#but then i gave up when the arms stopped co operating. good art is hard yall only get the low quality stuff

[muchmossymess]

someone needs to stop me or im going to keep doing this

[skellebonez]

Happy Birthday Winter!

Hey @winterpower98 it's your birthday! I really hope you enjoy this, I know I had a ton of fun writing it for you! Actor AU is one of my favorite AUs you've made and coming back to play around with it again was a blast and a half!

Painter MK cackled, taking the brushes filled with bright pink paint into his fists.

“Yes, yes!” He exclaimed, brushing them against his cheeks and bringing another to run up the center of his face. “The art is-OW! OW, THE ART IS IN MY EYE!”

“Cut!” The director yelled, bringing the entire film production to a halt in an instant. “Xiaotian, what happened?”

The young actor dropped the paintbrushes into the hands of a stage worker to rushed over to help him, one hand covering his right eye as he tried to keep himself from laughing. “I think some of it splashed when I waved the brush at my face. I guess the art really IS-”

“Don’t say it,” Heshang said from the other side of the set, doing his best not to join his co-star in laughter.

“-seeping into my pores!”

The entire cast and crew groaned as Xiaotian cackled again, with a few added ows, before another stage hand came by with a bottle of water.

~3…2…1~

“Uh…” Xiaojiao pulled, attempting to pull the prop sword from above her head out of the wall only to be met with… a lot more resistance than should probably be there. “UH…? It’s stuck?”

She stood, attempting to pull it out normally only to be met with just as much resistance.

“It’s stuck!” She laughed, out, bracing a foot on the wall with no change.

“Let me try,” General Ironclad, or rather Red in the costume of General Ironclad for the episode, offered, attempting to do the same with the exact same result as his co-star. “What did you use to hold this in place? Cement!?”

“It should have only been stuck in with force!” A stage hand yelled as Xiaotian and Heshang joined in, both failing to pull the sword out from the false wall and Heshang nearly toppling over backwards with his additional costume pieces.

“Whoever stuck that in there needs to be moved to making sure the safety equipment stays connected!” Xiaotian offered, watching as even more people tried to remove the sword. “That is not coming out.”

~3…2…1~

Heshang held Mo in his arms, waltzing around the set as he waited for places to be called for with the shockingly content feline in his arms.

~3…2…1~

“You are selling beautiful vegetables today?” Pigsy said, leaning over the the display to give an awkward smile to the disguised Spider Queen.

Tang looked over the produce from where he knelt, looking back up at his companion with a concerned and confused look. “Are you… a-are-PFT-FUCK.”

Everyone on set burst into laughter as Tang did, both of his fellow actors holding back from laughing themselves.

“Why is it this line!?” Tang yelled in frustration as he continued laughing. “It’s not a hard line! I wrote this line! Why do I keep laughing at the last word!?”

“Maybe if Ganglie wasn’t making goo-goo eyes at me you’d keep straight face,” Zhi-Zhu Jing managed to get out through her laughter.

“That’d be the only thing straight about me.”

~3…2…1~

Dicky Cheung, or the actual Sun Wukong disguised as a human actor in full costume of himself, took a running leap and jumped onto the counter of Pigsy’s noodles, sliding to a perfect stop with a wink toward the camera.

~3…2…1~

“MK, there’s something I wanted to tell you…” Mei said, looking at MK with sparkles in her eyes before snickering. “Stop looking at me like that, it’s hard enough to keep a straight face during this scene!”

“Sorry!” Xiaotian yelled to the camera. “I can’t help it! How are Jin and Yin this wrong about these two in the show?”

“Himbos!” was the shouted answer from Tang at the other end of the set.

~3…2…1~

“One of the rare talents that no one knew the great Sun Wukong possessed…” Xiaojiao said ominously, camera panning over to Mr. Cheung in full costume. “Surprisingly good peach juggling!”

“Gotta keep myself occupied somehow!” The actor laughed out, catching two peaches in either hand while the last one was caught perfectly in his mouth to the applause of everyone watching.

~3…2…1~

“Thanks for the Key los-AH!”

Red flung his arms wildly, key flying into the air as Tie Shan rushed forward and caught him just before he face planted into the ground.

“Mine!” Mr. Cheung yelled as he caught the key mid air and rushed through the frame.

“YOU’RE NOT EVEN IN THIS EPISODE!”

~3…2…1~

“Thank you… for giving me all o-ooh, whoa!” Lui Er Mihou, or unbeknownst to nearly all Six-Eared Macaque in disguise much the same way as Sun Wukong was, yelped as the cable that was supposed to gently raise him and make him look like he was floating yoinked him as good 4 feet off the ground way too fast. “That’s too much power!”

“SORRY!” The line operator shouted, fiddling with the controls. “Someone loaded the weight setting for Xiaotian into your line instead of yours.”

“I already feel bad enough treating him like garbage and beating him up in this role, this is just rubbing salt in the wound,” Liu Er muttered, leaning back and swinging limply much to the amusement of everyone who couldn’t hear him before raising his voice. “When will my beloved friend Sun Wukong come to rescue me?”

“SPEAK MY NAME AND I SHALL APPEAR!”

Liu Er yelped in surprise as Mr. Cheung rushed in and grabbed him from beneath to hold him bridal style with a shit eating grin. He couldn't help the flush on his cheeks in response.

“HOW DO YOU KEEP SHOWING UP IN SHOTS WHEN YOU AREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE THERE YET!?” The director yelled with more than a little amusement in his voice despite the disruption.

~3…2…1~

“You!” DBK said, rounding on Red Son. “You have brought me nothing but failure! Time and time again! I keep telling you I… shit, I can’t remember the next line when you look that sad, I am so sorry.”

“Nothing but disappointment?” Red offered helpfully, immediately breaking out of his downcast somber gaze to the floor with a wide smile.

“It is scary how fast you get in and out of character sometimes, kid,” Niu Mowang laughed out, clearly resisting the urge to ruffle the younger actor’s hair lest he ruin the styling job that took far too long every time they got dressed.

~3…2…1~

The White Bone Spirit stood at the entrance to the Silken Web Cave, looking at the camera before far too much time passed from when she was supposed to say he line. She moon walked backwards out of the frame without changing her expression one bit as the other actors devolved into cackles.

~3…2…1~

“The Year of the Spider starts tonight!” Spider Queen proclaimed from her high vantage point before she muttered something under her breathe, narrowing her gaze and then looking off to the side. “Or next year ‘cause I don’t remember my line.”

~3…2…1~

Huntsman slowly lowered into frame, upside down and gripping the rigging holding him up like Spiderman.

~3…2…1~

“Oh yeah?” Sun Wukong said, appearing in frame as he walked down the wall MK was embedded in. He grabbed his staff, yanking it out of the wall and jumped down and smacked the wall with it.

… only for it to go through the wall once again and crack it. Or, rather, the false wall that was on a tilted angle to make it look like he was talking down it, rather than a heavily slanted floor.

“I’m sorry!” Mr. Cheung yelled, looking at the damage he caused. “I must have hit at weak spot!”

He hoped no one noticed that when MK offered to get the prop staff for this shot and put it into the wall… he grabbed the real one by accident.

~3…2…1~

Nui Mowang held the little bird that was Wukong’s transformation stand in for one of the final scenes, gently petting the little head with a big goofy smile on his face.

~END~

The entire cast sat around on various travel tables right outside the small Lunar New Year Festival set they had set up, various extras that had answered the open invitation for the shoot going about and getting the free food that was available at the functional stalls provided by the catering they had hired.

It was an odd sight to see Red Son and Spider Queen and Sun Wukong and everyone else sitting around together, but Liu Er Mihou being there outside of his Macaque costume broke the illusion a little bit.

It was the final day of shooting for the season 2 opening special to Monkie Kid, Revenge of the Spider Queen, and everyone was there. Even people who didn’t have to come in wanted to give a temporary farewell to Tie Shan, Nui Mowang, and Red before season 2 proper began shooting. There was still a chance they could bebcalled in for bit roles, the scripts weren’t entirely finished yet, but as far as anyone knew the Demon Bull Family wasn’t going to be returning properly any time soon.

Maybe in season 3, Tang had teased, holding the begun scripts for that in his little tablet away from prying eyes. And they were always welcome to help out in bit roles, background characters or voice over or to use their other talents to work other jobs that were needed around the set.

But even before then it would be a while.

And so that’s how Red found himself sandwiched between Long Xiaojiao and Qi Xiaotian, with the newly added member of their quartet in her full White Bone Spirit costume hanging over his shoulder to watch the compilation that Xiaojiao had expertly edited on her phone for them all.

“The director gave me permission to use whatever I wanted and I though that… maybe we could all have it for ourselves,” Xiaojiao offered, pulling up the wireless transfer option on her phone. “To watch when we miss each other being on set together. I know we’re going to probably be back together with Red Son eventually! But…”

“I’ll miss shooting with you too,” Red said smiling softly as he pulled out his own phone to accept the file. “Hopefully Mr. Tang isn’t just teasing us about season 3.”

[lapinmiel]

[Backstory] Felix, the Volturi Guard.

Felix was always a background character. We know his name, his power, how Jane uses her power on him and his position in the Guard.

Have you ever wondered what more he had to offer? Because I did, and here is how Felix’s life was like before becoming a Volturi Guard. 

Note: This post is long.

• Felix was born in the Byzantine Empire under Heraclian Dynasty. The year was 674 and the whole Empire was being succumbed to war. His native town, a little place called Gerolimenas, was in the south of what is now known as Greece. It was a stormy day outside and his older sisters were helping their mother give birth. It was such a hard birth that his mother couldn’t even get up for six days, his father thought that she would die — for this hard birth, he started to detest his son.

• He wasn’t given a name until his mother completely recovered. For the reasons that he “almost killed” his mother, his father left him with his sister for the days when his mother was recovering. After she, named Argentea, held him in her arms for the first, she whispered his name with a melancholic smile on her lips: Felix. For he was the lucky one to be born after seven miscarriages.

• Argentea tried to get his husband, Castinus, to get used to Felix and love him as a son. But Castinus was resistant, he didn’t even want another baby anyway. He was already happy with his three daughters. Even though townsfolk considered their seeds damned for not being able to conceive a boy, he loved his daughters more than his own self.

• Due to his relationship being broken with his father even before he was the age to realize it, Felix never felt at ease when his father was around. He learned walking when he was around nine months old and he would avoid walking to his father. His sisters and mother were so broken by their baby’s behaviour, how could a father be so cruel that his son, who didn’t even know his name, wouldn’t walk to him with excitement and a smile?

• His oldest sister Dominica was really stressed about the whole situation because she felt like if Felix didn’t have a good relationship with their father, he was up to bad luck. So she, the daughter who Castinus admittedly adored the most, started trying to get him and Felix close. She started by putting him into his father’s arms with a lie that she had to get work done. Castinus tried to repel her but Felix was already in his arms. This made him realize that the child, Felix, was just a human baby like they all once were and not a baby-shaped devil. Of course, baby Felix started crying but Castinus managed to calm him down. Still, when Donica came into the room again, he put on a frown and gave Felix away to her. But he wanted to hold him in his arms again so badly.

• Slowly, the sisters started to co-operate and create bonding time for Felix and their father. Dominica would leave Felix with him when she had to go and wash the clothes, Eulali, the middle sister, would ask her father to hold Felix while she cleaned the floors and Marcia would ask her father to help out when she washed Felix. The three worked so hard for them to bond, and their effort materialized when one night Castinus asked Argentea to give Felix to him, he wanted to hug him while they slept together. In the morning, when the sisters found out what happened, Eulali shed a couple of tears as the most emotional one. Finally, their family was free of unnecessary tension.

• Deep down Castinus knew that Felix wasn’t the cause of his wife’s hard labour. But he felt bad for trying six times to conceive a boy only for him to almost kill his mother. Castinus felt responsible for it didn’t know how to deal with the agony. As a result, he directed his anger to Felix. Fortunately, their relationship normalized before Felix was two.

• Their family was a warm and intimate one. They would often go on picnics. Castinus always made sure to make flower crowns for his gorgeous wife and beautiful girls when he returned home from work. They weren’t low class either, as a result, they could spend a lot of time together. Felix learned how to identify certain herbs and flowers, fish, cook and sing from his family. His oldest sister Dominica was particularly fond of her little brother and she would always try and steal others’ times with Felix. She would try and teach him how to talk and make people laugh.

• Felix was already by the time he was one, he was a very energetic child. He would run around the house for the whole day. Eulalia liked to play games with him but would get exhausted quickly. She would sit in the middle of the wheat fields they had in the back garden of their house and watch Felix rum through the wheat. Every few minutes, Felix would smile widely and kiss his sister on her cheeks. He loved his family dearly. Even as a child, he was genuinely good at showing his emotions.

• While his energy was never-ending, he had trouble talking. He didn’t say a single word until he was seven. The family thought that something was wrong with him. Castinus even had a couple of physicians check if something was going on but everything was alright. Five days after turning seven, he said his first words in a more than perfect way: he wanted his family to make him a flower crown.

• Somehow, Castinus never made him a crown and he was more than sad about it. Right after his words, Castinus went out, picked the flowers and placed a pink and blue flower crown on his little head. Felix, of course, started to run around happily.

• Even as a human child, Felix was extraordinarily strong and big. Other children who were around his age were more than seven inches shorter than him. He could pick up a large sack of wheat from their little barn and bring them to their kitchen. The first time he did it, Argantea was in the garden with her friend Cervella. The women’s eyes sparkled so brightly that Argantea knew someone was coming. Shortly after while she was leaving, Cervella suggested her to send Felix to Antiocheia so that he could become a noble fighter. Argantea kindly smiled and thanked her for finding her son so strong to advise her on such a matter like this, and said that she would think about it.

• She never did. She wasn’t sending her son over the sea to become a warrior. A gladiator. But Felix had already heard what Argantea was talking about and that night, demanded his father to make a sword for him so that he could be like noble warriors. Castinus couldn’t understand where that sudden request came from, but after Argantea told her about what happened with Cervella, and unexpectedly he thought that it was a good idea.

Cervella’s words made little Felix dream about going overseas and having adventures. This dream eventually died when his mother had an argument with his father about his education but Felix never stopped dreaming.

• It took an excessive amount of using persıave skills for Argantea to dissuade her husband of the idea of sending their son to Antiocheia. He seemed to drop the matter since he didn’t want to make his beloved wife sad but had another plan.

• A month later, a relative arrived from the other side of the sea. He was a strong, mountain-like man with muscles so big that Felix’s eyes almost came out of their sockets out of astonishment with them when he first saw him. He was the self-claimed mighty Theophanes, a gladiator and a distant relative of Castinus.

• The family didn’t know but Castinus had bribed him to come to Gerolimenas and teach the young and eager Felix the art of fighting. He, being a failed warrior who was seen as inferior by his peers, gladly accepted the offer and made his way to the town quickly. Castinus thought that he was a good warrior that took down hundreds but in reality, Theophanes was nothing more than a low-middle class warrior who was despised.

• Argantea was more than relieved to welcome Theophanes into their home. She was happy that her son wasn’t going away. At the same time, Felix’s wish was coming true. He was going to learn how to fight and be liked by the big guys. His frame and physical abilities were already superior to other children, it was just a matter of time before he was scouted by palace guards and taken away to get educated. Argantea knew it already.

• They started training right away. Felix was, as expected, unusually talented with anything that required physical force. He would handle the sword Theophanes gave to him so strongly that it wouldn’t even move a half an inch without his will. He would yield the shield he was given so well that Theophanes’s sword strikes couldn’t stand a chance. He wouldn’t even slip. It was when Castinus and the whole family realized that Felix was born to be a warrior. How he moved, how he held the sword, how he threw spears and how self-confident he was while doing all these things mesmerized everyone. Slowly, Argantea warmed against the idea of him going away.

• There was no need. It hadn’t even been a year before Felix started to out-performance Theophanes. He wouldn’t lose, he wouldn’t fall. Theophanes was more than angry about this. He hadn’t thought about teaching a child only for him to be better than him. He was irritated but as he was being paid, he stayed silent.

• People would see Felix and his teacher practicing in the fields. Townsfolk slowly started to show interest in them. They were a big, muscular man and a little child who won against him, the situation created a natural attraction. Day after day, more people would come and watch them. Naturally, Theophanes started being harsher on Felix to prove that he was still the better one. It was a childish fight and he couldn’t even dominate over Felix.

• Until the day when he abruptly unshielded him, kicking him and making him fall to the ground. He drew his swords to the air as if he was going to strike Felix, who was more than scared about what was happening. It was only when Theophanes realized how pitiful of him to kill a child. He stopped. Felix got off the ground. He didn’t run away but he had fury in his eyes.

• That night, Castinus forbid Felix to ever combat with Theophanes ever again when he heard the news. He was quick to tell Theophanes to leave the city too but of course, he didn’t leave.

• After that night, he started practicing alone in their garden. His father would allow him to use sacks of wheat or sand as targets. Regardless of having a real competitor or not, he was still showing progress.

