#but I also had several siblings and art supplies were communal when we were little

[tj-crochets]

Hey y'all! Do you think a six year old who likes to draw would like one of those fabric roll-up colored pencil/marker/crayon organizers?

[bunny-hoodlum]

Asynchronous With You: Ch 6

ship: naruhina

rating: teen (quite possibly mature or explicit later)

tags: Modern Day AU, Foster Siblings, Family, Angst, Unrequited Love, Poor Communication, Missed Opportunities

summary: An awkward journey full of self-denial and missed moments between two foster siblings. Perhaps their love will find the right timing someday.

"I think everyone should know," she said.

They were walking the usual route to their high school, the train station coming up ahead. Naruto kept a protective though furtive gaze on Hinata as he walked behind her on the steps.

He swore she's never modified her skirt. It would be against the dress code she's forced to protect. So he has no idea why it feels like he's seeing more of her than usual.

"Know what?"

Usually he's already doing this, because he's worried about perverts. Even in grade school, he was worried. If it weren't for their teachers educating them on Stranger Danger, he probably would have had to do it himself.

He had to learn it the hard way before Kurenai-obasan took him in, but so did Neji apparently. That's why he's gotten good at being less obvious with his suspicion, and also why he can better tell apart intent based on their body language.

He used to perceive everything around him to be potentially malicious. He never realized the toll that had been taking on him until Neji taught him how to really see.

He stood close behind her on the platform as they waited.

"That we're fosters."

A burst of wind shot through the platform, ruffling overcoats and business suits and whipping pleated skirts and loose hair in a sudden frenzy.

The PA announced the train's arrival, and it wheezed to a stop soon after.

He observed Hinata as she flattened her skirt down and smoothed her bangs, but none of it registered in his brain.

It was simply auto-pilot for him to follow her onto the train, then using his larger frame to block the other passengers from nearing his little sister.

Right. His foster sister.

In all of their nine years together, they've never told anyone. It wasn't that it seemed weird, it just… never occurred to them?

But now it did seem pretty weird.

"Why, though? In a couple years, it's not going to matter anymore."

She turned her face against her shoulder to look at him, but he didn't know what she was thinking. It was the same schooled features she put on last night when visiting Neji, like there was a one-way mirror and only she could see through him.

Then she looked away.

"You're not going to introduce a girlfriend to Kurenai one of these days?"

"Hmm?" The suggestion bloomed in his mind and quickly withered. The idea wasn't… very appealing. Something about inviting judgment onto his life and stuff. He defends himself in every aspect but at home, and he'd rather keep coasting on the good thing he's got. "Dunno. Hadn't ever thought about it."

He certainly wasn't going to introduce any of the one's he's taken to bed when the apartment was empty. He's rarely done it with the same girl twice, mainly because he can't help but lose interest.

He blames it on sexual incompatibility.

"Well, I know I will."

He misses the melancholy hedging around her words, and latches onto the opportunity for an easy ribbing.

"You're gonna bring a girlfriend over?" he's happy she shoots him a look so that she can see his corny grin, otherwise he worried she might've mistaken him for serious.

He's nonplussed by the severity of her glare, but then she says "Maybe when you're not around," and he no longer knows what to think.

"Wait, what? Hinata?" He's craning left and right in hopes of catching a smirk or a giggle from her, but she's evasive. Has she? "Hinata, are you--?" And since third grade she said? "Also, what's that supposed to mean 'when I'm not around'? Huh? Hey, what's that supposed to mean 'when I'm not around'?? Hinata???"

"We're getting off topic--"

"Bullshit! I have questions!"

She ignored him.

"I vote to tell our friends that we're fosters. And I'd like to have it taken care of during Lunch. What's your vote?"

Is this what she sounds like during her Public Morals Committee meetings? Because it was doing something to him.

Oh, right. She wanted an honest answer.

But… "What do you get out of announcing this? I mean, aside from knowing how to introduce me in the future or whatever. Have you thought this through at all?"

What's the rest of the school going to say?

The guys who share their skin mags with him might get wary and reject him. The girls he's dumped might try to get to him through her. Teachers might give up on disciplining him, essentially offloading their responsibilities onto her as both Public Morals Committee and his sister. And he wasn't having any of that shit again.

All kinds of things could bite them in the ass one way or another.

She hasn't replied to him at all, and he thinks she's upset again, but he has to make his point.

"Hinata, the way things are now isn't broken, so what are you trying to fix?"

"It would help me."

"Huh? How? With what?" He waited, and she was silent. A drop of dread sank in his chest for her. "So something is wrong," He leaned in closer, causing her to shrink. He sighed. "Hinata, for someone who wants the world to know we're fosters, you sure don't seem willing to rely on me like a sibling."

"I don't favor Neji-niisan over you."

"Yeah, well, you don't have to," Tension clutched at their throats. "People always have more history with their blood. I can't really compete, y'know?"

He can't compete at all, actually.

Sometimes he thinks his only true brother is Sasuke, but he still wants to work at this. She just has to let him.

"I'm sorry. I just thought it would be less lonely if we could talk to each other normally again. And we only see each other at school these days, so…"

He envisioned her waving to him in the halls between periods, or her having a reason to cheer him on during a deadlift tournament. It would prevent people from making the wrong idea about them.

Damn, he felt stupid now.

"Fine!" He intoned with mock-annoyance. "If it'll make you happy."

She looked over her shoulder again, and what she found was his warm, supportive smile.

________________________

Hinata gathered her friends, Kiba, Shino, Ino and Sakura.

And he gathered his friends, Sasuke, Shikamaru, and Chouji.

Ino had tsked in distaste when she saw Sasuke, had gone as far as to drag Sakura away so that the others sat in-between them. He caught some sort of nickname from her lips, but wasn't sure what she had really said.

As Naruto stood before them alongside Hinata, his gaze fell on the skinny lad scribbling away at his sketchbook, and immediately his fight instinct was switched on.

"What's your monochromatic ass doing here??! Did anyone invite him?!" He jabbed a finger in Sai's direction.

The monotone, softboy, little creep didn't even look up.

"I'm making a record of these proceedings for posterity," he lifted the sketchpad and flipped it around.

Inkified Naruto was pointing right back at him with an agape snarl. Sai then proceeded to show everyone else individually, and they all cracked up, one by one.

Ino was absolutely dying. Stomach-clutching and tears rolling, the whole nine yards. She snatched the sketchpad from Sai and begged if she could keep it.

"Whaddya want that for??" Naruto interrogated. He was so about to punch Sai and throw his art supplies in the pool. This was Hinata's announcement and the softboy was ruining it.

Ino mockingly tilted the sketchbook side to side. "Something to keep your ego in check, Charato."

Hinata faintly snorted. He wasn't sure until he saw how she had her face turned around and her shoulders were lightly trembling.

He frowned at her, feeling betrayed.

"Ahhhh, alright, enough! Me and Hinata have gathered you all here for a reason! So shut up and listen! Hinata, tell them!"

Hinata jolted out of her humor, her face flushing as though this were the first time she's done public speaking.

"Uh, Uhm… Naruto-kun and I… we're foster siblings. We, uh… we live together," Hinata froze up under their collective stares. With a stiff smile, she half-heartedly sang "Ta-da," and punctuated it with rather embarrassed jazz hands.

"And as our friends, you're the first to know," Naruto added. "Also we don't care if the whole school finds out. So don't worry, we're not sharing this out of confidentiality."

Their collective shock evaporated rather quickly.

Sakura was the first to speak. "Well, that answers a lot of questions. And raises plenty more." She ended it with a growl and a glare. That accusatory look irked him.

"Feel free to ask away! I've got nothin' to hide!"

Sakura flattened the back of her skirt as she rose up like a dignitary representing The House of Hyuuga. And then like a certain video game attorney, she pointed at him.

"I always wondered why you obsessively protected Hinata in the past, but never showed any romantic initiative towards her. Now I have to ask, knowing the sex maniac that you are: Do you ever sneak into her bedroom?"

"No," He answered unconvincingly. He looked at the jury one by one, unsure how much of their scrutiny was sincere or misperceived. Sasuke was leaning forward, arms circling around his knees. He looked a little too interested in the idea of him and Hinata… doing things… "I-I've never done that! I would never do that! Hinata's special to me, okay?! You've got a filthy fuckin' mind, Haruno!"

"Me?! You've tried to sneak into the female locker rooms!" Sakura took off her shoe and slugged it at him. "Multiple times!"

Naruto hunched up and twisted away as the shoe smacked his shoulder and bounced away.

Hinata moved in between him and the one-woman mob. "Okay, this is getting out of hand--"

"I will never fucking do that to Hinata. I was in an orphanage for six years. And they're not all run by saints."

Dammit.

This was way more than he ever wanted to share.

He took a few steps back before turning tail. He jogged downhill as fast as he could.

What was he doing?

Uzumaki Naruto doesn't run away.

But it was either that, or… have them watch him cry.

________________________

AN: So this is missing a scene cuz I cut it. I might not use it anymore, and instead I'll see if the backstory I had expanded upon will be worked in later on in the plot. Because before I started writing this, I had anticipated that things would actually get cuter from here on out. (Also anticipating that I may work in at least one smutty chapter in the future. Yeah, it's totally diverging from this fic's original concept when I posted it for Secret Santa, but that's okay!) And the total Ego Death I unexpectedly wrote just feels kind of Deus Ex Machina in a way to Naruto's vices. I just can't have him maturing right now. That's a plot route I don't have any material for, and I don't quite see it as not defeating the other stuff I had planned to write. (I'm also happy to state that I'm starting to get a better picture of how to condense this content on AO3, because I honestly feel like this could be Ch. 2 now. :B I mean, it's too short on its own if I do, but it kinda has that hook for the rest of the story.)

I hope you enjoyed this update! 😘💕💕💕

[chatting-leaves]

Maggie (or “Don’t lose hope, someday you’ll need it!)

November 2002, Poughkeepsie, New York

For most people, the period of life immediately following high school is one of great exploration in life, a way to wade the waters of the so-called "real world" before launching fully into adulthood. For many, it is a chance to go away to continue their education away from home, getting a taste of life somewhat on their own while building friendships and memories that would last a lifetime. Others take the route of a trade or a skill, while some others end up realizing that college wasn't their calling and fall into the workforce if they were so able. Then there was myself, an odd person stuck between all of these places.

Mom, ever the fearful person prone to fall in line with what empirical evidence she was confronted with, wanted me to go to community college first to "see how I would do" before transferring to a four-year college. Her reasoning was heavily influenced by the fact that every friend of hers who sent a child away to college, had them withdraw by the end of their freshman year and she wasn't going to shield such a risk given the debts it might incur. While in hindsight I will say I gained quite a bit and the typical "I don't know what to do" degree of an Associates in Arts in Humanities, my social life wasn't there as I had erected walls around myself after some early incidents where unsettled conflicts from one high school still stood while me running away from my past at another shooed away potential rebuilt friendships. My life could be distilled to classes and the work study job I had two days a week doing Human Resources work at a nonprofit. 

One Friday night in November, I was killing time in a chat room for teenagers; while I was 20, I was only a couple of months removed from my teens and related a lot better downward. In the background, I notice a person we'll refer to "goaliegal" and I make a beeline knowing that there is a probable chance that they could be good people. As a child, I wanted to be a hockey goalie badly until I figured out that balancing on skates was just not my thing and to say I didn't have a crush on at least one field hockey goalie in high school was a lie. I give the standard "a/s/l" greeting of the day and get something promising: "19/f/NY". This person was in my state! Rather than pollute the room with an awkward first conversation, we ended up going into a conversation of direct messages, away from a room probably teeming with middle aged men posing as twentysomethings preying on thirteen year olds.

As we talked, I got a feel for who "goaliegal" was. She grew up in a rural town south of Rochester, an area that might as well have been on another planet for my borderline Downstate self as I had never been west of Utica. She was a freshman at Buffalo State but already was plotting her way out as she was feeling a bit homesick. In her spare time, she was a goalie on the club team there but was itching for ice time which was in short supply. She then sent a picture and I was immediately smitten: long red hair flowed down an oval face adorned with glasses as she was otherwise in full goalie gear. We then swapped names, I complimented that her name of Maggie fit her well even if it seemed a bit unconventional for a person taking slap shots at up to 100mph.

I should say that at this point, I was the epitome of romantic desperation. My most recent date, a pair of arranged meetings with the younger sister of a sobriety sponsee that Mom had, went nowhere and I had not had a date of any sort in three years let alone a kiss or any contact. Any sort of positive attention from anyone of the opposite gender was something I hopped on like white on rice. Soon enough, the conversations between Maggie and I began getting very detailed with myself having a somewhat unhealthy obsession over certain things such as what she was wearing. If I couldn't be there, at least I could sigh in what I was missing had we been in the same room, clearly heading towards a heated makeout session.

As 2002 came to a close, Maggie's life path was shifting as she was transferring from Buffalo State to a college in the Rochester area in order to be closer to home. As my time at community college was one semester from its end, I was looking at other schools in the state university system to transfer to and one caught my eye: Geneseo, located right outside Rochester. If I was accepted there, I would be relatively close to Maggie and what existed online could exist in real life. We both felt that we were the one for each other going into the new year, clearly fate would help accelerate things.

