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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 28 days ago

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By: John Spencer

Published: Jan 31, 2024

No military fighting an entrenched enemy in dense urban terrain in an area barely twice the size of Washington D.C. can avoid all civilian casualties. Reports of over 25,000 Palestinians killed, be they civilians or Hamas, have made headlines. But Israel has taken more measures to avoid needless civilian harm than virtually any other nation that's fought an urban war.

In fact, as someone who has served two tours in Iraq and studied urban warfare for over a decade, Israel has taken precautionary measures even the United States did not do during its recent wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

I say this not to put Israel on a pedestal or to diminish the human suffering of Gazans but rather to correct a number of misperceptions when it comes to urban warfare.

First is the use of precision guided munitions (PGMs). This term was introduced to nonmilitary audiences during the Gulf War, when the U.S. fired 250,000 individual bombs and missiles in just 43 days. Only a very small fraction of those would fit the definition of PGMs, even though common perceptions of that war, and its comparatively low civilian casualty rate, was that it was a war of precision.

Let's compare that war, which did not ignite anywhere near the same level of outrage internationally, to Israel's current war in Gaza. The Israeli Defense Force has used many types of PGMs to avoid civilian harm, including the use of munitions like small diameter bombs (SDBs), as well as technologies and tactics that increase the accuracy of non-PGMs. Israel has also employed a tactic when a military has air supremacy called dive bombing, as well as gathering pre-strike intelligence on the presence of civilians from satellite imagery, scans of cell phone presence, and other target observation techniques. All of this is to do more pinpoint targeted to avoid civilian deaths. In other words, the simplistic notion that a military must use more PGMs versus non-PGMs in a war is false.

A second misperception is a military's choice of munitions and how they apply the proportionality principle required by the laws of armed conflict. Here there is an assessment of the value of the military target to be gained from an act that is weighted against the expected collateral damage estimate caused by said act. An external viewer with no access to all information cannot say such things as a 500-pound bomb would achieve the military mission of a 2,000-pound bomb with no mention of the context of the value of the military target or the context of the strike—like the target being in a deep tunnel that would require great penetration.

Third, one of the best ways to prevent civilian casualties in urban warfare is to provide warning and evacuate urban areas before the full combined air and ground attack commences. This tactic is unpopular for obvious reasons: It alerts the enemy defender and provides them the military advantage to prepare for the attack. The United States did not do this ahead of its initial invasion of Iraq in 2003, which involved major urban battles to include in Baghdad. It did not do this before its April 2004 Battle of Fallujah (though it did send civilian warnings before the Second Battle of Fallujah six months later).

By contrast, Israel provided days and then weeks of warnings, as well as time for civilians to evacuate multiple cities in northern Gaza before starting the main air-ground attack of urban areas. The Israel Defense Forces (IDF) employed their practice of calling and texting ahead of an air strike as well as roof-knocking, where they drop small munitions on the roof of a building notifying everyone to evacuate the building before a strike.

No military has ever implemented any of these practices in war before.

The IDF has also air-dropped flyers to give civilians instructions on when and how to evacuate, including with safe corridors. (The U.S. implemented these tactics in its second battle of Fallujah and 2016-2017 operation against ISIS in Mosul.) Israel has dropped over 520,000 pamphlets, and broadcast over radio and through social media messages to provide instruction for civilians to leave combat areas.

Israel's use of real phone calls to civilians in combat areas (19,734), SMS texts (64,399) and pre-recorded calls (almost 6 million) to provide instructions on evacuations is also unprecedented.

The IDF also conducted daily four-hour pauses over multiple consecutive days of the war to allow civilians to leave active combat areas. While pauses for civilian evacuations after a war or battle has started is not completely new, the frequency and predictability of these in Gaza have been historic.

Another historical first in war measures to prevent civilian causalities was Israel's distribution of IDF military maps and urban warfare graphics to assist civilians with day to day evacuations and alerting them to where the IDF will be operating. No military in history has ever done this.

In the 2016-2017 Battle of Mosul, the Iraqi government initially told civilians not to evacuate and to shelter in place during the battle of both the city's eastern and western districts, but later directed civilians to leave using "safe" corridors. But the Islamic State (ISIS) mined the corridors and shot at anyone using them to escape. Hundreds of thousands of civilians were trapped inside the combat areas for months as the battle progressed.

The reality is that when it comes to avoiding civilian harm, there is no modern comparison to Israel's war against Hamas. Israel is not fighting a battle like Fallujah, Mosul, or Raqqa; it is fighting a war involving synchronous major urban battles. No military in modern history has faced over 30,000 urban defenders in more than seven cities using human shields and hiding in hundreds of miles of underground networks purposely built under civilian sites, while holding hundreds of hostages.

Despite the unique challenges Israel faces in its war against Hamas, it has implemented more measures to prevent civilian casualties than any other military in history.

Some have argued that Israel should have waited longer to start its war, should have used different munitions and tactics, or should not have conducted the war at all. These calls are understandable, but they fail to acknowledge the context of Israel's war against Hamas, from the hundreds of Israeli hostages to the daily rocket attacks on Israeli civilians from Gaza to the tunnels, and the real existential threat of Hamas poses Israel and its citizens, who live within walking distance of the warzone.

To be clear, I am outraged by the civilian casualties in Gaza. But it's crucial to direct that outrage at the right target. And that target is Hamas.

It is outrageous that Hamas spent decades and billions of dollars building tunnels under civilian homes and protected areas for the sole purpose of using Palestinian civilians as human shields. It is outrageous that Hamas does not allow civilians in their tunnels, that Hamas says and takes actions to create as many civilian deaths as possible—both its own and Israeli. The atrocities committed on Oct. 7 are outrageous. That Hamas fights in civilian clothes, intermixed within civilians, and launches rockets at Israeli civilians from Palestinian civilian areas is outrageous.

The sole reason for civilian deaths in Gaza is Hamas. For Israel's part, it's taken more care to prevent them than any other army in human history.

John Spencer is chair of urban warfare studies at the Modern War Institute (MWI) at West Point, codirector of MWI's Urban Warfare Project and host of the "Urban Warfare Project Podcast." He served for 25 years as an infantry soldier, which included two combat tours in Iraq. He is the author of the book Connected Soldiers: Life, Leadership, and Social Connection in Modern War and co-author of Understanding Urban Warfare. The views expressed in this commentary are his own.

Let's do some maths:

Oct 8, 2023-Jan 31, 2024: 25,000 casualties (according to Hamas, unverified).

Oct 8, 2023-May 8, 2924: 34,844 casualties (according to Hamas, unverified).

Oct 8, 2023-Dec 24, 2024: 45,338 casualties (according to Hamas, unverified).

So, what we're saying is that as this war has escalated, the "genocide" has become less efficient, including the time Israel had an opportunity to murder 950,000 civilians and instead... *checks notes*... evacuated them safely out of Rafah, including providing them with food, water and medical aid.

🤔🤨

Riiiiiiiight.

This is "the moon landing was a hoax"-level delusion.