• So much that when he reached age twelve, his fame had reached the other towns around his own and warriors come to offer fights. He would never accept because his mother didn’t allow him to fight. He was already a known warrior by then but never did anything that her mother said no to. He was still a child anyway.

• Up until seventeen, his days revolved around practicing, reading, helping his mother and sisters. Knowing that one day he would become a soldier or something similar, his father didn’t allow him to find a job so that he could spend more time with his family before going away. Felix was growing up rather peaceful beside his hobby. He and his sisters were still helping squirrels that fell from the trees, they would still feed stray cats. Felix was taking care of a stray cat that he named Magnilis, which was a mixture of words “big” and “eyes”. The cat would sleep under the tree where Felix would practice with a wheat sack. Unbothered, she would only wake up when she smelled food.

Growing up with four women, he wasn’t the typical “manly man” of his time. The men were expected to be tough, agressive and leading during his human life. Of course, he had those qualities and would easily show how he had all the qualities of a future warrior but regardless, he preferred to be as calm as his sisters. He was aware that even as a child, he had ambitions, but at the same time, liked spending time in the nature and living smoothly.

• He was good at singing too. He was so good that when Dominica married, he sang a song for her when she was leaving the house. She would never return to her home again, but they weren’t aware of that yet.

• Dominica got pregnant right after her wedding. It was good news, a two-day celebration took place in the household. Six months later, Dominica died during birth. The child, who was a little baby girl, was early and took her mom with her to the other side. It wasn’t an uncommon thing to happen during that time but even though they were ready for bad things, they couldn’t handle it well. It took months for the remaining sisters and Felix to stop sleeping in her old bed in their house. The sound of cries echoed through their home and no one would say a thing about anything.

• Months later, something got revealed that made the whole family furious. As confessed by the maid in Dominica’s home, a lover of her husband had poisoned her, resulting in her death. The family was quicky to find the lover and made her confess. Later, without giving her away to the local judge, they got rid of her. It was the first time Felix had ever shown serious rage. If he wasn’t holding himself, he would’ve ripped the woman’s head off with his bare hands. It was the price she would pay for murdering an innocent woman.

• He didn't realize what he had done was a horrible act. He didn't even feel pity for the maid, he felt absolutely nothing while killing her except the sweet sense of revenge. His mother, however, felt scared. The acts of her son scared him for the first time. 

That was when she realized that Felix was more than just a calm, light-hearted, witty, energetic child of hers — he had wrath in him that waited to combust at any given time. 

• Weeks later, two soldiers came to their house. Argantea realized what was about to happen, but it was his fate anyway and no effort could stop it. The soldiers announced that Felix was to come with them to Constantinople, to be trained as a royal guard for his Majesty.

• It wasn’t what Argantea sensed at all. As a result, she got honestly happy for her son because they weren’t taking him away to punish him but to reward him as a royal guard. He was already eighteen and it was unusual to be taken into the palace that old but Felix was exceptional, and the royal guards had no reason to not recruit such a talented warrior.

• As it was the lesser good, but good anyway. He joined the soldier right away, leaving his family with tears and long hugs. It wasn’t the last time he would see them, but the last time he would see them alive.

• Felix joined the royal guard after being examined. As expected, he was exceptional: he performed so well that the juries didn’t even put him in education for a day. The night before he was a boy, and in the morning, he was a guard, protecting his Majesty. Felix had never seen a royal before, he had a lot of reasons to be excited. He couldn’t sleep the night before being officially recruited. He kept turning in his bed to the point that the men with who he shared the room woke up. He pretended to be asleep, and it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep due to staying as still as a stone. That night, he saw a glorious armour being made, with golden and silver, it had blood on it.

He got used to the guard life easily. Unbeknownst to him, he had a talent for blending in co-operating. He started to rise ranks quickly, most of the guard admired and envied him at the same time.

• Years passed by like a flooded river. He couldn’t catch up with days, and eventually, he started to miss home. How his life contrasted the one he lived now, how he spent time with his sisters, his mother would cook for them and how they would go on hunting with his dad. Those days seemed so old. Even though he loved performing his abilities as a job, he missed living in silence. The feelings and thoughts kept haunting him for months. However, these feelings weren’t coming out of nowhere. He missed his family, yes, but the feelings were enhanced.

• One day, bad news arrived. His hometown had been attacked by foreign raiders. When he heard the news, he prepared for the night and ran away with a horse. He had to kill two other guards to get out. The act of killing would’ve been a night are for him if he was a child but he was grown now and he would kill anybody who messed with anything regarding his family.

• The journey home took weeks. He wouldn’t stop even for a single minute if the horse didn’t need to rest. He was restless. Bad ideas wouldn’t leave his mind. What if his father was killed? What if his sisters were taken away? What about his mother? He couldn’t sleep. He could only believe and those breaths were fueled by pure rage. The rage he would carry to his other life.

• When he arrived at his home’s doorstep, what happened was already obvious: the door was broken and the walls were covered with black soot.

• For one time in his life, he didn’t cry even though his whole body shook with anguish: he directed it outside as an embodiment of another feeling that he was already familiar with — wrath. He drove his sword and stroke anywhere he could see. The walls, torn pillows, vases, glasses... He couldn’t see. He couldn’t feel. His heart was beating to burn his body from inside to outside, to kill the feeling of being lost and having lost everything. No one was left now. No one was breathing. They couldn’t see happy days anymore, they couldn’t go out to pick flowers anymore. They couldn’t live anymore.

• He found their burnt bodies in their little barb. Without understanding why he sensed that they’d tried to hide in there hoping that they wouldn’t be found. But now they were there’ burned to death.

• He laid on the entrance of the barn for two days. He cried, screamed, punched the ground. No one would answer. Almost everyone in the city was dead anyway. Then he got angry with the king for not protecting the city. He hated that he was serving him. He hated that he’d willingly went to protect the king. He hated that he’d started as a child which eventually led him to go away from his family.

• When he got up to leave, without having a route to follow, a man approached him. It was a chilly evening when Felix saw the man, he felt a nervous feeling go down his spine.

• The man had an indulgent expression on his face. Wearing a light grey cloak, he seemed like he knew what he was doing.

• He asked Felix how he was doing. When he tried to answer that he was leaving, he asked again, what he was doing.

• Then it dawned on Felix. He wasn’t doing anything anymore. He wouldn’t return to the palace. He didn’t have a home. He didn’t know anyone. He didn’t have a job to do. He was lost and alone in the whole world.

• Right then, the man asked him to join him. He didn’t say much but made it obvious that he was a powerful man with a large following and an established system of community.

• Felix’s thought about it for a couple of minutes. Then he realized that if his family weren’t alive, there was no point in living a happy life. He was just so, so badly loved his family that his whole will to live disappeared. His breaths felt as if he was inhaling fire. Indeed, he was breathing the smell of his burnt family and home.

• He declined the offer. But the man, determined to persuade him into joining his family, asked him again. This time, demanding him to think thoroughly.

• With a sudden but deep change in his feeling that felt like rising of the seas and swallowing the coasts, he felt his feelings of refusal changed slowly, but irreversibly. Suddenly, the feeling of living for a cause filled him.

• He looked at the face of the man. With eyes black as the night, the man had a sly smile on his face. The answer of acceptance came out of Felix’s mouth with a raucous tone.

It was Charmion, but yet to know about the realities of a world existing without regular people knowing, he couldn’t question his feelings. The change seemed natural to him.

• Then, without being able to tell what’d happened, he felt a burning sensation in his neck. Then, he felt it on his wrist. Suddenly he felt like his eyes went blind and he couldn’t feel anything other than the horrible, horrid feeling of being burned alive. He lost all his senses except pain.

• After the days that felt like an eternity to him, he woke up. He didn’t rise up from his bed with a peaceful mind, he went feral. He literally jumped out of his bed and as he didn’t know how to control his newly gained powers, he accidentally slammed himself to the wall beside the bed he was laying on. Suddenly, he felt like his body was chained onto the wall. It was the power of another guard, Malte, that paralyzed him right there and then to stop him from damaging himself or the things around him.

• He was then taken to the presence of three men. They introduced themselves as Aro, Marcus and Caius. Informing Felix of what he was now and what he was assigned to do, they dismissed him to be taught of the history and laws of Volturi and vampires, the species that he now belonged to.

They’d chosen him for the strength they’ve never seen in anyone before that he possessed.

• He had never seen, heard or imagined such a thing before. The things he was told sounded like fairy tales. Somehow, he couldn’t believe that he now had the eternity to live. He couldn’t understand how he stayed calm and content either because the last emotion he experienced as a human was grief. He was confused. Nevertheless, he felt happiness. Because at least, he was assigned to do what he loved doing and he wouldn’t have to worry about dying or losing anyone anymore. He was staying for the eternity.

[the-deathboy-ghostking]

Emergency Contact

Prompt: Solangelo Week 2018 | Day 2 | Aged Up/Ten Years Later

This is a WIP, not much editing here (At all!) A more complete version may show its face on ao3.

Will Solace was one of those surgeons who needed silence while closing. His OR was just the quiet mechanical sounds of the medical machinery. His staff quietly counting the tools and gauzes, accounting for everything, making sure he didn't leave anything behind. Though he never did. He had a track record to keep, no mistakes, no unnecessary death, no stupid deaths. Accidents did not happen in his OR. Sure, during surgery he liked to listen to music, many of his colleagues did. Just not when closing. He needed silence. This was his church

“Dr. Solace. Your phone has a lot of texts.” One of the nurses said, looking at his phone in the pile where the other staff’s phones rested.

“I'm in the middle of closing, Susan.”

“I know, it's just your boyfriend was brought in by ambulance.”

“I don't have a boyfriend.” Will glanced up from his suture, trying to rack his brain for the last time he had a boyfriend.

“You were his emergency contact. They need you in admitting. He's in bad shape.”

Will twisted the needle driver as he finished closing.

“Is there a name for this person?”

“No ID, just his phone. And you popped up as his emergency contact.”

Will sighed. He set the tools down on the tray for final counting. “Okay. I'll go.” He looked at his resident. He felt secure after closing the patient. He could trust his resident to complete. “Finish up, please.”

Will disrobed and took off his gloves, throwing them in the biohazard waste. He scrubbed off and a nurse handed his phone.Susan wasn't lying, his phone was littered with texts and missed calls. He listened to the voicemail, they sounded surprised.

“Dr. Solace we didn't realize this was your phone. A young male was brought into the ER. You're his emergency contact and he's not doing well. He was in a crash. No ID-.”

He stopped listening and took off towards the ER. A intern looked up from the desk. Her eyes popped when she saw Will huffing over her. “Where is the patient?”

“He was taken to OR 4. He needed immediate attention…” Will took off back towards the ORs.

He barged in and looked through the pane of glass from the scrub station. The surgeon stood over the body, tubes and machines obscured his vision. He grabbed a surgical mask and walked into the OR, holding the mask over his face.

“Solace, get out. You know I can’t have you in here.” The surgeon said.

“I just need to confirm who it is.” Will glanced at the patient, his fears, and suspicions proved correct. Nico di Angelo was laying on the surgeon’s table, unconscious and lifeless as the surgeon operated.

“He had a CT, no brain injury just concussed. But both legs are broken and he punctured his lung. I’m repairing it right now. Now, I need you to leave.”

Will backed away, his mind racing. Of all the hospitals to be brought to, it had to be the one he worked at. The gods must be enjoying this on their Hephaestus TV, probably the love drama channel. He could see his dad even doing commentary over the video. He sighed and went back to the nurses' station.

“Hey, the car crash John Doe, I can ID him...also, do you have his phone?” The nurse looked at him unsteadily before handing the bag over. Will stood at the desk and gave her all the information he had on Nico, he paused at birthdate. He couldn’t exactly say ‘oh well see he was born in the 30’s but then was frozen in time while at a magical hotel’ so he just gave a year that best fit Nico’s age-1996. The nurse also hesitated when Will said blood type.

He went to the staff break room and melted onto the couch. He fiddled with Nico’s phone.

After the revelation of New Rome, the Greeks decided to up their stuff- creating a New Athens, expanding education and living areas. And with all the expansion, more inventions spurted from the Hephaestus and Athena kids. One of the inventions was monster proof phones. Nico’s phone was one of those phones. Which would explain why nothing was wrong with said phone.

Will thumbed to the emergency contact button. It pulled up Will’s contact card. His heart sank at why his co-workers assumed they were boyfriends. Nico still had hearts and suns on either side of  Will’s name.

He sighed and locked the phone. Wondering if he should call Hazel to let her know about her brother. He decided against it, it would cause unnecessary panic and he didn’t know their relationship anymore, and how odd it would be for Will to be the one to call.

***

“Ugh.” Nico's head throbbed. His eyelids were heavy, he had to fight to open them. He instantly regretted it. It was clinically bright. Even with the lights off, everything was stark. He screwed his eyes shut.

He listened to the gentle beeps of machines and the quiet bustle outside the door.

A hospital? But how?

Flashes of the accident came. And he shuddered. It was a nasty car wreck, he was lucky to be alive.

“Good to see you awake.” A tired voice croaked from beside the bed.

His eyes flew open to the familiar sound. “Will?” He turned to face Will Solace, who grinned and moved closer.

“But...how?”

“You still have me as your emergency contact.”

“Oh. Shit...”

“You had me worried.” Will confessed. He pressed the nurse call button as he stood up. He towered over the bed and Nico felt his body freeze and his heart quicken.

And then he heard his heartbeat on the machine. Will tilted his head as he glanced at the monitor and gave a smile.

“Relax, Deathboy.” He hit a button on the monitor and the volume of the beeps lowered to something more manageable.

Nico took in the way Will held himself, and the navy blue scrubs. A white lab coat was draped over the chair Will had occupied before coming to Nico's side.

“You work here?” What luck.

Will nodded. He peeled his gaze away from Nico and looked towards the door.

“Hey, Jones. He's awake.” The nurse that came to the door nodded. Will looked back at Nico who at this point wanted to sink into the mattress, phase through the bed and lay on the floor. “Jones is going to take your vitals. I'm going to the cafeteria. Are you hungry?”

Nico weakly nodded.

***

“Do you want me to call Hazel? Or send an Iris message?” Will asked as Nico spooned pudding into his mouth

“No. I'll let her know later.”

“She'd want to know, Nico.”

“She's a little busy with the baby right now. I don't want to worry her.”

“She had a kid?”

“Yeah. Some art guy she met in college.”

Will leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on Nico's bed. He looked so relaxed, Nico wished he could be as relaxed.

“Soooo are you going to tell me why I'm your emergency contact?”

“I forgot I had it as you. It's not like I get hurt often.” Will threw a dark look. Nico quickly amended. “I don't get hurt enough to go to the hospital.”

“You also never changed the emojis on my contact card.”

Nico folded his arms. “And how would you know that?”

Will sheepishly handed Nico back his phone. Nico’s cheeks turned red.

“I haven’t really used my phone.”

“In ten years?”

“Has it been that long? Time moves weird in the Underworld.”

Will moved from his chair to the foot of Nico’s bed. He took off his shoes and sat crisscrossed at the end of the hospital bed. He observed Nico. Looking him over as he would for one of his patients, trying to not let his knowledge of Nico get in the way of observation.

Nico looked like shit, most car crash victims did. His legs propped on a pillow, set in metal frames. He had some nasty bruises all over his chest, which Will saw in surgery, but spread up and over his collarbone and peeked over his hospital gown. Nico seemed a husk of himself (again). But really, Will shouldn’t be observing him so soon after surgery. Will pushed away the guilt he was feeling.

Nico was aware he was being looked over. He glared over his pudding and Will went back to eat his vanilla pudding.

“I can bring you some ambrosia tomorrow.” Will said in between spoonfuls.”It’s probably best to make sure everything is set before magic heals you.”

“Thanks.” Nico looked at his phone’s screen, seeing how late it was. “Shouldn’t you be home? Sleeping?”

“This is my home.” Will laughed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m here all the time, I was just going to sleep in the On-Call room tonight. I have a surgery in the morning. So there’s no point in going home.”

“Hmm. No one to go home to?”

Will laughed again. “No. I mean I have a roommate, but no.”

It looked like a spark ignited behind Nico’s eyes. Will ignored it. He couldn’t deal with decade old feelings. The break up was not a good break up and he never really got over it as his relationships following it would show.

“I think I am going to head out though.” Will said, hopping off the bed. “You need rest. And I guess I do too.”

He pulled his shoes back on and grabbed his lab coat. He tossed his pudding cup into the garbage. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Will had a hard time falling asleep. Not knowing what to do, seeing Nico again dredged up old feelings. He was ready to propose to him, he had plans. He had a ring. And Nico had freaked out before he got the chance to propose. Nico didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life. He already felt like he didn’t belong, being a child of Hades did that but even as he got used to that aspect of his life, he never truly adjusted to the time. Years of self-hate haunted his every step. The world was so different from what he knew. Holing himself up in the Underworld for the past decade or however long probably didn’t help.

Will needed sleep. He pushed all the feelings away and forced himself to focus on his breathing until he lulled himself to sleep.

