Child "i could had a heart attack but all i did was laugh" i love that so much and i love that we took the time to take all that worry and consideration to help erarse that super fear. It gives me joy. And fills my lungs and heart with oxygen rich cells.

Happiness can falter and fade away but Joy it always stays deep inside yoh to propel you into the future. Joy has a sunny presence while Happiness can exist in any conditions, joy can only exist in educated and true pure form of love and existence.

Rock the Vote gives me joy. Never wanting to be in politics but giving that ability to vote and reassure the African American and other immigrants that there is a group standing tall and strong behind them that sre as rich as politicians but want all races and ethnicities to vote as it is their Right. That gives me joy.

RockTheVote.org don't forget to register and vote. All immigrants and nationalities, African American and Latino, Caucasian. We stand behind you to give you the ability to vote and will defend you to our own death if anything happens to you like it did prior to 1970 and a few exclusions since. And if anything should happen we have some of the richest people in the world to stop what they are doing and help you survive a beating while in line to vote or suddenly thereafter. That is why i programmed it the way i did. Rock the Vote with rich musicians to say they have their life and they will share it to protect you if something bad should happen. And it did in the last 30 years very rarely but tree always told us of each and every event. And we stood behind that paying hospital bills and hiring private security to take people to vote and then installing security of our own at those polling stations for the future. And as i said, to our own death, our private security would beat and fight any one attacking any voter, especially one of any color. So Caucasians didn't have to witness it and be afraid to catch their own death.

So Rock the Vote gives me immense joy. Because we willingly and unselfishly destroy the fear and attacks against voters as it is our job.

Hopefully soon we can stop the illegal and false Voting. Registering to vote and then Voting can help. We have 2 Trillion U.S. residents with social security numbers ready to vote This year!!

Yall are all seeing what is on the news regarding Trump. I will be honest, Biden is who we need but if we could pick a different party other than the Republican (we will drop a vote later today)

So if half of the United States votes for Biden then the other half votes for a mixture of the minority parties then we can rise them up where they can be seen at more than 1% of the votes.

So maybe 3 good people running for president and they share 1/3 of half the votes. Thats 16% each with Biden at 50% That's kinda low.

But that would be fucking amazing and has never Been done in the history of America.

We can change the entire political system coming this November!

Isn't that exciting?!? That is what Ms Chen was talking about taking that power and harnessing it so the world would be safe for others. Including us...

That makes determination. That is our energy to create and show the power we possess with 2 Trillion American voters. 2/3 being full flesh human. 1/8 being honorary humans. A full 3/4 are guaranteed to live to see November 2020 to change the whole political system and destroy what it sets on.

So what tree will do is he says there are 5 candidates that are worthy due to their souls and hard work and humanitarian based minds. (Including Biden)

And so in DNA4U and in your testing and education area he will educate you of all 5 candidates

Then he will recommend who is best for you to vote for due to your heart and how and who you want to see in that beautiful oval office.

So he will make personal recommendations for each individual with DNA4U and has the ability to vote.

(We will keep Trump alive till then for the ultimate torture) and so tree tells me 99% of registered voters that should die of COVID will still be alive to vote. Some are evil and watched carefully. Others are not.

So us tiny Gus-Gus and Gus that we are as voters can pull a Declan (love that name today) and do a Ms Chen and hold our chins up high and destroy the national government's Democrat and Republican only system.

We can take those donkey and elephants and ride them out of town! Of course Biden is Democratic. But in 2024 he may change to his own small political party that suits him best.

So tree is gonna help us fulfill the ultimate American dream and Rock the Vote so hard the cradle falls from the tree.

Rock a bye baby? I always always sang that to Annabelle for hours if she couldn't sleep.

Rock a bye baby in the tree top, when the wind blows the cradle will rock. And when the Bough breaks the cradle will fall, and down will come baby, cradle and all.

A New America.

Personally and for Rock the Vote, I always explained to Tree, Day One is the FREEDOM to vote and to NOT INFLUENCE on their decision to vote. But to encourage and protect.

However i told Tree of my Ultimate Dream which I have so declared. And he told me "when the time is right. Hindsight. Let's listen to Megadeth and you relax and get some sleep, when the time is right we will be ready. Its too far away now to explain. But sleep now my child"

He would also say "this is the 10th time you've told me this! I told you it's fine but not today!! Now go to sleep!"

You know we say our prayers before sleep. Think about what we did and what we need to do. While some of us don't see them as prayers, they are. I would not rest until the political system of the United States of America would and could change

And now it is the time, November 2020. This is the first time America has had So many voters. All with social security numbers because we've stopped human trafficking.

(For the most part) if they were found in the United States of America, they were issued social security numbers immediately. They were here working having their freedom taken away. So many are duel citizens. They earned the right to have a social security number. They lived and worked here against their will. And it is a law they are allowed to obtain a social security number for being kidnapped and put into human trafficking in the United States of America.

The law was put into effect by Obama and Biden during their administration. Biden complained they could do more but he didn't know what and Obama did. Social Security numbers and Citizenship. No testing required. The law was passed through Congress both the House in the Senate and Representatives. Should have been happening since 1882 because that was the law back then. Obama had it found and they reenacted it with a few minor updates and privileges. (1902 the law had been overturned by the then President and their political party which is now actually the Republican party).

This law will not be overturned because I will have tanks stationed at each fucking member of Congress to follow them around and let them know shit is gonna hit the fucking fan. I have more tanks than there are hospitals in the world. And I will kill each and every one that votes to overthrow the law. I shit you not. I have killed more people than Hitler. And with my bare hands in a mere two years killed 8,291 kidnappers. Kidnappers. So I'm very serious about protecting this law, I may look like a crazy psychopath but that is my right to do so.

In conclusion we can as small little mice, together, destroy an entire government. And we will with Tree's help.

As I said it is not the RIGHT of Rock the Vote to suggest who to vote for. But realize that Biden is a Vice President of 8 years and is against human trafficking and bull shit.

And so Tree will take care of that (suggestions on voting) because we have a total of 4.9 Trillion people who have the right to vote in the November 2020 election. And that is amazing. Never before in History has this been available.

And since most are first time voters Tree will guide you step by step and show you each candidate from birth. Including Trump and show you who they really are and not what they want you to see.

So only half our available voters are registered!!

If you left the country, tree will explain how you can still register as a duel citizen (rock the Vote isn't updated enough yet, hopefully they get onto that) in the DNA4U app.

He will do your personal suggestions first. Teach you all of them then have you review your suggestions. Then you can see and feel the difference heavily as to why those were ranked in that special way just for you.

He will do 2 ranking systems. 1 best for the world and 1 best fit of President of the qualifying 5 for your personality. Then he will suggest the vote for you to make to change the US government's political system.

So while Biden may be your heart. He may suggest a minor political party because Biden has too many votes already. Or vice versa.

So the suggestion MIGHT alter from your ranking system but he thinks it shouldn't have that effect as the world is more balanced and great minded than it seems to be.

So y'all are doing better than expected from 30 years ago's predictions.

So wrap that left arm around you if you're a guy and that right arm around you if you're a girl or whichever you pick, or do both and give yourself a right tight squeeze and a pat on the back. You all deserve it.

[wengoku]

Why do you hate Reaper76? From what I can tell from others, the main issue is that it's abusive (even though most fan art is either set when they were best friends, or at a time when they've already made up), it has a lot of stereotypical kinky yaoi fan art (guess what, that happens with literally EVERY gay ship. You're precious Doomfist/Reaper pairing will get the same treatment) and that its a white guy with a Hispanic guy, because apparently mixing races is bad.

 anon, lemme tell you, that i used to be the BIGGEST r76 shipper. like if you look through my blog, the VERY first post on my blog is r76. ive even written some fics for them, though i dont share my ao3 atm. i starting shipping it around the same time i got the game, aka, july of last year. i was attracted to the ship mostly because of gabriel, i’ll admit-- i interpret him as afrolatinx and as a black person, i latched onto him the same way i’ve latched onto lucio and black widow.

i hate the ship because it took until about halloween for the racists in the fandom to drive me out. 

i loved the ship SO much that i’d check the ao3 for it every single night, and that was the literal downfall. i checked it every night and so i PERSONALLY watched as more and more racist, stereotyping fics appeared, over and over-- fics that fetishized gabrel and his race, fics that made gabriel larger and meaner and scarier than jack, fics that made gabriel out to BE an abuser towards jack, or fics where gabriel was a dog that existed just to make jack happy. fics where gabriel had no characterization other than being jacks happiness or misery-- fics that portrayed jack as immediately likeable (because hes white) and fics that portrayed gabriel as immediately intimidating (because hes brown). fics that waxed poetry about jacks pale skin and cornflower blue eyes, but only mentioned gabriels looks to point out his thick thighs or massive cock. fics where gabriel straight up kidnapped jack and raped him. im not making any of these up. these are all fics i saw in the tag that distressed me, over and over again, because i was just a black kid that wanted nice content of a ship with a character i could personally relate to. 