#israel #Israel Defense Forces #gaza #gaza strip #hamas #hamas terrorism #palestine #exterminate hamas #hostages #release the hostages #hamas propaganda #genocide #imaginary genocide #gaza genocide #palestine genocide #war #religion is a mental illness

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boymanmaletheshequel · 7 months ago

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The Name Is Poseidon 🔱

Poseidon is a part of me that no crashing wave of circumstance could ever truly demolish. Ever since I was a child, some of the best moments of my life have occurred by the sea. Every summer, after months of being forced to participate in an education system inherently judgemental and cruel to me, due to the neurological conditions of which I could not, and should not have helped but have, my family and i escaped to a place that made those experiences dissipate, as if suspended in time for a short while if only to take a break from it all. We escaped to the coast. The coasts of Oregon and Washington are unbeatable. Tide pools of green anemones and purple and orange stars pepper the sandy coastline in moments of interruption amidst monolithic rocks and volcanic pillars, a marine garden hosting a bevy of life and biodiversity. And during those trips, when I could escape the education I’d come to resent, I found that in truth, learning was something I couldn’t get enough of, when it was catered to ME. Back home, when I was forced to spend those 6 hours a day in the institution of ignorance, and of abandonment that is the United States Education system, there was one thing that made the greyness in me turn colorful. Shark books. Of course, what young autist is not captivated by the world of sharks and marine predators? And so, with every trip I returned to the coast, my appreciation, and with it my LOVE for the ocean grew evermore. Now, after 15 years of visits, and 10 years of teaching myself marine biology through countless hours of studying and learning, I know the names of every single organism on those beaches. The tour guides at haystack rock know me now, they know that they get to take a break when I show up, because I will answer the questions of every single curious beachgoer on the sand. I am intwined with the sea, afterall, I, and infact, all of you, did come from it. I’ve always felt there was a personality to it all, to the sea. A personification if it’s intrigue, it’s beauty and it’s tragedy, and the role it has played in shaping culture and humanity as we know it. A name to personify the endless depth of emotion, and curiosity that it prevokes, the beauty, and the unimaginable power it possesses. Well, now I know that name. The name is one of which strikes both fear and wonder into me each time I hear it, comfort, and yet great respect, it is a name that describes he duality, the undeniable connection we all share with the water and the sea. A name that is truly the epitome of the sea. The name of course, is Poseidon.

#hellenic worship #green witch #hellenism #paganism #male witch #baby witch #druidism #pagan witch #witchcraft #sea witch #marine biology #marine biologist #poseidon #king poseidon #poseidon devotee

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safficranger · 10 months ago

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Fake Scenarios In My Head #05

After skipping in and out of town for years (Witsec, Africa, Washington…), Alex decides to stay in NY for good and go back to working as an ADA for SVU, splitting the job with Casey. They get along pretty well and develop a genuine friendship.

After a little pep-talk from Olivia aka “Calex Shipper No.1”, Casey musters up the courage to ask Alex out on a date, and to her delight, she accepts with a little blush on her cheeks.

Casey wants to do something special, so instead of taking Alex to dinner and drinks (and maybe more), she picks her up on Sunday afternoon. She comes packed with a travel guide for New York, a list of the 'must-try' restaurants for tourists, a paper map of the city, and a Polaroid camera. They get a ticket for the Hop-on-Hop-off Bus tour, see the most important sightseeing spots of the city, and take silly photos. Casey even buys Alex an 'I ♥ New York' shirt and a cup with the skyline in glittering purple printed on it.

After a milkshake and burger in an 'original 50s Diner,' she brings Alex home. After a few moments of awkward silence, Alex takes the first step and kisses Casey goodbye before slipping through the door to her apartment. It was the most unusual but best first date she ever had.

#alex cabot #alexandra cabot #casey novak #calex #law and order #law and order svu #svu #rangerwrites #rwfs

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sisterspooky1013 · 1 year ago

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Gaslight, Chapter 23/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Washington, D.C.

The J. Edgar Hoover building is just as ugly as he remembers it, though the memory itself is foggy and based on only a few short visits during his training at Quantico. He decides that the best course of action is to join a guided tour, as opposed to attempting to explain his conundrum to security and likely finding himself escorted out of the building.

He woke early, pulled from sleep before sunrise by a confusing and haunting dream. Someone was screaming that name—Mulder—but he knew in his heart that it was directed towards him. A woman was calling for him with so much terror in her voice it made his stomach turn. The feeling that was still buzzing in his veins when he woke was stark helplessness, a feeling that there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop whatever was happening to her.

Surrounded by tourists in jeans and Mount Vernon T-shirts, he stands out in his suit and tie until they pass through the metal detectors and enter the bowels of the building. It has the mildewed, dust-embedded smell of aged tile panels and burnt toner, which he finds oddly comforting. The guide points out key areas and retells the history of the Bureau in a practiced but unimpassioned monotone, and Jeff slowly drops back until he’s bringing up the rear of the little pack. When they come to the end of a hallway that breaks off in two directions, the rest of the group hangs left while he goes right, holding his head high and tucking the bottom half of his visitors pass into the breast pocket of his suit jacket to obscure the big block letters that give him away as a trespasser.

He wanders seemingly identical corridors, attempting to make eye contact with the other suit-wearing professionals who pass by in hopes that he will be met with recognition. To his surprise and disappointment, no one pays him any mind at all, save for one woman who gives him an appreciative leer and a wink. He starts to read the placards mounted on the wall beside each door: Electronic Records, Computer Crimes, Conference Room 403. Next to a stately looking set of double doors the placard reads “Walter Skinner- Assistant Director” and just after passing by he turns back and reads the sign again. The name feels familiar, though he cannot place it.

The latch on the door gives way with a sudden snap and he startles, taking one step back as a balding man in gold wire-rimmed glasses steps out and nearly crashes into him.

“Excuse me,” the man says brusquely as he pulls the door closed behind him. “Can I help you?”

He gives the man a once over. Tall, barrel-chested, his mouth set in a stoic but not unfriendly line. Again Jeff feels an unrooted sense of familiarity that he can’t tie to any event, or place, or time.

“Jeff Spender,” he says, offering his hand. The man takes it with an iron grip, holding Jeff’s eye as he pumps his arm up and down twice.

“Walter Skinner,” the man replies as he gives Jeff his own appraising look. His eye lingers on Jeff’s partially hidden badge before returning to his face, chin lifted in a show of dominance. “Are you with the Bureau, Mr. Spender?”

“Uh, formerly, yes,” he says, which is technically true. “Have you been with the Bureau long, Mr. Skinner?”

“Assistant Director,” Skinner corrects him. “And yes, over twenty years.”

“I’m actually looking for an agent, or potentially a former agent, who worked out of the Hoover. His name is Mulder. Do you know him, by chance?”

Assistant Director Skinner gives him a long look with unblinking eyes. Whatever thoughts are spinning behind those wire-rimmed glasses, he isn’t giving anything away.