[shirlleycoyle]

Tracking Down DOPE, the First Computer Language for Normal Humans

BASIC holds an important place in computer programming canon. Hugely popular in the 70s and 80s this programming language introduced an entire generation to computing. The reason for its widespread adoption was simple: BASIC wasn't meant for programmers, it was designed for beginners. The language meshed well with the egalitarian worldview of early home computing. If you could type then you could become a computer user, and if you could become a computer user you could become a programmer.

BASIC didn't come from nowhere. Like any language it has a family tree complete with phylums and roots. The descendants of BASIC are fairly easy to spot, Visual BASIC is about as far afield as they get. But it's ancestry is a different story that not many people know about. The language that inspired a generation does, in fact, have a predecessor called the Dartmouth Oversimplified Programming Experiment, or DOPE.

That name's probably not familiar, but that shouldn't be a surprise. I ran into it almost by chance. Once I learned of this obscure language I found myself in a pretty deep rabbit hole. At the bottom I became one of the few people to run a DOPE program in nearly 60 years. The language is strange, but undeniably shows the skeleton of BASIC starting to form.

What is DOPE, and where does it fit into the larger story of BASIC?

The history of computing is easy to sum up in terms of problems. In the corporate parlance of IBM the worst of these problems were once called dragons, evocative of monsters that programmers were sent out to slay. In the earliest days of the computer one of the biggest dragons around was accessibility. That is, how to get people using computers in the first place. Early computers were hulking beasts in their own right: huge, expensive, and difficult to use. Most often programmers never even touched computers themselves. Instead they would drop off stacks of punched cards for technicians to carefully feed into well protected machines.

In isolation a computer is a novelty. It can hum, crunch numbers, and heat up a room. You need people to actually make computers useful, the more people the better. The state of the art in the late 50s was progressing at a steady pace, but there just weren't enough people in the game. To make matters worse access to machines formed a tight bottleneck. It was never disputed that computers were going to be the future. How exactly that future would develop was another matter.

Programming languages came into being. FORTRAN, ALGOL, and a handful of ancient dialects have their roots in this period. The whole point in developing FORTRAN was to make computing more accessible to non-computer scientists. The key word here being scientists. If you follow FORTRAN's logic then computers are tools for research, something you tuck away in a lab. And while that's one important application it's a limited one. In the grand scheme of things not that many people are scientists. Luckily for us not everyone was a devotee of FORTRAN's vision of the future.

Enter the dragon slayers of our story: John Kemeny and Thomas Kurtz. Kemeny was the longtime chair of the mathematics department at Dartmouth college, and Kurtz was his colleague and fellow researcher.

During WWII Kemeny was involved in the Manhattan Project as a mathematician. While on the project he worked directly with John von Neumann, one of the key figures in early computing. Kemeny spent a year on the project crunching numbers and running figures. In early 1945 his work was done using cumbersome IBM tabulating machines. By the end of the year the first electronic digital computers became operational, and Kemeny witnessed their impact on the Manhattan Project firsthand. The next year Kemeny wrote his first program.

Thomas Kurtz came to the field only slightly later. In 1951 Kurtz attended one of UCLA's Summer Sessions where he saw a computer running for the first time. At the time he was enrolled in Pricneton's graduate program for mathematics. That demo was enough to interest him. Once he learned to program, computing became an integral part of his career. Both saw for themselves how computers changed their own lives, and they realized the technology wouldn't stop there. Computers would only get better and more widespread, the future was going to be digital.

Surrounded by young and impressionable minds the duo set out a task for themselves: teach every student at Dartmouth how to use a computer. STEM students at the college were already being exposed to computers, at least in a limited sense. But that only accounted for a fraction of the student population.

How can you teach an English student to talk to a computer? Why would an aspiring psychologist care about silicon? Sure, computers were going to change everything for everyone. That's nice to say in a lecture, but how do you introduce students to machines?

This would eventually lead to BASIC. Unlike its contemporaries BASIC was designed for non-scientists, and really for non-programmers. Unnecessary constructs were stripped out, data was simplified, syntax was reduced to the bare minimum. The final language would be a masterpiece of restraint. It's not a language a programmer can love but for the vast majority of the populace it's easy to learn.

Compared to its contemporaries BASIC is simple, almost to a fault. Take FORTRAN as an example. In that language variables need to be declared with specific data types, and variable declarations need to be made in specific locations within a program. BASIC doesn't use explicit types, any variable can hold anything you want. You don't even need to declare a variable, just say "LET A = 1" and you are done. Even BASIC's syntax is a breath of fresh air. The language only uses letters, numbers, and a few mathematical operators. You don't have to deal with line endings or brackets.

The downside is that more powerful features are dropped in favor of simplicity. Objects, abstraction, even the aforementioned variable typing, are all absent. BASIC offers just the necessities.

On campus BASIC was a hit. Teachers integrated the language into classes, and students were happy to adopt it. The transition to home computers was an obvious choice. BASIC became the de facto introduction to the digital realm for millions.

The most authoritative source on BASIC's development is the aptly named "Back to BASIC", co-authored by Kemeny and Kurtz themselves. This is where I first encountered DOPE. Or, rather, where I first saw the language mentioned. During the late 50s and early 60s the duo experimented with how to introduce students to computers, specifically looking for a programming language for the absolute novice. When existing languages proved ill fit for this task they shifted to creating a new programming language.

The Dartmouth math department was armed with an LGP-30 computer, a relatively cheap and underpowered machine. In total it had 30 kilobytes of RAM to work with. That computer would see years of hard use and strange experiments. DOPE was one of those experiments, but details in "Back to BASIC" are slim. In a passage near the beginning of the book Kemeny wrote:

"I had a high school student, Sidney Marshall, who was taking calculus at Dartmouth. I had him experiment with a language called DOPE on that same LGP-30. DOPE was too primitive to be useful, but it was the precursor of BASIC."

DOPE was used on the math department's computer and Kemeny supervised it's creation. As a programmer myself I don't really do mysteries—I much prefer resolutions—and this was a massive mystery to me. I've written a good deal of BASIC, it wasn't my first language but it was a big part of my diet early on. I always assumed it was it's own language isolated from any others, and I think that's an easy mistake to make. BASIC doesn't look like anything but BASIC. It's name doesn't hint at some larger lineage. I was left with a glaring hole in my knowledge, and as I soon realized I wasn't the only one out of the loop.

Image: Marcin Wichary/Wikimedia Commons

Running DOPE

There isn't that much readily accessible information about DOPE. Notably a passage written by Thomas Kurts for the book "History of Programming Languages" has a small chunk of code. It's a handful of lines of DOPE, not enough to understand the language but just enough to confirm it's existence. Scouring through interviews and citations I started to build up a picture. DOPE had been developed in 1962. It was only used for a single term in a single math class. It was a step towards accessible programming but didn't go far enough.

The trail led me to a file folder tucked away in Dartmouth's archive. The manuscript within was simply titled "Dartmouth Oversimplified Programming Experiment", filed under a collection of Kurtz's notes. The paper was written in 1962, and for the time gave a radically different approach to programming. It's definitely not BASIC, but it's getting close.

First of all, the DOPE manuscript answered one of my biggest questions: why was there so little information about the language? The name should give a little away, DOPE was an experiment. It was used as a proving ground for ideas Kemeny and Kurtz were brewing. The paper describing DOPE was also never published. Partly, because it wasn't really a formal language description. Instead it was part primer, part lesson plan. Students were being used as guinea pigs on the path to a better programming language.

The next step for me was clear. The DOPE paper laid bare all the details of the language, example problems, logical diagrams, and every idiosyncrasy. Reading it is one thing, but I wanted to understand DOPE, and the only way to understand a language is to use it. The larger issue was that there was no way to run DOPE code that really existed. GNU binutils—the most popular compiler package around—definitely doesn't ship with support for the language, and I wasn't able to track down any of the code for the original implementation. So I set to work reviving the language by building an interpreter. Simply put, an interpreter is a program that can understand and execute source code.

Making my own implementation of DOPE was a way to understand the language on a deeper level, and try to reason out why it failed and what ideas made it into BASIC. That, and preserving a dead programming language sounded like a fun challenge. How hard could it be?

As it turned out, not that hard. Even before I had a running interpreter I was starting to see the connection to BASIC. One of the reasons BASIC became so popular was because it was easy to implement. That was by design. The language was structured to make compilation simple, Dartmouth's BASIC follows very rigid syntax structure. Each line of BASIC starts with a number, then an operation, then arguments. It's simple, easy to parse with a computer, and easy to write for a novice.

Each line of DOPE starts with a line number, then an operation, then arguments. This is where BASIC got its structure. For someone implementing the language that saves a lot of time and code. You just break each line into tokens, the operation is always in the same place, arguments are right after. There is zero ambiguity and zero wiggle room. It's easy to zoom through the process.

The Dartmouth team had similar mileage. According to Kemeny's paper the DOPE compiler could turn code into executables in under a minute. That's slow today, but sounds pretty good for the slow LGP-30. Later this same simplified syntax structure allowed Kemeny and Kurtz to pull some slick tricks with their BASIC implementation. Dartmouth BASIC was compiled, but presented to users as an interactive environment. On the backend BASIC code was compiled on runtime with minimal latency, to students it just looked like the school's computer spoke fluent BASIC.

But there's a hitch, and it's one of the biggest issues with DOPE. BASIC deviates from the rigid format slightly. You can actually write mathematical expressions in BASIC, so "LET A = 1 + 1" is a valid line of code. Under the hood a mathematical expression may be treated as arguments, but to a user you can write math in BASIC the same as you'd jot down an equation.

DOPE doesn't work that way. The language is much more terse, no doubt a result of the limited hardware it was developed on. Let me give you a taste. In DOPE that same BASIC statement, just adding 1 and 1, comes out to "+'1'1'A". That's not very pretty, is it? Superficially, DOPE looks a lot more like assembly language than anything else. Most operations are a single character, each line can only perform a simple operation, argument lists are all of a fixed length. All the usual operations for math, assignment, loops, and printing are present, just in a consolidated form.

The other fun complication is the matter of single quotes. DOPE doesn't separate things with spaces, as near as I can tell this is due to its host hardware. Other languages used on the LGP-30 computer follow the same convention. I think it was just one of those functional restrictions that made life a little harder at Dartmouth. Better hardware was available on campus when BASIC was developed, so it escaped that fate.

Appearances aside, there is something deeper going on with DOPE. Variables are the bread and butter of any programming language, it's where you store and manipulate data. It's also another place where DOPE directly presages BASIC. DOPE has a very special kind of typing system. It's almost implicit, but only slightly.

Every variable is a floating point number, that's a number with a decimal point. Adding a little complication, DOPE has four special variables named E, F, G, and H. These are 16 element arrays, lists that can hold up to 16 numbers. When you work with DOPE you just have to remember that these four variables are different.

There are also no strings in DOPE, you can't store or manipulate words or letters. Nearly every other programming language can handle strings in some way, so this restriction is pretty noticeable. DOPE was only ever meant for mathematical work so lacking strings isn't a total dealbreaker.

There is a little bit of subtlety here that I find intriguing. All variables are stored as floats, so any number you enter is converted. Set a variable to 1 and DOPE turns that into 1.000. When you print a variable DOPE figures out the most reasonable format and displays that. So if the float doesn't have anything past the decimal place it shows up without the decimal. To a more serious programmer this should sound like a nightmare. DOPE takes away any control over data types by just not having data types. Programmers don't like giving up control, this was especially true during the era DOPE was developed.

Image: Marcin Wichary/Wikimedia Commons

This language wasn't meant for programmers. It was meant for english students who didn't know the difference between an integer 1 and a floating point 1. It was designed for political science majors who had never seen a computer before. The bizarre typing system in DOPE meant you could teach programming without teaching about data types. Instead of having to explain the subtle differences between 1.0 and 1 a teacher can just cut to the chase. To the uninitiated these rules don't make that much sense, so just drop them. What you get is a much more gentle introduction to computers.

It may come as a surprise for BASIC users, but early versions of the language had a very similar typing system. In v1 of Dartmouth BASIC every variable was stored as a float, with smart formatting for input and output. Strings came in subsequent versions. But there is a key difference, and it comes in the form of arrays. In BASIC an array is declared using the DIM operation. It tells the computer to make room for a new array, and gives that array a name. In early versions this changed a variable into a 10 element array of numbers. This is one of the areas where BASIC broke from DOPE, and I think in a good way.

DOPE reserved four variables as arrays. That works just fine, but it's clunky. Having to remember which letters are lists and which are numbers is annoying. It adds in a layer of illogical complexity. Why is E an array? Well, it just is. My educated guess is that E, F, G and H were hardcoded as arrays since those are common names for vectors in physics, but that's just a shot in the dark. For a newcomer it's just an arbitrary rule. Kemeny and Kurtz were right to ditch this one.

The last part of DOPE that bears mentioning is also one of the key parts of BASIC: line numbers. Anyone who knows BASIC, or has seen BASIC, will be familiar with this syntax. Each line has a number that doubles as a label and a way to edit your program. With line numbers being explicitly defined a programmer gets to name each part of their code. DOPE also uses line numbers, but in a more limited way. Each line has an implicit number, you start at 1 and go up to 99.

You don't have control over DOPE's line numbers, but each number does have it's own label. These aren't just superficial, line numbers in DOPE are what makes it into a fully fledged programming language. The much-maligned GOTO statement exists in this earlier language, just by another name. GOTO tells BASIC to jump execution to a specific line number. It's a simple way to handle flow control of a program, but there are often better options. Many programmers dislike GOTO for that reason alone, but the statement can also make code hard to read and debug. You can't instantly tell what "GOTO 11" means unless you know what is waiting for you on line 11.

In DOPE the "T" operation lets you jump TO a given line number. Once again, this is the kind of feature programmer's don't really like. GOTO, and by lineage T, has been called a danger to programmers everywhere. It can be unsafe to overuse, if code changes a stray GOTO can jump into the unknown. For large programs jumping by line number gets weird, but that's an issue for programmers.

For the novice jumping by number is simple and understandable. You don't need extra code to add labels. Since most new programmers aren't writing massive and intricate programs a lot of the dangers of GOTO disappear. Conditionals work in a similar way in DOPE, specifying line numbers to jump to dependent on a comparison. Again, in line with early versions of BASIC. And again, kept as simple as possible.

The only outlier here are loops. One of the parts of BASIC that always struck me as strange is how it handles FOR loops. In general loops are how you repeat operations in a program. If you want to do something over and over again you use a loop. BASIC's specific flavor of loop is the FOR loop. As in, do something FOR values of X from 1 to 10.

Most flow control in BASIC is handled using line numbers. Some later versions allow if statements to contain expressions but Dartmouth BASIC only allows for conditional jumps. Loops are different, a FOR loop in BASIC encloses a block of code, ending in a NEXT. Once again this quirk is straight from DOPE, loops enclose a chunk of code to run and rerun until complete.

However, DOPE loops have their downsides. And really, this gets into the problems I ran into with DOPE. Kemeny was right to say the language was too simple, and loops are a perfect example. Really, loops have been something of a thorn in my side during my journey. On the interpreter side that means extra code. Executing code by block instead of line number means loops have to be handled a little differently than anything else in the language. When I was actually able to get DOPE code running loops remained annoying because they only go one way. Loops in DOPE can only increment, and only in steps of 1. Fine. It's a loop. It's the most basic loop possible. It works, but it's very restrictive. Something as simple as a countdown takes a little extra code to achieve.

The total lack of strings also restricts what you can do with DOPE. There are operations to output strings, sort of. One operation lets you print a newline character, and another outputs a string literal. This can be used to format and label your outputs, but without variable strings you can't write very flashy code. I can write the classic "Hello World," but you won't be seeing any games in DOPE. Luckily BASIC would include strings after a fashion.

DOPE's Legacy

What I've found is that DOPE works well for math and not much else. Calculating tables of values is straightforward. Running a loop to figure lists of roots or squares is easy. I've even been able to tackle larger equations in DOPE, so far the most complicated thing I've written is a program that approximates pi. There's a certain zen to converting equations into simple operations, that is if you have some patience. Straying from simple math turns into a struggle. I keep trying to make a number guessing game but running into the wall of random number generation.

This restriction to simple math isn't necessarily a bad thing. The language was developed by mathematicians as a way to introduce complete novices to computing. It's not fully general purpose, true, but that's not important. DOPE isn't the kind of language you could stick with for a career, it was never intended to be. It's just enough to show students what a computer is, what kinds of problems a computer can solve, and how a programmer might solve them.

So why haven't more people heard about DOPE? Is it just a failed language? I don't think so. DOPE has remained hidden because it was successful. The E stands for experiment after all, and after a single class at Dartmouth the experiment had ran its course. The ideas in DOPE worked well enough for Kemeny and Kurtz to continue their line of research. BASIC is the direct result of DOPE's success. The reason BASIC worked so well in classrooms and on early home systems was because it was simple. The language was easy to learn, easy to implement, and easy to understand. DOPE itself didn't last, but the core concept was sound enough to birth BASIC.

