#but it was only on my dad's decrepit laptop

[ghost-shepherdess]

i want to personally murder jeff bezos bc i just lost all the highlights and annotations for one of the main sources in my projects 😭😭 all bc the kindle program wouldn't sync

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER NINE

Even with a stolen laptop full of potential answers sitting in my backseat, the only thing I can think about is how shaken Miles is. The wobble in his legs, the fidgeting hands, the disconnect between him and I. It seems he’s only interested in staring into those dark woods silently. 

On the way to Matlock Beach you’re certain to encounter at least one decrepit farmhouse or shack. At a fleeting glance, Miles’s house could be mistaken for such a place. Cracked windows and siding grey from age, overgrown grass and a frail little porch. A rickety white fence surrounds the property, extending through the shadowy back yard.

Despite that, the eerie thing to me is the lack of life. Not a car in the driveway, no lights, no sound. The property itself is far enough from town to drive any lonely soul insane. I know his dad is around sometimes, but is it really just him here? Alone?

Miles continues to stare, wide eyes reflected on the glass alongside foggy breath. I crack the window open when the slow creaking of trees sound just outside.

“See anything interesting?” I ask. Say anything else next time Joel, anything. Miles shakes his head as if waking from a daydream. “Huh?”

I twist the music’s volume from low to silent. “See something again?” It’s difficult to keep the guilt from creeping in, only now do I feel the fingernail digging into my bare wrist. Your situation brought this anxiety on him. 

“I thought something was moving. Probably just waiting to see something, you know?”

Past the yard into the shallow forest, something shifts. A tree sways off sync with everything around it. “Like the lights?”

“Keep thinking I’m seeing them, it’s always when I’m overcome by this feeling that something else is around.” A long pause. “Anxiety getting to me is all. Anyway… would you wanna come inside for a bit?”

A smile spreads across my cheeks and disappears just as fast. “Sure, if you want. Not like I got anything better to do.” The engine dies and we each step outside. Miles’s whole body shakes, I extend an arm to steady him but recoil at the last moment. 

He swings the door open, greeting me with the smell of cat litter. “Sorry about the mess, and the smell.”

“You’ve been to my house man, this is nothin’.” The cat comes rubs its face against Miles’s leg.

“This is Goose, the only one keeping me sane in this house.”

The main floor is nothing but an open living room with a brick fireplace, branching into four other rooms. While Miles rubs the cat’s cheeks I wander towards the sparse photos lining the walls. There’s one of Miles holding a fish, though he doesn’t seem proud, in fact he looks to be on the verge of tears. The next one is him, Mateo, and their parents on a staged grey background. Neither photos could be from more than a year or two ago, not a single childhood photo. I was hoping for something embarrassing to tell Annie about. 

Miles waves me over to a door. “Here’s my room.” He flicks on the light and shuts the blinds.

His room is much busier than I expected, walls cluttered with posters, photos and art. The paintings depict beautiful landscapes, most are impossible locations full of surreal geometry, but some I can pinpoint in real life. He’s expertly captured the downtown streets, forests and lakes. A night sky catches my eye, lit with stars streaking across, and two silhouettes watching together. I spot one where Miles sits along a rooftop with several faces I don’t recognise.

“Those were my friends when I lived in the city.”

The painting below depicts two people laughing as they walk through the woods; Miles and Mateo. 

Surrounding the window are dozens upon dozens of polaroid pictures. Most are those old friends mentioned, but I spot Annie, Otto and I in a few.

“This one was the last day of tenth grade,” Miles says. “My friends took me to the art gallery downtown.” He recollects with a tinge of sadness in his voice.

“Hold on, tenth? Says this was three years ago.”

“So?”

“So you’re graduating this year, what are you still doing in highschool? I know you didn’t fail a grade.”

Miles starts to twirl a pencil between his fingers, timidly answering, “Oh, right. I was actually held back in eleventh grade.” 

As long as I’ve known Miles his grades have been almost perfect, hasn’t skipped a single class until yesterday. “Why?”

“Some personal… stuff came up. It was no big deal, really, but I had to take a break.”

I stare at him for a long second, not wanting to push him for an answer. Reluctantly he continues. “When my mom died a few years ago I got really bad agoraphobia. I didn’t leave the house for more than a year. Doctors and dad figured it better to hold me back a grade than throw me in a psyche ward.”

“Jesus-”

“But it’s fine, I don’t really love talking about it anyway. Don’t mean to kill the mood.”

“Things are getting tough and if you wanna talk about it, or not talk about it, that’s why I’m here.”

He smiles sadly and sits on the bed. “Thanks for coming over. Since my mom, my room was the only place I felt safe, but now I just see the backyard where Mateo disappeared.”

“If you ever need me I’ll be here. It’ll always beat sitting in my house all night.” I steady his shaking shoulder now, slowly overcoming the urge to retract. “And just look at how cool this place is. You even got your own tv and game console?” 

“I own like two games.” He reaches under his bed and pulls an extra controller. “You want to play?”

“Only if you’re alright with getting your ass beat,” I smile.