“No, that name doesn’t sound familiar,” he finally says, and Jeff feels an odd mix of disappointment and relief. “Is there something else I can help you with?” Mr. Skinner continues. “Locating your tour group, perhaps?” he asks with a pointed look at the hidden badge.

Jeff feels his face grow warm, but he does his best to conceal his reaction.

“No, thank you, I was just headed back up to the lobby,” he says, then extends his hand again, which Mr. Skinner accepts. “Thank you for your time, sir.”

He turns and walks down the hall towards the elevators. After pressing the call button, he glances over his shoulder to find the Assistant Director still standing just outside his office door, hands in the pockets of his suit pants, watching him. He nods and the A.D. nods back, and the elevator doors slide open with a ding. Mr. Skinner continues to wait and watch as Jeff steps into the elevator and presses the button for the lobby, and it’s only when Skinner is about to disappear behind the closing doors that he finally turns away.

Jeff exhales forcefully, feeling like he dodged a bullet, and the car lurches and then begins to descend. The lights illuminate as they pass by the fourth, third, and second floors, and then the doors slide open to reveal the bustling lobby of the building. Jeff moves to the side as all the other occupants file out, but he doesn’t exit. On impulse, he reaches out and hits the button marked “B” and the doors slide closed again, carrying him underground.

He is delivered to a nondescript hallway intermittently lined with metal shelves and sagging copy paper boxes. It’s eerily quiet and seemingly unoccupied, but he still winces at the loud clip of his wingtips on the linoleum. He passes by a supply closet, a set of bathrooms, and an unmarked door before the hallway ends at a stairwell that advertises itself to be an emergency exit only. He turns back, feeling frustrated and confused.

He pauses just outside the unmarked door. Like Assistant Director Skinner’s office, he’s compelled to take a closer look without understanding why. He grabs the doorknob and is caught off guard by a sudden flush of warmth spreading from the crown of his head and down his body. It’s a peaceful, content sensation that evokes a strong emotional response, and he clears his throat as it tightens. With a shake of his head, he turns the knob and pushes the door open.

The room is rectangular with a second, glass enclosed area at one end. There’s a desk pushed into one corner, and heaps of boxes are piled on its surface as well as the surrounding floor. It looks long unused, but it doesn’t have the musky, moldering smell he’d expect. It smells faintly like perfume, actually, so faint that he can’t identify the source of it. He approaches the desk and pulls open one of the drawers, which is a clutter of pens and paper clips, and a stack of post-it notes with “sucker” written on the top note in neat, flowing script.

His phone rings and he startles, scrambling for his pocket as his heart pushes up into his throat and then begins to hammer.

“Hello?”

“Jeff. Where are you?”

His heart sinks.

“Hey, Diana, how’s the case going?” he asks casually, kicking at the carpet with the toe of his shoe. It looks relatively new and out of place in such a forgotten corner of the building.

“Fine. I tried your office and the house but you didn’t answer. Where are you?” she repeats, barely concealing the irritation in her voice.

“I’m in D.C., actually,” he tells her, his tone indicating that she should take this to be good news. “I wanted to surprise you.”

There is a long, sharp silence.

“I very explicitly asked you not to come down, Jeff,” she says carefully.

“I know, but I—”

“I’m not interested in hearing whatever bullshit justification you cooked up,” she interrupts. “Meet me at my hotel in two hours. And in case this isn’t clear to you, Jeff, I am very unhappy right now,” she concludes.

Something blunt bounces off the top of his head and he winces, touching the spot on his scalp that it collided with.

“Diana, I’m sorry—”

The line goes dead, and he tucks his phone back into his pocket. On the floor beside his feet he finds the offending item: an extremely sharp pencil with a pristine, unused eraser. He looks around, trying to locate the source of the projectile, and then finally he tips his face up to the ceiling. There are at least a dozen more, all wedged into the ceiling tiles, and countless pockmarks indicating that they are far from the first batch. He tucks the pencil into the pocket of his jacket and makes his way back to the lobby. He’s on the other side of security, steps away from the front doors, when someone calls his name.

“Spender!” says a man, blond and bulky with a cheesy smile. “No shit, it’s really you!”

Jeff narrows his eyes and searches the man’s face, but he isn’t familiar. The two men walk toward one another and meet with a quick, casual handshake.

“I apologize, I can’t seem to recall your name,” Jeff says, chagrined, and the man makes an exaggerated expression of incredulity, holding his arms out and dropping his jaw in mock offense.

“It’s Nick Sellers, man! I can’t believe you don’t remember me!” he chides playfully, slapping Jeff on the upper arm.

“Sorry, my memory isn’t what it used to be,” he admits, still coming up empty even with a name to accompany the face.

“Don’t worry about it. The Academy was, what, almost fifteen years ago now?”

The Academy. Quantico. He still can’t remember the man, but knowing that he was a fellow recruit is helpful context.

“Has it been that long? It feels like lifetimes ago,” Jeff says. “You work out of the Hoover?” he asks, and Nick nods.

“Been here since I finished basic training,” Nick says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’ve seen a lot of new agents come and go, but few with as much promise as young Jeffrey Spender,” he adds teasingly.

“Yeah, well, I think I’ve done alright,” Jeff offers demurely, and suddenly Nick perks up.

“Hey, we should grab lunch and catch up. Are you free now? I was just about to walk down to Old World Deli.”

Jeff checks his watch. He isn’t in any hurry to face Diana, and he hasn’t eaten anything since before leaving Philly. And if Nick has been working at the Hoover all this time, he must know something about Mulder.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” he agrees, and the two men exit the building side by side.

The Old World Deli is noisy and bustling with a melting pot of suited professionals and wide-eyed tourists, and offers an assortment of sandwiches and salads. The first forty minutes of their meal are spent catching up on their lives since Jeff left the Academy, and he pretends to recall information Nick offers about himself and the classes they were in together at Quantico. Jeff learns that Nick works in counter-terrorism, has a wife and two children, and an alarming level of hatred for the San Francisco 49ers. As they finish their meals, the pressure of time asserts itself and Jeff decides that it’s now or never.

“During your time at the Hoover, have you ever worked with or known of an agent with the last name Mulder?” he asks with what he hopes is a casual tone.

Nick sits back in his chair and pushes his bottom lip out, considering.

“Doesn’t ring a bell, why?” he says after a beat, and Jeff shrugs.

“What about Dana Scully? Was there an agent by that name?”

“Dana Scully?” Nick repeats, and Jeff nods. “No, never heard of her.”

Jeff sighs and runs one hand across the back of his neck.

“Is something the matter, Jeff? You seem…I don’t know, unsettled, I guess,” Nick says sincerely, tossing his napkin on his plate.

Jeff looks at this man, who is purportedly a friend but whom he cannot remember. There’s really no way to tell the story that doesn’t sound preposterous, but he feels like he’s so close to an answer, and he can’t afford not to take every shot available. He leans in and Nick mirrors him, the two men now huddled over the remains of their lunch.