Three days into the new year, things came crashing down. While on a two and a half hour plane ride to visit Dad, something in Maggie snapped and when I went to check things once I got to Dad's house a sobering bit of news came up: Maggie had a boyfriend, a local boyfriend, someone who would actually be able to do things with her. My trip which would have been a respite from Mom and her ways instead became me marinating in my own self-pity, trying to find a means to move on now that The One faded away. Nevertheless, I persevered until several weeks later when Maggie came back out of the blue. Instantly I forgave her and soon put in my application for five different SUNY campuses: Geneseo (for her), Stony Brook (Mom's family was nearby), New Paltz (the nearest to home), Albany (close yet far enough), and Plattsburgh (practically Canada). I got into four of those five, the one rejection coming from the most obvious of these five. At least in Albany, my eventual choice, she'd be the shortest drive away?

As Spring sprung, Maggie entertained the idea of inviting me out to visit her for the Fourth of July, my being inserted in the typical family events of fireworks and fish fries enjoyed by herself, her siblings, her parents, and the other new arrival of her baby nephew. I was elated at the idea of being able to share a holiday with someone I had grown increasingly infatuated with who I would be able to share a wide assortment of experiences with. Right as I was about to book the train tickets from Poughkeepsie to Rochester, something happened and things once again were off. Lather, rinse, repeat. I still held out hope in her, that perhaps someday things could work out. Eventually she became a background person in my life though if she came back wanting to be with me and only me I would have pushed away any local person to be with her especially as my emotionally damaged self was unsuccessfully navigating the minefield of romantic relationships.

The next year, fate and circumstances started to push us back into each other's path. I was seemingly certain that this time, unlike all the others, things would work. Needless to say I was in for a rude awakening when out of the blue one November day she hit me with the news that she was dating an old friend who lived across the border in Canada, a fellow hockey player going to university over in St. Catherine's. To say I was devastated would be a massive understatement in itself as by that point I felt I had no other options. I was socially inept on that front, gaslit from the past actions of my parents, bitter, jealous, angry, and just at the point of sheer hopelessness. Maggie tried to assure me but I was having no point of anything at all. Over the next few years she'd drop in from time to time but in my mind the damage was already done. Why string me along that much and then do an about face?

Going through the cobwebs of some old zip files archiving the contents of former computers, I found some old logs from the dearly departed AOL Instant Messenger from the above period that made me cringe at the pathetic desperation that I embodied with Maggie and overall, however that state is for another day. I also discovered some awkward late 2000's chats from a period where she was regularly commuting transborder to visit her boyfriend while I had settled down in the Washington, DC area. Analyzing these over a decade later, I can see an air of unresolved frustration, deep down inside yearning for Maggie or at least the idealized concept of her my mind had built up. We'd drift in and out, I do remember her congratulating me for finally finding someone who I was compatible with when I began dating my now-wife in 2010 but after that point I felt that I could close the book on Maggie. I finally had someone, why would I need to have her around?

Three years later, I end up getting curious about certain people and end up running a search on Maggie. In the years since, she ended up moving across the border - having a Canadian parent and dual citizenship from birth helped - and had recently married the man she pushed me aside for all those years earlier. She also had little social media presence, no publicly findable Facebook, no Twitter, nothing I could send a request on outside of all things Pinterest. Naturally, wanting to make a lowkey reintroduction into her life, I shot her a friend request on Pinterest. Within an hour, I got a request on AOL Instant Messenger from one of Maggie's old screen names. I accept only to find her complaining at how dare I track her down on Pinterest of all places and for the who-knows time to leave her alone.

This is probably the only time in recorded human history in which AIM was used in regards to Pinterest, two mediums at different eras of the internet interacting with one another. I moved on and did all I could to forget her, for once I thought I had really moved on.

By 2017, I had moved on, a difficult task for me to undertake especially for someone who never gives up on anybody when lo and behold one afternoon I find a request in my New Message Requests folder on Facebook Messenger. It was Maggie, the previously unfindable Maggie, apologizing for her past actions. Being a pushover, I accept and save some fits and starts we've spoken ever since. Soon enough, I realized that years of marriage behind me that in some ways, we wouldn't have meshed that well as a couple, my naiveness and desperation would've eaten me whole had I done so. Save for some fits and starts, it's gone relatively well and Maggie is the sort of person I know who will usually reach out by default, a stark change from years ago. This would be the end of the story, only it isn't.

July 2019, Scarborough, Ontario

My wife and I had been planning a trip up to Toronto for years and soon as our new passports came in I was given a litany of ideas from Maggie of what we should do during our trip there, scheduled coming out of Canada Day while enveloping Independence Day in the United States while also straddling a baseball series between the Blue Jays and Red Sox. Originally, we were to meet Maggie before a game one of those nights, then that got jostled around. She invited us to the museum she supervised volunteers at the time, that would've been too much of a headache. Then an idea came up: the zoo.

For those not familiar with Toronto, the Toronto Zoo is as far east in Toronto as you can get. It's halfway to the farther out suburb where Maggie and her husband made their home. As our trip there was via several modes of transit and Maggie was headed into Toronto anyway, she volunteered to pick us up. Only issue: my wife didn't know the circumstances of how I knew Maggie.

Our trip came as Toronto was under a heat wave, the humidity quite oppressive with the ever-Canadian Humidex pushing 40 degrees Celsius. Trekking through the zoo left us exhausted, worn, and all-around tired, the heat taking a toll on our bodies. Waiting in the little zoo cafe, I got the question I was waiting for my wife to ask.

"So, how do you know this 'friend'? Is she some old girlfriend?," she sarcastically tailed off. It had become a bit of a running joke between us that anyone I listened to in the past was automatically a "girlfriend", a sign of my desperate nature then mixed with my ability to listen that never will leave. I then spilled the beans, finishing right in time to see a black pickup truck make it to a dropoff area. After sixteen years, what 20 year old me wanted was finally happening at age 36.

Maggie and I hugged instantly and it felt all worthwhile. Had I not fallen head over heels with her as a desperate younger me, she would've been the great female friend I really needed, the close-in-age sister I wanted to a degree, yet I blew it. As we worked our way into Toronto on local roads, dodging the mess of Highway 401, Maggie quizzed my wife about who she was, what she did, how dealing with me in person on a day to day basis went. Somewhere underneath the scaffolding holding Toronto's aging Gardiner Expressway up, I realized something: Maggie and my wife are largely one and the same. Similar personalities peppered with heavy sarcasm poking out of introversion, same height, same attitudes, similar likes and dislikes. Perhaps awkward younger me had gotten the happy ending they sought. Even how Maggie spoke of her husband made me realize that he and I had a lot more in common than I had thought, especially given how much more put together he came off to my hurt mind a decade and a half earlier. 

While our time together was short, less an attempt to meet for dessert after said baseball game when both of us were tired and achy, it was one of the best memories I had that year. My only regret is not getting a picture of us three, a reminder to be brought up for the rest of my life that sometimes hopes and dreams do come true!

[jodiwalker]

These Are the Best Things Happening on ‘Game of Thrones’ Right Now, Part II

Hey y'all, something bad is coming on Game of Thrones, so just real quick, let's remember the good times in episodes 3 and 4, when teenage assassins were reuniniting with their teenage ruler sisters and teenage psychic brothers. When Littlefinger was getting ragged on so hard. When Jon and Davos had nothing better to do than chalk up the cave walls of Dragonstone with little bitty zombie drawings to prove a point and flirt with Missandei, respectively.

There were Catspaw Dagger references for the most careful of watchers, Jon saying "I'm not a Stark" as a Targaryen dragon flies overhead for the mildly observant viewer, and there's Jon and Dany touching each other's wrists in caves for everyone else who's just like, I don't understand what's happening here, I've never understood what's happening here, I don't care what's happening here, but I will be here until it's all over and Dany has married her nephew, SO HELP ME R'HLLOR.

So, once again, this is not a recap, not a review, just a simple, definitive, and all-encompassing list of The Best Things Happening on Game of Thrones right now (which is to say last week and the week before):

Almost Everyone Playing the Game of Thrones Is a Baby-Child

It suddenly became clear in episode 3 that while the lead characters in Game of Thrones don't seem particularly young when they are commanding their armies and large, magic animals—when they come face to face in a throne room, they suddenly seem like two particularly formidable and hormonal teenagers facing off at a Model United Nations simulation. Except, y'know, one of them recently died and was resurrected by a thousand year old sexy priestess, and the other has a bunch of giant toddler dragons and, like, ended slavery, I think.

I'm, of course, speaking of Dany and Jon, the two most popular rulers at Westeros High. Now, since Kit Harrington and Emelia Clarke are each 30, you wouldn’t think they would seem that young…but they're also both, like, 5'1 if they're an inch, so when they first came face-to-face in episode 3, they more often resembled a couple of adorable Shiba Unus tussling over a Kong ball and sniffing each other's butts, instead of two rulers arguing over getting to save the world in the specific way they want to.

In that sense, their first meeting was a particularly precious reminder of how young they still are. Yes, all the GoT kids were aged up three or four years from the books at the start of the series, but Dany and Jon are still only 22 or 23 as they fight to save the world from heretofore unknown evils—and by that, I of course mean Queen Cersei making ever woman get her goofy pageboy haircut. 

When Missandei announces Dany like one of Blair Waldorf's be-headbanded lackeys, Game of Thrones briefly turned into a Disney Channel Original movie, bringing along all the clashing dynamics of darkness and precociousness a DCOM denotes. You can practically hear Missy saying, "You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn, President of the Student Council, rightful member of the A/B Honor Roll, rightful owner of a used Ford Prius she got as a reward for said A/B Honor Roll, Haver of an Afterschool Volunteer Internship at a Veterinary Office, Breaker of Bullies, the Sister of a College Sophomore Who Lets Her Wear His Old Fraternity Formal Shirts So People Think She's Cool, Voted Most Likely to Play with Fire and Like It a Little Too Much, and the Survivor of a Particularly Bad Case of Strep Throat Last Year.

You scared yet Jon Snow, you creepy-loner-who-doesn't-know-he's-hot-and-smokes-cigarettes-behind-the-school-but-secretly-makes-all-As-and-has-a-heart-of-gold-Patrick-Verona-lookin'-ass, you?

If Dany hasn't stood up on the Iron Throne and tearfully choked her way through a rendition of the "10 Things I Hate About Jon Snow" by the end of all this, I will be shocked. Because, as we will discuss later, Dany doesn't hate King Jon (King Snow? No, that doesn't sound right, does it Davos)…not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

The Stark Children Are Happy…Well, As Happy As a Live Stark Child Can Be

Of course that's not even mentioning the actual children roaming around Winterfell with severe PTSD and a recently developed case of the huggies. Sansa's running the Stark show at Winterfell while Jon is away at Dragostone giving up all his weapons and doing arts and crafts in the underground caves, and in her time as a prisoner of various evil families, she seems to have picked up quite a knack for organizing grain supplies and commanding that leather be added to armor because the dipshits apparently haven't heard that WINTER HAS COME.

I thought Sansa would be cool for like an episode or two and then go back to being dreadful, but her recent transition from Little Sister to Big Sister inside the walls of Winterfell seems to be suiting her well. When Meera finally brings Brann back home and after dragging his 6'4 ass all over the North, she gets exactly zero sibling hugs because her brother died protecting Brann—justice (and a warm shower) for Meera—but the newly minted Three Eyed Raven gets a sweet embrace from big sister Sansa. 

He returns the love by informing Sansa that now he can see everything that's ever happened in the world, including the worst night of her life when she was forced to marry Ramsay and he raped her.

Hey Brann, I know it's not your fault that Jaime Lannister pushed you out of a window, and your dad got beheaded, and Theon fake-torched you, all setting you on a fan-least-favorite path toward becoming the Three Eyed Raven but—you totally suck! Someone else can tell Jon he's a Targaryen if it means you having to be all weird to your sisters now that you're finally, gloriously, wonderfully reunited. In this extended high school analogy I've been drawing, Brann is the kid who took one philosophy class at the community college for extra credit and thinks he knows everything now. You don't know shit, Brann!

Okay, fine, Brann knows some shit, and is obviously intended for some higher purpose in this game of thrones or he surely wouldn't have been—quite literally—dragged through all seven seasons. I just wish that purpose was being a nice supportive brother to his super-survivor sisters, which brings us to…

ARYA IS BACK AT WINTERFELL AND SHE SPARRED WITH BRIENNE AND MAYBE THEY CAN GO LADY-ARMOR SHOPPING TOGETHER NOW, WHAT'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD?!