i looked on tumblr, and lo and behold, i saw the same thing! gabriel towering over jack (when theyre the same height), gabriel being scary, gabriel being accused and abused and demonized, “sexy thighs” gabriel and nothing else, meta (i used to love reading meta-- now i cant stand overwatch meta regarding the old soldiers at all) that sympathized with jack and portrayed gabriel as a jealous demon who deserved to die and is obsessed with jack. i followed blogs, and was immediately bombarded with white washed art, and then excusing of the whitewashing. 

i was fresh out of anime fandom-- overwatch is the first gaming fandom ive ever been in and also my first fandom where there’s so many poc. i think r76 was one of my (if not the first) interracial ships where one of the characters was darker skinned. i became more and more jaded, every single time i opened ao3 or went into the tag. i know it sound silly, because its not real, but there was a time when i genuinely broke down into tears because i couldnt stand how gabriel was treated. id seen the “kinky yaoi” dynamic with mlm ships before, and this was WHOLLY magnified. 

its not just because its “a white guy with a hispanic guy”. thats not my issue at all? i used to really love jack, too? i wrote aus and rped r76 with my friends? and its not just that mixing races is bad, because a black man and an afrolatinx man is an interracial ship too? completely ignoring all of my other interracial ships?

i hate r76 because very few people could bother to treat gabriel with even ONE shred of the respect they afforded to jack. i hate it because i was literally driven away by the blatant, overreaching racism. i hate it because of all the times gabriel was “the dark man” or “the latino” in fics because you’d NEVER call jack “the pale man” or “the caucasian”. i hate it because yall motherfuckers dont know how to act.   

can i say that every r76 shipper is bad? no, of course not. but until the r76 community puts itself together and addresses the racists and harmful stereotypes that it harbors, then yeah, i fucking hate it. and no, im not gonna say, “not all r76 shippers”. this is the last time im answering an ask like this and if you wanna try to change my mind or genuinely talk to me about it, then you better PM me or message me off anon. 

and btw? i know that doomfist/reaper might end up with some bad apples, but i have more faith in a ship that was born by a majority BLACK (because yes, the first shippers i saw including myself, are black, or mostly poc) fandom because i know that we’re less likely to apply harmful disgusting stereotypes to ourselves. so if youre feeling butthurt about “doomper” and people having fun, then maybe consider doing what ive had to do for months-- suck it up. 

[treehugginglibrarian]

But, I’m Not Racist!

Let’s conduct a thought experiment. First, the rules: A thought experiment, by design, should make you think. In this case I’m not trying to make you think about the future or the past, I’m trying to make you think about the here and now, and the lives being led by many Americans right this minute. I’m going to do this by not-so-arbitrarily fucking with the demographics in the nation, and attempt to force you out of your comfort zone and into someone else’s shoes. I’m not saying that this is how things will play out in the future. In the event that we find ourselves in a future where the demographics do look like this, I’m not saying that the population I have put in “power” in this thought experiment would ever truly act like this. This is a giant hypothetical designed to make straight white people think “fuck, that would suck.” To that end, complaints about inaccuracies regarding the demographics will ignored. And, unfortunately, complaints about my treatment of minorities I’m putting in “power” also have to be ignored. I trust that they’ll forgive me this grievance in the hopes that maybe this illustration will make a couple white folks get it.

The year is 2068. You are 80 years old. Your children are grown. Your grandchildren are well on their way, with one of them pregnant with your first great-grandchild. You are retired, having lived a successful, productive, and generally enjoyable life. Despite your success, however, you are worried. You are worried about your grandchildren and your great-grandchildren, because the world they are stepping into seems unkind, uncaring, and often times completely dangerous. While it all started well before you were even born, your 20s and 30s seemed to be when things began to truly spiral out of control. And you’re not positive, but you think it was the fault of white women. At least, that’s who you’re going to blame. After all, they’re the ones who stopped having babies, dammit.

As it should happen, white women were typically more educated than most men, and they wanted the ability to use that education. Living in a society that placed no real premium on allowing women to both work and be a mother, it didn’t take long for these women to realize a choice would have to be made. At first, women seemed to be split on that choice. By the second year of the Trump Presidency, roughly 50% of women of childbearing age had made the conscious choice not to have children, with a record number stating that this was a choice they intended to stick to. With the crash of the healthcare system, making children all the more expensive to raise, it took fewer than 15 years before that number had dropped to 40%. By 2050, it wasn’t uncommon for fewer than 25% of white women of childbearing age to have children.

And really, who could blame them? Despite bringing in at least half the household income by the time birthrates took their final nose dive, many straight married women routinely reported doing well over half of the housework and childcare oriented duties, on top of their full-time jobs. While it’s true that universal healthcare eventually made an appearance, as did a minimum wage that hit $15 an hour, neither of these things successfully made up for corporations that couldn’t be forced to provide maternity leave or career fields that, intentionally or not, often contained a “mommy ceiling” of sorts, effectively preventing the advancement of women after they had given birth. While these were all things that also decreased the birth rates of well-educated women of color, women of color simply hadn’t had access to education at the same rates that white women had.

It took the nation far longer than was acceptable, until at least 20 years after the crash of the ACA, to establish a more socialized healthcare system. Until then, access to affordable healthcare and contraceptives did little more than exacerbate the problem, as it ensured that white women were also the women most able to avoid unwanted pregnancies. While the establishment of a socialized healthcare system ensured that all women had easy access to birth control, successfully allowing all women to better control their reproductive health and bringing the teen pregnancy rate back down to an Obama-era rate, the “damage” was done. White babies had long since fallen into decline compared to babies of all other, glorious, colors. The nation was well on its way towards a complete demographic turn around.

Now, as you sit here watching your last grand baby graduate from high school, marveling at the growing belly on your first grand baby, you worry whether the changing demographics spell a troubled future for your blood. Your grandson has been handed rejection letters from three universities, two of them state schools. While he wasn’t the best student, you once got into college with grades that were no where near as good as his. The last two Presidents have been women, one white and one black, and the most recent one didn’t even run with a male vice. And she still won! Not that you would ever argue that women have no place at the table, the world is just so different now.

Boys named Johnathan are having trouble finding work, while those named Juan seem to have little issue getting an interview. Bilingualism is all but necessary to work in many American cities, despite English being the language of the nation. Even as these bilingual cities are thriving ports of color, chaos, light, and hubbub, federal officials are desperately worried about the suburbs, where crime seems to run rampant lately. While many of the inner cities and Appalachian regions saw issues with opiates and meth during the teens and twenties, the cities were largely cleaned up by the mid thirties. Most had come roaring back to life by the forties, driven by a public works administration bill that called for the rebuild of highways, bridges, and historical structures, and a removal of dilapidated neighborhoods. Places like Detroit, Cleveland, Toledo, and Chicago were now bright neighborhoods strung together with patches of parks where old, empty, slums had once been.

They were lovely, and completely unaffordable for much of the white population.

See, when the vast majority of the population isn’t white, it’s a lot harder for the white population to have control over the vast majority of the population. Sure, white control continued for a time owing largely to the passing on of money. But it wasn’t long before the number of qualified people of color outnumbered qualified white people, just because white people were outnumbered in general. As white people will gladly tell you when you get them drunk enough, it’s just so hard to trust someone who looks nothing like you. Which is how board rooms, school boards, and police forces that were once overwhelmingly white, rather suddenly weren’t. I mean, it wasn’t THAT sudden. Unless you’re an 80 year old person sitting at a graduation and realizing that your family is one of only a handful of white families in the room, owing to the fact that you were willing to finance your grandson’s education at this upper class high school in the hopes that doing so would get him into college. A hope that, so far, has proven fruitless.

In truth, you’d rather he go to school in Canada or the UK, anyway. Both of them have whiter populations and you think he might be safer there. Not to say that people of color are inherently unsafe, no no, that’s not it. It’s just that being a white man seems to have become inherently unsafe. There is no presumption of innocence for white men. The suburbs where so many live are an overwhelmingly under policed space and, when the cops do bother to show up, they have a habit of asking questions after the shots have already been fired. The cops don’t have guns in the UK, and the cops are mostly white in Canada. School in those countries would definitely be safer for your grandson.

After graduation is over, your grandson heads out to celebrate with some friends. “Just be careful,” you tell him. You don’t want to be paranoid, but already two of your close friends have had their children or grandchildren shot by gang members or by the police. You dread the day your daughter has the police arrive on her doorstep to tell her that your grandson has been taken. That his time is up. That a world riddled by racism and hatred of his skin tone has let his life fall short. You dread it so thoroughly you’re completely unprepared for what actually happens.