“This is going to sound crazy,” he begins, and Nick cracks a small, skeptical smile. “Twice now I’ve had someone, complete strangers, tell me that I look exactly like a man named Mulder. The second time it happened, they told me that this man, Mulder, worked at the FBI, out of the Hoover, and his partner was a redhead named Dana Scully.” Nick’s eyebrows lift, but he doesn’t say anything. “If it were just the one time, I could write it off as a coincidence, but twice? I feel like there’s something to it, and that’s why I drove down here. But so far all I’m hitting are dead ends.”

Nick watches him for a moment, blinking rapidly.

“That uh…that sounds disturbing, Jeff. I can see why that would be…disturbing,” he says haltingly. “But you know, stuff like that happens all the time.”

Jeff cocks his head and scoffs.

“Does it? Do you regularly have strangers call you by another name? Mistake you for someone else?” he asks, slightly less kindly than he intended.

Another blank stare, another series of erratic blinks.

“Yeah, I mean…you know, um…hey, maybe we can go back to the Hoover and ask them to look at the employee files and see if there are any Mulders in there, would that make you feel better?”

A momentary surge of excitement quickly dissipates.

“Sure, but that kind of information is confidential, isn’t it?” he counters. “You can’t just waltz into HR and ask them to search employee files.”

Nick’s mouth hangs open for a beat.

“I work in HR,” he says awkwardly. “I can look it up. Just, uh, don’t tell anyone, okay?” he adds with a nervous laugh.

“I thought you said you worked in counter-terrorism,” Jeff points out.

“Right,” Nick says, then just stares at him. “My wife works in HR,” he blurts out.

“Your wife who you just told me ten minutes ago stays at home with your kids?” Jeff asks.

Now Nick’s mouth is opening and closing like a hungry fish, his eyes flicking back and forth. Jeff hears the squabble of radio chatter, and then a shriek of feedback that makes Nick’s hand fly to his ear.

“Fuck!” he says sharply, turning away.

Cortisol. Adrenaline. Fight or flight kicks into gear. Jeff pushes away from the table, the screech of his chair drawing looks from surrounding patrons.

“Jeff, wait,” Nick says, knocking his own chair over as he quickly stands.

Jeff doesn’t stick around to hear what he has to say. He runs back to his car, his lungs burning, and drives across town to Diana’s hotel. He came to D.C. looking for answers, but so far all he has are more questions.

Diana is much later than promised, and he waits for her with raw nerves and a pit in his belly.

He’s more sure than ever that something untoward is going on here. That man, Nick, was some kind of decoy, being fed information and answers—but why? Someone is going to great lengths to prevent him from uncovering who Mulder is, and the more roadblocks they throw in his path, the more desperate he is for answers.

Diana slumps through the door and gives him a weary look before she kicks off her heels and crosses to the bathroom. He’d forgotten, in his panic over his unsettling lunch date, that she’s upset with him. That suddenly feels like the least of his problems. She returns in cotton lounge pants and a T-shirt, leaning against the counter of the kitchenette and leveling him with an irritated glare.

“Diana, I know you’re pissed at me, but something is going on and I need your help getting to the bottom of it,” he says, making no attempt to placate her.

“You need my help?” she repeats with a scoff. “I’m busy, Jeff. I’m working. That’s why I came down here, you may recall.”

“Listen to me, Diana. Do you remember that name I mentioned? Mulder?”

Her expression falls momentarily, but she quickly recovers.

“Sure, from your little friend in the coffee shop,” she says derisively.

“Well, it happened again. Someone called me that name: Mulder. It’s no coincidence, and it’s not meaningless. There’s something to this, Diana, and someone is trying to keep me from figuring out what,” he tells her.

“Who else called you that?” she asks, seeming unsettled.

“A new patient. I went by the Hoover today and ran into some guy—Nick Sellers—and he told me we were at the Academy together but I don’t remember him at all. Do you remember that name?”

“Sure, Nick Sellers. I think he’s in counter-terrorism now,” she says flatly.

“Well I’ve never seen the guy before in my life,” he continues, “and some of the things he was saying weren’t adding up. But the kicker is, I think he was wearing an earpiece.”

Diana stares at him for a beat, then moves away from the counter and begins to rummage in the mini fridge.

“Do you want a drink?” she asks, and he feels a flare of anger.

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” he barks at her.

“Yes, Jeff, I’m listening to what you’re saying,” she says tartly, her back still to him. “You sound like one of those paranoid conspiracy theorists.”

He blinks at her, flabbergasted.

“Are you serious? You don’t find it at all strange that twice in the past week and a half someone I don’t recognize has called me by a name I’ve never heard? And that my new patient said this Mulder person worked for the FBI?” He decides to leave off the detail about Dana Scully and the coffee shop, lest she get the wrong idea.

“What I find strange,” she says as she begins to mix an airplane bottle of rum and a can of coke, “is that you drove down here even after I very explicitly asked you not to.” She picks up the empty ice bucket and turns to him, holding it out. “Would you go get some ice, please?”

White hot rage floods his veins. He stands and takes two steps forward, snatching the ice bucket out of her hand and tossing it into the corner of the room. Diana doesn’t flinch, just watches him with a carefully neutral expression.

“Why are you so hung up on me driving down here?” he shouts. “I’m telling you that I think something seriously disturbing is happening to me, and all you care about is that I didn’t follow your fucking orders? Are you my wife or my warden, Diana?!”

Her jaw sets and she re-crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Your warden?” she repeats in a low growl. “Is that how you see me? I’m not the one who cheated, Jeff. That was you. I’m not the one who lies.”

“That was years ago, Diana! I know I made a mistake, and I’m sorry. I truly am sorry every day. But I–I can’t live like this forever. I can’t live under your microscope.”

He’s softening a bit under the weight of his guilt. She has a way of doing this, of making him forget why he’s angry by reminding him what he put her through.

“Do you want to know why I didn’t want you to come down here, Jeff?” she asks tightly. He nods. “Your father is being sued. Some business deal out of Washington that went sideways—the details don’t matter. But I was trying to respect his privacy. He didn’t want you to know.”

There it is again, that familiar sickening feeling. Somehow, he’s always the one who is in the wrong.

“Oh,” he says, lamely.

“Maybe if you could just trust me, Jeff, if you could just believe that I have your best interests at heart, you wouldn’t feel like I have you under a microscope,” she says with equal parts sadness and anger.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sitting heavily on the foot of the bed.

Diana slowly moves to sit beside him and rests her hand on his knee.

“I’m worried about you,” she says gently. “All this about someone wearing a wire—maybe your head injury was more severe than we thought. Have you been taking your medication?”

“Sometimes. Not very consistently,” he admits.

“Maybe you should take some time off work, make an appointment with Dr. Phan and get checked out,” she suggests.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Do you promise me you’ll go home tomorrow? Take your meds and get some rest? Maybe you just need a break, Jeff.”

“Okay. I will. I’ll head home in the morning.”

“Good. Hey,” she says, waiting until he looks at her. “I’m on your side,” she tells him with an affectionate smile. “We’ll figure it out together.”

He forces a smile in return, though he feels anything but happy. He feels like his grip on reality is loosening by the minute.