As it turns out, the already disparate Stark children have become even more contrasted with time and (grueling, awful, traumatic, painful, oftentimes unbelievable) circumstances. Sansa, who was a pretty girl who wanted to marry a prince, is now the Wardeness of Westeros' largest region with a keen political mind and a dude who would fucking love to marry her that she's constantly mocking. Arya was a tomboy who had a real good time at her afterschool swordsmanship lessons, and has since grown into a stone-cold assassin who cuts people's faces off and magic-pastes them onto her own face, then feeds those recipient of the face-cutting to his own family, and then also kills that entire family. Brann has turned from a boy who liked to ride horses into Westeros' creepy Miss Cleo, and also, he no longer goes by Brann, and also, is a pretty constant dick to the women in his life.

That all kind of made me love their reunions even more though. Arya saying, "Do I have to call you Lady Stark?" as her first greeting to Sansa was incredible. Sansa replying, "Yes," very much in the way of Old Sansa, but then turning around and hugging Arya and bonding with her about how much pain they've lived through and how everything they used to know is dead except for each other was even better. And Sansa telling Arya that "Brann has visions," in the same tone of voice you might warn a guest that your little brother has recently gotten really into making his own chainmail was EVEN BETTER.  There was also Jon all the way over at Dragonstone being all "She's startin' to let on" when Tyrion says that Sansa is smarter than she lets on—love those two, sure hope Littlefinger doesn't turn them against each other and shatter my heart into a million pieces!

But simply the best was watching those three rough and tumble Starks wheel and walk their way back from the Weirwood tree and into their home at Winterfell, down a couple family members, not really sure of who they've become, and probably on the brink of being murdered by ice zombies, sure…but they're also together—three lone wolves restored to a pack—and, for now, they're alive.

Of course, it is hard to ignore all that side eye Sansa was giving Arya as she sorted that out that Lil' Sis super-duper was not kidding about having a murder list. But Sansa isn't on said murder list, and hey, she also once fed a dude to his (canine) children, so maybe this girl gets it. Maybe everything will be fine and once Jon and Dany save the world, they can all go in on a family beach house together and parasail on dragons. Speaking of…

THAS-A-MUTHAFUGGIN-LOOT-TRAAAAAAAIN

I've always thought of Weiss and Benioff as kind of cool young dudes who were surprisingly hot and surprisingly married to Amanda Peet (which I would want to brag about in Emmy speeches too, no shade). But for some reason, recently, they've started to seem more and more to me like kind of clueless dads who, were we ever to see their legs in the after-show interviews, would be wearing pristine New Balances with loosely fitted light-wash jeans.

I don't know if it's because I recently fell into a deep dark YouTube black hole where I watched clips of a panel where Sophie Tuner and Maisie Williams interviewed B&W and just keep making fun of them for being old (of note, Sophie Turner is really funny). Or if it's because they're quite literally getting older and making this show where they have to spend three million dollars to light 20 real people on fire in order to make it look like 1,000 fake people are being lit on fire has probably aged them an extra decade.

But mostly I think it's because now that they're out from under the shadow of GRRM they can stop pretending they're dead inside and let their TV pathos flags fly, and that alone makes them seem a lot less hard than they used to. Them talking about how Dany and Jon it's so obvious Jon and Dany have developed feelings for each in the cave scene was just adorable. Guys! They've had like, two conversations, and neither one has made a single inappropriate "bend the knee" joke which they obviously would if they were two real life 19-year olds falling in luv in a cave.

All this is to say that, I am so thankful to them for bringing GoT to my television, but truly, only two dumb dads could have taken this insane, explosive, dragon-fueled battle and called it…"The Loot Train Attack." Or as I prefer to call it: the mutha fuckin' LOOOOOT TRAAAAAAIN!!!

There is nothing that I can personally write that would make the battle where Dany brought dragons to a sword fight at the counsel of Jon any better than it already was, so I'll be brief: It is in episode 4 of season 7, at the end of the Loot Train—LOOT TRAAAAAAAIN!—battle, as Jaime charges Daenerys with a giant spear, that it became clear just how impossibly complex this web of character has become. It used to be impossible to root for anyone because they were all either evil or definitely going to die in the next episode exactly because they weren't evil. No more.

I had no idea who I would choose to live and die between Jaime and Dany. And that is perhaps unique to me because in this game of thrones, everyone can choose their own winner and we can all be simultaneously right and wrong. Just as the people of Westeros are born into certain houses, we all have our allegiances. But the time is coming for us to also make important choices, because things can only be happy reunions and convenient river dives and spare Sand Snake killings and flirty-cave-fun-times for so long. Sides will be chosen, alliances will be made, and main characters will start getting their heads chopped off again. Weiss and Bennioff might be out dads, but if TV has taught me anything—and it has taught me literally everything—it's that tough love is the most rewarding form of parenting.

And also that women always keep their bra on during sex—except for right here on H-B-O!

[its-lifestyle]

It is two in the afternoon and the sun is beating down hard on a group of Rohingya boys playing soccer in the dirt yard of the Child Friendly Space (CFS) at the Balukhali Refugee Camp in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh.

Beside the yard, in a classroom-like structure made from bamboo and tarp, younger children sit on woven straw mats, chattering and laughing as they play carom, stack building blocks, draw, colour or sing popular English nursery rhymes under the supervision of social workers.

“A year ago, you wouldn’t have heard any laughter from these children or seen smiles on their faces,” says Unicef social worker Jannatul Ruma, who oversees the children at the CFS.

“They used to be very quiet. They wouldn’t talk to each other or even play. Their drawings were of violent images … houses on fire, soldiers firing bullets and people being killed. These were images that they’d witnessed in Myanmar.

“But over time, their mood has changed and now, they enjoy coming here as it is a space they can feel safe and make friends. Their drawings are different too … cheerful images of flowers, children playing and happy homes in bright colours,” explains Jannatul.

The children are slowly getting past the trauma of witnessing their villages in Myanmar being burnt and people being tortured. Now, they play and laugh once more.

More than half of the almost one million Rohingya refugees at Cox’s Bazar are children under the age of 18. About 61% (305,000) of these children are aged between three and 14 and a majority of them have witnessed their parents, siblings and neighbours being tortured, killed or burned by the military in Myanmar.

Monjur Ali was just 10 when he fled his village with his parents and five siblings in September 2017. For the longest time, he was haunted by the memories of helicopters shooting at him and his friends playing soccer, his village set on fire and burning bodies all around him.

But these days, Monjur hardly thinks about home or the violence he saw.

“I wasn’t happy being here at first. I wanted to go home. But now, camp is home. I go to the Madrasah (for religious classes) in the morning and then I come here (to the CFS) to play football with my friends. I hope that one day, I can continue my studies and become a doctor,” says the 12-year-old who speaks a little English but prefers to speak in his Rohingya dialect.

Monjur, 12, who dreams of becoming a doctor, hopes to be reunited with his brother who is in Malaysia.

Monjur shares that he longs to come to Malaysia, where his older brother, Soffar Ali, lives.

“My brother didn’t follow us to Bangladesh as he wanted to find work in Malaysia. He plays football for a Rohingya (football) club in Malaysia. I saw a photo of him holding a trophy that he sent to us,” says Monjur, whose striking green eyes light up as he talks about his brother.

There are about 100 CFS set up by Unicef and their partners at the Cox’s Bazar refugee camps. These, along with the 1,600 learning centres that the agency has set up, provide a sense of normalcy for the refugee children and give them a chance to learn and to play.

They are also an escape for the children from the the crowded living conditions in the camps where there is barely any open space for children to kick a ball or run around.

“So far, Unicef has reached 160,000 children with psycho-social support to help them deal with and overcome the trauma that they experienced or the violence they witnessed in Myanmar.

“We conducted a needs-assessment exercise to determine the children who were most at risk and through our art, music and play programmes at the Child Friendly Spaces, they have slowly begun to forget their worries and just be children again,” explains Unicef spokesperson, Karen Reidy who is based at the Unicef field office in Cox’s Bazar.

For months after they fled Myanmar for Bangladesh, the Rohingya children showed signs of trauma from the violence they witnessed or experienced in the hands of the Burmese military. They were distant and their art reflected the horrific images of torture and killing they had to deal with.

Life in the camps The refugee camps at Cox’s Bazar are sprawling and densely populated, with endless tents made from bamboo and tarpaulin crammed with families trying to eke out a living with little money.

The terrain is muddy and flood-prone and access is difficult. Refugees have to walk on narrow paths and cross flimsy bamboo bridges.

There are a few roads but they are extremely congested.

The Bangladesh government, with the support of the United Nations and other aid agencies and civil society groups provide lifesaving support to almost a million Rohingya refugees who now live mostly in the Kutupalong and Balukhali camps (and their extension sites) in the Ukhiya district.

Support and aid are also being channeled to the host communities in Cox’s Bazar, already one of the poorest areas in Bangladesh.

Though the people of Cox’s Bazar welcomed the Rohingya refugees into their land (and homes before the shelters were set up), they too have been severely affected, both economically and socially, by the influx of the large number of Rohingyas who arrived seemingly overnight almost two years ago.

Life in the camps is harsh and the children look forward to coming to the learning centres and safe spaces to escape the uncertainty of their lives.

Refugee families receive food rations from the World Food Programme but only the basics: rice, pulses and cooking oil. Some families plant vegetables around their tents while others who have money buy fruits and vegetables in the markets both in and outside the camp area.

Some of the men go out to sea with local fisherman to catch fish, either to sell in the camps or to add variety to their otherwise meagre meals.As refugees, the Rohingya aren’t legally allowed to work.

However some enterprising ones have started small businesses inside the camp premises to earn some money. Some even sell their food rations to others.

Life interrupted Although health, nutrition and sanitation of the refugees remain the main focus of humanitarian work at the camps, there are also efforts to provide education for the Rohingya children, who are not eligible to study in local schools in Cox’s Bazar.

The learning centres set up by Unicef and their partners provide children with non-formal education, particularly in Maths, English, Burmese and their own Rohingya dialects.

Children are also taught life skills and hygiene, and given school supplies.

“The Bangladesh government does not allow us to use the national curriculum to teach the Rohingya children as the goal is for the Rohingya to eventually go back to Myanmar once the conflict is resolved.

“But the crisis isn’t going to go away anytime soon and so, we have developed our own curriculum for the children so that they can continue their education while they are living in Cox’s Bazar,” explains Reidy.

More than 170,000 Rohingya children are now enrolled in the learning centres on camp and the goal, explains Reidy, is to “scale up” and also improve the rudimentary syllabus.

Although the curriculum being offered is basic, the children are eager to learn new words in English. They greet every visitor they meet with a cheerful, “Hello, how are you?”.

The learning centres currently provide early education for children aged three to six and non-formal primary level education for those aged seven to 14.

Eleven-year-old Rehena whose schooling was scant in Myanmar says that she enjoys “everything about school” as it gives her something to do other than housework. “I want to be a nurse so that I can help people get better. In school, I learn the importance of staying clean and washing our hands,” she says, speaking a mix of English and Rohingya dialect, translated by education officer Anika Tanjim, 24.

Her classmate Mohd Alom, 13, says he has learnt “many new words”. Before enrolling in the learning centre, he used to work in one of the makeshift shops in the camp to earn some money.

“Learning is much better,” he says.

The learning centres, explains Anika, do much more than educate the children in the camps.

“The biggest achievement of the centres has been getting these children to smile again and giving them hope. They have dreams now … some want to be doctors, some teachers and some want to be aid workers!

“When they first came, they didn’t see a future. Even up to last year, these children were just loitering around outside their shelters. They had nowhere to play, no space where they could sit down and learn or interact with others.

“Now, they can speak English a little. They look smart and they have the confidence to interact with anyone who comes into the camp. They will say, ‘Hello, how are you?’ at the very least. They are smiling and laughing and they want to learn … for me, this is a huge achievement,” says Anika whose job is to coordinate and implement the learning programmes at a cluster of five learning centres located at Camp 18, within the Kutupalong refugee camp (dubbed a “mega-city” for being the largest refugee camp in the world).

The children, says Anika, look forward to come to the learning centre as it provides them a refuge.

“They are here every day before the teachers come to open up the centre,” she says, proudly.

Rehana and Mohd Alom have big dreams. She wants to be a nurse and he, a pilot.

The real challenge, says Reidy frankly, is catering to adolescents as the learning centres currently only provide basic primary-level education.

Adolescents attend life skills-based programmes to make them less vulnerable to social issues like child marriages and gender-based violence that are prevalent in the camp environment.

“There are adolescent clubs and programmes that teach them about health and hygiene, confidence building and other life skills to help them cope deal life in the camps. But there isn’t a curriculum for them yet.

“We are currently developing a curriculum that is appropriate for them which will hopefully be ready in June this year,” says Reidy.

It’s welcome news for 15-year-old Saifullah Ali whose proficiency is well above the present curriculum being used at the learning centres.

“It is frustrating. If anyone can tell me how I can get educated, it will be exceptional. I come to the CFS every day and play football with my friends but I want to study,” says the young man who is keen on Science.

Saifullah dreams of going back to Myanmar, but like most of the Rohingyas in Bangladesh, he will only go back if his community is assured of their safety and their citizenship.

“The crisis in Myanmar has killed so many of us, It has prevented me from being able to study. I dream of going back. It is our mother country … my family have lived in Myanmar for generations but we are being denied our rights,” says the impassioned young man.