Because in the end, it’s not your grandson who gets killed, running from the cops or some such nonsense. In the end, it’s your grandson-in-law who gets killed. At a routine traffic stop on the way home from your grandson’s graduation. As it should happen, he had a taillight that had died. Just before the city limits, he and your pregnant granddaughter got stopped. When retrieving his registration from the glove box, his pistol fell onto the floor. What came next was, according to your granddaughter, very fast and very slow simultaneously. Both were forced out of the car and onto the ground. Your grandson-in-law attempted to explain that the gun was legal and the license was with it, in the glove box, but the police would hear none of it. Upon hearing your granddaughter cry out in pain, your grandson-in-law attempted to get to her.

And was promptly shot six times in the back, for resisting arrest. He was unarmed. He was barely off the ground. He was breaking no laws for which death would have been a just sentence. Yet. Here you sit. At his funeral. Holding your granddaughter’s hand. Knowing her baby will be raised without its daddy. Knowing that absolutely nothing will be done to the black cop that shot him because, in our society nothing is ever done to black or latino men who hurt white people. All because, sometime around Generation Y, white women decided to stop having kids. At least, that’s what you’ll tell yourself.

You’ll tell yourself that this all started with white women not having babies, never giving consideration to the breadth and scope of bullshit that precluded their lack of reproduction. The idea that white women might have kept reproducing if straight men had held their own at home, or healthcare had been more readily available, or childcare had been more affordable, or maternity leave had been a thing, will never cross your mind. The idea that had your generation done more to prevent the needless death of hundreds upon hundreds of black and latino men (and some women) at the hands of predominantly white police officers, for crimes as varied as “running away” and “getting a speeding ticket” perhaps the bitterness wouldn’t have been so high when those communities found themselves in positions of power, will never cross your mind. The idea that had countless generations done something more to ensure the full inclusion of people of color into our society, perhaps the bitterness would have been non-existent. Hell, perhaps they would have had the same wealth level as the white women who stopped having babies and, as such, would have contributed to a generally declining population rather than a population that only declined markedly within one color bracket. The notion that maybe, just maybe, ushering in a second era of relative naziism in the teens, and keeping it in place until the mid-twenties when the nation’s economy finally buckled under the pressure of a multi-faceted trade war, might have been a bad idea, will never occur to you.

No, no. The idea that you, an innocent white person who has never shot a person of color and would never dream of doing so, might have anything to do with the funeral you are sitting at right now, will never cross your mind.

[elmerinolatino-blog]

Guatemalita, Mexixi

Guatemala, and leaving Mexico once again

Last time I wrote about my problems of leaving Mexico City. This time I will describe why I went back to Mexico City once again...

..gotcha. It was just for a connecting flight to Bogotá, Colombia ;). I did not really go back for a third time.

I spent most of the past 2 weeks in Guatemala, with a splash of seaside Jersey Shore realness... in Cancún's 'alternative sister city' (stop lying Lonely Planet, there is nothing alternative about Playa del Carmen...).

Last time I also wrote about Lago Atitlán, the place that makes westerners hardcore hippies and sucks them up in a tornado of yoga, retreats and ceremonies. Did I get trapped by the lake? No, this time I did not.

Guatemala, on the chicken bus

From San Cristobal, I got a bus to the border. From the border of Guatemala, I got on the... chicken bus. This is the way the Guatemalan buses are known, although I have never seen a chicken on them. I guess that wouldn't be a problem though. It´s the way Guatemalans transport their bulk goods.

Chicken buses are the drag queens of the buses, just see for yourself (scroll down). They are painted in pimp-my-ride-like patterns, and basically look like a riding disco at night. The plate with the direction, above the windshield, is lit up with blacklight, and there are lights of every colour around the windshield. To make the disco experience complete, they play loud reggaeton or latino songs which sound happy but have deeply melancholic texts. Or reli-rock, which Guatemala is big on.

Every chicken bus has a driver, a guy who charges the passengers, and a baggage guy, who puts larger baggage on top of the bus. This happens as the bus is driving off, and after a minute or so, the baggage guy climbs back into the bus via a ladder at the front or back. My first chicken bus ride felt like quite the experience. As we stopped somewhere, and I had no idea about the chicken bus logistics, the baggage guy threw down some sacks of clothes. I was a bit distracted, and then got woken up from my daydream by his arm handing down some money. Right after that, we started driving again. What the fuck, I thought, this dude is still on the bus!! Is this normal? Well yes, gringo Elmer, this was everyday business. The payment guy looked like a young Ricky Martin, by the way.

A drive I thought would have been an hour or two (150km) took six hours. Guatemalans like to live along the road, it seems, the whole zone from the border to my first destination was built-up... nevertheless, it was a beautiful ride. We drove through semi-jungle, high green hills with banana trees, palm trees, trees with bright flowers... the setting sun cast some weird glow over the smokey valley we drove through... I was getting excited and ready for adventure. And adventure I got.

Xela, and hiking to Lago Atitlán

As I arrived in Xela, it was 22:00. The streets were deserted. The streets were also full of trash. I asked how far it would be walking to the center, and the bus driver seemed surprised by my question. He said it was far and that it wasn't safe, I would get robbed. The hotels next to the bus station were expensive, taxis too... argh. Fallen into a tourist trap... I thought.

But I found another guy who went back to his hostel and we shared a taxi. All good. Later however, I went out for a midnight snack and the streets (in the center and we are talking a 200.000 people city here) were ab so lute ly empty with regard to people, although full of trash and street dogs. Because I wanted to avoid walking past a gang of street dogs I took another way than I arrived and ended up getting lost on the way back. Woopsie... After half an hour of searching I found my hostel, however. Again, all good.

In Xela, I did two hikes. One to a natural sauna (there is a lot of volcanic activity around the city...) and one time to a crater lake (amazingly beautiful). I got the taste of it and decided I would go on a 2.5 day hike from the city to Lago Atitlán. Awesome! I really discovered a new passion, when we arrived I wished it would have taken a day or three more. The next three days I spent at the lake, relaxing. The lake was described by Aldous Huxley (author of Brave New World) as the most beautiful lake in the world. Yeah, before the explosive growth of villages around it, I guess. I was not suuuper impressed. The village I stayed in (not the hippie village) was medium beautiful, the houses were just quickly built without many beautiful details or finishing touches. Mainly just a collection of concrete floors on concrete floors on concrete floors. I did get a penthouse with a spectacular view for a ridiculously low price, so I decided to stay a bit. Later, I heard that the hippie village, on the other lakeside, has a view on the volcano Fuego, and that sometimes at night lava streams are visible. Wah, guess I should have stayed there... but on the other hand, I found my hippie village hippie enough though. Example? I went to ask for a pen in my hotel one afternoon and ended up getting my Mayan astrology sign read... :). Also, I love in the underneath photo that you can do meditations to be useful on earth.

Antigua, the return of Fuego

After 4 days I was done at the lake. I was in a -supposedly- party town, but a party town in Guatemala is a town with bars that stay open until 01:00AM. After that, by law, all bars need to close. Clubs too. You might understand, as a new Berliner, this gave me a triple heart attack and I felt deeply insulted. I had to leave. I went to Antigua, which is.... surprise.... an old city. A beautiful one as well, because it made me feel like taking my book out at every square, and to fall in love. There was plenty of that happening though, it was Valentine´s day and every bench was occupied by some in-love couple eating eachothers faces.

My cheap-ass hostel turned out to be the hang-out spot for the youth from that city. At night I was having a beer in the bar and suddenly I found myself talking to a young girl who told me that she was actually 14. I was shocked until I remembered that I was also drinking in parks at 14, so I really had no right to be shocked. Anyway. The next two days I reserved for a hike up the neighbour of.... Fuego! The active volcano. There´s an old, inactive volcano next to Fuego which is 4000m high. The first day we (tour) descended up to 3500m, and I made friends with Dutch sorority girls (corpschicks; keep your friends close, enemies closer... nah kidding they were kind of cool. I mean, they were hiking up to 3500m to see a volcano erupt, which is obviously something only cool kids do)... ANYWAY (omg I´m really getting lost in the details this time), we got up to 3500m and the last bit was quite tough. Remember this was an old volcano, so its sides were full of porous stone and very fine volcanic sand. We got to the ´base camp´(how fucking cool does that sound) and BOOM! Fuego erupts. It did not actually make a sound, but we were able to see plumes of smoke coming out of the top. Magical. This went on, about every hour. The sun set, left red-pink-purple-blue skies, Guatemala city started lighting up, far away, the stars came out, and I was left speechless, and wondering whether I actually took LSD or if it was all just real... It was... surreal, unbelievable. No description does that feeling and view justice.

At 04:00 AM we woke up to go up the top (4000m) and see the sunrise. I swear I slept two hours maximum because my balls froze off during the night and on the way to the top, even more so. The top was almost like a sand dune of volcanic sand, it was extremely difficult to walk on and I also really noticed for the first time that there is a lot less oxygen on high altitudes. My god. When we got to the top, the wind was also insane... and it was minus 5 degrees Celsius. My water bottle was starting to freeze, but it was sooooo worth it! It was like being on the moon. Clouds hung far beneath us, the valley was still lit up with tiny lights, the sky went from red-pink-purple-blue to pink-purple-blue, to purple-blue, to the most beautiful blue I have probably ever seen. Whoah. Of course this Fuego bitch did not erupt while we were on the top, but as soon as we got to the basecamp again (running off the mountain, it was like a sand dune anyway)... another eruption. I can really only think of words like woah and magical while writing this. Oh yeah of course when I was down in Antigua again I saw an eruption that was 10 times bigger than the ones I saw. So mean, Fuego.