Tracking Down DOPE, the First Computer Language for Normal Humans syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

[matildainmotion]

What if Self-Love is Not About the Self? By Natasha Fowler and Matilda Leyser

This blog is a collage.

A collaboration

A conversation between my words -Matilda’s- and….

….Mine, Natasha’s

It’s a blog about looking after yourself, ourselves, and how I, you, we go about doing that.

It is in two parts. You can also listen to the blog if you go HERE:

PART ONE:

First, to introduce ourselves:

Matilda: I am a mother, writer, theatre-maker, co-director of Mothers Who Make, wife, daughter, insomniac.

Natasha: I am a friend, a lover, a guardian, a wounded human. I am a White woman, descendant from my ancestors. I make art, share what I know and raise children.

We met at an international MWM meeting.

I’m trying to finish a draft of my novel by Christmas, so I am not writing any blogs. Instead, I send an email to Natasha, in Amsterdam….

Hi Natasha, Please let me know if you wish to write a MWM blog for the month of November. The only requirement is that it ends with a question, relevant to the theme of mothering and making, that can become the focus for the month’s meetings should people wish to take it up. Let me know….. Matilda

Thank you, Matilda, yes. I started work on the self-care article yesterday. I’m going to edit today and share with a few friends. I can commit to having it to you by Wednesday. I hope you have a good steady day of eating, working, caring and resting. I have stretched, washed and consciously dressed but my teeth are not cleaned yet (3/4 of my morning routine). Time to get off emails! Natasha

Late Wednesday, I receive Natasha’s first draft. I see it come into my inbox at nine pm, as I am about to read bedtime stories to my daughter – I think, ‘I won’t read that now, or I won’t sleep.’ I close down my laptop.

I don’t sleep anyway. One of the worst things about insomnia is the radical loneliness – an irrational sense that no one else in the world is still awake.

The next day, tired, wired, I read Natasha’s blog. I know I am a word control freak -I have been known to edit, and re-edit, a text message - but I feel uncertain about publishing Natasha’s draft in the MWM blog spot. I want more mothering and making in it. This also seems a very dubious response- to invite new, diverse people to write a blog and, when they don’t sound like me, to want to edit them to make them sound more so…..and yet, at the same time, I think there is something valid in wanting to look after the particular space that MWM holds, in meetings, online, in writings. After dithering for a few days, I email Natasha –

Hi Natasha, first a disclaimer: I am not in a great place right now. My chronic insomnia has become acute and I am not functioning well, so my critical faculties are pretty ropey! …But would you be willing, to include a little more about your mothering and making in the writing….?

Hi Matilda, It makes sense to me that my approaches and the boundaries of the blog are having a conversation. I am curious about why I don’t talk about mothering and making in a way that meets the criteria. I have an imaginative block for what that’d look like - which tells me I’m categorising the requirement differently to you. It’s a familiar thought cul-de-sac that comes with this Neurodiverse mind I operate in.

Neurodiverse. It’s a term that is relatively new to me and suddenly tremendously potent: at the end of September my son at last received an autism diagnosis. “I get it,” he said when my husband and I told him, “My brain does this” – he drew a detailed picture in the air of different, curved and diagonal connections between invisible points of meaning– “And other peoples’ do this,” he said, drawing a series of straight, right-angled lines.

Hi Natasha, as part of my learning in this area I would be very interested to hear a little more about how you name and describe your neurodiversity. Please send me a few lines articulating your sense of it - why does our exchange feel like ‘a familiar cul-de-sac’ to you? Tell me more about the cul-de-sac and the other streets and highways of your mind :-) Thank you again for your openness, integrity, and all your work on this. Matilda xxx

The cul-de-sac I talk about is a place I get stuck when I've been given a task and I have no imaginable concept of what that would look like. With a long conversation and lots of back and forth clarification, I would probably discover that I do know what you're talking about but I learned a long time ago not to try and clarify everything so precisely, it was not practical/ possible and probably led to people being annoyed by my questions.

Part of my response to the task is to think "but I made the writing - that's the making" and "I am a mother, so if I speak, I'm speaking from the experience of mothering".

In the end I understand the labels autism/ADHD/dyslexia/neurodiversity to be bureaucratic necessities in a world obsessed with 'normal'. The necessary diversity of human experience is medicalised, categorised in order for us to get the money from the system that is needed to exist in the system. I am disabled by what I live in and my race/class/gender identity have protected me from that disabling being far more consequential.

I can’t and don’t want to argue with any of this. I feel dismayed at the idea that my requirements for the MWM blog might actually in themselves be exclusive. I don’t feel good about wading in and making Natasha’s voice more acceptable within my idea of what the text should sound like. So, I think instead I will be transparent – I will leave her words as they are and add some of mine – put in the mothering and the making that I feel the need to include. As it happens, Natasha’s chosen theme, of the need for self-care to be a process that takes place as a collective, community act, could not be more relevant to my experience of mothering and making this month.

Here we go then….

PART TWO:

Natasha: I ran out of self-love this summer, overwhelmed by stories of all my faults, what I’d lost and not done. I spent too much time subject to a cruel inner tyranny. I held onto the idea that I could take care of the situation alone. That I could create the self-love I needed. I could not. I needed to depend on something beyond my self. Although I had vowed to love myself first only two years ago, I was now raising questions about this individualised ideal of self-love.

Matilda: Take care, people say. I still struggle to do this. I sit on the stairs at 3am. My husband is asleep. My son and daughter are asleep. They are 8 and 4. I am 46. I ought to be able to rest too - how can I possibly take care of them, if I cannot take care of myself in this fundamental way? Self-soothing is a skill that babies, some say, are meant to have learnt after only a few months. I tell myself this when I get to the sobbing stage at 4am. I fantasize about a mother figure– not my real mother who is 79 now, also in my care, also asleep – but some great giant of a mother coming walking through the woods outside. She is coming to take me up in her arms, hold me against her, above the trees, hold me, grown as I am, until I fall asleep. Because tomorrow I have other people to take care of– the children, my mother. And I have another chapter of my novel to write. I know I cannot write when I haven’t slept.

Natasha: I finally gave up the idea that self-love is my sole responsibility. I began to accept the dependence that exists, the vulnerability of my well being. My self-love became communal. Just like the child raising that I do along with my partner, our friends and family; just like the neighbourhood garden my wee boy and I joined in preparing for winter last week.

But how did I end up believing self-love is something I have to do by myself? Born in 1978, independence and individuality were highly prized values when I was growing up. To be able to do things yourself without help was a given. To be free of the demands of a group was important. The myth of singular heroes was all over the culture, from lonesome superheroes to introvert inventors and brave explorers. The heroes saved the vulnerable, and the vulnerable were symbolised as young, straight, thin, white women. The stories of everyone around the inventor and all that they did were edited out. The people who were there before the explorer even set his foot down were erased. The values of independence of individuality, invulnerability are seeped into my bones.

Matilda: Did you sleep? My husband asks me in the morning. I shake my head. He is worried. I am worried. I don’t know what to do. I have tried so many things. I tell him I might put a post about it on the Mothers Who Make Facebook group– “You should,” he says. “That’s what it’s for.” True. I started it, but I find it hard to reach out for support. I have a kind of pride, almost a snobbery, that has often stopped me sharing. ‘What’s on your mind?’ FB asks me – so many things, but I don’t want to place them in that white public space. It feels immodest to do so, to turn my life into a headline. But the truth is, I am afraid.

I recognise this. It is also why I find it hard to share my work. I hold onto it. I have been working on this novel for ten years, and hardly anyone has read it. It is the same reason I edit, re-edit text messages. I do not let people see the mess. The missed comas. The words out of place. I feel safest when sealed off, private, when only carefully crafted images of vulnerability are revealed. And yet, when I am sobbing at 4am, all I want is company. A giant mother. Someone, anyone, to see me, to see the mess of me.

Natasha: I am communally made. My ideas of who I am, what I do, what is the value in me are made during my relationships. Maybe I always knew that like the self-hate I was carrying, my self-love was a communal responsibility. I suspect there is something about the experience of being a mother in my culture that helped me forget. It seems to be an experience that isolates and calcifies our individual sense of responsibility. The International mothers who make calls were part of my communal self-love recovery. Getting to turn up to a new group and hear me tell my story and listen to so much good company. I hope we might all give and receive the love that we need to maintain a sense of our self being loved. I hope we are all learning what we need to learn to be able to do that.

Matilda: So I did it – I put the post on Facebook. I need some help, I wrote, I don’t sleep and I can no longer blame my children for this. My children are sleeping – I am not. Many of you reading this, may have seen it and responded. It was extraordinary for me to see such a huge number of compassionate, wise, responses so fast. Humbling. Profoundly helpful – not just the resources, but the act itself of reaching out and finding so many hands writing back. After only an hour, I went online to look and I could see the wavy line that appears when someone, somewhere is in the process of typing something. A real person out there, taking care. Not just one. Over a hundred. A giant number of mothers.

I wrote back to Natasha:

P.s. The amazing response I received to my insomnia post rather wonderfully proves your point - we don’t have to do this self-care thing on our own. Xxxxx

Don’t have to – can’t even – whoever you are, how ever your mind works, however brilliant you are, however vulnerable, however divergent, however alone you feel.

It sounds so simple. So obvious. We are interconnected. All the streets link up, even the cul-de-sacs have passages leading onto one another. There is no such thing as social distancing. Physical distancing, yes, but social – two metres apart between your thoughts and mine, your experience and mine, your words and mine – is just not possible.

Here then is Natasha’s, my, your, our question for the month:

How do you understand self-love, is it clearly something you must do for yourself? Or something you share? or maybe you practise other ideals of compassion? Maybe you carry some communally made self-hate too? How do you sustain yourself when overwhelmed?

[the-master-cylinder]

The rise of Empire as a low budget producer with their “Beyond Infinity” video line resembles the start-up of AIP during the drive-in boom of the late ’50s, when a definite market existed for a certain product: films for the teenage audience, the wilder and more outrageous the better. The drive-ins “made” American-International Pictures, and like AIP, the VCR spurred Empire and other companies to produce films for a new market. But-having seen most of Empire’s Beyond Infinity offerings to date-one thing is obvious: unlike AIP, Empire lacks the creative genius of a low-budget auteur like Roger Corman. Imagination is not necessarily related to a film’s budget; low-budget films could be original, entertaining, and thought-provoking. But, Beyond Infinity’s releases thus far have proved to be inane, routine, and boring.

The Empire films follow a standard pattern: an exploitative, campy title; garish ad art; scripts which slavishly follow tried-and true formulas; varying amounts of nudity, gore effects, and juvenile humor. Of course, these traits apply equally well to the offerings of Empire’s competitors, particularly Troma Pictures, although Beyond Infinity product has a California pastel plasticity as opposed to Troma’s sleazy New York sheen. The fact that there is little of real interest to be found in any Beyond Infinity film certainly contributed to the commercial downfall of Empire and its video arm. Though the films themselves may not be completely devoid of entertainment value, most of the creativity seems to have gone into dreaming up the exploitable titles.

Dave DeCoteau, director of several projects released by Empire’s “Beyond Infinity” video label, pegged the fall of Band’s Empire to “the market place. It’s changed,” said DeCoteau. “There was a time that horror and fantasy fans saw just about anything that was made available on video. These days, quality prevails among genre movies, including films that are squarely made for direct-to-video release. You have to make the best movie you can and spend the money to do it right. If someone tries to pawn off a piece of shit, they’re shown the door.”

Reflecting on his three picture stint at Empire, DeCoteau said, “Charlie Band’s company was the young filmmaker’s first stop after college. There was a lot of experimentation as young people learned to work with low budgets. As a result, Empire wound up with a lot of product that was not all that wonderful. The company has been called the Sausage Factory of the Cinema. But you can’t keep making sausages, one after the other, sometimes a steak falls off the conveyor belt. Sometimes that steak is a picture like Stuart Gordon’s RE-ANIMATOR. There’s also a lot of sausages. Creepozoids is one of those sausages … but I’m learning.”

DeCoteau tied Empire’s loss of revenue to an aborted video output deal with New World Pictures, announced in August 1987, as the event which triggered Empire’s collapse. Over a two-year period, New World Video was to release five Empire titles, including Prison (1987), Cellar Dweller (1988), Buy & Cell (1988), Pulse Pounders (1988), and APPARATUS. “Empire made four of the pictures back to back,” said DeCoteau. “But because of the 1987 stock market crash, the deal between Empire and New World seemed to change; New World refused to pick up all of the Empire films as quickly as planned. They eventually released two of the films: PRISON, which had a limited theatrical run, and also CELLAR DWELLER, but the others are still being worked on.” Empire was purchased last May by Epic Pictures, a European financial consortium supervised by Eduard Sarlui, owner of Transworld Entertainment. “Basically, Empire and Transworld are owned by the same company,” said DeCoteau of the Epic umbrella. “Epic Pictures is finishing all the movies that Charlie [Band] started, which is a good dozen … ARENA, CATACOMBS, DOWN UNDER, SPELLCASTER, ROBOJOX.

DeCoteau, trained as a production assistant on films as diverse as ANGEL and Ken Russell’s CRIMES OF PASSION, made his debut as a producer-director with Empire on DREAMANIAC (1986), released on the company’s Wizard video label, distributed by Vestron. “I started pre-producing it as a picture called SUCCUBUS,” said DeCoteau. “Helen Robinson, who wrote the script knew the head of creative development at Empire Pictures, Debra Dion. Helen mentioned to Debi that she’d like to write a movie for Empire. Debi asked for a sample of her work and Helen gave her the SUCCUBUS script.” Empire, impressed with Robinson’s work, offered to purchase the screenplay; Robinson declined, insisting that De Coteau already owned it.

“Empire reacted by wanting to get involved in the production,” said DeCoteau. “Only four days before we were scheduled to start principal photography, I met Charlie Band, president of Empire Pictures.” Band not only doubled the movie’s original budget to $60,000, but vowed to reimburse DeCoteau for his personal investment “upon completion of principal photography.”

Wrapped in 15 days, the $70,000 movie was filmed in the abandoned studio of Hustler photographer Suze Randall. The film a blend of critters, slime and skin reunited DeCoteau with Kim McKamy, who made her film debut in DREAMANIAC. “Ironically,” remembers the director, “Kim refused to do any nudity. She was very shy and an all around sweet person.” McKamy later transformed herself into X-rated starlet Ashlyn Gere (aka Kim Patton), whose films-SORORITY SEX KITTENS, BUSH PILOTS, LAID IN HEAVEN—were about as demure as their titles.

“During a screening of the dailies,” recalls DeCoteau, “Charlie Band looked at me and held up ten fingers. I asked what it meant and he said, ‘Ten picture deal.’ I nearly fell out of my chair. We went upstairs, he drew up a contract and opened a $100 bottle of Dom Perignon champagne and we drank it out of Dixie cups. The next day, the cover of Daily Variety read in big bold letters, ‘CHV 10 PIC PACK DEAL WITH EMPIRE.’ [Cinema Home Video partner] John Schouweiler and I went crazy. I was only 25 years-old!

“Whenever Charles had big picture deals, I would be the slave to the market and make the smaller horror, erotic, high concept T&A movies…whatever was hot. I rarely did an ‘A’ movie for him, but I was constantly working.”

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

DeCoteau’s subsequent project for Empire was CREEPOZOIDS, produced as a Beyond Infinity release for $169,000. “We wanted to do our own version of ALIENS,” said DeCoteau. “So we put together a picture called MUTANT SPAWN 2000 and I was developing a picture called CREEPOZOIDS, which was actually a hybrid of GREMLINS and GHOULIES. We just flip flopped the titles, referring to the ALIENS rip-off as CREEPOZOIDS.”

“I first met David when he worked as a caterer on a short film called THE CAYTONSVILLE ELEVEN,” says Linnea Quigley. “I was excited to work with him. There’s no huge ‘I’m a director’ ego. He’s not into himself. He’s a good businessman and he talks about stuff besides movies. He even had vegetarian food for me every day, and warm Sparklett’s water for my lusty shower scene in CREEPOZOIDS.”

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

DeCoteau not only directed, but also functioned as the movie’s co producer and co writer. In spite of its diminutive budget, CREEPOZOIDS was theatrically released on a double-bill with SLAVE GIRLS FROM BEYOND INFINITY. The twin bill was released by Urban Classics, the theatrical arm of Empire’s Beyond Infinity video line. CREEPOZOIDS made the transition to video a few months later in January ’88, selling 15,000 tapes for Empire, according to DeCoteau.

DeCoteau’s next film for Empire, THE IMP, was limited to a shooting schedule of two weeks. Budgeted at $190,000, with ten per cent in above the line costs for DeCoteau’s expenses as director and co-producer, locations were selected outside of Los Angeles to conserve funds. “Los Angeles is the most expensive city in the world to make a movie,” said DeCoteau, “because of the permits, location costs, and everything like that. It’s hard to rent a basic middle-class tract house in the Valley for less than a grand a day. You have to go to places like San Marcos two hours south of Los Angeles–and you can get those same locations for $100 or $200. We found all of the cooperation there we really wanted.”