“Like hell you will,” Miles scoffs.

We settle on some racing game, where I’ll eat my words.

“Where’s that shit talk now, huh?” He says after another win. I playfully bump shoulders and scoot closer to him to avoid falling off the bed. Maybe in the end Miles didn’t need adrenaline to stop the anxious thoughts, just good times with a friend.

An hour passes, then two, then three. For once it feels like the good times might not end, but about one in the morning I stretch and mention I should be heading home.

Miles freezes, glances at the floor, then the window. I can tell he has something to say but has trouble saying it.

“What is it?” I prod softly.

“Can you stay?”

“Of course I can.”

We gather blankets and pillows for a makeshift floor-bed. Still, no one’s home but us, which is a good thing if not a little concerning. A lot of people know about Annie and I’s antics, and many find entertainment in rumours. If word got around how long would it be before his paranoid father found out?

Half an hour passes of staring at the ceiling, hands under my head.

“Hey,” Miles whispers. “We got the laptop, why haven’t you looked at it yet?”

“I dunno,” I admit. I spent so much worrying about Miles I hadn’t thought of it. “Got distracted, I’ll take a look first thing tomorrow.”

Silence again for a few minutes.

Miles clears his throat. “When we were leaving that tunnel, did you see anything?”

“No, but noticed you looking back a lot.”

“Thought I saw eyes.”

“Next time you see em’ you can show me.”

“Don’t I sound crazy? Wouldn’t I seem more crazy if I were pointing at nothing?”

“Somethin’ you gotta understand from the get-go, is that Matlock beach is anything but normal. Especially the people. I’d believe you over any other crazy motherfucker in this place.”

“I believe it,” Miles shifts onto his side and looks at me. “I’m just thinking about how much I miss my brother. Maybe its just easier to accept some paranormal entity did it, instead of knowing nothing.”

“Do you wanna talk about him?” I suggest. Mateo and I never had much incentive to talk, but now I wish I had.

“God, where do I start? I could tell you that he was a huge dork for horror and art, more so than me.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“...he’s the one who got me into all that. He taught me to draw when I was little. Well, I guess we sort of learned together. We always had some project to work on, murals at school or comics.” I recall the sketchbook he grabbed from Mateo’s room. “But he didn’t care about that half as much as horror. He would draw terrifying monsters, even wrote short stories for them, or data logs. He’d warn me about monsters acting like everyday objects, or one that hides underground and disguises itself as tall grass. He was the most creative person I ever knew. He would have grown into an incredible artist, I believe he’d be recognised for his creativity one day. That he’d change people with what he made. Now all that’s gone. All the potential for the rest of his life, just gone. I can’t even wrap my head around it.”

The way Miles speaks of his brother brings a tear to my eye. I couldn’t even imagine losing someone like that. “He sounds pretty great.”

“He was.”

[vajracchedika]

Driving down the road (I think) (killingsworth) when I was first out here living w me dad... that I was working on this excellent record store . On repainting the exterior. (Btw flock of geese)

i'd gotten the gig thru craigslist but bc I was tweaking (not literally) the guy thot I mighta been an addict of some sort. I did do good work I was too '~crazy~' tho. Would have been able to crack into odd job economy well if I had been able to work with him more days. But it was only the one... I was also taking the bus and think I missed the second morning opportunity accidentally . Was also only functioning thru a decrepit hp laptop my dad had laying around . Google voice haha . Btw literally drove by the record store. Memory is gorges

[mizmahlia]

Taking turns saving the day

Summary: Despite not being a meta, Lois certainly acts like one, and Jon learns there’s more to being a hero than being half-Kryptonian.

AO3

  This time of year, Waterfront Street was usually deserted, which is exactly how Lois preferred it. Whenever she wanted to clear her head, or if she needed time alone to think about a story she was working on, a walk along the water helped. In the nicer months, her route was full of tourists and students on their summer breaks. But in the autumn, the tourists and students cleared out and left only those who enjoyed the cold, salty air along the water.

Lois shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her jacket and stopped when she spotted a lone figure standing about a hundred yards up the street. He was leaning on the guardrail with his eyes closed, tilting his face up toward the late October sunshine. Before she could even consider saying hello or ask him why he wasn’t in school, he beat her to it.

“Hey, mom.”

“Jonathan,” she said, glancing down at her watch with a frown. “What are you doing out here?”

He pushed off the guard rail and bent down to retrieve two insulated to-go cups from a nearby coffee shop next to his feet. She hadn’t noticed them and smiled; Jon’s obvious attempt at a bribe coming at a perfect time. Her hands were cold, and she could use the pick-me-up. He held a cup out and she saw a hastily-scrawled ‘mom’ written on the side.

“Venti non-fat vanilla latte with one pump of toasted marshmallow syrup.”

Lois cocked an eyebrow and accepted the coffee, savoring the warmth of the first sip. She rarely ordered it for herself; usually Clark got one for her when he wanted to apologize for something or wanted to ask for a favor. Jon was watching her closely, waiting for some kind of acknowledgement he got her order right. She hid a smile behind the cup as she took another drink.

“Either you’re in trouble, or you want something,” she said. “And your father told you this would be a good way to sweeten me up.”

Jon blushed and he scrubbed one hand through his hair, his cheeks turning pink.

“He might have, yeah.”

“I’ll have to thank him for that- I needed the extra caffeine today.”

“He probably already heard you. He’s always listening when you’re out on these walks of yours.”

She grinned and rolled her eyes. She hooked her arm around Jon’s and gently tugged him along as she continued walking, leaning into him to ease the tension. Though he’d been back for weeks now, she still wasn’t used to Jon being so much taller and bigger than she was.

“I need to walk a bit further so I don’t get cold.”

Though she and Clark didn’t want Jon taking off into space with his grandfather, Jon convinced them both he needed the trip. She went along at first, but came home early- right before Jor-El and Jon wound up on another Earth, with Jon being held hostage by Ultraman. So while on this earth they were only without Jon for three weeks, time went faster where he’d been, and he was seventeen years old.

If she ever got her hands on Ultraman, there’s no telling what she would do to him for taking her son from her for that long. Kryptonian or otherwise, no one messed with her family.

They walked in silence for another block before Jonathan had the nerve to speak again.

“I’m not in trouble, mom. I just wanted to talk.”

She looked up at him and couldn’t hide her worried frown.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

He nodded.

“Yeah. It’s just—” he glanced to his left out at the water, struggling to put his thoughts into words. His gaze wandered back to the sidewalk in front of them and he sighed. “I’m not quite sure where I fit now,” he said quietly. “Not since I came back. Things are different.”

 Lois finished the last of her coffee and let go of Jon’s arm just long enough to toss the cup in a nearby trash can before taking his arm in hers again. This time, she held it with both hands, squeezing as hard as she could as she leaned into him. She didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling. He always did when she got affectionate.

“I can see why you’d feel that way, sweetheart. It’s going to take some time, but your dad and I will be here to help you through it.”

They got to an intersection and stopped at a red light, both of them looking out into the harbor again. When the light changed they continued walking and Lois took note of the neighborhood they were entering. At the next block, she decided they would turn back. Getting mugged wasn’t something she wanted to experience today.

“Damian said something like that, too,” Jon said with a grin. “After he chucked a batarang at me, anyway.”

Lois tensed and her grip on Jon’s armed tightened again. With his other hand, he patted her cold fingers gently.

“It’s okay. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Still, he knows how I feel about that kind of stuff. You and your dad may be strong,” she said, giving him a knowing look, “but it doesn’t mean Damian can whip sharp objects at your head.”

Damian laughed and rolled his eyes. Another block passed in comfortable silence and when they got to the next intersection, Lois turned them around to go back the way they came. Just as they were about to cross the street again, a man dressed in all black appeared from a decrepit parking structure and pulled a handgun from his waist band.

“Wallet, purse, jewelry, you know the drill. Hand ‘em over.”

Jon’s entire body tensed, and he stood motionless as he glared back at the man with the gun. Lois knew he was absolutely livid, and she stepped forward, putting herself between the gun and Jon. She slowly raised her hands.

“Alright, take it easy. Just give me a second and you’ll get what you want.”

He jabbed the gun at her and glanced around, making sure they were still alone. His body language was all over the place, making him unpredictable.

“Mom, don’t,” said Jon, still glaring at the mugger. “I can handle this.”

He looked at Jon over her shoulder, sizing him up with a sneer.

“Yeah, right, kid. You ever learn that the one with the gun is the one in charge?”

She felt Jon rest a hand on her shoulder, ready to step in front of her and teach the guy who he was actually messing with.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into—” Jon started. Lois reached back and covered Jon’s hand with her own, squeezing hard.

“Listen, dirt bag. You threaten me, fine. Whatever- I’ll deal with it. But you threaten my son, and you’ll find out just how angry a mother gets when you do that.”

She stepped forward when the guy backed up, lowering his gun off to the side. He looked to be second-guessing his decision and she decided to press the advantage.

“Now, if you just toss that gun over the rail into the water, my son and I will walk away, and you can do the same. No need to get the police involved when there’s no crime, right?”

He looked down at his gun, his posture visibly deflating. Lois remained still and Jon’s hand was still on her shoulder. She knew it was more of a readiness thing than affection at that point- if he needed to get her out of the way, he was primed and ready to do so.

Just as he was about to drop the gun, however, he decided against it and raised his hand. As he pulled the trigger, Jon pulled her out of the way and hit the man square in the jaw, sending him to the ground in an unconscious heap. The gunshot echoed in the empty streets and Lois flinched, ducking her head and reaching out for Jon. He was there in an instant with a horrified look on his face.

“Jon? Honey? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” She looked him over, eyes scanning every inch of his clothing for signs of an injury.

“Mom, what’s that?”

He was staring at her right arm and she followed his gaze to her upper arm. There was a small tear in the fabric of her coat, and she poked her finger through it to find her shirtsleeve wet. When she pulled her hand away, her finger was red.