Flores, a day through Belize and the Jersey Shore

The rest of my trip before Colombia was a bit less magical, just so-so. I decided to make my way to Flores, a supposedly cute island-in-lake-town, with some Mayan ruins in the forest close by. However, upon arrival (after an overpriced nightbus) I found out it really was just a bit of a tourist trap. I was annoyed by seeing the prices to do a tour (let me just do that shit by myself) and even more annoyed that the only way to get there was... by tour. I decided, nah, I have seen pretty impressive temples already and what I really just want is to see some ruins in a jungle setting. So I went to another ruin complex nearby, that was reachable with a minivan (honouring its name, it was so mini that I needed to sit diagonally in it for my legs to fit). I paid for that visit with mosquito bites, but it was worth it. I really could notice from the kids staring at me on the way that I went “off the beaten path” and half the village did not even know where the ruins were when I asked. There is a weird sense of charm in having to ask 40 times how to get somewhere. I got there and the ruins were... very overgrown. I suddenly realised how a jungle can swallow a city, there wasn´t much to see... just hills that supposedly have been houses and two pyramids (quite clearly visible though!). However, I got what I wanted, I ticked my jungle ruins experience off. In the evening I made a tour around the island town (5 minutes), found tourist shop after middle-aged American tourist after tourist-shop after old American tourist on a group travel (indicator of being in a tourist trap). Luckily, I also found a place with mojitos for a euro, to drink the frustration away. 

The next day I went for... Playa del Carmen, next to Can(oh my god)cún. Yes, Cancún. Famous for stealing the dignity of American students during their spring break. To get there, we had to go through Belize, which is such a weird country. It used to be a British colony, the main language is English, and there just seems to be nothing there except for huge ranches. It looks like a huge swamp, with some Louisiana style colonial houses, and their currency is the Belize dollar. It is basically the wet dream of every Brexit voter. All the hours I spent looking out the window looking for a sign of identity of that country, and there was just.. none. It seemed like the most empty place on earth, or the perfect refuge of every person who has colonial dreams and an empty soul.

I can only think of the pure irony that I chose to spend my three last days before my flight in ´Cancun´s alternative (soul) sister´ Playa del Carmen. That´s like saying a glass full of rum with a single drop of coca cola zero is a healthy alternative to a glass full of rum with a single drop of regular cola. Or like saying George Bush is a healthy alternative to Donald Trump. Or like saying that pizza is a vegetable because of the amount of tomato on it. The point is, there is no ´little bit over the top´, this might have been a toned down version of a hyper Las Vegas on the beach, but it is still a Las Vegas on the beach. And so there I was, cool alternative traveller, complaining about tourist traps, spending my days in the definition of a tourist trap. My first night I was walking to find my hostel, when I suddenly found what looked like a gay club. I had to charge my phone anyway so I decided to go in. The body guards told me that there was some shows going on, and I thought of course that meant drag shows. My gay heart made a little jump and for a second I thought I found the one place in this godforsaken hellhole where I could see a bit of a cool rough-edge underground kinda scene. Aaaaaaand then no, it was just a gay strip club. In a matter of 2 minutes, three of the guys came towards me to introduce themselves and to ask whether I would buy them an overpriced beer. I said thanks but no, I´m trying to watch my expenses, after which they of course left looking super insulted. One was a little bit more aggressive though, he proposed we go to a private room and when I said naah thanks he (before I knew it) rubbed his dick a bit and put his fingers under my nose (umm wtf, I don´t know whose definition of sexy that would be... dude, gross). I decided to get another beer and watch the place as an anthropological experience, now that I paid anyway. It was... interesting. Next to me there was a mum (I think) with daughter, son+girlfriend. Son+girlfriend were making out aggressively all the time, mum bought daughter a lapdance. There was also a gay couple where the one guy decided he would just save money and give his boyfriend a lapdance the whole night. And then, finally, my favourite. A woman who (with a look full of horny drunk pleasure) would signal the guys to come over, lick her lips to seduce them, then make an instant grab for the guy´s dicks as they were within charging distance. It was an experience.

Luckily the next day, I was reunited for a day with my dear long lost friend Marina (plus her partner in crime Katrin), who know how to party, so we shook our booties to reggaeton that night in a trashy club where ´ladies get a free drink´ (sexist assholes). At some point the stripper with the finger under my nose move came in... and he seemed to be busy with the local rose-seller for a while. So I really thought this was the start of a very unusual romance... but then it turned out he wasn´t actually buying me anything (bitch), and I just focused on dancing, laughing about the bathroom lady offering everyone coke, and the hen party girls who came out of the bathroom bit by bit making signs with fingers and noses to eachother. The bride had a shirt with ´Feyoncé on it. 

The other two days I just decided to make most of the place, go to the beach and spend as little time as possible in my hostel, which was fucking nasty (reminding me of a particular flatshare in Berlin I used to live in) and full of Jersey Shore kind of people (omg I forgot these people existed). In this city, an instant inspiration-killer, I had to do something to not go crazy. Luckily my hostel rented shitty beach cruiser bikes so I drove around quite a bit and was able to really judge the place fully (as you notice, I like judging things). Turns out, it wasn´t thaaaat bad. Some resorts had hired good architects and actually looked really nice. There was a lot of street art everywhere... and in some parts you could still see remains of the jungle that used to be there before people decided that it would be a cool idea to bulldoze 300km of shoreline jungle and make it one big Disneyland on crack. So all the 3 days I was there, I was feeling some weird sense of disgust and being intrigued at the same time.

And what was also quite cool, because it was Mexico again, I was in the land of the ´platica´, ie the land where chatting is an art. I had little talks with a bunch of people. One lady (I still have her business card) told me about her husband, who was a lucha libre fighter (the best one, of course). She herself was a massage therapist, so they must have been the perfect couple. And I ran into the police officer who showed me the way the night of my strip club experience. I had an incredibly boring day that day (reading all the time gets boring) so I decided I would just start flirting with the police officer. That was fun, he enjoyed the attention and I enjoyed the hitting on him. Sadly, no stories of arrest and soaps dropped in a shower followed, he was just a cool police officer.

Sweet juiceheads and (lady)bunnies, that´s all for now. Next episode I will talk to you about Colombiaaaa, because (guess what) this time I did not miss my flight. To be continued... 

big kisses with sea salt flavour,

your el merino

[homeinvasionent-blog]

Excerpt from “Vengeance is Mine” third installment of the Today’s a Blessing, Tomorrow’s a Miracle by John Doe (Home Invasion ENT)

CHAPTER 33

“True enough. “I drained my piragua, left the cup on the cart and fixed Cobrita with a penetrating look. “Be back in a minute. “

I headed towards the botanica and crossed paths with a scrawny black cat that regarded me with questioning purple eyes. We split a pole and the tall shadow I casted over the asphalt, traversed the shadow of another black cat. I cut my gaze and met the mesmerizing, greedy-green eyes of a fat black cat with a prominent scar on his back.

I rung the bell and was buzzed inside the botanica. The air was spiced with Jasmine and hazy with incense smoke. And stained with something ancient and darker than the abyss. The botanica was decorated in a majestic theme of velvet, silk and mahogany. Shelves veiled behind fine cloths of various fabrics from silk to satin sowed in intricate patterns and weaved into beautiful designs harbored ceramic statues of various saints; from Chango, the saint of war who protects warriors, to El Elgua, the saint of good fortune. Shrines adorned the walls, giving the room a royal appearance. Unlit balla candles, caged pigeons and chicken used for sacrifice and coconuts were everywhere else.  

A third black cat emerged from a counter and posed in my path, looking up at me with melodious maroon eyes. He posed in exquisite feline elegance.  For an instant I could of swore the cat grinned.

The huge man behind the counter glared at me, reeking hostility. He had a huge hand wrapped around the neck of a bottle without a label. It was undoubtedly Ron-Cana; a supped-up fermentation of over-proof rum as common to Caribbean Latinos as Moonshine to Southerners.

I contemplated the three cats, reflecting on Death always coming in threes. For that matter, everything of significance had to do with a trinity.

My energies were all over the place, being pulled and triggered by the unstable atmosphere. And I knew evil lived here. I could feel the trapped spirits warring inside the botanica. Could even hear satanic chants of the dark side of Santeria resonating off the walls.  

Pulling heavily on my cancerstick, I bounced straight towards the back, where the Santeria priestess, witch, voodoo doctor, or whatever you call those who communicate, trade and negotiate with malevolent spirits, held her dark rituals.