A moral (“be careful what you wish for, you may get it”) is extrapolated from the film’s title character, a mean-spirited genie. Since DeCoteau was not budgeted for elaborate special effects, he settled for a cable operated puppet to play the imp, preferring Grimm’s Fairy Tale simplicity to a “realistic” interpretation. Nevertheless, the movie proved to be so ambitious that the production exceeded its budget; extra expenses came out of DeCoteau’s own pocket.

“If we went over budget, our salaries were on the line,” said DeCoteau of Empire’s modus operandi. “So I walked away from THE IMP with very little money because I ended up spending some of my own salary on pick-up shots and things like that. Charlie (Band) isn’t the type to write you a check if you go over budget; you decide on a budget, you shake his hand, and either bring it in on budget or you don’t work anymore. I didn’t make much on that film, but such is life.”

In the film. Michelle Bauer, acquitted herself not only as a B-movie sex kitten but as a thoroughly credible actress and sterling comedienne. “David has a keen sense for people,” says Bauer. “There’s a side of him which is completely understanding. He’s more relaxed than most directors, and likes to have fun. When he was under pressure, it didn’t seem to affect the cast. He kept it under control. We were having fun as friends. It never seemed like we were working at all.”

Nevertheless, production of SORORITY BABES shot during evenings in a San Diego mall and adjacent bowling alley-was sometimes grueling. “There were personal conflicts among, some of the cast,” recalls Stevens. “The late Robin Rochelle Stille drank way too much on the set, and was always beating the crap out of Linnea in their fight scenes. Poor Linnea was constantly applying muscle rub to her many livid bruises. And she had to deal with the teenage angst of young co-star Andras Jones in the room next door. He even dumped his mattress over the hotel balcony, irrationally screaming, ‘I’m in my sexual prime!’ Andras went on to become a rather famous folk singer.”

Stevens experienced her own trauma, “dealing with another actress who clearly felt threatened by me and spared no punches while shooting our fight scenes. She pushed me down so hard, I dislocated my knee, which I had to pop back into place myself.” DeCoteau recounts, “It wasn’t pretty. She had to take four days off, but was a trouper…did her job without complaint.”

Flying furniture and torn ligaments notwithstanding, the set was infused with a party panache. “It’s the only film I’ve directed where I was continuously drunk,” chuckles DeCoteau, “— many people were! It had an open bar that we put to good use.”

“It’s one of my favorite films,” says Quigley, “because I played a tough girl and kept my clothes on. It’s fun to be mean.”

Charlie’s father, Albert Band, head of production at Empire, startled DeCoteau by insisting that nudity, playfully performed for slapstick scenes, “must” be trimmed from the director’s cut of the movie. DeCoteau, realizing nudity is a commercial exponent of the exploitation formula, appealed to Charles Band. Band inquired about the running time that was assembled for the movie’s rough cut. “I told him we were well under 80 minutes,” said DeCoteau, “When I shoot a picture, rarely does the final footage pass the 80-minute length. So they can’t do much editing because a feature-length film shouldn’t run that short. As a result, Charlie told me to put the nude scenes back in.”

Band retitled the picture SORORITY BABES IN THE SLIMEBALL BOWL-A-RAMA (according to DeCoteau, Band had wanted to make it BITCHIN’ SORORITY BABES … ) and released it theatrically through Urban Classics on a double bill with GALACTIC GIGOLO (originally titled CLUB EARTH), directed by Gorman Bechard.

Like DeCoteau, Bechard was another Band discovery whose independently financed feature PSYCHOS IN LOVE was picked up by Empire for release. Unlike DeCoteau, Bechard had nothing good to say about his stint at Band’s company. “I know what it’s like to be raped, “said Bechard about producing and directing two other features for Empire.

For his next feature, PSYCHOS IN LOVE, a black comedy (a “working woman” addresses the camera with “I guess I thought me being both a manicurist and a psychotic killer would, well, turn a guy off”), Bechard chose to ally himself with Empire.

“They offered me what I thought at the time was a good advance for PSYCHOS IN LOVE,” said Bechard. “I didn’t know better. And they offered me a four-picture deal with it, as an enticement to give them PSYCHOS IN LOVE. When you’re an independent filmmaker, finding the money is the worst thing in the world, and here I was able to do four pictures and pretty much have control. Charlie Band gave me tons of wonderful promises, saying, “Well, you can come up here, assist in the editing …,’ and all these other lines of bullshit. Being basically a fellow who wanted this very badly, I believed everything he said.”

CLUB EARTH, the first of Bechard’s four-picture deal with Empire, was an omen of the discord and mistrust that would sour the relationship. Bechard conceived the movie as a social satire involving an intergalactic tourist. Empire preferred to push CLUB EARTH as GALACTIC GIGOLO, and re-edited Bechard’s original cut into their concept of a more exploitable product.

“When I gave them PSYCHOS IN LOVE, I had it in writing that they wouldn’t change it at all,” said Bechard. “If I had not done that, they probably would have raped that film and it would have never been a film that I’m proud of. I am proud of PSYCHOS IN LOVE. But I think GALACTIC GIGOLO was sodomized by Charlie Band. We filmed it as a non-animated adult cartoon. That was my concept. We used the brightest colors … I mean, every different set looked like a color cartoon frame from the Sunday paper. In [color] timing the film, [Empire] took out all of the colors and left it really flat and ugly. Their editing and pacing is nothing short of pathetic; they left out some wonderfully funny stuff, and they left in all of the shit. Their motto is ‘when in doubt, cut to a pair of tits.’ I found out that CLUB EARTH was retitled GALACTIC GIGOLO through a brochure from Empire’s Urban Classics; they never had the decency to tell me they were changing the name of my movie.”

Bechard’s next film for Empire, a black comedy titled TEENAGE SLASHER SLUTS, was presold by the company in foreign markets as Assault of the Killer Bimbos (1988). “They found the word ‘sluts’ to be offensive,” said Bechard of Empire’s logic behind the title change. “And then they go and propose two other movies with the word ‘sluts’ in the title!” Empire eventually completed Bechard’s movie under the title HACK ‘EM HIGH, turning over the ASSAULT OF THE KILLER BIMBOS title to DeCoteau.

“That title presold so well, at [1987’s] American Film Market, it actually scored better than the movies in Empire’s bigger budgeted, non-Infinity division,” said DeCoteau. “Gorman Bechard completed the movie and set up a screening for Empire. It turned out to be a disappointment. Let’s just say that Gorman’s movie did not justify all of the enthusiasm. ASSAULT OF THE KILLER BIMBOS had to be brilliant, or close to it, considering the enormous presales money that was attracted from its title.”

Bechard said he deserves some of the credit for the title’s fabulous presales at the AFM, having instigated an eye-catching spread on the film in People magazine which featured Ruth Collins and Debi Thibeault, the actresses in his version. Bechard laid the blame for Empire’s dissatisfaction with the final film to the manner in which Band ran his company.

Charlie [Band] never read the script,” said Bechard. “I had the script approved by David Ross, who used to be in Empire’s development department, and by Debra Dion, who is now Charlie’s wife. I have a written letter from David Ross which says, ‘Yeh, we like the script. Just make a couple of little changes here and there.’ Basically, we agreed that it was good. Afterwards, I started filming and almost two or three weeks after we wrapped, Charlie calls me up and said he finally read the script. He said he didn’t like it. I don’t know how you run a company and allow someone to use your money to make a film without ever having read the script. That, to me, is not really the way to do business but, again, Empire is not the way to do business. When it became HACK EM HIGH, I said, ‘Wait a minute, there’s no hacking and there’s no high school.’ Of course, they came up with some new scenes that we had to reshoot which were along the lines of the usual Empire quality.”

While Empire fobbed off Bechard’s film as HACK ‘EM HIGH to foreign buyers at Milan’s Mifed Film Market, ASSAULT OF THE KILLER BIMBOS, scheduled for imminent release and eagerly awaited by distributors, existed as nothing more than a concept. Empire frantically searched for an existing script that would qualify as an adaptation of their most exploitable title.

Charles Band gave up WIZARD VIDEO after he ended his deal with VESTRON. WIZARD was distributed by LIGHTENING which was owned by VESTRON and when he left that deal and went over to NEW WORLD VIDEO which then he only released one movie with them, he started a new label called URBAN CLASSICS which he would handle the physical distribution eternally. He wouldn’t do a label deal and the first released was SLAVEGIRLS and that was doing pretty well and CREEPZOIDS was doing pretty well. And they were doing okay and then they started to make these movies back in Connecticut and they were making them cheaper in Connecticut than they were here in LA. They even had a guy out in New York, Tim Kincaid, who was making movies and those weren’t that bad. But there was a guy in Connecticut named Gorman Bechard who I guess was not only producing, writing, and directing, he was the cameraman and he did lights. And he was making these 35mm movies for only $30,000. Charlie was going wow, I got this great deal. And I was saying, Charlie if you want to give me $30,000 I’ll give you $30,000 but it’s going to look like $30,000. But give me $75,000 – $90,000 and you’ll get better movies. But anyway. Gorman did his first movie and what happened was this major snafu with ASSAULT OF THE KILLER BIMBOS. It was pre-sold with huge amounts of numbers and the URBAN CLASSICS films were presented to foreign buyers as pictures made between $1-2 million. He was showing these films to people overseas after he made them to the movie here and I brought in another director, Anita Rosenberg, who at the time didn’t think she knew what she was doing. But it ended up being the best of the URBAN CLASSICS movies. – Director Dave DeCoteau on the start of URBAN CLASSICS

A serviceable script, described by DeCoteau as a “generic but cute girls-on-the run” adventure, was considered from screenwriter Anita Rosenberg, who had previously written MODERN GIRLS for Atlantic Pictures. DeCoteau postponed his preparation of Beyond Infinity’s SPACE SLUTS IN THE SLAMMER to direct the movie. Rosenberg, however, demanded complete autonomy.

Anita Rosenberg

According to DeCoteau, “Rosenberg told Empire, ‘Sure, I’ll sell you the script for 100 grand.’ I said, ‘What do you mean, 100 grand? We pay five grand per script!’ She said, “I’ll sell it to you for five grand if you let me direct it.’ I said, “What other films have you done?’ She said, ‘Nothing, though I have done a short film.’ Empire looked at her short film, thought it was adequate enough, and agreed to let Rosenberg direct it.” DeCoteau was hired as producer for “double the usual budget and triple his customary salary.

Though he was reimbursed for services rendered on GALACTIC GIGOLO and HACK ‘EM HIGH, Bechard claims he was shortchanged on the proceeds from PSYCHOS IN LOVE. “We were promised wonderful percentages of the gross, not of the net, on the film,” said Bechard. “I made sure they couldn’t pull any accounting tricks. But they did pull a great accounting trick; they just never bothered reporting to us. We were supposed to be getting quarterly statements and checks. We never got anything. My letters to Charlie Band, complaining about this situation, and the shabby treatment of my films, were ignored.”

A forthcoming documentary by Kathy Milani, B-MOVIE, traces the production of HACK ‘EM HIGH from the film’s preproduction phase to Band’s phone call alerting Bechard of Empire’s resistance to his adaptation of “a script that Band, up to that point, had not read.” Bechard promises B-MOVIE will enlighten prospective filmmakers to the hazards of low-budget filmmaking. (Milani is currently seeking completion funds and or grants.)

Meanwhile, Bechard is also exorcising his frustrations with Empire through a manual titled “Assault of the Independent Filmmaker;” as the book’s author, Bechard vowed to “paint a no holds-barred picture of the making of each of my films, from the detailed budgets to the whole filming process, to dealing with not-always reputable distributors and investors. Filmmaking is, unfortunately, the sleaziest business in the world, and it bothers me that I can’t picture myself doing anything else.”

When Empire hit the financial skids last year, some theatrical projects like GHOULIES II and CELLAR DWELLER went straight to home video while others were shelved as incomplete. For a company that in the past boasted production agendas cluttered with a dozen titles pegged as either in production “or” in preparation,” in 1988 Empire launched only one-Dave DeCoteau’s Dr. Alien (1989) (I Was a Teenage Sex Mutant), started on a budget of $400.000. The company folded before production was finished.

But Band opened up shop again late last year, calling his new operation the Bandcompany, like Empire specializing in international sales, with a video line dubbed Phantom Home Video, and a production arm called Full Moon Productions. Band’s first announced project was Edgar Allan Poe’s THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM, to be directed by Stuart Gordon. “He’s back into making pictures,” said DeCoteau. “He won’t be making as many and they won’t be as cheap.”

When Band jumped ship from Empire, his deal to sell the company gave him ownership of a trio of productions, according to DeCoteau. Band used the films, including DeCoteau’s I WAS A TEENAGE SEX MUTANT, THE INTRUDER (formerly NIGHT CREW), and JUNGLE HEAT (formerly PIRANHA WOMEN) to form his new company and subsequently negotiated a contract with Paramount Home Video for their release. I WAS A TEENAGE SEX MUTANT, now retitled DR. ALIEN!, was scheduled to be released in November.

Interview with Dave DeCoteau

Looking back on the beginning of your career, how would you appraise Dreamaniac? Dave DeCoteau: Dreamaniac was an experiment; it was my little film school project, wrapped up in ten days. It was like learning how to do it, and learning how do it quickly, because I only had ten days to learn a career’s worth of information and make a decent movie. It was made on a $60,000 budget.

The ending of Dreamaniac-with the abrupt disclosure of a succubus as a mental patient-seems like a postproduction afterthought. Who was responsible for the cop-out compromise? Dave DeCoteau: Me. I decided to go with kind of a triple-twist ending, just for the hell of it, since the film had nothing else to offer.

Your films have gotten even more exposure on cable TV, what with broadcasts on USA, Pay-Per-View… Dave DeCoteau: But, you know, Creepozoids and Sorority Babes In The Slimeball Bowl A-Rama did better, during their original release, in foreign territories than domestically. We were well received in Britain. Creepozoids was number seven on the Top Ten Selling-Rental charts during the month of its release; The Untouchables was number eight! Sorority Babes, released in the United Kingdom as The Imp, did almost as good business as Creepozoids.

What’s the background of Sorority Babes In The Slimeball Bowl-A-Rama, your most unique movie? Dave DeCoteau: Charlie (Band) wanted, a “little genie” movie to be called The Imp. I came in the next day, and read off five story lines. The fifth one was a joke, never intended to be taken seriously, about a little genie that was squished inside a bowling trophy back in the 50s and unleashed upon some sorority babes and fraternity initiates on Hell Night. Charlie liked that concept more than any of the other ones, and we decided to go with it.

There’s a frantic chase scene, near the conclusion of Sorority Babes, without music on the soundtrack. Was this intentional or an accidental omission? Dave DeCoteau: The music channel of the entire Reel Seven did not make it to the one inch video master. When you do a final mix on a picture, you mix sound on three stripes-the dialogue, the music, and a (sound) effects track. You do the video mastering by taking your film, and your three channels of sound, and putting them onto broadcast-quality one-inch video tape for half-inch duplication. When they transferred the entire show, they accidentally forgot to drop the music channel from Reel Seven; they only transferred two channels, the dialogue and effects. The music’s omission marred the film. Fifteen or twenty-thousand copies of the tape went out without the musical channel on Reel Seven, which is the climax of the film and (originally) had an incredible musical score. I was very upset because Empire, at the time, did not let me quality control the one-inch masters. First-time viewers of Sorority Babes may prefer to hum their own theme.

Tell me where did you come up with the title SORORITY BABES IN THE SLIME BOWL-O-RAMA? Dave DeCoteau: I didn’t come up with the title. It was shot as THE IMP and Charlie Band came up with the title. He had a little I fun to watch. The experience was a lot of fun, Making movies is never really been that much fun. The two best days of making a movie is the day you get the financing and the rap party. And everything between is a pain in the fucking ass. You always have to compromise, you can’t do exactly what you want to do. Because the budgets are so low the schedules are tight and you can’t always get the actors you want and you get the actor, you could only use him for a couple days and you can’t use him for any overtime. The process is real tough. And I think PUPPETMASTER III as being my best film in most people’s eyes but just had a horrendous time making that film.

Which of your pre-Doctor Alien (1989) films is your favorite? Dave DeCoteau: I have to admit I have this bizarre affection for Creepozoids, I don’t know what it is, but when I was making that film I really took it deadly serious and expected it to be a lot better than it was. The reviews have been horrible, but-God!-every time I show it to somebody, they kind of, like, smile. It’s actually a serious attempt, whereas all the other films we’ve been doing seem to be a little campy or silly.

Didn’t Creepozoids get positive reviews in Europe? Dave DeCoteau: Excellent reviews! The United Kingdom is asking for a sequel and they’re ready to cut a check to finance it. Unfortunately, I don’t have the sequel rights to that film, so I probably won’t do it.