“Thanks, Diana. I’m sorry I’ve been so—”

“It’s okay,” she interrupts him. “For better or for worse, right?”

“Right.”

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #xf fanfic #x files #the x-files #xfiles #thexfiles

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tomorrowxtogether · 2 years ago

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Meet Tomorrow X Together: A guide to the group's members, tour, awards and more

Since its debut in 2019, Tomorrow X Together, also known as TXT, has become of the most recognizable groups to rise out of South Korea's music scene. From chart-hitting releases to record-setting firsts, Tomorrow X Together continues to make its name known in the industry and across the world.

And with over 14.3 million followers on Instagram, 10.7 million followers on Twitter and 8.9 million monthly listeners on Spotify, Tomorrow X Together's success is not slowing down any time soon. The group recently embarked on the U.S. leg of its world tour with stops in New York, Los Angeles, Washington D.C. and more.

Here's everything you need to know about the K-pop group Tomorrow X Together, from its members to its milestones and "Act: Sweet Mirage" world tour.

Who is Tomorrow X Together?

Tomorrow X Together (pronounced Tomorrow by Together) is a five member boy group under Big Hit Music, a subsidiary of HYBE Corporation. Big Hit Music is also home to BTS, while stars including Seventeen, Nana and Enhypen are in the HYBE family of artists.

Comprised of members Yeonjun, Soobin, Beomgyu, Taehyun and Hueningkai, the group debuted with "Crown" in 2019. Tomorrow X Together is the second boy group to debut under Big Hit Music.

How many members are in Tomorrow X Together?

There are five members:

Yeonjun (Full name: Choi Yeon-jun) Born Sept. 13, 1999. Hometown: Seoul, South Korea.

Soobin (Full name: Choi Soo-bin) Born Dec. 5, 2000. Hometown: Ansan, South Korea.

Beomgyu (Full name: Choi Beom-gyu) Born March 13, 2001. Hometown: Daegu, South Korea.

Taehyun (Full name: Kang Tae-hyun) Born Feb. 5, 2002. Hometown: Seoul, South Korea.

Hueningkai (Full name: Kai Kamal Huening) Born Aug. 14, 2002. Born in Honolulu, Hawaii

What are Tomorrow X Together fans called?

The fandom name for Tomorrow X Together is "MOA.""MOA" stands for "moments of alwaysness," meaning that Tomorrow X Together and the fans share each and every moment always and forever, and together gather pieces to complete one dream.

Tomorrow X Together world tour 'Act: Sweet Mirage'

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On May 6, Tomorrow X Together kicked off the U.S. leg of the "Act: Sweet Mirage" world tour. The tour began earlier in South Korea on March 25 with two back-to-back shows at the KSPO Dome in Seoul. During the tour, the group will visit 16 cities across the globe with more dates to come.

On the U.S. leg, Tomorrow X Together's stops include:

Charlotte, North Carolina – Spectrum Center (May 6).

Belmont Park, New York – UBS Arena (May 9 and May 10).

Washington, D.C. – Capitol One Arena (May 16).

Duluth, Georgia – Gas South Arena (May 19 and May 20).

San Antonio, Texas – AT&T Center (May 23 and May 24).

Los Angeles – BMO Stadium (May 27 and May 28).

Tomorrow X Together milestones

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Since debut, Tomorrow X Together has released three studio albums, one reissue, six EPs and multiple singles.

At the time of its debut, Tomorrow X Together was the fastest K-pop act to top the Billboard World Albums and World Digital Song Sales charts with the single "Crown" and EP "The Dream Chapter: Star." The group has hit several Billboard charts, including the Billboard 200 with three Top 10 entries and "The Name Chapter: Temptation" reaching No.1. On the Billboard World Albums chart, Tomorrow X Together has five No. 1 hits.

Throughout its career, Tomorrow X Together has won many awards. In 2019, the group won several new artist awards, including Rookie of the Year at the Asia Artist Awards, Best New Male Artist at the Genie Music Awards and Best New Male Artist at the MAMA Awards. In 2023, the group won the World K-pop Star award at the Circle Chart Music Awards. At the 2023 Hanteo Music Awards, Tomorrow X Together received the main award, or bonsang, and the Global Artist Award for Asia.

On July 30, 2022, Tomorrow X Together became the first K-pop group to perform at Lollapalooza. The group will be returning to the festival in 2023, but this time as a headliner, alongside Kendrick Lamar, Billie Eilish, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Lana Del Rey, Odesza, The 1975 and Karol G.

In 2021, the group was awarded the 2021 Men of the Year Pop Icon Award by GQ Japan. In 2022, Tomorrow X Together received the Minister of Culture, Sports and Tourism commendation, a prestigious government award, in South Korea.

Tomorrow X Together was also named among the "K-Pop Star to Watch" for Billboard's K-pop issue in 2023.

#txt #tomorrow x together #230512 #article #USA Today #soobin #yeonjun #beomgyu #taehyun #hueningkai

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 9 months ago

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Welcome back ange sorry about the horrors lol

So because Ewan is visiting my beloved Mexico:

Ewanverse characters ft vacation spots

The horrors that you, personally, have caused 😉 thank you! 💕

I am so jealous that he is getting to visit all of the places I want to; first São Paulo, the home of my beloved caipirinha. Now, Mexico, the country that has some of the best food in the world.

This is a fun one!

Abraham - doesn’t go abroad. Has a long weekend in one of the holiday parks in the New Forest; both beaches and woodland to explore, free roaming ponies, and lots of old man pubs to drink ale in.

Aemond - Bergen in Norway. Lots of dark history and mountains to climb. Endless photos of him posing in front of stave churches.

Billy Taylor - a trip to Brighton beach. Visits the fun fair on the pier and brings back a stick of rock.

Billy Washington - goes to Ibiza or Magaluf because it’s where all of his mates tend to go. Eats only English food the entire time he’s there, gets radioactive looking sunburn and wakes up every day with a hangover. Returns home feeling worse than before he left.

Ettore - would probably want to do one of those guided tours of Pripyat to visit the Chernobyl reactor.

Genyen - Thailand, duh.

Michael - Geneva, to learn more about the Hadron Collider. Wears socks and sandals the entire time.

Osferth - enjoys a break in the British countryside. Would enjoy a long weekend in the Peak District or the Cotswolds.

Tom - Prague! Cheap booze and the stag party culture would suit him perfectly.

#asked and answered #lovely moots 💕#ewan mitchell #ewanverse headcanons #my headcanons

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psalm22-6 · 4 months ago

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The Washington D.C Evening Star, 28 September 1919 For reference the definition of "Doughboy": a US infantryman, especially one in World War I.

The man who lately made "Les Miserables" a best seller in Paris returned to the United States a few days ago on a converted cattle ship. He is Frank D. Lewis, an attorney of Everett, Wash., and probably the best press agent that Victor Hugo ever had.

Only an American would think this. Everyone knows Victor Hugo was the best press agent Victor Hugo ever had. Anyways...