The gorilla shot from his seat with so much intensity I thought he might pounce on me. “You are not permitted to smoke in here! You already know that you can not go back there right now. The priestess is busy. “

I took a toke of smoke and slowly whipped the silenced PP9 from the small of my back, letting him see it.

His face registered maximum fear. Eyes searching for a shield. He reflexively released his bottle of over-proof rum and raised it in front of his face.

PP9 Walther spoke.

Piph!

The slug ripped through the gorilla’s palm and slammed in his nose. The pierced hand pressed against the hole in his snout. Blood flowing down his wrist, trickled to the floor.

Eyeing him like he was stupid, I took a drag, exhaled a smoke ring.

His mouth opened to scream. I saw his tonsils.

Piph!

The second Copperhead flew in his mouth, plowed through the back of his head, sending brain matter and blood flying inside a chicken cage. The birds went into a frenzy. The cats hissed. I felt abnormally cold, like spirits were passing through me or striking me. At once I eyed every blood-streaked  creature. I stood over the gorilla and pumped a final slug in his wig.  Scribbled my three to the face signature across his mug. Made his head jump then thump from the impact.

The stench of sulfur extinguished the other smells.  

I opened the backdoor, marched down the dimly lit hall with a cancerstick stuffed in my mouth, opened another door and entered a dark room. Lit candles circled satanic designs on the floor written in chicken blood. In a trance, a Santeria priestess chanted in Spanish, communicating with evil forces, oblivious that Death had infiltrated her demonic chamber, holding a cocked Walther with one in the chamber.

Sporting gunpowder cologne, I remained in the cut, candle flames flickering shadows across my face, casted fireballs in my eyes.

The Santeria priestess was young, but somehow old. A physically attractive Cubana with flowing long black hair shaved on the sides, a hourglass figure and a healthy glow to her skin tone. But her soul was gone. She was only a vessel. The convoy of evil spirits that used her body as a port, had torn out her soul and replaced it with hate. Although I’d long suspected Isabella of flirting with the dark side of Santeria, it was the first time I saw her unmasked. It never ceased to amaze me how so many physically irresistible women were spiritually ugly.

As Isabella chanted, I recalled the time she lured me to her home under the fictitious pretense that her husband Jean Jacques was bedridden. It was the one and only time that I destroyed her walls. That thirsty Thursday morning in her twelfth story condo, the sick and twisted Santeria priestess whom claimed to own my soul, literally ripped off my shorts and tried to suck the skin off my meat. I fucked her brutally and cruelly on her balcony overlooking the Biscayne Bay until she bled. She burned with lust begging for more. I ran up in her anal like I was going to war. She was on all four, shouting for more. I had a Tim-boot on her bare back, pounding her hardcore, spiteful because her sexual allure was so enticing that I was up in her raw. She tremored from a violent anal-gasm. Rectum erupting, coconut cream bubbling and foaming. I whipped out, wrapped a hand around her neck, the other coiled around her hair and stabbed her throat, trying to pierce the base of her spine or suffocate her . She gagged, sucking with fervor until I exploded between her tonsils. She choked on semen coughing and gasping. I hoped she asphyxiated. The crazed and deranged nympho maniac insisted that I stick it back in her bleeding pussy. Blood and vagina and sex fluids was splattered all over the balcony. When I refused, she become aggressive and obsessive. Eyes lit with madness. Her pussy was on fire. I saw it smoking. Demonically dick-possessed, she threatened to crush my soul if I didn’t stick it in or eat it. I slapt her face with stiff-dick till it split her lip, stuffed her in a pretzeled version of missionary, spat in her face and jammed it back in her anal, and pummeled her insides in a frenzy. The sick bitch loved degradation. Lust burned through her like wild fire and she threw her hips to meet my maddening thrusts. With a savage roar, I squeeted liquid-hate all over her ringed belly-button, pierced nipples and contorted fuck-face.  Dissatisfied with the degree of defilement and disrespect she begged me to further desecrate her body, thirsting for a urine shower. Whether she’d asked or not, heavy piss showers were in her forecast. I R. Kelly-ed the sick bitch, left her sinking in piss, and skipped out of her apartment, humming ‘Remix to Ignition’.

Isabella stalked me for the following months. Threatened to sell my soul to the devil, called my home phone adapting psychotic voices, making obscene sexual demands. Yet, whenever I saw her at functions with her husband Jean Jacques she was the model wife. Always acting like she couldn’t stand me, like she hadn’t lured me over to their home where she practically raped me under threat of selling my soul.

Isabella’s behavior signed her own death certificate.

I’d come to serve the Santeria priestess’ death warrant.

I shook out of that reverie, returned to the present and cleared my throat.

The maneuver jolted Isabella out of her sinister trance. She whirled like a tornado with so much fury I’m surprised I hadn’t been blown back.  She fixed her deranged black eyes on me. I was taken aback by the concentrated evil rooted on her face. By the fiery aura she emanated. Her ghastly-white complexion wasn’t earthly. It reminded me of the undead. The possessed. Demonic.  

When a level of sanity settled in her eyes, she spoke in a low but forceful macabre tone that was not her own.  “What are you doing here? “

I was looking at real evil and the encounter was going to be lethal. There’d be no sequel.

Visually struggling with the raging spirits that waged war in her body, Isabella gripped the beads around her neck with such intensity I thought she might crush them to dust. “Did you give my husband our cut? “ The voice was her’s; throaty and smoky. Her color returned. It was like the evil entities  wanted me to know what type of force I was fuckin with. “ Or did you come for something else?” She bit her lip, unbuttoning her ritual robe with a level of seduction I’d never encountered. It was unreal.  “Maybe you came to fuck me again. “ It was yet another voice. Husky, sneering and balmy. “I know you want to fuck me till I bleed. “

The fusion of sex appeal, lust and evil she radiated was thick enough to swim in, deep enough to drown in.

Temptation.

“I knew you would come back to me. I stuck Santa Ochota on you. “Back to the voice I’d associated with her natural speech, but understood that it was one of three voices that spoke through her.

A trinity.

“I’m abut to do a Babylonian belly dance for you Alberto. “ She performed a tantalizing strip tease as she came out of her robe. Moving her body in ways I hadn’t thought possible. She twerked in yellow Victoria Secrets boy-shorts, V-cut bra and black stiletto heels. Her body was tight, powerful, busty and ripe; strong rounded hips, narrow waist, sculpted stomach and mango tits. Her fat ass looked so round and soft as she twerked like an expert, making one cheek jerk. She pulled her boy-shorts to the side revealing the prettiest vaginal lips. She made her pussy pop. “Fuck this chocha Alberto. Get your cut of this love.”

“I came to bless you with your cut. “I pointed the pistol at her face. “The devil’s cut. “

Her eyes ignited into flames. “You dare come in my sanctuary and threaten me with a pistol? “The voice belonged to the macabre-sounding evil entity. “ I own your soul! “

I blew smoke in her face.

“I curse you and everything you- “

P-P-Phiph!

I put three slugs in her face and blew her back to hell. The Santeria priestess landed inside the circumference of the candles, over satanic symbols drawed in chicken blood.

“This time you sacrifice your own blood.” I pumped a slug in her heart. “No more chicken blood. “ I kneeled over her corpse and asked, “Now you tell me, who owns who’s soul?”

Suddenly, I was alerted to other malignant presences. The three black cats were seated around the satanic designs in a perfect triangle. Benevolent expressions etched their feline faces. Their stares were so mesmerizing, captivating. I was locked on them. Shackled in some type of hypnosis paralysis. I couldn’t move, the room seem to spin beneath my feet, and I was hit with a wave of vertigo. I knew that if I fell, I would never get up, that I’d keep falling straight to hell.

The cats were grinning. And I knew the evil spirits that had habited Isabella  fled to the shelter of the cats in her moment of extinction.  

I was down on one knee when the PP9 jerked in my hand.

Piph!

The fat cat exploded into a puff of fur and blood.

The scrawny cat’s face registered confusion. The elegant cat’s eyes communicated understanding.

I grunted as I regained my bearings and footing, unafraid of the spirits jumping into me once I annihilated the only other living vessels.

The spirit of Vendetta that dictated my every step had them under pressure. He allowed no room for any other entities in my body.

Perceptive, the possessed cats attempted to flee. I chased them down with rapid fire, smearing them all over the place.

The cats died slow agonizing deaths that spoke of torment.  When the last of the cats mournful wails subsided, the candles all died.

Engulfed in the darkness, I puffed my cancerstick, sucking on it like it was an oxygen tank, knowing this world held things a lot more detrimental to my health than cigarettes

Feeling nothing, I walked back to the botanica, stepped over the gorilla floating in a pool of spreading blood, contemplated a swig of his Ron-cana, yet, stepped in the office and snatched up the keys to the front door. It was the only way out. Security was designed in such a way that no one could come or leave without being buzzed in or out.

Everyone was dead though … buzzing the devil’s intercom.

As I walked through the botanica, pass the caged pigeons and chickens I realized that those three evil entities could of sought refuge and escaped to one of the birds. And as I studied those caged birds I knew that that was exactly what had occurred.