“Must have nicked me,” she replied with a shrug. “Didn’t even feel it.”

Before she could laugh at the absurdity of what had just happened, Jon stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her as tightly as he could without hurting her.

“I should have been faster. Dad wouldn’t have let that happen,” he said into her hair. “I’m so sorry—”

She tapped Jon’s back several times until he let go and she stepped back so she could look up at him. The panic he felt moments earlier was gone, replaced with a guilt-ridden frown. She brought her hand to his cheek, running her thumb along his cheekbone.

“Hey, I’m fine, Jon. Really. You did what I’ve always taught you, and that’s to let your mom handle it.”

She flashed him a grin and he snorted softly, rolling his eyes. But he leaned into her hand and put his hand over hers before she could pull it away.

“Your hands are freezing,” he said. “Let’s call dad and get outta here.”

“Do you want to do the honors, or should I?” she asked.

Jon turned and looked upward, taking an overly-dramatic deep breath.

“Hey, dad? We could use some help down here, if you’re not listening already.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Lois as a blue and red blur raced down the street toward them.

“Told you.”

She felt the bed dip beside her, but continued reading through her work. She was nearly finished editing and was cutting it close; her deadline was in a half hour. When Clark trailed his fingers up her arm to the bandage, she couldn’t help but smile. She tilted her cheek up toward him and was rewarded with a light kiss on her temple.

“Almost done for the night?” he asked hopefully.

She nodded.

“Just about. One final read-through and I’m good.”

He worked in silence, allowing her to continue working as he removed the dressing over the stitches on her arm. The alcohol wipe stung at first, but the pain didn’t last long as he immediately blew on it. The chill in his breath sent goosebumps spreading down her arm and Lois shivered.

Clark laughed as he took the first aid kit and spent bandages into the bathroom. She finished reading, hit ‘send’ and closed her laptop with a yawn. It was early by her standards- just past ten-thirty, but she was exhausted. As she settled back against the headboard, Jon knocked on the door and peeked his head into the room.

“Heading to bed?” she asked. Jon nodded and walked around the bed, leaning down to give her a hug.

“In a little bit, yeah.”

She returned the hug and squeezed hard, making him laugh.

“Don’t be up too late.”

“I won’t.”

Clark wandered out of the bathroom and he smiled watching her refuse to let go of Jon.

“Mom?”

She let him go with a final squeeze and ruffled his hair.

“Sorry. I get carried away sometimes.”

Jon fixed his hair and hugged Clark.

“Yeah you do.”

Lois leaned over and grabbed an extra pillow. She chucked it at Jon, and it hit his back with a quiet thump.

“Goodnight, kiddo.”

He tossed it back to her and went back down the hall to his room.

Clark crawled into bed and opened his arms, waiting patiently for Lois to settle in against his side. She switched off the lamp on her side of the bed and laid down, closing her eyes when Clark’s arm wrapped around her. Truth be told, this was one of her favorite places to be- in his arms with her ear above his heart. He rested her cheek against the top of her head.

“If you’re going to scold me, Clark, just get it over with,” she teased. “I know you want to.”

The rumble in his chest as he laughed made her smile.

“Actually, I was just going to say that after all this time, you continue to amaze me.”

She raised her head and craned her neck to look up at him.

“Who are you, and what have you done with Clark?”

He smiled and brushed her hair back behind her ear, studying her face. Her cheeks flushed pink and she glanced down a moment before looking up at him again. She knew he could hear her heart fluttering in her chest and was grateful she didn’t have to say how she felt. Because even now, after all the years they’d been together, she still had some trouble telling him how much she loved him.

“You’ve got such a strong instinct to protect others, Lo. You’re just as much of a hero as Superman, if not more so. You’re willing to do the same things I do, but without any of the same abilities.”

She propped herself up on her elbow and leaned up to kiss him.

“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?” she murmured against his lips. He smiled and kissed her again.

“But I do wish you’d stop using yourself as a human shield.” He ran his fingers gently over her arm, his gaze turning serious for a moment. “You aren’t bulletproof.”

“Point taken,” she said and settled in next to him once again. “Mama bear-mode kicked in and I couldn’t help it.”

“I’m not mad at you, Lois. I’m proud of you.”

He reached over and turned off the light, his fingers finding her hair again. She smiled tiredly and felt herself relax against him, though she still had one question on her mind.

“Does this mean I get a cape, too?”

Clark tried really hard not to laugh, but she could feel his abdomen tense as he tried to hold it in.

“Good night, Lois.”

[seokmingming]

Hello I'm very late in replying I apologize ( > -

Part 2/3- Prefect day hmm Probably start out early (after a full nights sleep #unrealisticmuch) and eating a good breakfast (French toast! Crepes! Eggs!), then going out and playing a sport, like volleyball, or swimming or something active. And then having a big lunch, like endless tacos 👌 Then having time to just chill and talk, maybe nap together. Then we’d cook dinner together (my dad’s spaghetti ofc) and then go out dancing!! I love dancing!! After that, come back and cuddle falling asleep

Part 3/3 -and ajdkdjkxjdbsb that’s such a hard choice but I guess I’d probably choose to spend it with Rocky since I picked a lot of active stuff and dancing to do lol And I feel like Rocky would be an a m a z i n g cuddle buddy 👌👌 But so yeah that’s me, what about you?? What would you do? And who with? And, most importantly, what would you eat??? 