His enthusiasm over the famous novel led some 4,000 doughboys on pleasure bent to make one afternoon of their three-day leave in Paris literary pilgrimage to the places mentioned in Jean Valjean's adventures, and 4,000 doughboys besieged the Parisian booksellers and libraries for copies of "Les Miserables" to re-read. The result was inevitable. The supply of English copies of the work soon was exhausted. The American Library Association sent out S.O.S. calls to London for "Les Miserables." London did its best, but it was not enough. Finally, New York had to be appealed to, and, although it would ordinarily be like carrying coals to Newcastle, America supplied France with the needed copies of the most popular novel of her greatest novelist. Mr. Lewis, before taking up law, was a teacher for twenty years, presiding over every sort of pedagogic institution from a one-room district school to a city school system, so it was natural, when he found himself in Paris as a Y. M. C. A. worker immediately after the signing of the armistice, that the educational opportunity Paris offered to the thousands of American boys should appeal to him. He organized the first Y. M. C. A. sightseeing trips to places of historic interest, trips that became so popular that transportation facilities were taxed to the utmost, steamboats were chartered, special trains operated and Army trucks pressed into service when the crowds became so great that the "rubber-neck" wagons of the French capital could no longer accommodate them. It was while visiting the tomb of Lafayette that Mr. Lewis felt he was treading well known ground. The convent in which he stood was strangely familiar. He has never been there before and at first could not account for the feeling. Suddenly he remembered that the building fitted the description of the convent in the Rue Petit Picpus where Little Cosette had been. He verified the location by reference to the story.

More like he confused the name of Picpus Cemetery with the Petit-Picpus convent as the two locations couldn't be confused with one another otherwise. Lots of Americans tourists have made the same mistake though.

"From that time on I found more and more places that Hugo had mentioned," said Mr. Lewis, "and I persuaded the Y. M. C. A. to let me have a bus for a trial trip to about twenty-five of these points. The nine men who took the trip with me were so enthusiastic that the "Y" made the tour a regular feature of its sight seeing program. It proved so popular that instead of making the trip twice a week we had to make it daily and to requisition additional busses for it." For the boy who had read the wonderful story, it was a rare treat to be guided by such an enthusiast as Mr. Lewis through the very places that the master novelist had described so vividly; to stop on the quail which looks across the Cours la Reine to the Port du Gros Cailou and the Seine just as it did on the June evening in 1832 when Jean Valjean emerged at the mouth of the sewer only to find his passage barred by the heavy iron grating of the gate; and to visit the house in the Rue Plumet where Jean Valjean took Cosette after she left the convent in the Little Picpus. Near the church is the Palace of the Luxembourg, in whose gardens Jean Valjean and Cosette were customed to walk during the long summer evenings. The statue of the Gladiator, under which Marius and Cosette used to meet, still stands in the garden, but the bench at its base has been moved away. The gardens even now afford a happy rendezvous for lovers, however, and the imaginative soldier had little difficulty in finding the needed characters to rebuild the scenes of the story among the many couples who wandered there. Not far from the gardens runs the Roman road, known as St. Jacques. It was to the Church of Haut Pas, in this street, that Jean took Cosette to attend mass, because it was far from home and less likely to attract the attention of the police. Here Eponine found Jean and delivered to him the note which enticed him to the Gerbeau [sic] tenement. In front of this church, too, Javert, disguised as a beggar, was recognized by Valjean. The trip ended with a visit to the home of Victor Hugo, No. 6 Place des Vosges, where the first chapters of "Les Miserables" were written and where Charles Dickens, who had written the story of the poor and oppressed of England, visited the man who was doing the same for France.

#although I nit-pick I think this must be one of the gems of my digging around #les miserables #fans through the ages #paris

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etiquettecruise · 1 year ago

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Our tours will let you see the Best Washington DC including with West wing ,Capitol Hill and More.

For More Details Please Visit: https://www.etiquettecruises.com/

Phone: +1 877-323–2552 Email: [email protected]

#etiquettecruises #tour packages #best washington tour guide #washington cruise

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theeagertraveler · 2 years ago

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#best travel blogs #europe travel blog #world travel guide #thailand travel guide #Travel blog & adventure news #california adventure tips #Hiking adventures Washington #Adventure sightseeing web journals #adventure travel blogs #travel #Destination guide Santa Maria Valley #Backpacking guide for beginners #Destination guide Carmel #tour

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katysamazingblog · 4 months ago

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best waterfalls in america

Sure! Here’s a list of some of the best waterfalls in America, known for their beauty and accessibility:

Niagara Falls (New York) - Iconic and massive, it’s one of the most famous waterfalls in the world.

Yosemite Falls (California) - One of the tallest waterfalls in North America, with stunning views, especially in spring.

Multnomah Falls (Oregon) - An impressive two-tiered waterfall in the Columbia River Gorge, easily accessible from the highway.

Angels Falls (Venezuela) - While not in the U.S., it's often mentioned; the tallest waterfall in the world, located in the Canaima National Park.

Havasu Falls (Arizona) - Known for its turquoise waters, this waterfall is located in the Grand Canyon and requires a hike to access.

Ruby Falls (Tennessee) - An underground waterfall located within Lookout Mountain, offering guided tours.

Bridalveil Fall (California) - A stunning waterfall in Yosemite National Park, known for its graceful, sweeping flow.

Shoshone Falls (Idaho) - Often called the "Niagara of the West," it’s actually higher than Niagara Falls.

Great Falls (Virginia/Maryland) - A series of waterfalls on the Potomac River, with beautiful views and hiking trails.

Tacoma Falls (Washington) - A beautiful, lesser-known waterfall near Mount Rainier, perfect for a serene hike.

Each of these waterfalls offers unique scenery and experiences, making them worthwhile destinations for nature lovers!

#waterfalls #nature #wildlife

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ausetkmt · 1 year ago

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This holiday season, many Americans will tour historic mansions in the Southern United States that are beautifully decked out in traditional wreaths, garlands and mistletoe for Christmas.

At Mount Vernon, George Washington’s Virginia mansion, tourists are promised candlelit tours and a “festive evening” of refreshments, 18th-century dancing and more. Visitors can even meet a reenactor playing Martha Washington, America’s first lady.

At the state-run Hofwyl-Broadfield Plantation Historic Site in Brunswick, Georgia, promoters promise attendees a “magical experience” during the holiday event, learning how “Christmas was celebrated on a Southern rice plantation during the 1850s.”

What these tours teach is how rich white Southerners once celebrated Christmas: singing Christmas carols, dancing, drinking the cider brew wassail and enjoying refreshments or formal meals.

Few make a serious effort to tell what Christmas was like for the enslaved workers at these plantations before the American Civil War.

What’s missing?

When the black historian Brandon Byrd visited Belle Meade, a mansion in Nashville, Tennessee, for its Christmas tour a few years ago, he was shocked that the slave community and their harsh realities were barely mentioned. Instead, he reported, the tour guide mostly related “stories about the white men, women and children who woke up to Christmas in the mansion’s plush bedrooms.”