Flicking my Bic lighter, I smiled at the blood-speckled birds. In return they cooed and clucked.

I stepped back over the gorilla’s corpse, retrieved his bottle of over-proof rum off the counter and began dousing all the fine clothes veiling the statued saints. Flooding their shrines in Caribbean moonshine. I lit fire to various fine cloths. All along eyeing the frightened birds. I took a swig of the Buck, wiped my mouth and splashed the rest over the trapped birds.

Fire was rapidly spreading, growing. flames licked and whipped at me.

I steamed my cancerstick to the green line like it was the last mothafucka left, when the cherry was alive and sizzling, I  flicked the butt into the cage with the most blood-speckled birds.

I walked out of the flaming botanica to the sound of flapping wings on fire.

[insecure-hbo-the-recaps]

hella disrespectful

REMINDER/ALERT: Tumblr has locked me out of my original account and from now on I will be posting from this address. PLEASE FOLLOW ME HERE. Do me the additional favor of unfollowing the previous account though I have not yet figured out how to get Tumblr to delete these accounts that I am no longer able to access but that will probably simplify things a little, idk.

Previously on Insecure: "I don't want your conversation - get in my line up;" "Woot-Woot's dead;" "This whole open thing sounds super messy;" "I can't believe Issa's still out here seeing this dude;" "Did you really just do that in my fucking face?"

Issa's in the crib getting some moral support from Molly and I just gotta say I got kinda a bone to pick here:

Issa ain't riding no bike! You know damn well Issa ain't riding no bike! If she were she wouldn't be so fucked up after getting her car smashed. My ex lost a bunch of weight randomly biking all the time and I would get so worried about him biking in subzero temperatures. Getting worried about a partner was new to me, btw. I realized I never worried about it possibly happening that someone I was dating would die lol, like while I was dating him. He'd drop me off and I'd ask him to text me when he got home and if he didn't I'd wake up in the morning seriously thinking "omg what if he got in an accident and died last night?"

Molly is on Issa's team regarding the "surprise" facial. She wants Daniel to be fucked up on sight. Where is Molly? This room looks old fashioned and kitschy as fuck, and the headboard is different from the one she has at home. Issa doesn't want to see Daniel again, but that's not a problem for Molly, who wants to BRRRRR-TATTTT on Daniel with a water gun full of raw eggs.

Issa's pain is deeper though - she was trying to show Daniel that he was special to her and he embarrassed her. To be honest I am still having a hard time getting on the same page with Issa and her deeply insulted reaction to Daniel's surprise facial. On the other hand - I had that happen to me once and I literally never spoke to the guy again. Like in Issa's case, I assumed he did it on purpose... buuuuut, me and that guy kind of hated each other so it made sense. I guess I'm having a hard time relating to why Daniel would have done it and as such why Issa's so offended. It's a little contrived, I think, is what I'm saying. I repeat: a good dude wouldn't do this to you. So either Daniel is a good dude, or he's exposed that he's not. Accidental unwanted facials aren't a thing.

Molly is being a good friend, validating Issa's feelings, and ranting about how men watch too much porn and think that shit's ok. Molly possibly had an ulterior motive, because being in a safe space she feels ok to tell Issa she's still seeing Dro. "I thought that was a one and done?" Issa asks. "It's more like a seventeen and not stopping no time soon," Molly says, and SIGH. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS MOLLY? IT'S A TERRIBLE IDEA. Why would she even want this? Aren't some men just generally off limits? Dro seems like the kind of guy, with the kind of history, that should just be not an option (particularly considering he's married). Issa still isn't buying that anyone, especially Molly, benefits from this alleged open relationship, which Molly is offended by. They are telling each other hard truths, softened by years of honest friendship, and although they aren't on the same page, they agree to love each other through the stupidity.

Yaaaas, bitch. Issa' still on the bus. She spots the latino kid again, who removes his backpack and Entemann's donuts to give her the seat. When he pulls out a PSAT prep, Issa sees an opening and tries to chat him up about the teacherly and tutorly pursuits her job offers. Surprisingly to both Issa, and the audience I think, the kid says he tried to go but was told by Mr. Gates that the program was full. Issa finally appears troubled by this now that she is confronted by someone she sort of deliberately left behind.

Lawrence Tech Start up. Lawrence is wearing a Santa Claus/footie pajama red thermal and it looks crazy. Colin the Clueless White Guy sidles up to him (in an equally ridiculous printed button up - buttoned all the way to the top naturally) and burgundy pants and makes small talk while Lawrence pours himself a coffee. Colin is all in Lawrence's business for no reason in a gotcha conversation that just serves to prove Lawrence and Arpant have been kicking on the side and trying to hide it at work. Cliffs notes they suck at it and their coworkers have sniffed them out.

Molly is riding around somewhere with Quintin in his wood grain Lexus. He brought her popcorn from Garrett's and while I appreciate the shoutout I've literally never heard of such a thing as RANCH in Garrett's - like - what? It's cheddar and caramel. Stick to the script. Don't try to be new and exciting. You tell someone in Chicago Garrett's is doing ranch popcorn and they will look at you wondering who lied to you. (Note to self: get some Garrett's for the first time since high school.) Molly tries it and is hooked. Quintin asks about Molly's "white boy" meeting: apparently she is going to shoot her shot and ask for the raise. Quintin says he's going to be in LA soon and asks Molly to show him around. Molly: a beat passes before she goes "mm, ok," because she understands the pass he has made at her.

SILICON VALLEY IS SO MILLENNIAL AND COOL. Lawrence is looking for Arpana to make amends for blowing their spot. Arpana does that thing of being possibly offended at keeping things a secret WHILE playing standoffish at the implication that they are anything to be kept secret. Hmmm. Bold move, Cotton. Let's see if that works out for her. Lawrence confirms drink plans, Arpana teases him, blah blah.

At the office, Issa seeks out Frieda and asks to talk. Frieda isn't all that interested, but then Issa presents some research on how to increase latino enrollment at their school. Issa beams at her in approval because apparently they thought of the same plan. Frieda is relieved that she and Issa are back on friendly wavelengths again, and asks where Issa's change of mind came from. Issa acknowledges that she's been lost in herself and Frieda was right. It's a good apology and Frieda is cool with it.

Meanwhile at Molly's Dro shows up with a bag of groceries and Molly's keys. He asks her if she wants them back and she says no. MOLLY. WHY. I DON'T GET IT. There are literally billions of available partners for you. What the fuck is the draw of being emotionally open to A MARRIED MAN? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS? WHY DO YOU THINK THIS IS GOOD OR WILL WORK OUT? If you're going to fuck a married man in an open relationship ok, I guess, do you even though it's a thing on its own. But why are you trying to give the motherfucker your keys to your apartment? Christ, Molly. Molly gives Dro her bag of popcorn - that Quintin gave her - which cheapens the rapport Quintin was trying to build in that she tried to transfer it to Dro. I don't get it, Molly, truly.

They change subjects to Derek's birthday party and Molly sours at the knowledge that Dro's wife will be coming. Goddamn that man is tall. Look at him. He's like a basketball player.

ISsa gets a text from Tiffany who wants to know if it's cool that Lawrence is coming to the party. Issa screenshots and sends to Molly who is also offended at Tiffany springing Lawrence out of nowhere. This prompts Issa to check Lawrence's facebook, where she learns he has blocked her. She is really pissed about Lawrence taking their five year relationship to the brink of actually blocking her on facebook, resulting in another angry mirror rap. But she plays it off to Molly.

Law firm. Molly is sitting in front of a panel of three general pale men, pleading her case. She is cool and confident, all Law of Attractioning that she's going to receive the value she deserves. She parries their comebacks with all the agility of Serena. The partners agree with her, but are a bunch of stingy bastards that want to put her off as long as they are able to - they agree with her pitch and simply offer that it will be taken into consideration at her yearly review. And ain't that some bullshit? The idea of wielding that kind of bias because you understand you are bartering with someone that may not have the collateral to be as competetive as she could be. Stupid generic white boy Travis that is already making significantly more than Molly could walk into this meeting and be a threat if he suggested he'd leave because he isn't being paid fairly. When you're a black woman - what's she gonna do? Quit? She should be grateful she has the clout of such an establishment lended to her. Yadda yadda yadda, BULLSHIT.

At the school, Issa has not only decided what has been happening with their program is wrong, she decides she has to confront Principal Gates with it. She tells him they are discriminating and he asks what the problem is being the program is full - "now you're coming up to me with some 'All Lives Matter'?" Ouch. Frieda tries to step in and Gates looks at her, offended. Issa tells him that the latino students are being turned away and it isn't far. Gates again plays the "your tone is offensive/it's not that big a deal/calm down" argument and literally laughs in her face and walks away.

Lawrence forgot about Derek's party and wants to switch drinks with Arpana from 7 to 10. Yeah, no, Lawrence. He tells her his ex would be there and for some reason Arpana offers to go. That's a little messy. Like, have drinks the next day. Why insert yourself?