It’s okay honestly! Oh no! You were ill? Do you feel better now? Oh yeah, considering you work 3 jobs, I can’t imagine you have much free time. I’m pretty much the same, I spend most of my free time doing something on my laptop, like scrolling through tumblr or watching YouTube. I also make moodboards, I made my first Astro one yesterday, I’m so excited to post it. 

Aww bless, that day sounds so lovely. I think Rocky would love that kinda thing! And I completely agree, he’d be such a good cuddle buddy. Whenever I walk to work I always listen to music, so this morning I had my earphones in my ear only to realise I had no music playing bc I was too busy thinking about Rocky (in relation to your replies and questions) 😂 For some reason I think he’d love to do something like rock climbing, maybe bc he has rock in his name 😂 Also when you mention dancing, are you talking about nightclub dancing or like ballroom, fancy-pants dancing? 

Even tho Rocky’s my bias, I’m actually not a big fan of active stuff, the most active stuff I enjoy is going on a casual work, sitting on a bench or on the swings of in an empty kiddie playground/park and chatting for a while before walking back. So I’m gonna pick Jinjin to spend my day with, he’s slow and I’m pretty slow too. Our day would start after having a lie in, bc I hate waking up early for no reason, but we’d still wake up around a reasonable-ish time, say around 9 or 10am. We could have a traditional English breakfast with eggs, bacon, sausage and waffles. Then we could go out somewhere, let’s say to the cinema and we’d watch some sort of animated movie, we’d have to get a thing of sweet popcorn and a thing of nachos to share. After that we’d walk around for a bit to look inside shops and stuff and we’d go to one of those places that sell food like chocolate covered strawberries or giant soft pretzels with cinnamon sugar on them and we’d eat those and walk around. Or we could go to the zoo/safari park and walk around looking at the animals and stuff. And we’d get lunch there, probably something like fish and chips and  if we’re still hungry we’d get some ice cream or something. We’d end it by going to the gift shop and buying something funny for the other person, Then we’d go home and do our own thing for a little bit bc spending all day with anyone is super tiring no matter who they are. But if I’m feeling social that day, we’d do that but in the same room with each other. And then in the evening, we’d order food, probably pizza and chicken, and we’d sit together and eat and watch netflix or anime. Then we’d play some music and share our new (or old) favourite songs and chat about whatever before going to sleep.

[theliterateape]

Long Train Running: A Chicago Marathon Story | Chapter 4 — Why We Run

By David Himmel

“All men should try to learn before they die what they are running from, and to, and why.” —A Panda Express fortune cookie

Jim Von Handorf ran marathons for the same reasons he climbed mountains: to escape and to conquer.

A career fireman in Nashua, New Hampshire, Jim was an outdoorsman to the fullest. He climbed mountains, bouldered, swam, bicycled and ran. His daughter, Amy explains that her dad could never really sit still. That he had a constant need to just go, go, go. He grew up in a small, Boston apartment with a lot of people. The bustling tightness of the city drove him to get out. It was always in his nature to escape. He was into Thoreau and Kerouac. He needed space. So he headed into the wild. His mountaineering expeditions he made with his buddies took him to peaks all over the country where he would test his mettle against the elements and his own limits.

He even showed esophageal cancer that he was not one to go down easy.

✶

Several years back, my younger brother Eric and I made a bet over which of us would beat the other in the Boston Marathon. We did this not realizing all of the prerequisites that go into running the Boston Marathon. We quietly abandoned the bet years later. When I decided to run the Chicago Marathon last winter, I asked Eric if he wanted to run it with me.

“No,” he said.

“We’ll likely never do the Boston. Let’s make the bet about Chicago,” I said. “You can help me raise money for Gilda’s Club. It’ll get our asses in better shape.”

“I’ll give you money for Gilda’s Club.”

I’m running the marathon for one of the same reasons many others run it: to raise money for a charity. I’ve been involved with Gilda’s Club Chicago since 2011 and have been hitting friends, family, and co-workers up for sponsorship dollars, to buy tickets to events, to donate products or services as auction items, and more. As grateful as I am for all these people have given time and again over the years, raising money for a charity isn’t easy. I know the asks get annoying. I know the donors grow tired of being sold on the mission or having to part with their hard-earned money and limited time for the benefit of others they might never meet or even see. This is a challenge not unique to me or to Gilda’s Club Chicago. This is the DNA of philanthropy.

But when it comes to raising money for organizations through walks or runs, it’s easier than spitting on Eric Trump in a fancy restaurant.

“Oh, you need money? What do I have to do? Nothing? How much do you need? Whatever I am comfortable giving? Okay. Here’s fifty bucks. Good luck with that walk or race or whatever.”

The only way I understand why it’s easier to get people to make charitable contributions to a person running a race is because it requires very little effort on the donor’s part and they know they won’t be on the hook for big bucks since many others will also pitch in. It sounds like people are careless and lazy. But that’s not what I’m saying. I’m simply saying this is what it is. And I’ll take what I can any way it’ll be given to me.

✶

Taken figuratively, we’ve all run from something. A relationship; responsibility; our demons. And we’ve all run to something. A relationship; responsibility; our demons. Why we choose to run rather than walk is because when it comes to that thing, time is of the essence. We don’t want to stay too long nor do we want to miss the moment. And so we run.

Taken literally, the running becomes less about the mind and more about the body. Run from the burning house. Run to the bus stop as the bus approaches. Run from the linebacker for as many yards as you can with the ball under your arm. Run to your kid at the playground to prevent her from smacking that other kid with her shoe.

The why we figuratively run from something can be buried deep in the muck of growing up. It can change as instantly as news comes in or moods swing. Knowing why we run from or to something can keep us from running or empower us to continue on. This running is purely mental. The why we literally run for something is obvious. There’s a physical need to move fast.

Why we run marathons is both figurative and literal.

I’m running the Bank of America Chicago Marathon because I care about the Gilda’s Club mission. I’m running for its members, so that no one has to face cancer alone. Literally running lets me support that mission because I can raise money. So, I run for all those people.

I’m also literally running because I had never ran a marathon before and figured that now’s as good a time as any to give it a go. And it forces me to get away from this stupid laptop and out of this stupid chair, and give my body the opportunity to do what it was designed to do: move. I want to feel better. I want more energy and brain power and mental clarity the natural way. Exercise does this. I’ve already noticed a shift. Coffee and speed pills and Red Bull are fine in a pinch, but I need a stronger base.

Figuratively, I’m running from decrepit old age. I’m running from the recurring nightmare I have where I’m unable to stand up — my legs sapped of all strength. I’m running from complacency. I’m running from the idea that I can’t do this. I’m running to a different way of thinking. I’m running to a better version of myself. I’m running to something to write about.

Like Jim Von Handorf, I’m running to escape. Escape from my routine.

 I never knew Jim. He died the day after Thanksgiving 2005 a little more than two years after being diagnosed with esophageal cancer, two months after the cancer woke up from a year of remission. He was forty-nine. But I know his daughter — I was the best man at her wedding. And by association, I know his wife, Janet and his son, Jay. Jim sounds like the kind of guy I would have liked: alpha, tough, and full of rich information about running this marathon.

So I’m also running, in a small way, for Jim because he can’t. And because the money I raise will help families like his — daughters like Amy, wives like Janet, and sons like Jay. 

And also like Jim, I’m running to conquer. It’s the best reason to run I’ve heard yet.

Please help Gilda’s Club Chicago in its mission to provide free cancer support to anyone impacted by cancer, by making a donation to my Team Gilda running page. I appreciate your help. More importantly, so do the thousands of Gilda’s Club members who would be lost without it.

Catch up and keep the pace! Previous Long Train Running chapters

Chapter 1 — Ready, Set, Ouch Chapter 2 — The Cost of This Chapter 3 — Weather or Not

[boringolddreamjournal]