By the American Civil War, nearly 4 million slaves in all toiled in the Southern states, and about a million lived as servants in mansions and as field hands on large plantations with 50 slaves or more. They did almost all the grueling household and field labor that kept these places going, often sleeping and cooking in primitive cabins and working in unhealthy conditions under the threat of the whip.

In fact, the historic mansions hosting Christmas tourists never would have been built without the profits generated by slave labor. The grand Nottoway Plantation and resort in Louisiana, which traditionally puts on a Christmas event, was constructed just before the Civil War by some 155 slave workers.

Fictional tales and memoirs

In researching my 2019 book “Yuletide in Dixie,” I discovered that many historic plantation and mansion sites are reluctant to talk about slavery at their Christmas events. This is partly because administrators want to avoid topics that might make paying guests angry or uncomfortable.

But the omission of black Southerners from these holiday tales also stems from pervasive myths about slave life at Southern plantations before the Civil War.

For a long time, many people got their ideas about slavery at these places from memoirs, novels and short stories written by white Southerners after the Civil War. These stories, now outrageous for their racial stereotypes, not only justified the institution of slavery, they also made it seem like all enslaved people had fun on a Southern plantation at holiday time, dancing, singing, laughing and feasting for the holiday season, just as their masters did.

Susan Dabney Smedes, a white girl who grew up on a Mississippi plantation, published a memoir in 1887 called “Memorials of a Southern Planter” that made slave Christmases sound like wonderful times. Smedes wrote about how slaves wore their best clothes for Christmas, played a word game called “Christmas Gif’” with their white enslavers and drank eggnog their master made for them.

In a fictional tale published in the Century Magazine in 1911, an enslaved carpenter named Jerry even turns down the freedom that his master offers him on Christmas because he likes his life as a slave so much, and especially the Christmas present his master specially picks out for him each year.

Many of these memoirs and preposterous short stories and novels about happy slave Christmas experiences were so popular that they were republished in new editions over and over again from the late 1800s and early 1900s until, in some cases, the present.

Smedes’ “Memorials of a Southern Planter” was regularly republished for a century after its first appearance.

Many Americans got falsely pleasant images of slavery and especially slave Christmases from reading these works, and these wrongful impressions not only affected how the public thought and still thinks about slavery but, more specifically, how site administrators at Southern historic mansions and plantations planned their Christmas programs.

Whipped and sold on Christmas

I read many documents to find out how slaves actually spent their Christmases. The truth is deeply disturbing. The image shows the scars from whipping inflicted on the back of a slave. Mediadrumworld.com

On the one hand, the majority of enslaved people did get some them time off from work during Christmas, as well as feasts and presents. Some got to travel or to get married, privileges that they didn’t get at other times of the year. But these privileges could be withdrawn for any reason at all, and many slaves never got them at all.

Slavery was a brutal system of forced labor to enrich those same owners. Even over the holiday, masters kept the power to punish slaves. A photo taken during the Civil War shows a man who was whipped at Christmas. His back was covered with scars, showing that when masters punished the people they held in bondage, they often did so brutally.

There were other cruel forms of punishment. On one South Carolina plantation, a master angry at an enslaved woman he suspected of miscarrying her pregnancy on purpose locked her up for the Christmas holiday.

Masters sometimes forced enslaved workers to get drunk even if they did not want to drink, or wrestle with each other on Christmas simply for the amusement of the master’s family.

Likewise, I learned in my research, slaveholders bought and sold plenty of people over the holiday, keeping slave traders busy during Christmas week.

Escapes and panics over slave rebellions

It is revealing that many enslaved black Southerners also chose Christmas as the time to try to escape to freedom, despite the difficulties of traveling in cold weather with few supplies.

The famous black liberator Harriet Tubman, for example, helped her three brothers enslaved in Maryland to escape bondage over Christmas in 1854. Obviously, slaves like the Tubman brothers greatly resented their enslavement, or they would not have agreed to leave.

Evidence shows that many slaveholders knew their slaves hated their condition. Although the U.S. never had a major Christmas slave rebellion, Southern whites frequently panicked over frequent rumors that their slaves planned to revolt over the holiday. They armed themselves, conducted extra patrols, banned black people from the streets of cities and executed or whipped slaves whose behavior they thought was suspicious.

Panics over Christmas rebellions took place frequently. They were, at times, confined to a state, as in Charleston, South Carolina – then a British colony – in 1765. Or, they could spread in the entire American South, as one did in 1856. As I found in my research, Christmas revolt panics continued all the way through the Civil War.

These panics made Christmas a bad time for many slaves, who passed their Christmases in great fear that they would be rounded up and killed.

What’s changing?

Some Southern historic plantations and mansions are beginning to include a more accurate history of slavery in their presentations of the past.

Montpelier, the Virginia plantation of U.S. President James Madison, and Monticello, the famed mansion and plantation of Thomas Jefferson, for example, have been making efforts for several years now to work more accurate presentations.

Yet another onetime slave-owning president’s preserved site, James Monroe’s Highland, likewise is striving to provide a far more comprehensive look at the enslaved people who once lived there and the conditions they experienced.

There are signs that such changes are taking place elsewhere too. In 2013, for example, the Ben Lomond plantation in Virginia featured in its holiday programming the tale of how enslaved people murdered the place’s owner over Christmas. That same year, Montpelier, once home to President James Madison, asked its interpreters at Christmas to explain to visitors that whites living nearby were afraid of violence by Madison’s slaves.

Christmas programming, however, is changing more slowly than programming at other times of the year. That is because many would like the holiday event to be a fun one.

But a public acknowledgment that slavery was immoral, horrific and resisted by its victims in the form of more sensitive and informative Christmas events at historic mansions and plantations might just be a step toward racial reconciliation in the U.S.

#Slave life's harsh realities are erased in Christmas tours of Southern plantations #american slavery at christmastime #christmas as a slave in america #Blacks enslaved in america #christmas #american history #white lies

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rebeccathenaturalist · 1 year ago

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Happy 2024, y'all! It's a sunny day here on the SW Washington coast, and I'm off to a slow, sleepy start after managing to stay up until midnight in spite of myself. I hope you all are having a good start to the shiny new year.

I thought this would a good moment to reflect on the accomplishments of 2023, and look forward to what 2024 might hold.

Last year was, well, a lot of good stuff! Here are a few highlights:

--In addition to keeping my regular roster of online and in-person classes for various community colleges and libraries, I added a few new teaching venues. By far my favorite was the Sitka Center for Art and Ecology, where I had a marvelous time teaching my two-day Nature Identification for the Everyday Naturalist class amid an incredible coastal forest (they're bringing me back this year, too!). I also got to teach in my hometown in Missouri, with a mushroom foraging class at Rolla Public Library and a lichen walk at the Ozark Rivers Audubon Nature Center, both of whom I hope to work with again in the future. And I would be remiss if I didn't mention the series of classes I taught for Wildcraft Studio School in Portland--I'm looking forward to my next round of classes with them for 2024!