Back at Issa's, she's wearing a crazy dress getting ready to go to the party and Daniel calls. He wants to apologize and move on but Issa is still mad. She offers vulnerability and asks why he'd do that to her of all people. Daniel seems contrite enough as he asks for forgiveness - even tacking on a "please," and Issa visibly softens. She tells him she hates him which of course is female for "I love you."

Issa asks why their thing is always messy and Daniel, overestimating the strength of their reconciliation, offers that now they're even; he equates what he did to squaring things after Issa dogged him at the charity event last year. And honestly.... I mean, i won't ever condone an unwanted facial, but Issa did get off the hook pretty scott free for telling Daniel he was just an itch she had to scratch and don't tell her boyfriend because their shit was nothing comparatively. Like, Issa had to have known that was scoring points on him too. So, I'm gonna call this a wash. Issa is mad all over again that Daniel intentionally humiliated her, calls him disrespectful and petty, and tells him not to ever call her again. She stomps to her brother's car pissed off, who is apparently accompanying her to the party tonight.

At Derek's party, Kelli brought that random ass dude she met the other night - and good for her. Relationships can start just as well from the club as anywhere else - and for some reason Molly is wearing a black dress with random red armbands attached. And Tiffany is so fucking extra bougie as usual, like, she is simply not a sympathetic character. I can't with her Lori Greiner blonde wig and gratuitous bragging about how much she loves her man. How is anyone friends with her?

Anyway there is a random aside about how Kelli thought "Sweetie" was just going to be some strange, but she's meeting his parents at the mosque next week. Okey dokey. Dro shows up with his wife. While she's getting a drink he takes a moment to compliment Molly in Spanish. Remember Eric Jerome Dickey on Black People in California and how you could tell a black woman was upwardly mobile if she was fluent in spanish? (I have a friend who works in IR who once commented offhandedly that you only need to know spanish to liaise with poor people, and if you want to mingle with the wealthy you need to know French and/or Chinese. At the time I thought it was horribly offensive but now I know she was right.) Candace is awkward around Molly which does suggest she is aware and knows that her open marriage has led to her husband sleeping with this woman. Also this is apparently Dro's favorite dress which explains that, I suppose. Candace is wear a feathered burgundy cape, affixed to her shoulders with, apparently, double sided tape. I repeat: okey dokey.

Oh damn. That space is nice:

Tiffany signals for an extra toast, clinging the glass with a knife, to announce dinner is served. She makes Molly move from the seat she chose, putting her awkwardly seated at the head of the table. Issa and her brother arrive, and he's such a good buffer. Issa makes note of Candace and checks in with Molly about it. "What's up with y'all?" her brother asks. "Nothing, I'm fine, she grown," Issa says in one breath.

Lawrence's ridiculous ass shows up - in a nice denim button up - trying to ignore everyone aghast at him bringing a random date to this friends only event. He claims he didn't know it would be a sit down event, and everyone awkwardly makes room to accommodate his guest. See? Extra. None of this needed to happen. Lawrence decides to address the elephant in the room and introduces Arpana, who makes a crack about knowing how awkward she's made things. Yeah, that doesn't work when you knew full well in advance the circumstances were going to be awkward. But everyone is adults and they try to laugh it off. Issa orders a whiskey.

Mid-dinner. They are having lovely pretentious cultural conversation. When Molly tries to chime in everyone ignores her. She feels very left out and alone. J from ABG asks Lawrence why he's there, basically, and has to be informed that they all know each other because Lawrence is Issa's ex. By the next cut of passage of time, Issa is drunk.

The dinner continues awkwardly: Tiffany is fucking annoying, Issa's brother is a bitchy gay, and Issa is poor. Nobody's showcasing their best self, I think. When the conversation shifts to Issa's building being sold, there is a moment of Lawrence openly pining about how he and Issa used to live together. When Tiffany makes a toast to "the Barack to her Michelle" - so extra - Issa drunkenly comments about Lawrence's random. Enough being enough, Issa walks out. Lawrence follows. Oh boy.

He lies that he wouldn't have brought Arpana if he knew Issa would be there. She calls him out as being full of shit and tells him she knows he's just parading that girl in front of their friends. Also, she knows that he blocked her. Lawrence admits it, because he couldn't "stand to see pictures of the nigga you fucked" while they were together. The fact that Issa wasn't the one who posted them - parading around someone in Lawrence's face as it were - and that he accuses her of still fucking Daniel, as if that's any of his business, is more than enough to clarify that Lawrence is in the wrong here. It's all about his hurt feelings and what Issa did to him or owes him; that she would still be wronging him to see someone else after they broke up. He's bullshit, basically.

When Issa doesn't refute this, Lawrence lets his insecure flag fly freely and asks who else she fucked while they were together. Issa's voice breaks as she asks whether he's serious, especially since he fucked her while he was dating his bank teller. "And being some fake music producer's jump off is better?" Lawrene spits back. And... jump off? Are we still saying that? Also, he's hitting way below the belt whereas Issa was not. This is something that I suppose is an inherent misogyny in the black community that frankly at this point is no longer normal to me and is almost unforgivably egregious. So at this point I don't blame Issa for hitting back that Daniel has "way more going on than Woot Woot."

They both know that Issa has hit him below the belt now too, so they both go for broke: Issa asks whether all this was worth her supporting him for two years while he was depressed, and Lawrence counters that it is worth about as much as all the time she "spent being a fuckin' ho." And, again. Maybe I'm too far removed. But I can't see having anything else to do with someone who showed up with, I'm sorry it has to be said, an exotical to your black friendship group, calling your ex girlfriend a ho, and stomping off in a petulant rage. You couldn't come back from that for me, but that's just me. If you want to make the argument that Issa cheating on Daniel is equivalent to Lawrence mooching off Issa and doing nothing with his life with two years (WHO WAS PAYING ALL THOSE LIFESTYLE BILLS, MOTHERFUCKER?) and trying to hurt her by flaunting a new relationship in her face, I may be biased, but I don't think there's much room for redemption there.

Back at the party, Molly follows Dro to the bathroom and he already knows where her head is. Molly admits she wasn't expecting not being able to see him with his wife, and how left out she feels knowing that he won't ever be that way with her. Being someone's dirty little secret isn't fun. Dro convinces her that they have something too, and she lets him fuck her on the bathroom sink. I hope I am never this desperate for affection. And I'm not being hard on Molly, really. But I think she's being very foolish with her emotions and it's hard for me to understand why she would put herself in this position, knowingly aware every step of the way that she's setting herself up for failure. Case in point: Dro asks her to wait for a moment and let him leave the bathroom first. Still, inexplicably, Molly is hurt by this. Girl, please. You wanna play that big girl's game, but on your big girl panties then. She steps out to find Issa waiting for the bathroom. Issa wordlessly straightens Molly's bangs and zips up her dress and Molly thanks her, for her nonjudgment.

Lawrence is driving Arpana back and she asks whether he still wants to get drinks. He doesn't answer.

Molly finally calls her mom back, and tells her she just needed some time. She asks why Mom stayed with Dad, and Mom replies that she just loves him. Apparently Molly is in the same headspace and asks how she deals with the hurt. I don't want to be redundant and point out that Molly's hurt is unreasonable, because on some level I do suppose that's insensitive. But, I just don't have any sympathy for this. We all do shitty things. But you can't ask me to feel bad for the consequences of your shitty things when you are fully aware what you are doing is harmful to you. If I'm doing something that hurts, I figure my options are to keep doing it and stop whining, or to stop fucking doing it. When she gets home, Molly responds to Dro's scheduling text that she can't do this anymore but we all know it rings hollow.

Issa comes home to a letter on her door informing her of her rent increase, and it's finally too much.

Her experimenting with ho-ness turned out to be a bigger blow to her self esteem than she could handle, and she's clearly stung behind Lawrence calling her a ho. That's what she was trying to do, right? But in reality it didn't work out so well. Her side pieces were not pliable enough, the one guy she was seeing relatively seriously compared to the others deliberately humiliated her, and her ex that she had partially built a life with devalued the time they spent by diminishing her as the thing she was afraid of being seen as - a tool, a joke, a ho. She kicks a chair then just lashes out entirely, breaking dishes, throwing tables, smashing furniture.

[whateverpendejo]

School thoughts.. whats going on? 4/17/17

hmmm, so what’s new? i guess i’m just really over being here already. i can’t stand being in california no more. I just really want to go home, and be home and just chill for a min. I mean with bryan and everything we’ve been having problems but this post is not about him. It’s more so about people at HNU and work. I’ll start off with work since it’s been an on going problem. 

Work -

Apparently no one does shit any more. I feel so bad for boss because she hired shitty people. I blame ang for letting her hire shayla over the summer. I blame her as well for letting her convince me that she’s a good worker. Yeah summer RA is easy but i didn’t know the type of person that she is. Which is extremely laid back, does not like to work, and complains about literally everything. I honestly don’t know if boss is going to renew her contract because she’s too much. If i was her boss, I would not. Just being honest here. But she needs to get it together.