Unicef needsUS$152.5 mil (RM628mil) to meet the lifesaving and humanitarian-development needs of Rohingya refugees and Bangladeshi host communities. This includes the provision of essential nutrition, health, WASH, protection and education services. Unicef Malaysia hopes to raise RM1 million throughout the month of Ramadan to support the agency’s work in the refugee camp To contribute or to learn more, go to http://bit.ly/RohingyaStarAppeal

from Family – Star2.com http://bit.ly/2GvoM7C

[thejustinmarshall]

Interview: Writer, Cyclist, Producer, and Artist Anna Brones

NOTE: In 2018, I started recording interviews with creatives (writers, filmmakers, podcasters, photographers, editors, etc.) in the adventure world. I’m publishing the highlights of those interviews monthly in 2019.

When she’s filling out a form that leaves one line for “occupation,” Anna Brones types “writer.” But if you want the long version of her resume, you might see things like “film producer,” “artist,” “publisher,” and even “culinary creator” (which I think is accurate, but I’m not sure is actually a job title). She’s based in Washington state, is a cyclist, runner, and backpacker, and speaks three languages.

Anna has written six books, including Hello Bicycle: An Inspired Guide to the Two-Wheeled Life, The Culinary Cyclist, and Fika: The Art of the Swedish Coffee Break. She curated, edited, and published Comestible, a quarterly journal devoted to real food, for three years starting in 2016, and has worked as a producer on several films that screened at film festivals around the world: Voyageurs Without Trace, Ian McCluskey’s journey to retrace the 1,000-mile first kayak descent of the Green and Colorado Rivers in 1938, Mending the Line, the story of 90-year-old veteran and angler Frank Moore’s return to Normandy to fish the terrain he saw as a soldier in World War II, and most recently, Afghan Cycles, a documentary feature about young women in Afghanistan who use the bicycle as a revolutionary tool.

In 2018, Anna began her Women’s Wisdom Project, a collection of 100 different papercut portraits of inspiring women, which she creates by hand using quotes from historical figures and contemporary inspiring women. And in 2019, she’s started a monthly newsletter, Creative Fuel, a creative kick in the pants for subscribers.

I first met Anna in 2011, and have always been impressed with her creative output—in quality, quantity, and authenticity. A few years ago, she told me in a conversation that “I feel like most of what I do is hustle.” So I wanted to record one of our conversations and ask a little bit about how she makes it all work.

ON BEING A WRITER When someone says, “I want to be a writer,” there are so many ways that you can be a writer. Do you want to write poetry? It’s a little bit different than writing cookbooks, right? Those are two different ball games. And there’s so many types of writing. I do non-fiction-related stuff, and some of it is a little bit journalistic in nature, some of it’s a little bit lifestyle in nature, so I have a pretty specific thing that I do.

I think no matter what you’re doing, you just have to do it. There’s no easy way into anything. People have very different paths of coming to the places that they’re at. Talk to anyone in any industry that they’re in. I love hearing what people do for a living, mostly because it’s always a reminder that there’s so many weird jobs out there that you didn’t even know existed. And if you want to write, the best thing that you can do is write.

ON THE POWER OF DIY BOOKS I do a lot of self-published stuff, and I’m such a big fan of the ‘zine revival—producing small, super-low budget publications in the 80s, kind of this punk scene, that that’s coming back—is so cool. Because it’s this platform where you can write something, print it on a piece of paper, and then photocopy it, and pass it out to your friends. It’s why I like writing books. It’s why I like making work that’s tangible, because there’s a value to that, an emotion that comes with that that is really amazing.

ON SELF PUBLISHING, EDITING AND ENTITLEMENT If you want to do stuff [like be a writer], you start doing it. Now that’s not to say that if you decide that you’re going to start writing and self-publishing, that you’re going be an overnight success. There’s a lot of hard work, and both you and I know that when we’ve done self-published stuff, it also requires some input from other people to help you get it to shine, right? So it’s not to say that you just get to vomit your work all over the place and it’s automatically going be successful.

Platforms that are available nowadays make that a lot easier than before. Even though that does mean that the market then has more people in it. It can be very oversaturated sometimes. But yeah, there’s really no trick besides doing the work.

ON THE MYTH OF BOOKS AND MONEY I think non-writers, or people who haven’t published books, are like, “Oh, you got a book contract?” And sort of immediately see dollar signs in their eyes, but I just don’t want anybody to be under an illusion that having a book contract means that you’re rolling in tons of money.

ON INTERVIEWING “NORMAL” PEOPLE Every story is important. Everybody has something to tell. It doesn’t mean that you had to live through the most horrendous accident—everybody experiences things, and I like the projects that focus on the shared human experience. The second you talk to people, you’re reminded of your similarities and not your differences. I think it’s almost easier to relate to those types of people, because they’re quote/unquote “normal” people.

I’ve thought a lot about the wisdom we have to offer each other. Because often we turn to famous people for wisdom, or famous writers, for that kind of thing. But I actually think there’s so much wisdom to be drawn from our counterparts, if we just sit down and have a conversation. So now I’m shifting to doing short interviews with friends or acquaintances in various industries to get their perspectives on things.

ON CALLING YOURSELF AN “ARTIST” It’s interesting, what we allow ourselves to call ourselves. The license that we give ourselves to say, “I’m a writer,” or “I’m an artist.” Or, “I’m a producer,” “I’m a filmmaker.” What is the point that we have to get to to feel comfortable saying that? So many people say, “I would never call myself an artist.” I ask them, “Why?” “Well, I’ve never sold anything.” “Well, does money justify you calling yourself a thing? Do you do the thing?”

There’s a great Virginia Woolf quote—”Money dignifies what is frivolous if unpaid for.” It’s so interesting, in our culture, that if you sell something, people will be like, “Yeah, good job.”

I think the important part about creative work is the fact that you did the work.

  View this post on Instagram

  A post shared by Anna Brones (@annabrones) on Oct 17, 2018 at 11:55am PDT

ON A CREATIVE CHILDHOOD I grew up in a fairly, we’ll call it “alternative” home. You know, we weren’t living in a commune, totally off the grid or anything like that. But my parents built our house. It’s still not 100 percent built, because that’s what happens when you build your own house.

I grew up in the forest and ran around barefoot most of the time, and didn’t have any siblings, and had this different type of experience than a lot of kids do. I ate a lot of healthy food. Definitely wasn’t able to trade my sandwiches at school for lunch.

I wasn’t allowed to watch “Sesame Street,” because my mom thought that they yelled too much. So I only watched “Mr. Rogers,” and “Captain Kangaroo.” And I was only allowed to watch public television.

My mom is an artist, and she’s a weaver and does a lot of other stuff. So I grew up in a household with a pretty modest income—we were a single-income family, but the one thing that I did have growing up was all kinds of art supplies. Until I was 13 or 14, I just thought it was normal to have all those things at home. And then I would go to friends’ houses and be like, “Why do you only have five crayons?” I guess I was always doing those creative activities—that was such a part of the normal experience. And then I guess I always wrote.

ON GETTING STARTED AS A WRITER After college, I went and taught English in the Caribbean, in Guadeloupe, and that was the point where I started writing. It was a hard experience, and I started writing as a way to sort of work through some of those emotions, with feeling like I was in a different culture, and that was kind of at the beginning of the internet becoming a hot spot for travel writing and that kind of a thing. So that’s when I start submitting articles. I did some stuff for Matador Network, I found them on Craigslist or something. I actually think the first couple pieces weren’t paid, but then there were a few that were like $10 or $15. About a year after that I started writing for a travel blog called Gadling. I wrote for them for a long time. It was like 10 bucks a post or something.

I also did an essay that was published in a book called, “A Women’s World Again.” It was a compilation of travel essays. So this was in like 2008, 2007. I wrote this article called, “Pineapple Tuesday,” and it was all about living in this small town in Guadeloupe. Guadeloupe is a French overseas department, so it’s like France except it’s in the Caribbean. It was hard because the living situation was bad, the work situation was bad and the friend situation was bad. I often feel those are the three things that, if one of those is bad but the other two are pretty decent, you’re good to go. But if the three of them suck, then it’s a hard time.

So every Tuesday, after I taught, there was a market, and I would go. There was this lady who would sell pineapples. She came from a totally different background than I did. Born and raised on this island and was a farmer, and from totally different experiences, but it just became this social exchange that every Tuesday I’d go and buy these pineapples from her. So I wrote this essay about it. It was this sort of thing that felt was a grounding experience in the midst of what didn’t feel like a great experience. And so that was that first essay that I had published in a book.

  View this post on Instagram

  A post shared by Anna Brones (@annabrones) on Sep 17, 2018 at 9:22am PDT

ON THE LINE BETWEEN CAREER AND LIFE I read this Cheryl Strayed quote the other day, as I was prepping to interview her, and it was something along the lines of, “Don’t spend so much time focusing on your career. You don’t have a career, you have a life.” And I thought that was such a good point. Culturally, we put a lot of value on career, and I think it’s a little bit different for people who do creative things, because, obviously, there’s a lot of crossover between personal interests and professional interests. Those lines become kind of blurry sometimes. And often, the things that you do for fun can sometimes turn into work.

ON THE UPS AND DOWNS OF A CREATIVE CAREER I sometimes feel like I’ve been very bad about creating a sustainable career path for myself. I sometimes look at my bank account and think, “Well, this is all well and good, as long as you’re healthy and able to keep doing stuff.”

And that can often feel like a failure. One day you’re like, “Fuck yeah, I got this, I’m so stoked on what I’m doing and I’m so excited about this project and feel great about the thing I did.” And then the next day, you’re practically curled up in the fetal position on the couch, just bawling. Like, just talking about how terrible you are and … you know, that’s a reality.

I struggle a lot with imposter syndrome, which a lot of people do. And I’ve been trying really hard not to. Or to acknowledge it and then kick it in the pants and tell it I don’t have time for that that day. Because that ends up holding us back sometimes.

ON GROWTH THROUGH CREATIVITY Something important to keep in mind is that the dollar amount you make off of something is not the end-all, be-all. Now, of course we need to pay rent and eat, and if you’re working in a creative field, and that’s how you pay rent and eat, you do need to think about making money. However, if there’s a work that you feel needs to be in the world, you just do that work.

And it’s important, particularly in personal work, to try to separate ourselves from the end result. Because often we give so much value to the end product, and usually it’s the process that is the important part. You’re doing the work because the work itself makes you feel a certain way, and you get energized by it, even in the moments where it’s hard. There’s so much that’s in that process that’s important, and we often forget that because we’re so focused on the end result.

ON THE VALUE OF WORK There’s a lot of pressure to have all this value to the work that you do. Often, I’m like, “I want to do a thing that’s meaningful and impactful.” But what does that even mean? And where are the areas that you can have impact in your everyday life? Impact happens in very small ways, usually.

A few times in the last year, I’ve had people that I don’t know reach out to me and say, “I love your work,” or, “You’ve brought so much lightness to me this week,” or, “Yeah, I had totally not thought about that thing that you talked about, thank you for bringing it up.” I mean, I realize, that doesn’t pay my rent, but those are the kind of comments that make me continue to do what I do. And I’m under no illusion that I’m going to change the world. But I think having a positive impact on the people around me is really important.

The post Interview: Writer, Cyclist, Producer, and Artist Anna Brones appeared first on semi-rad.com.

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[olivereliott]

Interview: Writer, Cyclist, Producer, and Artist Anna Brones

NOTE: In 2018, I started recording interviews with creatives (writers, filmmakers, podcasters, photographers, editors, etc.) in the adventure world. I’m publishing the highlights of those interviews monthly in 2019.

When she’s filling out a form that leaves one line for “occupation,” Anna Brones types “writer.” But if you want the long version of her resume, you might see things like “film producer,” “artist,” “publisher,” and even “culinary creator” (which I think is accurate, but I’m not sure is actually a job title). She’s based in Washington state, is a cyclist, runner, and backpacker, and speaks three languages.

Anna has written six books, including Hello Bicycle: An Inspired Guide to the Two-Wheeled Life, The Culinary Cyclist, and Fika: The Art of the Swedish Coffee Break. She curated, edited, and published Comestible, a quarterly journal devoted to real food, for three years starting in 2016, and has worked as a producer on several films that screened at film festivals around the world: Voyageurs Without Trace, Ian McCluskey’s journey to retrace the 1,000-mile first kayak descent of the Green and Colorado Rivers in 1938, Mending the Line, the story of 90-year-old veteran and angler Frank Moore’s return to Normandy to fish the terrain he saw as a soldier in World War II, and most recently, Afghan Cycles, a documentary feature about young women in Afghanistan who use the bicycle as a revolutionary tool.

In 2018, Anna began her Women’s Wisdom Project, a collection of 100 different papercut portraits of inspiring women, which she creates by hand using quotes from historical figures and contemporary inspiring women. And in 2019, she’s started a monthly newsletter, Creative Fuel, a creative kick in the pants for subscribers.

I first met Anna in 2011, and have always been impressed with her creative output—in quality, quantity, and authenticity. A few years ago, she told me in a conversation that “I feel like most of what I do is hustle.” So I wanted to record one of our conversations and ask a little bit about how she makes it all work.

ON BEING A WRITER When someone says, “I want to be a writer,” there are so many ways that you can be a writer. Do you want to write poetry? It’s a little bit different than writing cookbooks, right? Those are two different ball games. And there’s so many types of writing. I do non-fiction-related stuff, and some of it is a little bit journalistic in nature, some of it’s a little bit lifestyle in nature, so I have a pretty specific thing that I do.

I think no matter what you’re doing, you just have to do it. There’s no easy way into anything. People have very different paths of coming to the places that they’re at. Talk to anyone in any industry that they’re in. I love hearing what people do for a living, mostly because it’s always a reminder that there’s so many weird jobs out there that you didn’t even know existed. And if you want to write, the best thing that you can do is write.

ON THE POWER OF DIY BOOKS I do a lot of self-published stuff, and I’m such a big fan of the ‘zine revival—producing small, super-low budget publications in the 80s, kind of this punk scene, that that’s coming back—is so cool. Because it’s this platform where you can write something, print it on a piece of paper, and then photocopy it, and pass it out to your friends. It’s why I like writing books. It’s why I like making work that’s tangible, because there’s a value to that, an emotion that comes with that that is really amazing.

ON SELF PUBLISHING, EDITING AND ENTITLEMENT If you want to do stuff [like be a writer], you start doing it. Now that’s not to say that if you decide that you’re going to start writing and self-publishing, that you’re going be an overnight success. There’s a lot of hard work, and both you and I know that when we’ve done self-published stuff, it also requires some input from other people to help you get it to shine, right? So it’s not to say that you just get to vomit your work all over the place and it’s automatically going be successful.

Platforms that are available nowadays make that a lot easier than before. Even though that does mean that the market then has more people in it. It can be very oversaturated sometimes. But yeah, there’s really no trick besides doing the work.

ON THE MYTH OF BOOKS AND MONEY I think non-writers, or people who haven’t published books, are like, “Oh, you got a book contract?” And sort of immediately see dollar signs in their eyes, but I just don’t want anybody to be under an illusion that having a book contract means that you’re rolling in tons of money.

ON INTERVIEWING “NORMAL” PEOPLE Every story is important. Everybody has something to tell. It doesn’t mean that you had to live through the most horrendous accident—everybody experiences things, and I like the projects that focus on the shared human experience. The second you talk to people, you’re reminded of your similarities and not your differences. I think it’s almost easier to relate to those types of people, because they’re quote/unquote “normal” people.

I’ve thought a lot about the wisdom we have to offer each other. Because often we turn to famous people for wisdom, or famous writers, for that kind of thing. But I actually think there’s so much wisdom to be drawn from our counterparts, if we just sit down and have a conversation. So now I’m shifting to doing short interviews with friends or acquaintances in various industries to get their perspectives on things.

ON CALLING YOURSELF AN “ARTIST” It’s interesting, what we allow ourselves to call ourselves. The license that we give ourselves to say, “I’m a writer,” or “I’m an artist.” Or, “I’m a producer,” “I’m a filmmaker.” What is the point that we have to get to to feel comfortable saying that? So many people say, “I would never call myself an artist.” I ask them, “Why?” “Well, I’ve never sold anything.” “Well, does money justify you calling yourself a thing? Do you do the thing?”

There’s a great Virginia Woolf quote—”Money dignifies what is frivolous if unpaid for.” It’s so interesting, in our culture, that if you sell something, people will be like, “Yeah, good job.”

I think the important part about creative work is the fact that you did the work.

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ON A CREATIVE CHILDHOOD I grew up in a fairly, we’ll call it “alternative” home. You know, we weren’t living in a commune, totally off the grid or anything like that. But my parents built our house. It’s still not 100 percent built, because that’s what happens when you build your own house.

I grew up in the forest and ran around barefoot most of the time, and didn’t have any siblings, and had this different type of experience than a lot of kids do. I ate a lot of healthy food. Definitely wasn’t able to trade my sandwiches at school for lunch.

I wasn’t allowed to watch “Sesame Street,” because my mom thought that they yelled too much. So I only watched “Mr. Rogers,” and “Captain Kangaroo.” And I was only allowed to watch public television.

My mom is an artist, and she’s a weaver and does a lot of other stuff. So I grew up in a household with a pretty modest income—we were a single-income family, but the one thing that I did have growing up was all kinds of art supplies. Until I was 13 or 14, I just thought it was normal to have all those things at home. And then I would go to friends’ houses and be like, “Why do you only have five crayons?” I guess I was always doing those creative activities—that was such a part of the normal experience. And then I guess I always wrote.

ON GETTING STARTED AS A WRITER After college, I went and taught English in the Caribbean, in Guadeloupe, and that was the point where I started writing. It was a hard experience, and I started writing as a way to sort of work through some of those emotions, with feeling like I was in a different culture, and that was kind of at the beginning of the internet becoming a hot spot for travel writing and that kind of a thing. So that’s when I start submitting articles. I did some stuff for Matador Network, I found them on Craigslist or something. I actually think the first couple pieces weren’t paid, but then there were a few that were like $10 or $15. About a year after that I started writing for a travel blog called Gadling. I wrote for them for a long time. It was like 10 bucks a post or something.

I also did an essay that was published in a book called, “A Women’s World Again.” It was a compilation of travel essays. So this was in like 2008, 2007. I wrote this article called, “Pineapple Tuesday,” and it was all about living in this small town in Guadeloupe. Guadeloupe is a French overseas department, so it’s like France except it’s in the Caribbean. It was hard because the living situation was bad, the work situation was bad and the friend situation was bad. I often feel those are the three things that, if one of those is bad but the other two are pretty decent, you’re good to go. But if the three of them suck, then it’s a hard time.

So every Tuesday, after I taught, there was a market, and I would go. There was this lady who would sell pineapples. She came from a totally different background than I did. Born and raised on this island and was a farmer, and from totally different experiences, but it just became this social exchange that every Tuesday I’d go and buy these pineapples from her. So I wrote this essay about it. It was this sort of thing that felt was a grounding experience in the midst of what didn’t feel like a great experience. And so that was that first essay that I had published in a book.

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ON THE LINE BETWEEN CAREER AND LIFE I read this Cheryl Strayed quote the other day, as I was prepping to interview her, and it was something along the lines of, “Don’t spend so much time focusing on your career. You don’t have a career, you have a life.” And I thought that was such a good point. Culturally, we put a lot of value on career, and I think it’s a little bit different for people who do creative things, because, obviously, there’s a lot of crossover between personal interests and professional interests. Those lines become kind of blurry sometimes. And often, the things that you do for fun can sometimes turn into work.

ON THE UPS AND DOWNS OF A CREATIVE CAREER I sometimes feel like I’ve been very bad about creating a sustainable career path for myself. I sometimes look at my bank account and think, “Well, this is all well and good, as long as you’re healthy and able to keep doing stuff.”

And that can often feel like a failure. One day you’re like, “Fuck yeah, I got this, I’m so stoked on what I’m doing and I’m so excited about this project and feel great about the thing I did.” And then the next day, you’re practically curled up in the fetal position on the couch, just bawling. Like, just talking about how terrible you are and … you know, that’s a reality.

I struggle a lot with imposter syndrome, which a lot of people do. And I’ve been trying really hard not to. Or to acknowledge it and then kick it in the pants and tell it I don’t have time for that that day. Because that ends up holding us back sometimes.

ON GROWTH THROUGH CREATIVITY Something important to keep in mind is that the dollar amount you make off of something is not the end-all, be-all. Now, of course we need to pay rent and eat, and if you’re working in a creative field, and that’s how you pay rent and eat, you do need to think about making money. However, if there’s a work that you feel needs to be in the world, you just do that work.

And it’s important, particularly in personal work, to try to separate ourselves from the end result. Because often we give so much value to the end product, and usually it’s the process that is the important part. You’re doing the work because the work itself makes you feel a certain way, and you get energized by it, even in the moments where it’s hard. There’s so much that’s in that process that’s important, and we often forget that because we’re so focused on the end result.

ON THE VALUE OF WORK There’s a lot of pressure to have all this value to the work that you do. Often, I’m like, “I want to do a thing that’s meaningful and impactful.” But what does that even mean? And where are the areas that you can have impact in your everyday life? Impact happens in very small ways, usually.

A few times in the last year, I’ve had people that I don’t know reach out to me and say, “I love your work,” or, “You’ve brought so much lightness to me this week,” or, “Yeah, I had totally not thought about that thing that you talked about, thank you for bringing it up.” I mean, I realize, that doesn’t pay my rent, but those are the kind of comments that make me continue to do what I do. And I’m under no illusion that I’m going to change the world. But I think having a positive impact on the people around me is really important.

The post Interview: Writer, Cyclist, Producer, and Artist Anna Brones appeared first on semi-rad.com.

[caveartfair]

Thomas Kinkade, the Painter Art Critics Hated but America Loved

Thomas Kinkade, Candlelight Cottage, 1996. Courtesy of Thomas Kinkade Studios.

Imagine a realm far, far away from the constant barrage of bad news, where glowing cottages nestle in abundant thickets of flowers or on rocky outcrops by the sea. This is a land immune to tsunamis and earthquakes; isolated from the political rhetoric that splits nations and families in two.

If that sounds idyllic to you, artist Thomas Kinkade certainly thought so when he began painting his now-famed, sugary-sweet landscapes in the 1980s. “[My paintings] beckon you into this world that provides an alternative to your nightly news broadcast,” he told the New York Times in 2001. “People are reminded that it’s not all ugliness in the world.”

Indeed, Kinkade’s light-drenched, paradisiacal scenes depict a respite from harsh realities—and have charmed millions of Americans. Kinkade’s company has claimed that one in every 20 homes in the U.S. contains a Kinkade painting, print, or tchotchke stamped with his work and name. If the numbers are true, they make him—to the dismay of countless fine art critics who’ve derided his work as twee, schlocky, or downright kitsch—the most-collected artist in America.

Portrait of Thomas Kinkade, 1983. Courtesy of Thomas Kinkade Studios.

“There’s been million-seller books and million-seller CDs. But there hasn’t been, until now, million-seller art,” Kinkade told reporter Morley Safer, on 60 Minutes, in 2001. And Kinkade did make millions. His business, Thomas Kinkade Company (now Thomas Kinkade Studios), was once publicly owned, and has built a fortune selling prints via television shows like QVC and licensing images to corporations like Disney, Hallmark, and La-Z-Boy furniture. In the interview, he emphasized: “We have found a way to bring to millions of people an art that they can understand.”

But despite Kinkade’s insistence on accessibility, his practice (and the room-splitting response to it) has also embodied deeply divisive aspects of our contemporary culture—namely, that thorny place where populism and elitism collide. “I think it’s impossible to not see him as somebody who did a lot to inflame culture wars, and to make a lot of money articulating to people that they were on the outside, that people were looking down at them, that the art world was laughing at them,” said Alexis Boylan, editor of Thomas Kinkade: The Artist in the Mall, a 2011 book culling scholarly essays on Kinkade’s work and its influence.

But to understand Kinkade’s approach, we must first backtrack to his beginnings. Known to his friends and fans as Thom, Kinkade grew up in the 1960s in the small town of Placerville in northern California. After his father left the family, Kinkade and his siblings were raised, in relative poverty, by their single mother. “His mother did her best to raise three kids, but he still always longed for the home that had the lights on, all the fireplaces lit—for a warm, homey feel,” Denise Sanders, who worked alongside Kinkade for 15 years, until his death in 2012, told Artsy. (She still works at Thomas Kinkade Studios.)

Thomas Kinkade, Cinderella Wishes Upon a Dream, 2009. Courtesy of Thomas Kinkade Studios.

While Kinkade was in high school, a well-known painter from northern California, Glenn Wessels, serendipitously moved in next door after retiring from his teaching position at University of California at Berkeley. Kinkade, who had taken up sketching comics and caricatures as a child, asked if he could apprentice with the older artist; his painting education began in Wessels’s barn.

At his mentor’s urging, Kinkade went on to study art at Berkeley, but according to Sanders, he was disillusioned by what he saw as the school’s insistence that art need not speak to a wide audience. “And that’s not where Thom’s heart was,” Sanders explained. “He wanted to appeal to everybody.”

Soon after transfering to the Art Center College of Design in Pasadena, Kinkade dropped out to paint backgrounds for the 1983 fantasy animated film Fire and Ice. He split his time between living in Hollywood and hopping freight trains with his friend and fellow artist, James Gurney (author and illustrator of the 1998 cult children’s book Dinotopia). They made ends meet by sketching portraits of strangers, and eventually, the two landed in New York City with an idea for a book in hand; by 1982, they’d published The Artist’s Guide to Sketching.

Thomas Kinkade, Stillwater Cottage, 2005. Courtesy of Thomas Kinkade Studios.