You made some of your past films for under $200,000. What was the budget on Doctor Alien? Dave DeCoteau: About $400,000. It’s a home video, a damn good example of direct-to-video product. I love it. It’s a very entertain. ing film for me, and everyone seems to enjoy it. The only problem about not releasing it theatrically is that it is a comedy, and comedies work very well with large audiences. I’m going to screen it for the Science Fiction Academy here, and for a few other people.

Why did you choose a more mainstream celebrity-Judy Landers-for Doctor Alien and Ghost Writer? Dave DeCoteau: When we were casting for the Doctor Alien role of Ms. Xenobia, we wanted to go with a Mary Woronov type. Well, we auditioned hundreds of Mary Woronov, Barbara Steele and Caroline Munroe types, and we realized it just didn’t work the way it was written… it wasn’t funny. So I said, “Let’s bring Judy in for a hoot.” I just wanted to meet the girl. She came in with the scenes memorized and gave us a reading, and we were falling on the floor laughing our heads off. She played it so wonderful, and so funny, that she was perfect for the part.

With the exception of your first film, Dreamaniac, your movies have avoided the “sex begets violence” syndrome. Did you consciously reject this routine premise? Dave DeCoteau: Yeah… women are not victims in my films. A female victim in my films is very, very rare. Women are the aggressors in my movies, they’re the ones who save the day. Look at Linnea Quigley in Sorority Babes: she never showed a nipple and she kicked ass, and she saved the day…

The History of Empire Films Part Five The rise of Empire as a low budget producer with their “Beyond Infinity” video line resembles the start-up of AIP during the drive-in boom of the late '50s, when a definite market existed for a certain product: films for the teenage audience, the wilder and more outrageous the better.

[aestheriele]

The Future Teller

Masterlist 🐧 Kim Seokjin’s AU 

-

Summary: You were paired to the most quiet boy in class to do a songwriting project for an art class. The problem is he seemed to know more than what you think he knows.

Setting: College/University

Word count: 1,809 words

JungkookXReader

This is on alternate universe. I hope y’all find this enjoyable.

<<10 -

Last Chapter

Ever since that day, Jungkook became more open, talkative and friendly. He has this unique charm that even though he’s quite shy and reserved you will still be drawn to him. You’ll crave for more interaction or conversation with him that when you noticed it, you already fell deep for him. Well, not all people fell as deep as you fell for the boy. Some fell for him and became his friends and the others fell for him and became someone who can only look at him from afar and dream of him from a distance because that is your purpose. He may have more friends than usual but you’re the still the first one he ever had.

Today is the last week of classes and the final examination day for your art class and speech class. You were kinda late for today because your dad accidentally turned off your alarm because he thought your classes were already finished.  You woke up later than usual and ended up not having breakfast before racing to the school which was very rare for you to do.

Many people tend to say hi or hello to you because of Jungkook. Some of it were his classmates on some of his subjects while some of it were people you don’t really know. When he decided to speak in front of the class one day and sang a song the following week, his name kinda spiraled to the top. He became well known because of his voice and not because he was a scary kind of guy. He was also well known for good poem composition that you sometimes question yourself if he lied to you when you asked him if he had an experience with song writing. You can’t really blame the boy, he’s talented.

You passed by the empty hallways of your school and you literally looked like a mess when you opened the door to your classroom. The exam already started and you quickly grabbed a seat and started answering the test questionnaires. It’s a good thing your first class is speech so it’s easy as heck for you.

Your second class is mathematics and you’re lucky that the finals for this subject is scheduled on the last day of week. However, it’s still mandatory to attend your class for attendance purposes. Your teacher spent this spare time to tell you about his love life which you think does not concern you or anyone in the class but you still listened to him even if he dismissed you 5 minutes later than the required time.

You were now running on your way to Art Class and you were literally a running mess. Each head turned to your direction when you opened the door and you were so glad they weren’t starting the exam on-time.

"Hey," you said as you sat beside Jungkook, "You haven’t started with the exam yet?"

He looked at you and showed his really good set of teeth, "Not really, Y/N. The final exam is the song that we composed and recorded." He said before biting his lower lip which he always did when he’s nervous but he doesn’t look nervous when he does that because he looked hot, "what if we don’t get chosen?"

You smiled at him, "I think it’s more important that you chose me," you said in a straightforward tone that caught him off guard, "I like getting you off guard, you blush like a tomato and that’s really cute."

"I’m not cute though," he said while looking cute as a button.

"Cute," you said that made him blush even more.

"The way you say I’m cute felt like an insult," he said as he glared at you but even him glaring looked cute.

You twirled his bangs and you leaned in closely to his face, "You’re cute, Jungkook. But you’re not just cute. You’re beautiful, you’re weird, you’re hot, you’re angelic, you’re strong, you’re fragile, you’re talented, you’re passionate, you’re good and you’re mine." You said before kissing the tip of his nose.

He shook his head and gave you a smirk, "Of all the things that you described me with, I think I’ll chose the I’m yours part." He said before winking at you.

"Stop with the PDA thing, Jungkook and Y/N!" one of your classmate shouted and you just rolled your eyes at him, "the school’s radio station will now be on-air."

Jungkook took a slice of bread inside his bag and gave it to you as you sat properly on your chair. You were eating while listening to the radio announcer. The school has their own radio station to be able to train the communication students more thoroughly. They also have a school club that’s basically utilizing the school’s radio station and recording room. They teach people stuff on how to properly operate things and what buttons to push or the proper pitch in talking. Basically, they’re giving an overview of what you’ll do once you become part of the school’s radio station. The opportunity is not solely open for the communication students but for all students who wanted to learn new things. But they’re mandatory, of course, to the communication students because they need the basics to survive this school. I knew no one who graduated here who does not know the basics of DJing and stuff.

Someone announced that they’re gonna play all the songs written by your class because the professor had a hard time choosing the best entry. Jungkook took your hand as they played the first song. They were in random order and they don’t tell which student or which pair did the song. The more the songs were being played, the more anxious you get.

"I can’t stand this," you said as you throw the sandwich’s cover on one of the pocket of your bag. You looked at Jungkook and you told him you’re gonna pee but you’re just finding an excuse on how to breathe because all that waiting is making you crazy.

You walked to the school’s bathroom and you peed and then you washed your face. The whole school can hear the song your class composed and you’re becoming more nervous each time they announce a song will be played.

You walked to the school cafeteria and bought some chips and brought it back to class. You were walking in the empty hallway when you heard your professor’s voice and he was saying he will announce the winners of the song writing thing. You didn’t hear your song being played so you concluded that there was a fat chance of being chosen. Not that you care enough… yes, okay! You care… But only a little…

You went back to the classroom and you saw Jungkook being stiff as a statue. You quickly ran to him and check whether he’s having his visions inside the class. You looked into his eyes and was surprised that his pupil was still black.

"You scared me," you said as you breathe a sigh of relief, "YOU SCARED ME, JUNGKOOK!" you shouted at him before punching him on his arms.

"You didn’t hear the announcement?" he said as he looked at you playfully.

"What announcement?" you asked him as you tilt your head waiting for more information, "well?"

"3 pairs were chosen as a winner," he said before smiling at you, "WE WERE CHOSEN! OUR SONG WERE CHOSEN!!!"

"What?" you said in a confused tone, "but they didn’t play our song!"

"They didn’t play our song because they will play it at exactly 12 pm today!" he said excitedly, "WE WERE CHOSEN TO COMPETE FOR THE SONGWRITING CONTEST!"

You hugged him tightly, "Really?????" you asked before kissing him quickly on the lips, "wait, I gotta call dad. You have to call your uncle!"

You called your dad to tell him that your piece was chosen. He was really proud of what you and Jungkook accomplished and even said he will throw a celebration and he will invite all the cops assigned where he was assigned. He also told you that Jungkook and his uncle were both required to be there. He was so happy that before he hung up the call, you overheard his announcement that your song was chosen to his co-cops and you heard them all yell.

"Dad said he’ll throw a celebration party and you and uncle were required to attend," you said as soon as Jungkook hung up.

He looked at you and smiled, "Uncle said the exact same thing! I guess we will be celebrating twice," he said before hugging you and putting a kiss on your head.

You hugged him back and you decided to stay like that for a while.

Jungkook tightened the hug and your stomach is literally making sounds so you reminded him of lunch. He let you go and he took his bag and you took off after him.

He ordered his food before you so he can get a nice table for the both of you while you order yours. He got a nice table located on the part of the cafeteria that has the proper lighting. You put down your tray and quickly devoured your lunch. Unlike other schools, the food on your cafeteria were all edible and taste somewhat good. They’re not the best but at least they serve a food that tasted good and can be eaten by picky eater.

"You didn’t have breakfast?" he asked as he ate his food.

You nodded as an answer, "Dad turned off my alarm. He thought school’s finished last week," you said as you looked at him, "eat your food, Jungkook. You won’t be full just by looking at me."

"Well, I’m rather complete just by looking at you," he said and you glared at him.

"Eat your food, Jungkook. I don’t like it when you just look at me while I’m eating. You ordered a food, finish it."

He smiled at you, "Okay, Y/N. I’m eating it," he said before eating his food.

Now that you finished eating, it was now your turn to look at him while eating and you’re enjoying looking at him.

He was almost finished when you heard your song.

"It was our song," you said to him and he just nodded at you as an answer.

Both of you couldn’t believe that your song was chosen to participate the songwriting contest. You were both silent while listening to it and when it was finished, you looked at Jungkook and smiled at him, "the best 4 minutes of my life," you said to him.

"You’re the best part of my life, Y/N. " he said before putting his hand over yours and smiling like crazy, "You will always be the best and the greatest part of my life."

- <<10 - 1/3/17

A/N: My first update for the year 2017 but it’s the last chapter to Jungkook’s AU *crying* but anyway, after talking to myself after eternity, I kinda made up my mind to reduce the chapters into 5 chapters because Jin’s AU is somewhat 65% finished and I haven’t still cut each chapter and I don’t really think it’s feasible to to cut the story for it to have 10 chaps like Kookie’s. Anyway....

Thanks for reading! Please leave an anon message if you liked it or if you like to, send me a message. I really encourage you to drop a comment or something.

Anyway, I love y’all!!!!!! *throwing heart signs everywhere*

[bcnovels]

Murder is Only a Word Away

Down

36. A certainty in life (5)

 London, Wednesday, October 10. 12:15 PM

The sprawling Sunday Times editorial office was, as usual, bustling with activity and a slight distraction to his train of thought. Smooth (8), silky (5), century (7) width 16 cm, depth 10 cm, height 8 cm, mystified (9), perplexed (9), flummoxed (9), solvable (8). Around him, journalists, researchers, and editors rushed to make their deadline in the 30m wide 60m deep, dry, poorly regulated air-conditioned room. At least it was not filled with smoke as it was thirty years ago when he first began. However, the blue nicotine hue that once hung over the cigarette smoking staff was now replaced by wafts of men’s aftershave competing against female perfume, which, at times, seemed like all-out chemical warfare. Maybe smoke was a healthier option, he thought, as he made his way across the floor to his own quiet, odour free domain.

These days, George did not recognise many of the younger faces; few were employed at the newspaper as long as he.

 A young female intern, early twenties, with short-cropped purple hair, stared as he walked past her desk. "Who’s that?" she asked her colleague, sitting opposite in her strong Liverpudlian accent.

Ten years her senior, fashion editor Beverley Grange glanced up with tired eyes over the top of her reading glasses at the man, early sixties, carefully weaving his way through the rows of desks, across the floor, avoiding eye contact with other staff. His non-distinctive, slightly ill-fitting dark brown pinstriped suit, with an overcoat folded over his left arm, and a full-length black gentlemen’s brolly hanging from his wrist, looked very much from another era.

"Oh," Beverley replied, finally realising who exactly the intern was commenting on, the unimposing man heading for the far corner of the office. "Oh, that's George," she sighed, then went back to preparing her copy for publication.

The young female nodded and tapped her lips with her Bic pen. "I've seen him before. Floats in and out without a word to anyone. Looks a bit of a nutter. What does he do?"

"Compiles the crossword puzzles," Beverley replied, uninterested.

"Really? I’ve never seen him at any of the editorial meetings. You mean those cryptic puzzles and all that sort of thing? He does them? Wow. My dad used to crack his brain on them every Sunday afternoon. Drove my mum mad, that did. Dead hard they are. I could never solve them."

"Me neither." Beverley said, dropping her pen and abandoning her text. She removed her reading glasses, rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger, and glanced around the room. "In fact, I don't think anyone in the office has ever completed them twice in a row. He always comes up with brain crunchers."

"Brain crushers you mean. So, he is a nutter," she sneered.

 Patina (6), finish (6), lustre (6), perfection (10)

No one knew how George managed to avoid the compulsory editorial meetings, annual Christmas parties, receptions of expired, retired, or job-changing colleagues, but he did. The tedium of shaking hands and explaining his work to someone new, or listening to drunken co-workers talking about their latest exploits with bad breath bathed in a vapour of alcohol and vomit, was all too much for him to bear. After his first years of employment he developed an art for avoiding nearly all forms of contact with anyone in the office not connected to his work.

There was only one person of course, and that was enough.

Unmindful to the general noise of people talking, chatting on phones and typing on keyboards, he strolled unobtrusively towards his own tiny office in the corner.

A treasured luxury in an age of desk sharing and cutbacks, he had successfully negotiated an irreversible clause into his contract when he first joined the newspaper; a guaranteed private office. However, the actual metered space had significantly diminished over the years. Now there was just enough room for a small desk and a chair, and no more. During the last downsizing, his own hat and coat stand was made redundant. The tall late-Victorian, dark-brown mahogany stand now resided in his house just inside the front door, next to the near identical stand inherited from his parents after they died.

 The moment his door closed and the noise outside became muted – tranquillity returned.

Calm (4), peace, (5), tranquillity (12), equilibrium (11), work (4)

George, unaware he was being observed through the opaque glass window of his office by another female in her early 50's, settled into his chair.

Immediately, she came into action, going through motions that had long turned into routine. She opened a locked drawer under her desk, and removed a small box filled with envelopes, all cleanly cut open, together with folded emails lodged between, ready for inspection.

As always, she knocked gently on the door and waited for permission to enter.

"Come in," George said, his voice scarcely audible.

Holding the box firmly, she opened the door just enough to step in.

"Good afternoon George," she said, cheerfully. "We've got a healthy batch this week. It should keep you busy for a while."

George gave a short but shy smile. For less than a second, he glanced up at the middle-aged woman and made eye contact as she placed the box in the middle of his small century-old, patina rich desk.

"I'll drop around later to see if you've picked any winners. Quite a few this week, I’m sure."

"Thank you Matilda," his soft voice answered, as he gazed at the overflowing box in front of him.

She lingered, as if wanting to ask something. George never noticed, his mind was elsewhere.

Winner (6), cinch (5), facile (6), sorted (6), systematise (11)

He reached out and pulled the box of letters and emails towards him.

"Right," she sighed, with an air of finality, "I’ll leave you to it." Matilda closed the door and returned to her desk.

Turning his attention to the box, George ran his hand along the edge of the letters and emails. At least two hundred, he thought. Finding a winner would be quick. The cryptic crossword last week was one of the easiest he had published in months, possibly years.

He had to give them hope.

Matilda could have picked out a winner, but that was not the way things worked in his tiny department governed by time and tradition. George was head of his own one-man operation devising the cryptic and quick crossword puzzles that appeared in all the Times newspapers. Each would normally take about thirty minutes to work out, except Sunday. The cryptic crossword puzzle for the Sunday Times was meant to be difficult. If it did not crack brains, its reputation would flounder. Created by his predecessors in the early part of the twentieth century, standards were set, and had to be upheld, no matter what.

He gently took hold of the first bunch of letters and emails. Matilda had sorted them in the usual manner. The first to arrive were at the front and last at the rear. Sense of pride that everything was fair and square for those who took the time and effort to solve the puzzles, was utmost paramount.

The prize – a rolled gold fountain pen worth two hundred pounds. Very generous, he thought. Not that he agreed to this altruistic prize depicted by senior management. He could remember the day when printing the winners name in the newspaper was more than enough accolade.

As usual, and according to his instructions, the cut-out puzzle solution remained inside the envelope, concealed. He knew of secretaries and assistant editors in rival newspapers who removed the solved puzzle and pinned it to the outer envelope for the editor to check, all for convenience. To George, it represented a violation. Years of working in intelligence during the Cold War had ingrained a strong compulsion for privacy and confidentiality. Even the most facile answers to crossword puzzles should not be exposed with a paperclip for all to see. Matilda had strict instructions to keep the box in the small locked drawer under her desk, which she dutifully did.

He could trust Matilda.

Confidence (10), certitude (9), guardian (8), cerberus (8)

A brief smile of inner merriment rose within him for a couple of seconds, but he quickly quelled it. Within ten minutes he found a winner and was in the process of writing down the name and address when his telephone rang.

"Hello?" He answered, then recognised the caller at the other end. "Ahh, Benton old friend," he said, in a mild uplifting voice. "How are you? Haven’t they pensioned you off yet?"

"Oh no, I’m still here," Benton replied, "but in general I spend most of my time in the garden, except for the last couple of weeks. Things have been getting a trifle hectic."