--I launched my guided nature tours business, offering ecologically-focused walks and hikes throughout the Pacific Northwest. This was very much a year of "throw things at the wall and see what sticks." Both scheduled hikes and private bookings were successful, though sometimes people thought I only did one or the other, so it was a bit of a challenge getting the word out that nope--I offer both! I'm hoping to expand the scheduled hikes to more locations, since I primarily offered them in the Long Beach, WA area, and I'm hoping to get some private bookings in places I haven't had a chance to explore yet. I do have to say I had a lot of fun taking people out onto some of my favorite trails, as well as some new places, exploring all the amazing flora, fauna, and fungi we met along the way. Here's to more excuses to get outside in 2024!

--With the help of my amazing agent, Jane Dystel of Dystel, Goderich & Bourret LLC, I landed a contract with Ten Speed Press (a division of Penguin Random House) for my book The Everyday Naturalist: How to Identify Animals, Plants, and Fungi Wherever You Go. This is an opportunity well beyond anything I had imagined, and I am super excited for the book to be released in Summer 2025. I've already gotten some excellent editorial feedback to help me make this book the best it can be, and I'm looking forward to this continued journey as I kick off the new year with a big writing session.

--I kept up on my quarterly chapbook schedule, producing four new chapbooks in 2023. It's a lot of work, but people really seem to enjoy them, and I relish the opportunity to dive deeper into topics than I can do in a single article. Speaking of articles, I didn't quite keep up with writing one weekly on my website, but I did alright. And I also kept up a good roster of articles in my Rainy Rambles column for the Coast Weekend paper.

And that's really what I'd love to see in 2024:

--More opportunities to teach and reach new audiences who are interested in learning more about nature identification, foraging, and other natural history topics. Since I do a lot of online teaching, I have plenty of options outside of my local area. And as I make my twice-a-year peregrinations to Missouri, I'm planning to do some teaching along the way.

--More tours, please! 2023 was a really great start, and I had such a great time that I just want to increase the number of days I'm out on the trails with folks. I need to do more promotion, especially outside the Columbia-Pacific region, and really work on getting the word out. Some of that will be online, but there will also be some time spent out in the world, too. It can be a very time-consuming thing, but here's to those efforts paying off.

--I already need to have the manuscript for The Everyday Naturalist turned in this April (I'm going to aim for getting it done early, but we'll see.) A lot of the process beyond that will be out of my hands, other than edits and feedback. Still, this will be another thing that I want to make more people aware of, so you can expect me to keep chatting about book stuff all year. And, of course, I'll keep those article sand chapbooks coming for those of you who can't wait for 2025 to read my work.

--I have some other projects behind the scenes that I'm planning--keep your eyes peeled here for updates! (Or you can join my monthly email newsletter here.)

Wishing you all an excellent 2024!

#The Everyday Naturalist #nature writing #nature #writing #2024 #happy new year

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tamarawyndham-blog · 1 year ago

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Tamara Wyndham will be participating in Westbeth Open Studios. 1-6 pm, Saturday and Sunday, Oct. 21 and 22. 55 Bethune Street, corner of Washington Street, Apartment H-216, on the second floor. The event is free.

Artist studios throughout the building will be open, and there will be guided tours of the building.

I will be showing my large body prints in the hallway. I will also have inexpensive giclée fine art prints of some of my body prints, zines, and small paintings for sale. Cash is best.

In addition, I will be selling some of my vintage jewelry for inexpensive prices.

I hope to see you! It will be fun!

#open studio #jewlery

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imaginaryinkweaver · 1 year ago

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The Haunted Encounter

Oh my God! This can't be happening. I'm convinced it's all unfolding inside my head. For a moment, I was even scared of my own shadow. The whole event has made my blood run cold. What should I do?

Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Oliver, a tour guide who's been working for an agency for the past five years. Typically, I work for three boring weeks, followed by a blissful seven-day break during which I move to the outskirts. These are the paid holidays which add to my happiness.

But this time, my plans didn’t go hand in hand with my expectations. I received a call from the company manager.

Manager: "Hello, good morning, Oliver."

Oliver: "Good morning, sir. It's early; is there urgent work?" (Although I wasn't in the mood to take on any work, formalities did force me to ask.)

Manager: "Yes, actually, a group of friends has chosen our company for a trip to Columbus, New York, and Washington. Unfortunately, the assigned tour guide is down with a fever and cough. We need you to lead the task."

Oliver: "I understand, but my holidays have already begun, and I had plans."

Manager: "We will compensate you for your holidays. However, accomplishing this is necessary."

(I knew my words wouldn't leave any imprint on his decision. Resignedly, I accepted. My days of relaxation were postponed.) The manager emailed me the contact details of the group members. I did my best not to focus on my thoughts but rather to prepare the itinerary for the group.

Two days later, they arrived in New York. It was a group of friends, nearly my age. Guiding friends was far easier than guiding families. I counted, and there were nine of them, even though their provided data mentioned only eight. I asked, and they recounted, confirming there were nine. I was satisfied and I carried on. Then, I spotted her – a girl I thought I'd seen before. But it couldn't be possible; she was dead. My heart skipped a beat, and I closed my eyes, hoping it was a trick played by my unconscious mind. When I reopened them, she had disappeared. I told myself I was imagining things and continued attending to the group. They were here for an eight-day stay. Our hotel was near the airport. We checked in and headed towards the breakfast hall, where I asked for a table for nine.

It was late evening, and the hall was empty. Although I requested a table for nine, we sat at a table meant for ten. All ten seats were packed up. I tried to ignore this unusual event, focusing on the group. I noticed the girl again. Feeling uneasy, I excused myself from the table, reassuring them to meet them the next morning. That night was restless. Tiredness took over due to the strange events.

I took them sightseeing the following day to famous buildings, museums, and various attractions. They had a wonderful time, painting the town red. Their joys were on cloud nine which made my disappointment vanish. But I didn’t know it was just for a short period!

On that very day, we travelled to another city. I had booked a ten-seater bus. The bus was full – eight group members, me, and the driver. At the time of exiting the bus at the next hotel, I counted, and there were nine members. My headache got worse the rest day, and I dropped the plan to recount. Back in my hotel room, I sensed some unease. Fatigue overtook unease, and I fell onto the bed. I woke around 2 AM to dim light.

When I opened my eyes, I saw her – the girl who died in front of me. She was sitting by the desk, playing with a switch. It was horrifying. She was the girl who perished during her vacation here with friends two years ago. The hotel they stayed in suffered from a short circuit, and she had died. I became too selfish to save myself. She was pleading for help but I ignored her. As I opened my mouth to speak, I realised words failed me. She began the conversation, sharing how poor her last moments had been. "Are you here to take my life?" I asked. Her reply was quick: "Yes." I attempted to run, but my legs betrayed me, and I fainted.

When I woke the next morning, a locket was in my hand. It was hers. Without any second thought, I called the manager, making it clear I wouldn't lead that tour. My voice was filled with fear and panic which convinced him to respect my decision.

The haunted encounter had changed me forever.

#short story #storytime #horror flicks #horror #horror story #suspense #thriller #supernatural

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