Today's dreM

So I was at like Newport and there was tons of people everywhere, and rumors of an ISIS attack coming, I was in a huge toy store section af was walking with Joe Rogan and Joey Diaz and I wanted to look through the toy aisles but couldn't cause I didn't wanna look like a little kid in front of them, then I tell Joey (while doing an impression of him, "and when we start hearing gunshots what are we gonna do Joey Diaz, were going to run, run like cats and dogs" and he was gettin into that little speech too. Eventually I was in a corner of the place where a bunch of animals were and y family was. There was a little grey kitten who could have walked through the fence keeping all the animals in but didn't for some reason. Sampson was outside the fence and I was worried e was gonna attack one of the puppies. Then gunshots started and everybody started running away, and I was yelling at everybody as a ran through the ornate buildings that aren't actually at Newport irl, and taunting people calling the attackers "ISIS shills" and they got pissed at me and started trying to kill me. Eventually the place was almost completely cleared out except for the Isis shills and myself and dead people, and I made some wrong turns here and there and had to fight my way through a few of them and ran through an area that was Icy and snowy, and I got inside this decrepit looking building, and there was two path ways once I got in the door, to the right was a teenage girl with reddish black hair laying prone shooting what I identified as grenades at me, and a boy on the other side of the room kinda farther back watching without a weapon. I grabbed the first grenade an threw it back and botched the throw so it didn't hit her. The next shot she did was a small firecracker type thing rather than a grenade and I got that one and threw it under her head and it exploded like a grenade and killed her. Then I ran up and go a knife from her body and killed the boy. There was a window behind this room an outside of it were more Isis shills in black or yellow puffy vests. Them I went down the initial left hall and two more boys were there with guns and shooting and eventually I ran up to them somehow and fought them and killed them. Then this Mexican type guy came up to me with a sword and knocked me down and I was ripped a bayonet thing of a gun and used it as a large knife and I kept stabbing him and saw the blood come out of him but he said he was a cyborg and laughed at my attempts to kill him. He punched me down and grabbed y phone and which he cut into three sections but still used (albeit by only the middle portion) and said he was gonna see my nudes, so I got a burst of courage and jammed the bayonet like a sword into his throat and started cutting deeper and deeper as his calm chuckles turned into defeated worry, and blood poured out of the wound and his head started to tip further and further back until I started to blackout as I felt the loss of resistance to the blade which meant I had cut through his whole neck. I woke up and continued through the building and saw encountered three more kids with guns who were very vulgar and killed them with new knives I had got. Then I continued through, locking all doors that would lead in from outside and saw several black sleeping bags in front of me with kids in them. One kid woke up and it was lilah, so I realized I was in my home again and souls e done killing. I opened up my dads laptop but there was a knock at the door, and my dad answered it and it was too adults in puffy yellow vests asking if I was there and I whispered or dad to say no and he did they left and as they walked away I went upstairs an looked out my window and saw an entei on our steps and proceeded to battle it and try to capture it but I was fighting it but there was this weird UI on the screen too ala early final fantasy games kind of, mixed with kingdom hearts 1, and as I fought it it turned into this bizarre mix of Sceptile and Kyreum, and I caught it and then I went back to my dads laptop and started calling with this girl. I don't know who this girl is, didn't recognize the voice or appearance but I knew that was she was blonde with shortish hair but a kind of anime style to it makes me think it was Tiena, also later events here make me think it was her too. I had a huge crush on her in dream but I knew she didn't like me, we played second life while we called and talked about te Isis shills and I had a blast. Eventually we almost wound up having Second Life sex in this bush. By the side of the road in game of second life, but then she got embarrassed, we were both playing as girl characters so it was supposed to be ironic sex. So I went and bought a shitty house (I actually ended up renting it but I thought I bought it) and we went inside and then someone she identified as her mother came in with gifts and was so happy her daughter had a house now, and I was on the bed ready to have sex but the mom wouldn't leave and when she finally did there was a stranger there, another blonde chick who took the doggie position on our bed and expected us to have sex with her and then me and her kept looking up how to kick people out of your house and how to lock it and ventilation we do but it took forever an when we finally succeeded I fell into what I identified as our basement except it was very cave type layout from Pokemon ds games and it was all pixelized except I wasn't I was still a second life girl avatar, and then Tiena kept yelling at me to hurry back because she wanted to have sex with me and try to have a kid and then the blur between the game and the in dream reality blurred because she made illusions to my penis and wanted to become pregnant by me which was not possible in game and I didn't have a penis in game and she slowly became more and more angry with me and my avatar became myself rather than a shitty model and eventually her voice left my head and I woke up at papa and nanas, alone in the house and I took Sampson and grace on a walk without leashes except I held onto grace an we ran, I didn't with Sampson he ran alongside us like a good boy.

[necro-writer]

The Worst Piece of Cake I Ever Had

Let me tell you about the worst piece of cake I ever had.

I had just finished a 3+ hour long interview with a company I VERY MUCH want to work for. However, having no license/car, I had to wait for my ride to arrive, and according to my dad, that would be about 35-40 minutes and to “walk around town” and “see the shops.”

Cut to me, lugging my shoulder bag laden with laptop/notebooks/internship flyers, and having worn heels for the whole day, exiting the building. (They were wedges, but I still only wear heels about three times a year, so I could feel a blister forming on left foot and had the itching desire to find an axe and lop both my feet off).

Anyway, having no desire to walk anywhere by myself in heels while lugging a ten-pound bag, I decided to find a cafe and just wait. Unfortunately, this required walking. By myself. In heels. 

I chose to go left because I wouldn’t have to cross in front of the building I’d just exited, and God forbid someone I’d just spoken to inside should see me walking down a sidewalk past the building. So now I was stuck walking toward what looked toward the boring/decrepit part of town which, from the looks of it, might not have any cafes at all. I now began to panic that I would have to cross the street (so as not to look like I was lost to any potential creepers) and walk back the way I’d come. Which meant passing the internship building again.

Thankfully, the Lord smiled on me and as I was walking toward the edge of town and fighting a low-key meltdown, I spotted it. A cafe. TWO cafes. One right next to the other.

“That’s weird,” I thought. “They must get on each others’ nerves.”

With my destination now locked in, I strode past storefronts and people (with their judging eyes and terrifying movements, all of which ignored me) and then crossed the street, which was Hell itself due to there being no crossing signals. I had to make eye contact with people in cars. I wanted to die.

Regardless, I made it to the coffee shops and chose the slightly farther one because it promised pie.

Oh, what I would give for a slice of pie right now. I had been to lunch with my three interviewers but we hadn’t gotten dessert, so I craved a cup of hot coffee and something sweet because I just came off a 3+ hour interview and why the heck not? I’m a grown up with money. I can do things.

I entered the place by opening both ‘PULL’ doors, which were about one foot apart with a phone-booth sized space in between. The second door was loose and slammed the wall. I tried not to look at anyone when I walked in.

 The cafe was cute - or at least, I think it was supposed to be cute. It looked like a cross between an old diner and an Italian bar, not quite hitting either mark. All the tables were big, for larger parties, and MOST of them were cluttered with dirty dishes that looked, honestly, as if it had been sitting there for a while. The only other customers were a father and adult son (who looked like they had just spent the morning on a tractor) and a mother and adult daughter (who looked like they had spent the morning asleep until five minutes ago). They were separate families. But I guess that detail isn’t important.

After standing in the middle of this strange clash of worlds, and after two separate wait staff looked me in the eyes and then kept working, an older woman with soft eyes shouted to me through the window to the kitchen that I could pick anywhere to sit, and that Chris would clean it off for me. She smiled. I liked that old lady. I think she was the cook.

Chris turned out to be a larger blonde woman, middle-aged, and one of the wait staff who had ignored me. I was polite, as I always am to food servers, and waited for her to clean off the smallest table (for four) by the wall so I could set my bag in a chair next to me. Chris knocked the sugar packet holder clean off the table in her rush to wipe it clean, and then, seeing me still standing there, rushed away and left it between the table and the wall.

“Okay,” I thought, untangling myself from the bag, and wondering how I looked coming in here with my nice dress and heels and giant bag. “I’m sitting. I’m finally off my feet.”

“What would you like?” Chris asked, suddenly looming.

“Coffee,” I squeaked, because it was the first thing in my head.

She walked off. I picked up a menu and tried to focus, finding only quaint, old diner/Italian bar favorites like “loaded fries” and “mozzarella sticks” and “Billy’s Burger.” No desserts. As I perused, another lady came in, shouted “DO YOU HAVE PIE?” four times, and then hearing Chris say “no,” left without a word.

Chris returned with a mug of brown liquid that smelled like coffee at least.

“What else?” she asked.

“Do you have desserts?” I asked.

“Just what’s there,” Chris said, pointing to the handwritten sheet of what I had mistaken to be a fridge stock list by my elbow.

“Oh, um... okay... um...” I looked at the menu and spotted the first thing. “Almond cake?”

“Comin’ right up.”

Chris lumbered away. I stared at the back of the lady’s head in front of me. She definitely got up five minutes ago.

Chris came back, wielding the largest piece of cake I had ever seen set on a tiny dessert plate. When she set it down, crumbs tumbled in all directions.

“Thank you,” I said, but Chris was already halfway gone.

Oh well, I thought. I was in a good mood. The interview had gone well. Lunch had been free. I could eat a giant piece of cake and sip this acidic coffee and just enjoy being off my feet and done with the biggest frightening thing of my day.

And that’s when I took a bite of the cake.

The moment it entered my mouth, I knew I had made a grave mistake. I wasn’t aware that the Sahara Desert could be immortalized artistically in a dessert. It cracked. It fell apart. It instantly absorbed every spare drop of saliva in my mouth and changed into a solid lump of thick, sticky sugar-bread. 

I sat there, gumming the thing, and tried to force it down. It took a couple tries.

“Good heavens,” I thought, downing some coffee.

I stared at the huge slab in front of me.

“Good heavens,” I thought again.

Being one of the only five customers in the extremely quiet room, I had two options: a) leave it on the plate after one bite and end up not only paying for it, but possibly offending the owner, or b) eating it.

I chose to eat it. 

The frosting was whipped, with little almond slivers sprinkled on top, but I could also taste that slight hint of tanginess that comes from a dairy product sitting in the sun too long. It was a sacrifice I would have to make to avoid offending Chris, and at least it was a lesser sacrifice than eating just the cake.

More Sahara Desert. More tanginess.

“This,” I thought. “Is the worst piece of cake I’ve ever had.”

And I had to eat it, because Chris was casting me glances every few moments. Had she made it? Did she know how utterly old it tasted? Was she currently thinking, ‘haha! I’ve tricked that stupid kid into eating the worst cake in the whole world! I love working here...’? I couldn’t tell. The only things I knew were the cold metal of the chair on my legs and the dry, dry hunk of cake in my mouth.

Then, a blessing. My mom called me. She wanted to talk about the interview.

“Gladly,” I said.

And thus passed the remaining twenty or so minutes of my time in that odd little place. I made it about a third of the way into the Sahara Desert and then resorted to taking nibbles of skimmed-off frosting. I did make it through most of the coffee, though. I had to fish a sugar packet from between the table and the wall to make it taste better, but I took what I could get.

In the end, I left Chris a pretty sizable tip for such a small order. The cake was more expensive than it ever should have been, but hey. I was still in a good mood. And if there was one thing I needed that afternoon, it was a cup of coffee and a slice of cake, even if that cake took me on a journey of irreparable damage to both my memory and my emotions. I was exhausted, but darn it, if the world wasn’t a beautiful place to be right now, then I just didn’t know up from down. The day was over and I could look forward to relaxing.

And that, friends, is the story of the worst slice of cake I ever had.

The end.