Around this time, Kinkade relocated back to California; became a born-again Christian; settled down with his wife, Nanette; and began painting the dreamy, saccharine landscapes that would bring him fame and infamy. In step, the young couple pooled their savings and started making limited-edition prints of Kinkade’s paintings, which they first sold in front of the local grocery store for $55 a pop; from there, his success snowballed. By the late 1990s, Kinkade had started a successful company and began franchising galleries in malls and shopping centers across the country, which sold his limited-edition prints by the thousands.

In almost every way, Kinkade’s shops were the complete antithesis to the fine art world’s sterile “white cube” galleries, which were thriving in megalopolises like Manhattan and London. Instead of white walls dotted with costly abstract art, Kinkade’s shops were plush, filled with big chairs and roaring fireplaces. “Our galleries are soft. You don’t echo when you walk in. It’s comfortable,” Kinkade explained to Safer. What’s more, prints were priced reasonably between several hundred and several thousand dollars.

In the process, Kinkade was creating spaces where communities that didn’t have access to the fine art world could buy work without feeling alienated. Kinkade collectors came in droves. While researching her book in the mid-2000s, Boylan met one of Kinkade’s many fans at an in-person signing by the artist. “She was so excited, so earnest, and even got a little teary-eyed in talking with me about what [his work] meant to her, and what [it] meant to her family,” Boylan recalled. “Regardless of how he made [his prints] or what people think about [them], there’s a large population of people who are also profoundly and deeply affected by his work,” she continued.

Thomas Kinkade in his studio, 1998. Courtesy of Thomas Kinkade Studios.

But Boylan is also quick to point out that Kinkade was strategic in growing his base—especially when it came to capitalizing on the divide between America’s cultural elite and the working class. Indeed, the artist’s target audiences have largely lived outside of major cities, and many have felt alienated by the art world’s museums and fine art galleries.

A host of critical responses to Kinkade’s work only fanned the flames of this cultural rift. In 1999, the New York Times reported that Kinkade had “no champions in the high-art world.” Scholar and curator Robert Rosenblum, who’d long advocated for illustrator Norman Rockwell’s work amongst fine art circles, didn’t believe Kinkade deserved the same honor. “He doesn’t look like an artist who’s worth considering, except in terms of supply and demand,” he was quoted as saying. Critic Jerry Saltz echoed the sentiment when he told the Wall Street Journal that “art is not democratic. It isn’t about the biggest market share. If that were true then Thomas Kinkade would be the greatest artist who ever lived.” And in her watershed 2001 New Yorker profile of the artist, Susan Orlean wrote that his paintings were “more of a wishful and inaccurate rendering of what the world looks like, as if painted by someone who hadn’t been outside in a long time.”

Kinkade characterized these responses as elitist, and his disdain for the art world calcified as they poured in. In Orlean’s article, he rebutted: “The number one quote critics give me is: ‘Thom, your work is irrelevant.’ Now, that’s a fascinating, fascinating comment. Yes, irrelevant to the little subculture, this microculture, of modern art,” he said. “But here’s the point: My art is relevant because it’s relevant to 10 million people. That makes me the most relevant artist in this culture, not the least. Because I’m relevant to real people.”

Thomas Kinkade, Autumn Lane, 1995. Courtesy of Thomas Kinkade Studios.

Kinkade emphasized this divide in his many TV spots and public appearances—and to his company’s advantage. “He was very much an agent of antagonism; encouraging people that their own cultural institutions were against them,” Boylan noted. But the artist’s messages were mixed. “I would want to argue that I’m not an antagonist to modernists. I just believe in picture-making for people,” he told Orlean. On the other hand, he also explained that that “we have a grassroots movement emerging in my art and in the country, and there’s 10 million people out there that if I give the word will go out and picket any museum I want them to.” He continued: “I won’t give the word, but they’re dying to have an art of dignity within our culture, an art of relevance to them.”

It’s this kind of “insider-outsider” rhetoric that Boylan sees as especially relevant today, as the partisan rift widens in American politics. “If anything, Kinkade was a bellwether of the historical moment we are in: where a significant population [feels] both entitled and aggrieved about the nation and our culture,” Boylan explained.

Though Kinkade died in 2012 at the age of 54, under a cloud of controversy related to alcoholism, infidelity, and legal troubles, his work still remains ubiquitous in America. The year of his death, his company broke $4 billion in revenue. Today, Thomas Kinkade Studios continues to forge licensing deals with major corporations, like American Greetings and Disney.

While, on one hand, Kinkade’s work and its enduring popularity remind us that art is deeply important to a diverse population of people, it also continues to represent a deep cultural divide—bolstered by antagonism from both sides. “The unfortunate part of [Kinkade’s work and legacy] is how very good people have become at inflaming the dialogues around difference and how vicious and truly damaging that kind of language is,” said Boylan. “But I would also say that if Kinkade engages in that [language], many of his critics do, as well.”

from Artsy News

[matholimieu]

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Last year, the worst thing that happened to me took place. On August 22nd, 2017, my sister’s house was set on fire. She lost her home, her two puppies, and her 5 month and 1 day old son.

I would like to share the Victim Impact Statement that I submitted:

I am Hunter’s uncle. I am Angie’s brother. This victim impact statement is an attempt to capture what I have had to endure and still suffer from. Although I doubt there is any way to document the full entirety of my situation, to understand any of it requires some background information.

My sister Angie

My sister is easily one of the most important and influential people in my life. I have always been very close to both my siblings, and we spend time together as we would with our best friends. As much as we try to not play favourites, my sister and I are exceptionally close because our birthdays are two days apart. Having shared so many birthdays, naturally we shared our toys, collectibles, and craft supplies. In fact, for the last couple of years, we have been playing Pokemon Go, and our father, brother, and niece have also joined in. From even our earlier years, in every argument we made sure our focus was to express how we felt, and the argument could only be won when we understood each other. A smart person learns from their mistakes - we made sure to learn from the mistakes of others and to always communicate. This is the bond I share with my sister. This is the family I almost lost.

The House

In what used to be her house, I had a second home. Only a 5 minute walk away, and a Pokestop in between, we were never far from each other. I had helped her arrange and decorate her bonus room. I had taken part in four paint nights, and the paintings could coincidentally be arranged as the four seasons. Angie proudly hung them in that room. There was a window facing bar with her vast collections of teas. It was always fully supplied with chocolates, cookies, and other treats that we would indulge in. We would talk for hours, or just sit in silence and relax with the puppies. We’ve put together jigsaw puzzles, watched movies, danced with the puppies, and played board games in that room. That bonus room was a sanctuary. It was my home away from home. This was the home that was lost.

Panpan and Bunny, the Poos

Regardless of which house I was at, if these two puppies were around, they would immediately bolt towards me as if they were my own personal paparazzi, demanding my love and attention. These two puppies would playfully knock each other over for their turns at my head pats and belly rubs. Panpan was the lazy one. Bunny was the daring and clever one. When they came to our house, Panpan would wait at the stairs for me. Meanwhile, Bunny would make her way down to the basement to seek me out. If I had slept in, she would be scratching my door; otherwise, she’d hop into my arms as I went in for hugs and cuddles. She was such a princess. Making my way upstairs, Panpan would excitedly go on his hind legs and vibrate excitedly until I gave him enough attention. These puppies were like my personal welcoming committee. This was the warmth, comfort, and love that we shared. These were the loyal dogs that refused to leave my sister’s side in their last moments.

Cordell, my brother in law

When it comes to Angie’s husband, he was one of the few things about which my sister and I did not share the same opinion. He and I had many differences in style, humour, strategy, and perspective. We often clashed with no resolution, and as much as we tried, it was difficult to find common ground. There were several times where I disliked the way he played practical jokes on my sister, and it was hard for me to see what she saw in him. It was actually difficult for me to see him as a responsible family man. I know that our confrontations were heavily influenced by our different upbringings. For that, we would dodge each other as much as we could. However, when my sister became pregnant, we unspokenly put aside our differences. Whatever our issues were, the baby would always be more important.

Cordell was clearly excited about having a child. Before learning the sex of the baby, he and my sister started buying and building a Lego collection. It became their family activity, and I would often find them at the dining table building Batmobiles and Princess Castles together. I saw them cooperate and work together. I was able to see their love. I was able to see that they would be a family. During the pregnancy, Cordell hosted several home-cooked family dinners, and made every effort to invite and involve me. This was how the baby changed him and bridged us together. We were finally able to get along. This was my brother in law.

Hunter is Born

Hunter wasn’t just a new life in our world. He brought new life to our world. In both my sister’s and my parents’ houses, there was always plenty of food on the table, and our families would dance and play with Hunter, and gather for a plentiful dinner. Cordell and Angie would continue to build Lego, and show their baby their new creations. The puppies would be jealous of Hunter and do their best to get our attention, but eventually they became protective of Hunter. Angie and I still had our sanctuary in the bonus room, and we would often be there with Hunter and watch him peacefully sleep. There was such excitement with every discovery he made, and every new expression on his face. We all loved Hunter so much.

Without being delusional, I can say that I had a very special bond with my nephew. As with any baby, there are times when they are seemingly inconsolable. I would cradle him in my arms, sing to him, and rhythmically waltz in a circle. My singing and dancing like this soothed him. I would often see him smile and struggle to keep his eyes open. Even his loving grandmother, someone that watched over him every day and strongly bonded with, failed to lull him in the same way when she tried dancing with him.

As he got a little older, he remained a very cheerful and joyful baby. He was excited by people both familiar and unfamiliar, and was happy to be carried when they picked him up. Though after a short while, he would eventually get a little fussy and cry out for his mother. During these times, I would try my dance with him. If he stopped crying, he was fine. If he continued to cry, he really wanted his mommy. Everyone in my family knew this. This was the bond I had with Hunter.

Hunter was very clever and he learned to use this. During some fussy moments in playtime, this was his way to communicate what he wanted. There were times where he would hold back his tears upon hearing my voice or seeing me nearby. He knew that I would leave and fetch his mother if he continued to cry. This was his signal for me to stay and play with him.

On one occasion, he seemed particularly fussy and buried his head in my chest as I held him. His mother offered to take him from me, but as he turned to her, he batted away her hands. Angie had never seen him do this before, and I melted at this gesture. This was my baby nephew Hunter.

In the Middle of my School Term

A week after Hunter was born, my brother and I started a program at Edmonton Digital Arts College together. This was a ten month, Monday through Friday from 8:30 to 4:30, full-time studies program. My brother and I often relied on each other’s support to endure the intensity of this course. The class had a total of 9 students so we all got to know each other very well, including the instructors. We poured ourselves into every project, working very hard, and we looked forward to our week off in the summer.

The Sunday before our school break, it was my turn to babysit Hunter. It was nap time, and he didn’t want to leave me. So I made a nest of pillows on the bed, and laid there with him. We both gently fell asleep with him cuddled up to me. We woke up together, and I brought him back downstairs where the rest of my family was. Sitting on the couch, I was holding him upright as he wanted to stand. My sister was having a peach and fed some to him. The way he scrambled for more peach, while still wanting to be held up was simply delightful. Together, my sister and I had fed him his first peach and last peach. That was the last memory I have of him.

The Fire

Words can never capture how this happy world collapsed.

I woke up to a panicked call from my father. He told me there was a fire and it might be Angie’s house. He told me to go make sure. I’m an optimist by nature. I figured he was overreacting and paranoid, but I started getting dressed so I could put him at ease. I didn’t make it out of my room when I heard the cracked voice of my mother crying out to me. This was a voice I had learned to fear as it meant something was incredibly wrong. I ran up to find my mother escorted by the police. Between translating and trying to be strong, I knew I needed to be as calm as I could. She told me that the house was completely burned down.

My mother and I were forbidden to leave our home. All we were told was that the firemen got people out, and that they were at the hospital. Still the optimist, I figured it was just an accident of some sort, but everyone made it out. They were just doing their routine checks to make sure everyone was okay. I patiently waited as my mother scrounged for ideas on what she could do while we were grounded at our home.

I was then told that my sister was at a different hospital than her baby, and that she was in intensive care. I still tried to remain calm - “a fire had just happened and she suffered the worst of it, but she’ll be fine” I told myself and my mother. Victim services came to our door. They told us the unreal news of how Hunter didn’t make it. All hope, all optimism disappeared and I was lost. I tried my best to listen and take in all the information they were telling me as my mother demanded a translation. I had to be strong to support my mother, so I had to push my emotions down. There was such chaos in everything happening all at once. This was now the world I had to live in.

Seeing my sister in the Intensive Care Unit was absolutely brutal. There she was, unconscious, my sister, darkened from all the ash, yet pale from all the life drained away from her. I had been all wrong, and my mind couldn’t help but be in a dark place. I might lose my closest and best friend. I wished so hard for her to recover, but what then? She has to wake up to a world where everything she had is gone, and that’s if she wakes up. Worse yet, we have to tell her that her son, her life, is gone. Not only did I have to be strong to support my mother, I had to be strong to support my sister. I pushed my emotions down even further.

When she was in a more stable condition, my sister woke up despite her sedation. Barely conscious, she had tubes down her throat and could not make a sound. The first thing she did was cradle her arms together, pleading to us for her baby. We all just told her to try and rest so she could recover, but she kept rocking her arms back and forth. The doctors increased the sedation and put her back to sleep. It was not fair to keep the truth from her, but we needed to take some precautionary steps before telling her. Under the doctor’s advisement, her arms had to be restrained for everyone’s safety including her own. After the preparations were made, we all took a deep breath to ready ourselves.