Lauren. Lauren can be a good worker, or a bad one. Which is why i hate working at night when the boss isn’t here because i have to deal with bullshit like that. One night i was working with her just to fill in an hour for sonia since she wasn’t feeling well and lauren decided to do homework on the research help desk. She was minding her business on the desk while i was on the main desk. I mean there was no students asking for help but at one point there was. So she did nothing, studying for school, doing homework, and I was there fricken doing all the work. I was going to be off in 10 mins or so and i didn’t want to call her out on it just because i didn’t want to seem like a bitch and say hey when i’m working here you should be on the lower desk, not the research librarian help desk. That’s what really annoyed me. It’s like if you’re getting paid to work, and you really need to do your homework, then maybe you should ask someone else to switch with you. 

The problem here is that people want to just do their damn homework at the library and that’s NOT what you’re getting paid for. Do the damn tasks fist, then proceed to do your homework. It can be the easiest job on campus, but if you’re not helping out and being lazy as fuck, then the library does not need you. We need to hire people that are not in cliques, meaning no friends because obviously they are lazy and have the same work ethic. Thank god here, i have no friends because they all use each other any ways. although i wish cordelia or brenda or franny worked at the library, that would have been more fun people to work with. 

anyways that’s all i have to say for the library. Moving on to the main story of it all: Angeline Banez.

So i know i’ve grown close to her through hanging out with namari and alicia with her because i would never choose to hang out with her unless they’re there. but i’ve grown comfortable with her enough to go on rides alone with her. until i began to realize the type of person that she is. So the day it all started was the times when HNU decided to cut the 4 majors. They cut Religion, Philosophy, Peace and Justice, and Latino Studies on top of the other 2 majors (nursing and music) so that gives HNU students only 14 majors to pick from, compared to the 20 that we originally had. 

So anyways, one day i was sitting in lunch and tucker was talking about doing something about it and ang was there eating with us. Tucker was saying something about not trying to get in trouble if he ends up doing something about the majors being cut. and Ang replies to him saying no, nothings going to happen to you trust me. Something about the last revolution she’s been in, and nothing happend to them and shit like that right. So basically supporting his decision to do something about this topic. 

Then one day i was working at the library and Alicia comes and tells boss that Bryan and a group of people came to her ISAC class and told them about their viewpoints and how we need to change this school. Basically asking for transparency between HNU students and the board so that we know these decisions are going to be made. Alicia’s point was that boss should be proud of bryan for doing something that he believed in and passionate about because no one else is brave enough to do that. But nooooooo. I get that Boss read in the email saying that they cut these majors because of these reasons and it’s a good reason to. So we can spend more money on other majors and invest in other things. Yeah, that’s a good reason, but where was the communication about that?? one day we have it, and the next day we don’t? like wtf. does HNU student’s don’t even matter and WERE the ones paying for this school. WE should matter. But that’s not the end of it. So then, Ang comes in and starts defending the school saying blah blah blah, this this and that to Sheena and Boss, and i’m already ignoring them, cause i don’t want to speak to them. Ang is so dumb i don’t understand how fake she can be. She’s changed. But not because of this, but even way before that. So then it hits 11am which means i’m off the clock and i leave cause i have class at 11. And i said bye to alicia and didn’t give a fuck about anyone else. Then apparently a person was standing there and they all stared at alicia like hello aren’t you working and they yelled at her and she was like no i’m not working. And there was 3 of them there, boss, ang and sheena and they wanted alicia to help the person like wtf. they’re so weird. 

Then after that interaction, i went to nobel during lunch and i told him you better stop telling shit to ang because shes fake as fuck and she’ll go and tell faculty and staff about what you guys are planning to do. She honestly wants to portray herself as on the side that you are on especially around faculty and staff. If there’s a person thats in favor for it, she’ll act like she’s in favor for it. If theres someone that’s not, she’ll be on their side. like how fucking two faced is that. And plus, when they had the last revolution when the twins where still in school, they were sending out the petition for people to sign via email and she even told bryan that she didn’t sign it because their info was wrong. Like ARE YOU KIDDING ME. she obviously has no right to say shit about info being wrong because she makes like she has info that is right.

She talks about how their revolution failed because they did not research enough about something and shit like that. like what? we’re asking about transparency and how our budget looks like for the school year. we’re a freaking non-profit school dammit. like that should be public information. and if they’re saying they don’t know how our money is being spent then clearly something is wrong here. So yeah for those reasons i don’t fuck with her. If she knows where our money is going then i want her to show me where i can access it. if she knows what the plans are for this school then i want her to show me where i can find that or what meetings has she sat in to show me that this school is not going to go down in flames. because it’s our degree that’s on the damn line. 

So for those reasons i do not fuck with her. 

ASHNU which is basically the student body of HNU needs to get involved with this situation too, to make it easier for the students to say what they want to say, but honestly we do not need them for this. If they don’t agree about what’s on the petition then they can go suck my dick. but basically the petition was written by students and faculty. so how you ganna tell me that it needs work when that’s what faculty and students want? yeah it would be easier with ASHNU but if they’re making it hard for us then forget them. so they decided to throw a town hall meeting to discuss this petition. 

During the town hall meeting, apparently it turned out to be a bashing of ASHNU meeting and we came to realize that no one even knows what they even do or what they even stand for. So that did not end up well, we are having another one next monday and i’m curious about what that will turn out to be. So anyways at 1 i had work that day when they threw the town hall meeting. it started at 12:30 so i stayed for the first 30 mins. I saw sonia getting food at Rosie’s cafe so i went to say hi to her and she asked me about what i was doing. i said i’ll tell her but the lady took her order. then after that meeting or so shayla sent on slack what the meeting was about through email. so it was a screen shot of the email that was sent to all students. Then sonia replied a while later and was like: “:( just saw this”

ang: they didn’t send it to staff

boss: ain’t we part of the HNU community?

Shayla: that’s why i sent it here because sonia and i were talking about it

me: it was for the students mostly

shayla:^^ Precisely

sonia: ahh, next time it includes us let me know

shayla: gotchaa

ang: did you know staff isn’t included in the petition tho, we aren’t crap

we get left out of everything

me: dude shut up then why do you know so much about everything

ang: we can talk in person rather then on slack

shay: students get left out of everything

me: then keep your opinions to yourself please

then i was in class in biomechanics and this bitch decides to call me like fuck off

ang: meeks we can talk in person. however regard to the previous comment that was in reply to sonia and eugenia as staff, i was stating that the petition address administration, faculty and the students but leaves out the staff. and by saying we get left out of everything it is in regards to staff issues that also hasn’t been heard. the student issues is as well a pressing issue but no opinion was issued towards it. if you feel you have any issues what have i have stated i am more than happy to speak with you in person.

me: i honestly don’t care about what you have to say. but thank you for the offer and clarification.

and then sonia went on to say something about being respectful on slack and shit the way sonia likes to stop fights or whatever. 

but it sucked cause i had to open with her the next day. i decided to go to the library after class finished because i didn’t want to have to wait for ang to get down to the library so i just checked out the key. Then when i got there, everyone was like omg meeks like you go girl, fuckn lauren was bowing down to me and shit hahah shayla came running in, and fonz was high fiving me like lmaooooo that’s too funny but she needs to fuck off.

So the next morning of course i’m on time and ang gets there at whatever time she wants to get there. and my thing is, if i go get breakfast and i see you, i’m not going to act like your mom and fuckn tell you to leave with me. i am not responsible or accountable for you, you’re a grown ass woman that needs to set her priorities straight. if you’re having a tough life, then tough. fuckn straighten out and get yourself together. and stop living on campus because ANYYONE can do your damn job. 

So anyways we open the library and i’m by the computer doing the spine labels. Ang goes hey do you want to clear the air about yesterday? i’m like you know what i honestly don’t care about what you have to say about it. and she’s like but what opinions did i have? and i’m like look, i just said i don’t care about what you have to say ang. at one point i was your friend but now i’m not. and i’m leaving in a month so i just want to be over everything here. and then she was telling me some of her reasons and i’m like you know what,  like i don’t want to speak for everyone here but i know i don’t like you, you know that saying of once you don’t like someone everything about them because annoying, yah thats you to me. and then she goes okay, so how can i better the situation? and i’m like you cant, i’m literally leaving in a month. maybe just keep to yourself and i’ll be okay. and then boss comes in and she goes to the back and i tell her how i feel and shit and i’m like boss please don’t schedule me with her because i will cry if i have to open with her. and she was like why you’re my best opener. so i’m like fine. but that’s going to suck cause she’ll be gone and no one will be there to break the ice or i won’t have someone else to talk to.

So that’s pretty much my story, and after that sonia too was like whats going on. cause none of the staff knew that i didn’t like her and i was like look it’s more of a personal thing than anything. she just needs to idk maybe leave the library so she can actually experience getting a job.