"Well at least you’re happy I’m sure. To what do I owe the honour of your call?"

"I have a small job to do and I'd like to use your services, if you don't mind, that is?"

"Of course, you never stop working for Queen and Country, do you?"

"Or retire," Benton replied. They both chuckled.

"I'd be happy to do a placement for you. When?"

"If it could go out next Sunday, then that would be wonderful."

George glanced up at the mundane calendar pinned to the grey wall next to his desk. "You will have to be quick. The deadline is still Friday, as usual."

"I was going to bring them around myself, but I could give them to you now, if that's all right with you?"

"Yes of course. I’d be happy to do that, no problem whatsoever."

George wrote down the words Benton dictated. "Very good. I’ve got that. I should be able to think of questions that will match. Anything else?"

"How about dinner sometime soon?"

"Now that would be nice," George replied. "It's been a while."

"Not this week, too busy. Let me give you a call when the time is right."

"That’s fine, Benton. I’ll speak to you soon."

George looked down at the words on the note pad. From a locked drawer he removed a separate folder containing special blank crossword templates for the Sunday edition. He checked the week number on the calendar, then pulled out the corresponding template. Benton had an exact copy.

 Three hours later, George opened the gate to the small garden of his early twentieth-century terraced house in the quiet Wimbledon suburb. The leaves on the few shrubs had turned yellow and fallen.

Deciduous (9), evanescent (10), fugacious (9)

An autumn chill hung in the air. Time to sweep the path and remove the dead leaves tomorrow, and that would be enough gardening until spring. From his jacket pocket he removed a small bunch of keys and inserted one into the Yale lock he had known his entire life.

Home (4), safety (6), warmth (6), seclusion (9)

Inside the darkened hallway, a ray of sunlight deflected through the blue, red, and yellow arched stained-glass windows onto the rustic brown and white diamond shaped floor tiles in the hallway that carried on through to the small kitchen at the back. Two small paintings with unassuming scenes of the English countryside hung randomly on both walls, left and right. Above them, small, hand sized Japanese puzzle boxes sporadically decorating the remaining free space, rested on little dark-brown wooden ledges.

George hung his dark tweed overcoat and placed his brolly in the mahogany hat and coat stand that had previously resided in his office. Next to it stood his parents near identical stand. A gentlemen’s brolly and a woman’s umbrella rested upright in the umbrella well, as they had done for the last twenty-five years.

George headed for his very private comfort zone.

Reserved (7), non-public (9), solitary (8), sequester (9)

With less light than the hallway, the front sitting room curtains were always drawn, with just a small gap not to warrant use of the early fifties floral ceiling lamp in the middle of the room. The scent of soft, sweet wood with a hint of furniture polish greeted him. Visitors who came to the house were brought into the dining room at the rear. His front sitting room was special. No more than one other person had entered this hallowed sanctuary within the last twenty years.

George poured himself a Drambuie from a small drinks cabinet and sat down in the worn leather armchair once governed by his father. Many years ago it was turned towards the fireplace, now it faced outward, the most ideal position for concentration, as well as the best view. After taking a sip, his eyes fell on to a small box that lay on the rosewood side table next to the armchair. Unlike the petite, hand-sized boxes in the hallway, this was twice as large.

George took it in his hands and ran his fingers gently over the wood.

Masterful (9) artistry (8), adroit (6), cryptic (7), hermetical (10), obscure (7)

It felt smooth, old, silk like, with fine lines carved into the wood which gave the impression of little drawers.

He raised it to eye-level and studied it closely.

From the moment he left the house that morning, the ornate box had occupied his mind. Benton’s telephone call had briefly disrupted his train of thought, but now, feeling refreshed and energised, he was once again engrossed in his most recent puzzle. The person who sold it claimed it was a doll’s house cabinet. He knew better but did not say. To George, it had puzzle written all over it.

Cylinder (8), mortise (7), fastening (9), conundrum (9), mystifyier (10), enigma (6)

Carefully, he placed his fingers on each side of the box and pressed. A small drawer opened, empty. This he had already done many times before, but knew there had to be more to it. The finely carved lines were just that, lines, but he had his doubts. George turned the box over and tried to peer inside. With nothing obvious to see, he was about to give up, then had an idea.

His fingers slid into the open slot, and moved them from left to right, it was certainly empty. Feeling slightly defeated, he gently shoved his hand in deeper. The fleeting idea of getting stuck worried him, and the notion of damaging the box began to seriously play on his mind. Carefully rooting as deep as he dared, he felt something – a lever.

This was new.

Joy (3), Glee (4), wonder (6), rapture (7)

Never had he come across anything like this before. A brief smile crept to the corners of his mouth. A tempered rush of excitement heightened his senses; this was the thrill. Tenderly, not wanting to damage the lever, he pushed against it and heard a click. A second drawer, directly beneath the first, sprung open.

Surprise (8), revelation (10), amazement (9), eureka (6)

The open top drawer obscured any view of the one beneath it. While attempting to close the top drawer, the bottom began to close in unison. Twice he tried to close the top drawer separately and twice the bottom drawer moved with it. They were connected, but how? Why? The puzzle had deepened. George couldn't believe the excitement.

Reaching for his glass of Drambuie, he paused to concentrate.

Relax (5), concentrate (11), ruminate (8), ponder (5)

Two minutes later, he tried to pull the bottom drawer out completely, it proved fruitless. Repeating the first procedure, he pushed the bottom drawer back in; it clicked into place. Once again, he inserted his fingers into the top drawer, pushed the lever, and the bottom drawer sprung open. Leaning back in the armchair, he took another sip of Drambuie. For the next ten minutes he stared at the box in near absolute silence – the only sound being the faint ticking of the early-thirties mantelpiece clock on top of the fireplace.

The solution was somewhere, but where?

Scrutinise (10), inspect (7), analyse (7)

George shifted in his armchair, then sat upright. He turned the box around, the drawers faced outward, and slowly ran his fingers over the smooth wood at each end. Unnoticed before, he felt two dull points. Both slightly protruding, no more than a half a millimetre on either side, and hardly detectable. Shoddy workmanship or water damage may have caused the wood to expand ever so slightly, but George knew better. A box so expertly crafted as this would have no craftsmanship flaws. Water damage so precise – affecting nothing else, was impossible. There had to be more.

He had a thought.

Turning the box around with the drawers now facing towards him, he placed each index finger over the bumps and pressed hard. Using both thumbs, he pushed against the top drawer; it slid in with a gentle smooth glide. The bottom drawer finally remained open. George gasped an air of success.

The rush of achievement in solving the puzzle was highlighted even more when he noticed a small, cream-coloured parchment lay rolled inside the compartment. Covered in Peony petals, a Chinese flower normally associated with wealth and aristocracy in ancient times. Familiar since he used the name of the flower in his cryptic crosswords once or twice; a clue only one or two people could solve.

Mystery, (7), puzzlement (10), apocryphal (10)

He smiled briefly, then carefully removed the petals and parchment, opened it out to reveal small Chinese characters. He had no idea what they meant, but he knew someone who did. George reached for the old seventies black telephone next to him and punched in a number.

"Hello, Benton? Yes, it's me, George. I found something you might be interested in. A Chinese silk parchment, eleventh century, I think. At least the box may be, the parchment could be later. I thought you might want to have a crack at unravelling it."

"Really? It sounds like a piece of Chih. Expensive in those times. Where did you get it?"

"A little present I discovered in a puzzle box I recently acquired. I must say, it does look very authentic."

Benton sounded excited. "And very rare indeed, I can imagine."

"I'll bring it with me when I see you next time."          

"That's very kind of you George, I would love to see it."

"The markings are very clear."

"Really? A real challenge."

"Yes, for both of us."

"Talking about challenges, did the work for Sunday go okay?"

"Yes, it’s in."        

"Excellent. Thank you very much, George, you're a real crypto master. I’ll get back to you on the dinner, it’s impossible to pin a date at the moment."

"No rush Benton, you always know where to find me."

"Yes, you are not one for change, are you?" Benton chuckled. "Speak to you soon, old friend," and hung up.

George leaned back in his armchair and took another sip of Drambuie. He acquired the box about a month ago for more money than he wished to part with. Now that he had discovered the hidden parchment, its worth had increased astronomically.

Since the purchase, little else had occupied his mind. The beauty of the seemingly simple box fascinated him. He could not help but wonder about its secrets. The contents were indeed interesting, but, to George, the mystery of the box itself was the real prize. Rarely had he seen such an unpretentious work, yet so complicated. Other than the few carved lines, there were no markings on the outside whatsoever. It resembled a block of wood, but he realised from the moment he first saw it, too beautiful and simply crafted to be just that.

Boxes like these did not really exist before the nineteenth-century. Was the parchment original? What did it mean? Benton should be able to decipher the ancient markings; it was after all, his hobby. The puzzle would be partially solved. He was not sure he would ever get to the bottom of it. Time had buried many secrets. Selling it on could be very beneficial. Especially now that anything old and Chinese was selling well at the prestigious auction houses. It could even secure him a very nice pension for the next thirty years. But would he sell it? Never.

Feeling relieved and proud of his little conquest, he took another sip and stared up at the walls of his small living room.

Small Chinese and Japanese puzzles and boxes rested on their individual handmade shelves, spaced evenly throughout the room.

Children (8), family (6), progeny (7), treasured (9)

Only a fraction of his collection, he began when he was ten years of age. His uncle, who had worked with the Americans after the surrender of the Japanese after World War II, gave him a puzzle box he picked up in Tokyo when he realised his nephew's passion for puzzles as a young boy. The collection grew until it filled every inch of his bedroom then extend it to the garage in his late teens. It was not long before he began to construct his own little puzzles and intricate boxes, including the wooden plinths they stood on. After his parents died, they gradually filled every room in the house. Each with its own private pedestal – the beauty of it fascinated him. It was probably also the reason why he never married. Any girl of interest back in his youthful years never shared his fascination. Only his parents were his true fans, and they were long gone. These days he isolated himself from everyone, except Benton, who seemed to be the only person who understood his mind and accepted his peculiar interests.

[jessestoddard]

Today’s interview with Karen Marie Chase is part of my ongoing blog-to-book project: Life After High School: Secrets To A Successful Life By Those Who Have Had Twenty Years To Think About It (or) What They Didn’t Teach Us Gen Xers In High School. If you missed the last post, click here, otherwise, you can start at the beginning here.

Karen Marie Chase

(Formerly Karen Marie La Mesa)

Beverly, MA

My Life In High School

Who were you in High School and how did you feel about it?

Who was I in high school? I was a nice girl who didn’t really fit into a group. I was athletic but wasn’t a “jock.” I got good grades but wasn’t a “nerd.” I wasn’t a “stoner,” yet I had friends who smoked and did drugs. In fact, I’ve never had even a single drag off a cigarette or tried a drug in my life. I had lots of friends but wasn’t one of the “popular” girls. A girl who had nothing—but everything.

I am a child from a single parent family—the girl who would help anyone and expected nothing in return. I was an independent, hard working kid, (started babysitting when I was 9, got a paper route (delivering the Skagit Valley Herald) when I was 11, started bussing tables when I was 15 and moved into working in a kitchen when I was 16 and have been working ever since.

How did it make me feel? Honestly, I never really thought about it before, but as I write this I am feeling really proud. I never caved to peer pressure or did anything I didn’t want to do just because other people were doing it or tried to talk me into it. My mom taught me to treat other people the way I wanted to be treated. A motto I lived by then and one I still do my best to live by today.

What did you think your life would become when you graduated?

What do any of us think our lives are going to become after graduation?

I thought I’d graduate from college, get a job, get married, have kids and live happily ever after. Who doesn’t picture some version of that grandeur?

My Life After High School

What happened in your life to you, for you, and by you in the last twenty years (how have you used your time and who have you become)?

As mentioned I come from a single parent family. My mom was proud and didn’t have help from anyone, which meant, we (me, my mom and younger brother) moved… A LOT.

I went to five different first grades alone.

Born in Torrington, CT, we landed on the West coast fairly early. On our way to the west, we lived in South Dakota and Colorado before landing in Reno, NV. We spent time in California, and Oregon as well. When I had just four weeks of 6th grade left we moved to Anacortes.

My brother and I were in shock. We had two aunts there and had visited but never thought we’d live there. My mom sent us ahead of her because she thought it would be helpful for us to make friends for the summer.

The Anacortes School District separated my brother and I. They sent him to Island View and me to Mt. Erie. The week after we got to Anacortes we both got the Chickenpox. Then I got to go to Camp Orkila. Met some great friends at Mt. Erie. Friends I keep in touch with today.

The move to Anacortes wasn’t easy. I’d come from a big busy, 24-hour city with huge overcrowded schools to a small “island” that rolled up the sidewalks at 8:00 every night. We spent four years in Anacortes.

I struggled at first; most kids who lived there had lived there their whole lives. They already had their groups. It took me a long time, but I was beginning to find my way, and then it was time to move again.

I was so ANGRY with my mom for moving us again. It was the summer of 9th grade. I had friends, a boyfriend, was doing well in school and sports, a paper route. I didn’t want to move! I sat in the U-Haul with my arms crossed and didn’t speak to my mom the whole way. How could she be doing this to us again?

I started 10th grade in utter shock. I thought Anacortes was small! We moved to a town called Wilton and in 11th grade the next town over, Lyndeborough. These are truly TINY towns. The junior high and high school were combined, Wilton—Lyndeborough Junior Senior Co-Operative High School and only had 350 kids total for grades 7-12! I learned the definition of tiny. My graduating class had 43 kids and 40 of us graduated!

I started dating a guy who lived up the street from us. I dated him all through the remainder of high school and college. We broke up for a period of time when I was in college. I graduated with a Bachelors Degree in Fine Arts with a Graphic Design concentration. After graduation, I got an apartment with that boyfriend. We broke up about a year later.

Finding a job after graduation was shockingly hard. No one will hire anyone without experience, but no one wanted to give experience. I finally got a job in a business card print shop making $11 an hour.

I was so upset at this. I did everything I was supposed to; I went to college and got a degree… And for what? To rack up $80k in student loans to make $11 an hour?! What a freaking joke! I could have skipped school and got a job that paid me $8 an hour and have no student loans.

A woman I was working with sort of put things into perspective for me. She said, “Karen, I’ve been working here 10 years and I bet your starting pay is very close to what I make.” It really made me think.

I stayed at that job for two months because as luck would have it, the job I really wanted called me. The person they’d hired didn’t work out and I was choice number two. I left the BC job and took a design position in Concord, NH. I replaced two designers and they had a temp in to help me but I ended up being the sole designer. I was doing the work of two people but only getting paid for one.

At this job, I learned Life Lesson #1: It was a small family company. One of the guys who worked there gave me the best professional advice I’d gotten to date, “Just remember kid, this is a family business and you ain’t family.”

I worked my ass off at that company. Doing the work of two people and it got me nowhere. I still worked my butt off though. If there is one thing my mom instilled in my brother and me, it was a strong work and moral ethic.

Because student loans were so expensive I needed to find another job to help pay for them. My aunt got me a job bartending at a small bar. From there I went to bigger bars, some a bit nicer, some a bit seedy. But I made good money no matter where I was. On a Wednesday night, I’d make what I made in a whole week at my design job.

I’d been a waitress through college but not a bartender. I LOVED it. It was a natural fit for me. I have never been someone who required much sleep and I love people, so two jobs didn’t effect me in any way other than making it easier to pay my bills. I had a great time bartending.

At the same time, I’d convinced my best friend from High School (Wilton) to get an apartment with me in Manchester, NH, aka MachVegas.

Boy did we have a blast! We had so much fun the cops showed up more than once.  Let’s see… They came to our Halloween Party, our Pimp N’ Ho party, our Toga party. Heck, they showed up at our not-even-a-party card playing Saturday night…. Yep, we gave the Manchester police some funny stories to tell!

During this time I learned my second life lesson…

Life Lesson #2: Don’t date a guy you meet in a bar.

Working behind a bar you get hit on all the time and it’s very easy to turn these advances down. I decided to give one guy I met a chance. He seemed different. He was the nicest guy on the planet until you added alcohol!

Early on I disclosed that drugs (even weed) were not something I wanted in my life (this was the main difference between my high school sweetheart and me).  Unfortunately, he smoked a lot of it. To his credit, he tried to give it up but that translated to more drinking. He got so bad that my friends and family didn’t want him around.  Friends would tell me I was invited to things but that I couldn’t bring him.

I finally had enough when on a really bad snowy night he was being nasty and I said I was going home. It was a bad storm but I ran to leave anyway. I jumped in my car and went to back up and hit my breaks abruptly to his mom screaming to stop. He had thrown himself under my car and I nearly ran him over! Once he got out from underneath he ended up on the hood screaming at me to drive because he was going to die tonight. His parents came out and his father and I ended up wrestling him to the ground and pinning him down until he was foaming at the mouth. I didn’t even know that was real. Thought that was just some special effect you saw in the movies. The saddest part, the next morning he didn’t even remember doing any of it.