That moment was the hardest thing I had ever had to witness in my life. She slowly opened her eyes, and tried to make the baby gesture. Although the restraints were in place, she could still make a bit of that motion. My brother gently told her that Hunter was in heaven. Even now, it’s impossible for me to imagine how that moment was for her: arms tied down; people trying to hold her down; a tube down her throat, unable to scream; having lost everything and unable to do anything. Her eyes were scrunched as tears burst uncontrollably. She kept tossing her head in refusal, desperately looking for a way to be free. She and I locked eyes and all I could see was pain and desperation. The silence made it so much worse. I was powerless to help. I was helpless.

That image will forever haunt me. There are nights where I still can’t sleep, or wake up in the middle of the night, because that moment keeps playing back over and over again. There are nights where I am exhausted, and I can’t stop my imagination. My train of thought takes me to the night of the fire, and all I see are flames, my sister, the baby, and the puppies trapped behind the fire, desperately gasping for air. I can’t help but dwell on how afraid, lonely, and hopeless they would have felt. These images keep appearing when I close my eyes, and although this happens less frequently now, it was impossible to get rest for months. This is life now.

Schooling after

The week that my brother and I were supposed to have as a break from school was spent at the hospital waiting for my sister to awaken. When school started up again, we alternated days for attendance so that we could both continue our studies but at the same time be there for my sister. We had already dedicated so much to this career path, and neither of us wanted to withdraw. Not having enough rest, missing classes, and being distracted detracted from our grades.

Cordell after

I did my best to be supportive to Cordell. He had lost just as much as my sister. After such a huge loss, he became desperate to try set things right and prepare for my sister’s return from the hospital. However, he did it in such disturbing and irrational ways that we started to fight again. We each had so much pain, and we took it out on each other in our arguments. I said many things that I regret - deep and hurtful things. It wasn’t just me. He and my sister in law had such a terrible encounter that to this day they cannot be in the same room.

Angie after

After some rehabilitation, the hospital discharged my sister so that she could rest in the comfort of family. At night, my sister was not able to get physically comfortable as her injuries would flare up. She would go back and forth between the bed and the sofa, continuously adjusting her elevation and position. During the rare time she was comfortable, she was still unable to sleep from fear and trauma. If the temperature was too high, she felt suffocated. When it was sunrise, and the room lit up ever so slightly, the dim glow would remind her of the fire. She couldn’t help staying awake as she was terrified of waking up to another attack. My sister avoided leaving the house whenever possible as the shame, humiliation, and attention was too much to handle. I did my best to keep her company and reassure her of our safety and security. However, I also had similar fears of being attacked, and I had to do everything I could to hide such uncertainty from her.

Me after

I wanted to be strong for my sister. Knowing her situation was so much worse, I decided to push aside my own issues. Going back to school served as a distraction, but it also meant putting my emotions on hold. In many ways, I did not have a proper chance to grieve until after it was all done, so I sought professional help.

I am not a violent person, but I am very creative. After discovering who was responsible for starting the fire, my mind was filled with horrible things I wanted to do. There is such hatred and animosity that I have. I don’t want to be this kind of person. I try to reflect on forgiveness and how to be a better person, but I am in such a dark place, I outright refuse to. Why do I have to be the better person? Why should I? I’m not ready to let go, but I don’t want to be this kind of person.

For the longest time, every day started off with too many thoughts and too many questions. It felt like a physical heavy weight in my chest, and a sinking void in my gut. It was suffocating. At times I literally stop breathing, and desperately gasp for air when I finally catch myself. I can no longer bring myself to sing or listen to the songs we used to share. Every morning feels muggy and uncomfortably silent. And that’s usually when I feel guilty for dwelling on my pain, when I know Angie and Cordell have it so much worse.

I have become an introverted shell of who I used to be. I feel broken, and nothing can fix any part of it. I can no longer be Hunter’s uncle.

[o-flynn-o]

The Littlest Giant

Development notes- (01/31/2018) The idea came this morning as I was just waking. About what's happened in the last few years to change my life. Having odd moments of simple profound thoughts about things. Having odd days too, like noticing I feel particularly tall for my stature. Soon following with a, "Wait, what? Nah, that's not right." Like little kids who say the darndest things and often surprise grown ups with their simple profound understanding. Well I felt tall today. As thoughts wander, about life and all the other "giants" in this world. So many strong, accomplished, wonderfully talented people. Where do I fit in? How do I find my place? How do I accomplish great things with what I've been given? The opening inspired by something my mom & Grandmother used to say to us when we were little. Whenever there was a thunderstorm they'd chime,"The giants are dropping their potatoes!" You know, so that we wouldn't be afraid of the sometimes unbelievably loud claps of thunder with the crazy storm season in Kansas. Somewhere in there was a vague memory of how my dad liked the story with the magic beans. In my mind distantly hear him say that line, like something from a long time ago... Here's an outline of the story so far.- Starts in modern time soothing her child about being bullied. Tells them a story on a scary stormy night...*Blending voices shifting to Jack.* -Jack now an old man telling the story to his grandchildren of how he once met a giant. -Society and setting- Arc de Triomphe aerial photo is the template for the giant community. The palace being at the foot of one of the mountains? So the queen's clothing makes sense? Dress in this society like the reverse of birds? The women are more intricately dressed because they are viewed with love, as something precious. Except for the king and queen that are arrayed equally. They have tops of mountains as their source of freshwater. Streams flow down into the community. It comes to them cold. So crisp cool drinking water. Warm water basins lined with copper are scattered throughout the city. Water heralds usher the water to the basins that send water warmed by the sun into a plumbing system for the citizens. (There may be easier ways but this will make an interesting visual element, that still makes sense.) It is also cold up around the mountains and great pillars. The boundaries of the city are capped by several mammoth cloud pillars. A relatively simple society. They have a planting season and harvest season. We come into the story at the beginning of their harvest season. Where we see some of Charle's issues emerge. The beginning/source of their resources tied to earth and humans? The giants used to help humans, but some event caused things to change. If there are ever great catastrophes they come down to help. Kind of like a sasquatch sighting. It's a thing of legend. What about the beans? Obviously there are beans and they are magical, but in this world ONLY for emergencies. Kept under guard. Being in the human world is forbidden. Earth 1900's. The industrial revolution. Wanted to have a positive spin on it. The reality of that time was heavy. Jack, one of our main characters is a newsboy. I would like to have young people selling newspapers and maybe delivering milk. Something encouraging productivity and the value of work. Making it a staple for Jack's father to tell Jack how proud he is throughout the story. Jack also has a little savings jar of his own from his paper boy job. The Xen invade to take over their city and resources. They are faster giving them the upper hand in combat. (The king is the most formidable. They have to team up to take him down.) The city is easily taken. They are peaceful. They've never faced anything like this before. The people are captive and afraid. Charle is the only one small enough to sneak out undetected. Her father supplies her with a map of earth to a secret weapon. With a stone sypher. (I wanted so badly to nod to The Goonies on this one. Man I love that movie.) Supplying her with the magic beans.When she gets to earth it's a dark stormy night. She meets jack and later his siblings/&friends? The weapon to defeat/contain? them is hidden in a mountain. They have the weapon from someone in their community that had come across these creatures long before. Characters are able to offer an exchange, also a bonding experience, of a piece of info to help the other think their way around the problem. Helping each other solve one another's struggle. Overall plot more so about jack making a friend and Charlie saving her people. At first they keep Charle a secret. Also encouraging being forthcoming and honest Jack tells his parents the truth. Trusting Jack and this group of children with responsibility to set out on this adventure on their own. Somehow it looks like the magic beans have all been destroyed and she'll be stuck. Then finds one in a sack or the folds of clothing, or a tiny overlooked pocket. Maybe Jack has it and debates on telling her, because he'll miss her. Once she leaves she doesn't know if she'll ever be able to come back. *End- Cut back to the current storyteller. The story is done they kiss their "goodnights". One of the little kids sneaks out of bed to peek at the thunder out the window and sees a shadow of a giant in the clouds. -Fin- -I've started character sketches and some environments partially finished. Will post as I finish each piece. Here are all of the rest of my random thoughts and notes for this property.- Was thinking about making this all modern, but one of the important parts is the "visualization". Kids using their imagination. That spark of a fantasy story. Main characher- Charlemagne. Charle for short. (I thought it'd be funny to name her after the font that I used for the title. Turned out to be a pretty great idea.  ) Look- A young girl of spanish looking ethnicity. (More closely modeled after a uniquely beautiful waitress that recently took care of us at a local mexican restaurant. She may have also been cuban, puerto rican, or some descendant of South America.) Medium complexion, green hazel with brown speckles, curly wavy medium length hair. Main costume throughout the story, first thought, color combo of Superman and the flag of Mexico. A viking-esque community because they're all giants? ...like classic Disney has portrayed? Maybe, try to find more inspiration in unlikely places... *Decided on making something unique by blending inspiration from everywhere. *Possible conflicts- 1)Taking from the idea of "Storm Giants" that was already on the table. Seeing the concept art made me think of Hercules. I could understand how that might not work since it was already done. With my interest in other cultures and a little looking the name Xenarthra/Xenarthan sounded interesting shortened to Xen. Xen, have become strangers or alien to their own kind (Nef/Neph/Nephalos= Cloud people) and taken on traits of Raiju. Feeling the need to keep it simple and light they can be called Xen, with only the history of the city's brief explanation. Under the premise that mystery makes things more interesting. (Jack/Jackson, normal look or slender and goofy? Playing on they share awkwardness and being out of place. Both about the same age 14-15.) (their goodbye can be a very "face burying" type of hug? As opposed to the usual prince princess kiss stuff? Maybe a kiss on the cheek. We'll see.) (Catchphrase/Marketing?) Awkward and unaware of her potential. Always a little too small, not quite knowing what to do... Soon she would find the gift of the strength of her heart and the ingenuity to change her world. Even though she was small...she will find out... she is indeed... a giant. *The opening rif from "Little Wonders" for ads. It's hopeful and friendly. Maybe a cover by an artist that has been popular with kids or younger people recently. (Maybe justin Beibs?) Other trailer music- Marcus Warner- Africa? Side notes: "...To change her world." There are different applications and understandings of what someone's "world" is; It could be their mind, their feelings, their house/home, their country, or making an impact internationally with inventions designs and concepts to further society and for the greater good of helping humanity. Casting notes- Jack- Zac Efron or Sean Astin, King of the Neph- Dave Bautista, Charle- (I like Alessia Cara for the musical parts. Reference for that is her performance of "How Far I'll Go", from Moana. Otherwise not sure yet.) For more draw and power behind it, maybe Glen Keane would be willing to lend his hand to this project? For the sake of helping these people.

I woke up intending to write this as a book. Thoughts started to trickle in about the cancelled Disney project "Gigantic". Even though it was originally intended to be a different product, it could serve a good purpose as an elevator pitch to Disney. They cancelled the project. This different take may be just what they need to make it work. I've also had trouble getting things organised for Heart it. There is a great need for help in Puerto Rico. A corporation like Disney would be able to draw the profit to donate some of the proceeds and possibly continue helping with a percentage of dvds, digital downloads, and merchandise.

I wanted to be able to develop it, for it to be more finished. I'm going to continue working on as many designs as I can giving every idea I've had for this project to date. The only reason I could see it as okay to give the base that I have now is time. Every week, every day, is a day longer they're without power and necessities. Started immediately. With fundraising during the making of. I have selected the copyright so not just anyone can take it. I'd like to gift this to the Walt Disney corporation for the intent and purpose of helping Puerto Rico. I would also like to be considered for future employment. -A project dedicated to my Heavenly Father- Thank You for enabling me to be a giant in spirit and blessing me with the ability to accomplish the impossible.-

[acn59685-blog]

A Simple Key For acn communication avis Unveiled

Where Is Acn NowMike Bisutti is living evidence that constructing your ACN company is difficult, yet the effort is all worth it. Prior to joining ACN, Mike worked multiple works as a full time college student, building up financial obligation along the road. When he located ACN, he knew he discovered an opportunity that fit well with his impregnable work ethic. He truly relies on the ACN system and wants supplying remarkable services to his consumers, in addition to being a leader to his expanding team. After joining ACN Leanne's success didn't come conveniently. "I battled profoundly in my journey as well as had to go through a great deal of individual growth. Nevertheless, I really felt such a connection to the Co-Founders as well as society of ACN, that there was never an uncertainty in my mind that I intended to come to be a leader for the company."

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Spencer was so amazed with ACN that he obtained his moms and dads involved in the business. They are now Elderly Vice Presidents-- an advancement that Spencer proudly calls his "greatest accomplishment in ACN." Today, James has just what he's constantly wanted: just the moment to appreciate his life, yet he hasn't already quit introducing others to the ACN Opportunity. "I feel everyone needs to know about this business. The environment alone that ACN produces can make you a much better person."

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Nekoda found network marketing while he was working 3 tasks as well as mosting likely to school part time. Monica was a recently separated mother of 2, stabilizing law college, a teaching fellowship, as well as a part-time work.

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"In some cases individuals ask me, 'is it really hard and also difficult to do this service?' My response is this: The system is straightforward. If a man from Bangladesh who has no network or education below can do it, you could also. Comply with the system by getting customers-- and you could discover success." The delight Jeff obtains from his own individual liberty is the factor he shares the ACN opportunity with others. "I could honor the people I respect many", he says, "ACN has actually educated me how you can be a servant leader, how to pour into others and also not concentrate on myself." While in college, Michael An was presented to route marketing, but really felt that something was wrong. "I was tired of persuading people around me to buy products that they really did not need," Michael discussed.

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You deserve to withdraw from this Contract, without offering us a factor, for 14 days after it is ended. This is called the "Withdrawal Duration". To exercise your right of withdrawal, you need to educate us of your choice in creating prior to the Withdrawal Period expires by contacting ACN IBO Solutions by blog post or email. You might use the Version Withdrawal Form sent out with your confirmation email to recommend us of your choice to withdraw, but You are not needed to do so. If you withdraw, ACN will reimburse any type of repayment obtained from You within 14 days from the date on which You educate us of your decision. ACN will compensate reviews for acn You using the very same methods of repayment that You utilized to pay us, unless you and also we agree or else. See the Terms and Conditions to learn more.

ACN

Yet he is the first to admit that ACN isn't very easy-- just as nothing worth doing is-- yet that it could definitely be worth it. "ACN put me in a placement to do just what I desired-- and also enabled me to leave a fingerprint on this planet," Michael said.

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Art's children grew up as component of the ACN household and he enjoys they're getting going. "This is a household organisation with my spouse, youngsters, sibling and also sibling involved," he includes. "The future is brighter compared to the previous thanks to the vision for modification the company welcomes."

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Brian's work ethic as well as determination has earned him the top placement of Elderly Vice Head of state in the firm, nevertheless he does not take his success for granted. "Where I am today never ever would have taken place if I had gotten discouraged when I initially started out."

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When Patrick found out about ACN he shared the chance with Michael, and also the siblings realized they might interact to help others and also create an opportunity for typical people much like them to make additional money. Michael claimed, "When I opened my mind, I actually started seeing points in a different way. I came to be coachable and also picked up from individuals who currently achieved success."

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She stayed focus and went to every International Training Event, and also the commitment repaid. "My interest is met through aiding others construct their ACN Service, and also I love the fact that I could invest quality time with my hubby as well as boy whenever I pick." Leanne's discovered that in some cases others could do well faster, but if you linger your day will certainly soon come. "You just fall short if you quit."

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Mathieu is most appreciative that his ACN service allows him to focus on balancing business and household. He as well as his other half both prize their time at home with their children. "It's little minutes you can not take advantage of due to the fact that you need to go to function," he claims. "Being at home, you determine when you wish to work when you don't wish to function. My office is from my kitchen area to the living-room."

[lind40lundqvist-blog]

Who's Who In SL Pornography

Today we pushed out the next step of eliminating adult content from HubPages. Thus the secret of a thigh tattoo implies there is a particular amount of affection before a person discloses their upper leg tattoo as well as naturally being allowed in on a secret like that is sexy by itself. In terms of the local heat, most popular cities where Virtual Reality porn film is had a look at: Helsinki, Melbourne, Sydney, Brisbane, Singapore and Seoul. Take us with how you started with this sort of non-traditional path to doing hardcore pornography right out iof the gate. Rear of Neck - The nape of the neck or back of the neck is believed to be a really sexy area of the females's body as well as in numerous societies an extremely sensual place. http://labottesexy.com We're not all stick figures so we should all embrace our girly numbers." One of the most notorious names in porn shares a slightly various perspective in # 2. Remember that lots of people who join the grown-up pornography business chances begin with investing greatly on website and also web content. If you are seeing pornography or addicted to porn, you are attempting to fill a gap inside of you that just God could fill. The young woman thought she was going to just engage in a little soft porn-- which in her mind included glrl-on-girl action-- as well as do some naked modeling on the side, but her passions went way further than she anticipated. Christian Salcedo, a junior, said that the seminar made him recognize how much pornography is a trouble in our community. Nicknamed Papa Bear", he is being born in mind as a pioneer in the San Fernando Valley's pornography industry. And porn is not just enjoyable and rewarding, yet it also enables Selena to proceed discovering her substantial sexually relevant dreams. The Hollywood-based HELP Healthcare Foundation today is pointing to an evident admission by an industry leader that porn is opposing the area prophylactic legislation, which calls for producers to obtain licenses via Movie L.A. that come connected to a prophylactic required. As a matter of fact, a lot of various other pornography web sites are rated on this very same list, such as XVideos (51) or YouPorn (57º) outing perform more conventional firms such as The Wall surface Street Journal or Ebay. Likewise, my spouse takes pleasure in porn just as much as the next person along with a lot of her women close friends. A lot of market experts have sufficient connections and also suggests to hold a fund raiser on behalf of Mahlia so that she can begin a brand-new life, so I hope that someone steps up to the plate and also does the right point. Porn represents via the back entrance, (if you excuse the pun), via open screens of tasks that are still thought about exclusive in the real world. Unlike some addictions, such as alcohol, pornography addiction is not currently listed as a mental illness in the DSM-IV, the listing of psychological health problems by the American Psychiatric Association (APA). You might have problem coming close to Eastern girls if you show up untidy as well as unpleasant. With just how unstable the sector could be, long hiatuses from it can entirely screw up your career. FTND Note: Andi left the pornography sector in 2010 and also joined the Pink Cross Foundation, a group of ex-porn stars that speak out on the injuries of pornography. The FPPC opened the examination less compared to a year after the sector agreed to pay a $61,500 penalty for illegally accepting contributions from international entities in its initiative to oppose a similar 2012 L.a County ballot procedure to require adult film stars to put on condoms. Several current studies have actually located that teens from all over the globe usage pornography to learn more about the real world sex. The author is affiliated with, as well as composes normal porn and also sex plaything write-ups for his blog site page. The porn market have actually developed the art of shooting swiftly and also at inexpensive, however still looking excellent as well as giving the consumer just what they desire. Porn occurs to be a viable option but it'll never pay enough to earn for the lifelong stigma a performer should endure after that. You go into the sector not caring about yourself, and also the longer you remain in, the much less you respect on your own. Angel Kelly discloses exactly how she may have been removed (eliminated) if she 'd attempted to unionize the women in the pornography market. Yet the notion that Snapcash will be a substantial income chauffeur for the pornography industry is its very own type of sex-related fantasy. If ones partner has actually settled to seeing porn it is soley since they are not getting what they need from their spouse or partner. I assume the pornography centers need to be just under pornography centers and closed for innocent or innocent eyes to clik on under HubPages ... many thanks ... oops. all I needed to do was flag it I think ... and that I did. In journalism meeting, Cameron's partner, additionally a porn entertainer and among the four that examined positive, blew up the industry for continuouslying shoot scenes without condoms simply one week after an entertainer examined favorable. The suggested Safer Sex in the Grownup Film Sector Act doesn't alter much of anything, Cohen claims. However, the experts are waiting how the development of VR porn film, in addition to the number of user accept the VR tool. Now there are some women that are so seductive, that they could just utilize their want to make customers alter the beer they are consuming while she is in their vicinity. Since the web is a much far better place where you could connect with others, attractive cams have actually expanded a great deal in appeal over the current years. All of their girls have attractive evaluates and also large tits as well as these incorporated, you will totally forget going out with friends every evening. And also facial cumshots, aka the cash shot" for many porn scenes, would either be removed or would certainly call for the recipient to use goggles and a doctor's mask. So if you don't truly feel you are attractive simply placed on latex clothing and also you would certainly feel you are a queen able to win a heart of any male. In fact it is still attractive to some extent but sadly it is a little over done now. Plus, the San Fernando Valley pornography industry supplies its more glamorous next-door neighbor with a consistent supply of labor. The list of porn stars that have actually died young over the last twenty years is mortifying. Everybody and their sibling in the adult industry understands that the new 2257 statute guidelines that just began are a joke. I concur porn is part of net scene just as I concur that sex is a feature of one's life. When I was a teenager they were and into my early 20's, however after that as you obtain a little older, you start to realize just what attractive is to you directly. Tease him throughout the day by sending adorable, flirty text, as well as surprise him at house with some red warm attractive underwear that he hasn't seen prior to. He still likes to look at scantily-clad women, although he generally does it in art galleries as well as on TELEVISION rather than porn mags or strip programs. A component of me would not mind limiting doing in pornography to people over 21, however the other part of me just presumes that that would result in owning more of it right into the shadows which might be even worse. I hadn't truly identified what exactly I would certainly do. She recommend pornography as well as said it was actually versatile and the ladies sort of make their routine. Couples are constantly excited to try new methods of having sex, and also cam women are the appropriate ideas. Associate curator Kim Stanton said she was rather unfamiliar concerning the porn market before watching the movie.

So she has done makeup on a few pornography sets and she learnt more about a few of the girls this way. Yet this write-up isn't concerning the extensive accessibility of on-line pornography and also exactly how it's swelling the savings account of several worldwide while pumping the enthusiasm glands of punters. Obenberger stated that despite the appeal, many individuals still are not comfortable with checking out pornography as a reputable occupation option. If you're not protect in your heterosexuality however, repeatedly enjoying porn might not be a great idea. Stuart Waldman is head of state of the Valley Market & Commerce Organization, which stands for service in the San Fernando Valley. I think that a lot of have actually been blinded by the taboo of actual pornography that they could not consider except erotica literature wherefore it is. There is affection that is in erotica that simply isn't really in pornography. As well as this early exposure can bring about a lasting choice for porn over love, intimacy, as well as relationships with actual individuals-- and also to an addiction that could weaken a marriage. Dines, that created the book of the very same name, stated the average guy wases initially introduced to porn at 11 years of ages. Porn celebrity Jessica Drake claims an action would trigger economic pain for everyone involved. But because all you anonymous people available wish to endanger her, it's all over the news to the point that your doing is making a porn star, who was initially meant to have fifteen mins worth of fame, to suddenly end up being a celebrity. With over 80 movies on her resume, she's lent a hand her reasonable share towards building this billion-dollar industry. I absolutely believe that's where God wants me, returning right into that nightmare in order to help conserve people from it. When I see some of those women, I see me at 18. When I did porn, there was no such thing as The Pink Cross. While that in itself may not be a problem, it's a reality that some individuals can not stop taking a look at pornography once they have been revealed. You can choose to get something small on both hips or just one tattoo on one side either way you end up with a hot tattoo layout. If you are a carnal love-monger as well as seek sexual satisfaction, talking to webcam ladies online is an excellent concept. If he is taking out from tasks that he utilized to appreciate or spending much less and also less time with friends and family, if he prefers to see his porn rather than participating in real life intimacy with you,- then it needs to be a major issue for you. Stalking apart, the Weinstein act does offer an explicit economic reward for those that might wish to file a claim against a pornography manufacturer. Working as a SEO and also e-Marketing professional for among the pioneers amongst Online Adult DVD and also Sex Plaything Stores makes me review numerous aspects of the industry. The Hot Anarkali Lahore service providers can prepare Pakistani infants and also Lahore girls mujra, that fit your taste and your various other company needs. Visit this site to see the sexy 40 year old guys, sexy HALF A CENTURY old men, attractive 60 years of age males and, yes, even sexy 70 years of age men! When Banxxx (that is black) shoots a sex scene with a white man, evidently, it isn't considered interracial by pornography requirements. A massage parlour or health and wellness enhancement facility is a sex sector service that operates as a retail or certified organisation facility on an in-call" or on-site basis. Look, i think if hubpages located a way to install a safety and security page for porn associated topics like asking a youngster for a his age or asking for viewers to pay for it on-line using credit card or examining account, then I would recommend it. especially considering that part of the credit score card/checking account payment can go towards the hubber or a minimum of component of it. that would be a clever solution. And the concept of showing kids porn to prove a factor that it is not inherently abusive to the stars is embellishment at finest. I will certainly provide you the benefit of the uncertainty that you are not referring only to female porn stars (as well as Randy up there can be a guy). A beret is a level round hat which is utilized by girls to match a clothing, making it look girly and also very. TtfnJohn - Each time I see blurbs from modeling fact programs, it's obvious that the garments market favors the rake slim versions you were discussing. The Cumshot or money" shot shown as the last scene in a porn film to confirm it as an actual sex act for the customer is actually recorded FIRST. It is approximated that there are 4.2 million porn Web sites-- 12% of the total amount of websites-- allowing access to 72 million globally site visitors monthly. And also if bothering with just what Mia performs in her porn video clips is the greatest trouble that you have in your life, then you have earned my pity. However, porn in the 40's and also 50's left a lot to be wanted by today's amazing requirements of the art.) Men probably have a better passion in useless sex, which I believe is characteristic of pornography.