Why do guys always do too little until it’s too late then expect forgiveness? I’d been pushed to a point that I couldn’t return from.

I was trying to get away from him when I met David. It was a freak 80-degree day in the middle of February. The print shop I worked at had two buildings and I happened to notice a job sitting on the counter that was supposed to have shipped two days prior. Luckily, UPS picked up from our 2nd building later in the day. I grabbed the box and hurried down the hill.

As I was approaching the building there were two guys at the bottom the hill outside the main entrance to the building. One was on a motorcycle and said something. I didn’t know them so didn’t think they were talking to me and looked behind me. As I got closer I asked if they were talking to me and the guy on the motorcycle said, “Yes, do you need help carrying the box?”

I thanked him for the offer and kept going. When I was heading back they were still there. As I went by, the guy on the bike asked if I wanted to go for a ride. I said sure and kept walking. I caught him so off guard that he stumbled over his response which was, well I’d take you for a ride but I just got this bike today and don’t have the passenger seat yet.

I stopped and looked at him and said well then why did you offer? He tried to give me his phone number and told him if he was serious when he got his seat I worked at Town & Country and was the only Karen there. He could call me when the seat arrived.  It snowed 6 inches the next day!

A week or so later I got the call. It was snowing again and he said while he got his seat in, it was snowing so perhaps I would like to get a cup of coffee. I told him I didn’t drink coffee. Radio silence. I laughed and said, “But I do drink other things!”

I invited him to get some friends together as some of my girlfriends and I were going out that weekend. He ended up coming alone…. My aunt said, “Oh, he’s a brave soul.”  We dated for a year and got engaged that Christmas. We planned a wedding and sent out invitations and everything then I called it off after he broke my trust. We tried to work on things but it was never the same.

A few months shy of our 4-year anniversary—the day after Christmas—he said his feet were feeling funny to the point that I took him to the emergency room. He was diagnosed with Guillain-Barre´ Syndrome. An autoimmune disease that causes your immune system to attack your nervous system.

David was a Desert Storm Vet and I learned a lot about autoimmune diseases and the elevated number of Desert Storm Vets to suffer from them. The good news is if you are going to get an autoimmune disease this is the one to get. Ninety percent of people recover from it 100%, but it is a long slow recovery averaging 6-plus months. He spent a couple weeks in the hospital and a month in rehab. Every morning I would go to the hospital get him in his wheelchair and do laps around the hospital. Go to work, go home, walk the dogs and go back to the hospital.

By then I wasn’t bartending anymore but was a shot girl at a local bar. It was a hell of a lot easier than bartending and to my surprise much more fun! I met one of my very best friends in this job.

A funny thing that I can say with confidence is that I never judge anyone based on appearance. When being introduced to this girl on my first night, for some strange reason I looked at her and thought to myself: Oh man she’s going to be the biggest bitch ever!

I have no idea why I thought that. I was introduced to Amanda and seriously we were instant friends and have been the best of friends ever since.

That year, I left the bar early on New Year’s Eve—ran to the CVS and bought a bottle of sparkling cider and plastic cups and ran to the hospital, jumped the gate and waited outside the employee entrance until someone came out so I could get up to David’s room for New Years.

He was moved to rehab a few days later where I continued the same routine until it was time for him to come home. Sadly it was a downhill spiral from there.

Life Lesson #3: Don’t go down with the ship.

He had a hard time getting back to norm. In fact, he never ended up going back to work. I don’t remember why but he started doing drugs—heavy drugs. I tried to help, tried to get him back on track and to being well emotionally and mentally but I just wasn’t enough and he continued to spiral. We broke up, I moved out.

For the first time since before I graduated college I moved back home. This time, unlike when I left the long time beau, I took my things, things we bought together but I paid for and packed up. I made the mistake the fist time around of letting my Ex keep anything we bought together because my new roommate had furniture and I made better money than him, and I thought I’d be able to replace it sooner. I tried my best but can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved, so I said my goodbyes and moved on.

I started spending time with a guy I met in college. I’d gone back to school to see a friend graduate and bumped into him working. Eric and I became friends my junior year. I was a bank teller while in college and he came to my window.

Little did I know my whole life was about to change.

It turns out this guy worked at my college. We became pretty good friends in our senior year, but after graduation, I never expected to see him again. At my friend’s graduation, we reconnected.

We never talked again all summer then out of the blue he called me that winter and asked if I skied. I didn’t but had just learned how to snowboard. We started hanging out a lot that winter, while David didn’t.

After we broke up, I ended up doing some design work for him and he helped me build my office. I started a graphic design business and my mom lets me build an office and studio apartment in part of a building she owned. He came up on weekends to help me build it.

I got my little design shop up and running. Studio K was in operation for about 3 years.  I was also working part-time at the chamber of commerce. I got my name out there, met other businesses and business owners.

I was more or less breaking even and then in May of 2006, my office and apartment were flooded in the Mother’s Day Flood. A huge portion of New Hampshire flooded when 14 inches of rain fell in a short time and flooded much of southern New Hampshire and parts of Massachusetts.

We’d been close but never single at the same time.  For the first time in our friendship, we were both single. I also never saw anything working out between us because he had two children. His life was in Massachusetts; my life was in New Hampshire.

At the time I also had a 17-year-old cousin in my care. I wanted him to be able to finish high school and get off to college before I made any drastic changes.

Well, the Mother’s Day Flood changed all that. My office and apartment had been flooded out.  Which forced my hand to move sooner than planned. We made arrangements for him to stay with a family friend until graduation and I packed up and headed to Massachusetts to start my life with Eric.

I’m not really sure how all that happened. I never imagined I’d ever go back to Massachusetts—let alone live there.

We had some serious ups and downs and some REALLY trying times with his kids. He was working two jobs so I spent the majority of the time with his kids. At first, it was fine as the kids were really good kids.

As time wore on their mother started to cause all kinds of problems for us. Such major problems that we almost didn’t make it. Jealousy is a very unattractive quality. After years together I finally told him it was time to take things to the next level, that I wanted a family and if he didn’t want the same things as me then we were wasting each others time. I felt if he didn’t know after 5 years, he was never going to know and told him I had a time set in my mind that if he didn’t make up his mind, I’d be forced to make up mine.

His deadline was New Years. If he didn’t make a move by then, I’d be moving out. In October he surprised me with a trip to Mexico. He’d arranged my mom coming to pick up my dogs to watch them. He bought suitcases and a bathing suit for me and a couple dresses. I was floored. I tried not to get my hopes up. We’d never been on a vacation and this was a fancy one and was a gift in itself.

We arrived on the morning of Halloween. My favorite holiday! And that night, to my shock—he proposed!

To his shock, I asked him if I could think about it.

He wasn’t sure if I was serious. I was. I asked if we could have a baby? He said he was close to saying yes. I told him kids were a deal breaker for me. I wanted a family so if we could have a family and do something about the situation with the kids (things were still really rocky) then I’d be happy to be his wife.

We saved for two years to pay for our wedding. I wanted to be married before we had kids.  If I had known it would take so long to get pregnant then I might not have waited. I never dreamed of how hard it would be to get pregnant. It turns out there was an issue that was standing in our way, but as luck would have it after several years of trying we were finally blessed with good news. A baby was on the way.

Life Lesson #4: A healthy baby is truly the most amazing gift anyone could ask for.

I took for granted how difficult it would be to get pregnant. Then once I was, a healthy baby became the true blessing in life. During my pregnancy, my best friend (my partner-in-crime shot girl) lost a baby to a very rare umbilical cord accident when she was 7 months along.

She too had a hard time getting pregnant and this was very traumatic for her and her husband. Also while pregnant, another close friend’s baby was diagnosed with a severe heart condition while still in the womb. My niece stopped growing and arrived a month early. I had no idea what a blessing a healthy baby is on top of having the baby in the first place.

We did not know if we’d be welcoming McKayla Marie or Alexander James but were answered when Alexander James arrived on May 30th, 2015. It was a week late but perfectly healthy!

I have never felt more blessed than I do now. Everyone told me life as I knew it would change. I didn’t expect it wouldn’t but I had no idea it was humanly possible to love someone more every day! He is truly amazing.

I know I’m biased but he’s just perfect… If only he’d sleep!

I joke that I followed a boy to Massachusetts. I figure it’s ok since I married that boy and we now have the most amazing little boy and a couple wonderful stepchildren and hopefully a daughter-in-law in the works.

So that’s where I am family-wise. Career-wise, where am I? What was my path? It’s been a little bit of a bumpy ride.

I mentioned I went to college after high school, started out working in a couple print shops, left the second to be the art director at a magazine in Manchester, NH.

I got there and had one of the less-than-awesome experiences in my career.

Life Lesson #5: It’s not lonely at the top.

I got to this art director job and walked into a girl who was acting as art director and being more or less demoted. Their director had left and one of the girls working there had stepped up and was acting as art director.

She didn’t know I was being hired until the minute I walked through the door. What a way to start out!

I should have known better. This was also a small company and also run by a husband and a wife. The husband was fine, the wife—not so much. She was nasty and would play me and the rest of the designers against each other. She told me it was lonely at the top and that I couldn’t be friendly with the girls because I had to be their boss. I do not agree with that philosophy whatsoever.  I believe if you are good to people they will be good back to you and I stuck with that philosophy.

Needless to say, it didn’t work out and this was what pushed me to open Studio K Graphics. I knew I could do a good job and make money at it.

I met a friend/former customer for lunch one day shortly after leaving and he told me he had something in his car he wanted to give me. I got there and he opened the back door and in the car was a printer, a fax machine, a computer and a few other office necessities. He said I was talented and could make it running my own business. I, of course, refused the gifts. There was no way I could pay for them.  We went back and forth and I only agreed to take them if he’d let me pay him back in some way, even if that meant through trade.

So it worked out and that was how I started Studio K Graphics. Once I closed it down after the floods, I kept some of my customers, I just didn’t take on any new ones. I still have a couple I do some work for today.

When I was in college I worked in the kitchen for work-study. I called the guy who runs the kitchen at Endicott and asked if they could put me to work until I could find a job. I was in luck. So I worked in the kitchen at my old Alma Mater for a couple months until I landed an art director position at a company that published trade magazines.

So here we go again, a small company, run by a guy who had his daughter working there for the summer. Well, she was as “Royal Princess” as the piece of work he was!

What a disaster that place was. This was truly the worse job I’ve ever had. The guy was the type of guy who thrived on conflict. He wasn’t happy unless there was some drama going on and if there wasn’t any he created it. His daughter was a prima donna and ended up staying when the editor left. She took over.

Everything bothered her. You couldn’t put an article in her inbox without “disturbing” her. Augh! I hated that place. The guy squashed every shred of creativity out of me and made me a paranoid nervous wreck. Every day I’d go home crying. I only stayed there a year. I couldn’t take it.

This was during the time when the economy was having a rough time. Graphic design and web design jobs were often being combined into one and I had zero web training. I had several very successful interviews and even a couple second interviews in Boston. Something happened with all of them.

McKay Healthcare had a client they were hiring another designer for but got held up indefinitely with the FDA. They assured me not to worry; it would just be a couple weeks. Several weeks went by and when I checked they said they didn’t know how long it would be held up—could be a year.

The other, NSTAR, a union job working for an energy company needed someone with web experience. They had someone they also liked and had web experience. Elder Hostel loved me and I passed the test they gave me.  They didn’t mind I didn’t have web experience because they were willing the train the right person. The manager was going on vacation for two weeks so she said she’d be in touch when she got back.

As luck would have it, Murphy struck again. While she was away, their web designer gave their two-week notice and now the manager was making her hire someone with web experience as there’d be no one there to teach me. Such a bummer. I was really excited about that job.

FINALLY, I was working through the career center to find a job and get my resume in good order and take some classes. I took the Myers-Briggs Personality test that I thought was a total load of crap. A bunch of stupid multiple-choice questions that supposedly would tell you what kind of personality you had. There are only 16 different personalities.

I found out I’m an ENFP and let me tell you it kind of freaked me out a little bit. It nailed my personality to a ‘T’. Also, it tells you some jobs people with your personality types have been successful in and some to stay away from.

What was even more profound was that it gave me insight as to other personality types and traits they exhibit and I learned why this last job was such a pure hell for me. My personality doesn’t need timelines to get things done, actually, they are often counterproductive. I can multi-task and flip back and forth between more than one project and be working on them all in tandem. Quiet time isn’t needed. Music and or people don’t distract me or prohibit my productivity.

The boss’s princess was the complete opposite. She had to have timelines, schedules, could only do one thing at a time, noises, music, and people were distracting to her. Again I learned so much taking this test about others and myself.

I finally decided that I needed to take a web design course or I was never going to find a job. I found a program at the career center that would pay for me to go back to school if I could prove that I needed to be retrained to get back in the workforce. It was a lot of paperwork but I was determined and when I tell you Murphy struck again, it’s true. The day I was supposed to start my first class, I got a call from a staffing agency, I do think the ONLY staffing agency in the area I hadn’t heard of before and likely the only one I wasn’t registered with.

They found my resume online and had a job they thought I’d be a good fit for, and asked if I could come in the next day for an interview. I said sure—why not check it out?

They sent me to Salem Five (my bank) the next day for an interview. They called me later that day, said they loved me and asked if I could start on Monday! I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to work while in the program of going back to school and of course my caseworker was on vacation and no one could answer me so I accepted the job. I couldn’t imagine them telling me not to work.

It was a 3-month contract job to cover a maternity leave. I was fortunate enough to make a good impression on all the right people and 8 years later here I am.

I started out as the graphic designer and when she came back a role was created for me. Half my job was charitable foundation administrator and the other half was an event planner. I was brought on during a hiring freeze so my salary was low but I loved this company so much, I would have cleaned toilets to stay.

One of my first projects I worked on was an internal newsletter. It had a birthdays and anniversaries section. People were celebrating twenty- and thirty-year anniversaries. In this day and age that is unheard of. It spoke volumes to me about the integrity of the company. The first year I worked there I was nominated for employee of the year! Whoot Whoot. I didn’t win, but to even have been nominated after less than a year, I felt pretty good.

My career has evolved at the bank. I started out as the designer, then charitable foundation manager, event planner, to PR specialist and social media manager. Two years ago I was promoted to Assistant Vice President and I know almost all of our 574 employees. The bank has grown from 18 branches when I got there 8 years ago, to 30.

As much as I’ve had a good run and learned a ton, I will be hanging up my hat and heading to another bank where I have accepted a Marketing Manager Position equivalent to my bosses role at Salem Five. I can’t wait! Looking forward to the new role and spending more time with my kiddo. The hours and pay are much better!

My Life Lessons

What were the major life lessons and wisdom that you gained during your journey over the last 20 years?

Nuggets of wisdom I’ve learned: Mom was right.

Work hard, and be a good person and good things will happen to you.

Everything happens for a reason.

Even if we don’t understand it at the time, I have to believe there is some reason/bigger/grander plan.

Old clichés you hear as kids are true, the older you get the faster it goes! People weren’t kidding about that! Eh, what do the grown-ups know? Clearly a lot more than any kid ever thinks.

Don’t work for husband/wife companies unless you are family. As my co-worker told me, this is a family business and you ain’t family.

It’s not lonely at the top. Screw the asshole who said that (Jody).

The former president at Salem Five shared this golden nugget with me. One day when talking to him about character flaws, he said, “Karen, a person’s biggest flaw is often their greatest attribute.” I will never forget that.

Letter To My High School Self

If you could write your 18-year-old self (or however old you were when you graduated) a letter, and send it back in time, what would you say? What lessons or wisdom did you learn? What encouragement or warnings would you give yourself?

If I could leave advice for my 18-year-old self, I’d say:

#1, Mom taught me, don’t ever do anything to someone you wouldn’t want to be done to you—live by that wisdom and you can’t go wrong.

Treat people the way you want to be treated.

Be yourself—don’t let friends or family define who you are.

Believe in yourself and have confidence. If you aren’t there yet, fake it. Confidence comes with experience—it will come.

Tell the people you care about that you care.

Give someone, anyone, a hug daily.

Tell your family (particularly your children and your parents) that you are proud of them.

Live your life for yourself and no one else. You can’t please others if you aren’t pleased yourself.

The older you get the less time you’ll have for drama and bull. You don’t have to be involved. Don’t let it weigh on you, and just walk away.

Be kind and others will be kind to you.

Appreciate the little things and be true to yourself. At the end of the day, the only one you need to please is yourself.

Smile! It increases your face value.

Lastly, roll with the punches. When life serves you lemons, make lemonade and DON’T, I repeat DON’T, hang around with negative or bad influences. People tend to become what their friends are.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

  In the next post, I will wrap things up with Chapter 13.

Are you from Generation X? I want to hear what you think! Please comment below and participate in the conversation about What They Didn’t Teach Us Gen Xers In High School. What do you wish someone told you when you were eighteen?

[mailerlite_form form_id=4]

Life After High School: Interview with Karen Marie Chase Today’s interview with Karen Marie Chase is part of my ongoing blog-to-book project: Life After High School: