#don’t get me started on the fact that christianity exists in the cars universe

[hestiablessed]

ok so i’m watching cars 2 (i work in a daycare it’s nap time) and mater straight up uses the powers of autism to solve the crime!?! Right!?!!? so mater is obviously autistic, but he uses( more so that finn mcmissle thinks he does) the fact that he doesn’t understand social cues as a cover. like the scene with the lemon meeting and mater is disguised as ivan and he’s talking to the one body guard. Also don’t even get me started on the lemon cars being an allegory?? metaphor??? for disabled people… Also the pattern recognition which you can see at the end when he confronts sir axelrod, and the special interest which is the reason he’s in this mess because the spies signal is a fact and not just a random sentence which is just dumb.

Anyway all this to say autism is cool and cars 2 is the best cars movie

[rainsmediaradio]

RainOverTalks: Life Milestones vs Personal Milestones, Which is Most Important?

RainOverTalks: Life/Natural Milestones vs Personal Milestones, Which is Most Important? Milestones are stages in life we all aspire to reach and cross. Simple! Milestones are evidence of progress. Progress in life, in business, in academics, at your job, in family, among friends, as friends, in relationships, in marriage and so on. Even the Bible says by their fruit we shall know them. Meaning, as a Christian, the progress in your life and everything about you directly or indirectly tell if you are truly in Christ and Christ in you. Why? Because the Bible also says, greater works shall you do. Which means as a child of God you are not allowed to be stagnant and if you are stagnant you must snap out of it and move forward because God’s plan for you is not to be stagnant. Enough of Christian talk. The fact is, milestones are records that prove you are living and not surviving. Ah! Ah! Living and surviving is not the same thing. Living in this context means you are progressing. Things are working out for you. The universe is aligning for you. While surviving means you are stumbling. You are always struggling to get things done. Things you should achieve in 1 year are taking you 2 to 3 years to achieve. You are not eating what you want but eating what you have available. You are not living the lifestyle that suits your persona but living the lifestyle of circumstances. Don't get me wrong, I am not saying you should live a lie. You should know, you do not have to be extremely rich to be living. In fact, there are wealthy people who are not living but surviving because what you see as wealth they possess is a curse to their life. So, they live in greed, fear, pain, loneliness instead of living a life of freedom they could afford with the wealth they have. Contrary to the title, there are three categories of milestones: life or natural milestones, personal milestones and spiritual milestones. We will pay more attention to life and personal milestones but will discuss briefly spiritual milestones. Life milestones are natural things you must have to give your existence a meaning. These are as follows in no important order. Age: Clocking a certain age in life is an achievement, especially if you are from a family with a history of dying young. Attaining age 30, 40, 50, 60, 70 and 80 is always a big deal. At 20 you are expected to have life a path. At 30 you are expected to be married or getting ready to marry while 50, 60 and 70 are grandpa and grandma lifestyle season. Well, things are changing now; they say 50 is the new 20. Is that true? Other life milestones include entering adulthood, leaving parental home, starting work, marriage, giving birth, retiring and death. Personal milestones, on the other hand, are milestones that you set for yourself like having a career, acquiring a house, buying exotic cars, jet, yacht, travel the world, attaining enviable academic fit and so on. You are probably wondering why houses and cars are personal milestones. Nature does not care about where you live or what you drive. I'm sorry! This brings me to my next point. Sacrifice, you see, to achieve natural milestones you need little or no effort. However, personal milestones come with a price. For every personal milestone you achieve there is a price paid. The price could be time, giving up something precious to you or giving up both your precious and time. You have to sacrifice something to get something. You are probably wondering, what about those who are born into wealth? What did they give up? Their predecessors have paid the price on their behalf to an extent, but to sustain their wealth and make it generational, they have to continue from where their predecessor stopped, or else their offspring will only hear of their family's exploits as history with nothing to show for them. Now, time in this context is your lifetime while precious things to give up could be anything from money to your life, your loved ones life, parting ways with a lover, letting go of comfort zone, parting ways with your family etc. No pain, no gain. Something has to give for something to come. The higher the price the glorious the achievement if you did not deceive yourself. So, which do you think is more important? Life milestones or personal milestones? There may be times when you will have to let go of your marriage or someone you love to achieve a personal milestone. Trust me, it is a tough decision to make. Because you would have to ask yourself repeatedly, is it worth it? Reflect on your life and ask yourself, how did i get here? Do I want to continue in this journey or is it time to give life the chance to take its course? Have I achieved enough? All I gave up trying to get to this height, is it worth it? By the way, Spiritual milestone is a journey between you and your maker. God you believe in. Even Atheist believes in something. Because not believing in God is believing in nothing and if believers won’t see this as blasphemy, nothing can also be classified as God. Why? Nobody knows for sure where God is, nobody has seen God before, nobody can tell whether God is black, white, brown or Irish, and nobody could tell if God is ugly or beautiful. However, if we all agree that there is someone somewhere called the creator then we all agree that God is every living and non living thing God created because we are all God’s signature. So, in nothing there exists something and in something there exists nothing. Therefore, for nothing to exist there must have been something and for something to exist there must have been nothing. So, if you say there is no God then there should be no you and there should be no universe and for God to exist there must be you and everything because without you and everything (that includes living and non living things) there will be nothing to refer to God as God. Have you ever wondered if the devil or the angels will exist or be relevant if there are no human and non living things? It will be like being a musician with no audience to sing for. What establishes a musician as a musician is having people who appreciate your craft and talent and support it with their time and resources or else you are just a regular human being who sings in shower to soap, curtain, water and walls of the bathroom. The higher you grow in the spiritual realm the more celestial knowledge you will gain and the stronger and powerful your physical become. Some people ought to be mighty warriors in the spiritual but because they did not pay the price of time to grow in the spirit. Therefore, they become a midget in both spiritual and the physical. The first milestone in the spiritual realm is to know who you are. If you know who you are, you would know 'what' you are, you would recognize the gift and power you possess as a being and what battle to conquer or walk away from and the rest is history. So, what milestone is the most important to you? Read the full article

[meirmakesstuff]

1/2 Hi Meir! I saw your answer on WWC, and since you mentioned you're professionals, I figured I'd ask directly: I'm writing a second world fantasy with a jewish coded people. I want to be clear in the coding but avoid the "if there's no egypt, how can there be passover?" so I called them Canaanites. I thought I was being clever by hinting in the naming that the whole region does exist, but I've since read that it might've been a slur in fact? Do you have any advice on this?

2/2 I did consider calling the group in question Jewish, but aside from how deeply Judaism is connected to the history of the Israelites, I haven't used any present-day real-world names for any other group, (I did use some historic names like Nubia). I feel like calling only one group of people by their currently used name would be othering rather than inclusive? Or am I overthinking this?

Okay so I want to start out with some disclaimers, first that although WWC recently reblogged an addition of mine to one of their posts, I am not affiliated with @writingwithcolor​, and second that the nature of trying to answer a question like this is “two Jews, three opinions,” so what I have to say about this is my own opinion(s) only. Last disclaimer: this is a hard question to address, so this answer is going to be long. Buckle up.

First, I would say that you’re right to not label the group in question “Jewish” (I’ll get to the exception eventually), and you’re also right in realizing that you should not call them “Canaanites.” In Jewish scripture, Canaanites are the people we fought against, not ourselves, so that wouldn’t feel like representation but like assigning our identity to someone else, which is a particular kind of historical violence Jews continue to experience today. I’ll get back to the specific question of naming in a moment, but because this is my blog and not WWC, and you asked me to speak to this as an educator, we’re going to take a detour into Jewish history and literary structure before we get back to the question you actually asked.

To my mind there are three main ways to have Jews in second-world fantasy and they are:

People who practice in ways similar to modern real-world Jews, despite having developed in a different universe,

People who practice in ways similar to ancient Hebrews, because the things that changed us to modern Jewish practice didn’t occur, and

People who practice in a way that shows how your world would influence the development of a people who started out practicing like ancient Hebrews and have developed according to the world they’re in. 

The first one is what we see in @shiraglassman​‘s Mangoverse series: there is no Egypt yet her characters hold a seder; the country coded Persian seems to bear no relation to their observance of Purim, and there is no indication of exile or diaspora in the fact that Jews exist in multiple countries and cultures, and speak multiple languages including Yiddish, a language that developed through a mixture of Hebrew and German. Her characters’ observance lines up approximately with contemporary Reform Jewish expectations, without the indication of there ever having been a different practice to branch off from. She ignores the entire question of how Jews in her universe became what they are, and her books are lyrical and sweet and allow us to imagine the confidence that could belong to a Jewish people who weren’t always afraid.

Shira is able to pull this off, frankly, because her books are not lore-heavy. I say this without disrespect--Shira often refers to them as “fluffy”--but because the deeper you get into the background of your world and its development, the trickier this is going to be to justify, unless you’re just going to just parallel every historical development in Jewish History, including exile and diaspora across the various nations of your world, including occasional near-equal treatment and frequent persecution, infused with a longing for a homeland lost, or a homeland recently re-established in the absolutely most disappointing of ways.

Without that loss of homeland or a Mangoverse-style handwaving, we have the second and third options. In the second option, you could show your Jewish-coded culture having never been exiled from its homeland, living divided into tribes each with their own territory, still practicing animal, grain, and oil sacrifice at a single central Temple at the center of their nation, overseen by a tribe that lacks territory of their own and being supported by the sacrifices offered by the populace.

If you’re going to do that, research it very carefully. A lot of information about this period is drawn from scriptural and post-scriptural sources or from archaeological record, but there’s also a lot of Christian nonsense out there assigning weird meanings and motivations to it, because the Christian Bible takes place during this period and they chose to cast our practices from this time as evil and corrupt in order to magnify the goodness of their main character. In any portrayal of a Jewish-coded people it’s important to avoid making them corrupt, greedy, bigoted, bloodthirsty, or stubbornly unwilling to see some kind of greater or kinder truth about the world, but especially if you go with this version. 

The last option, my favorite but possibly the hardest to do, is to imagine how the people in the second option would develop given the influences of the world they’re in. Do you know why Chanukah is referred to as a “minor” holiday? The major holidays are the ones for which the Torah specifies that we “do not work:” Rosh Hashannah, Yom Kippur, and the pilgrimage holidays of Sukkot, Passover, and Shavuot. Chanukah developed as a holiday because the central temple, the one we made those pilgrimages to, was desecrated by the invading Assyrian Greeks and we drove them out and were able to re-establish the temple. That time. Eventually, the Temple was razed and we were scattered across the Roman Empire, developing the distinct Jewish cultures we see today. The Greeks and Romans aren’t a semi-mythologized ancient people, the way the Canaanites have been (though there’s increasing amounts of archaeology shedding light on what they actually might have been like), we have historical records about them, from them. The majority of modern Jewish practice developed from the ruins of our ancient practices later than the first century CE. In the timeline of Jewish identity, that’s modern.

The rabbinic period and the Temple period overlap somewhat, but we’re not getting into a full-scale history lesson here. Suffice it to say that it was following the loss of the sacrificial system at the central Temple that Judaism coalesced an identity around verbal prayer services offered at the times of day when we would previously have offered sacrifices, led each community by its own learned individual who became known as a rabbi. We continued to develop in relationship with the rest of the world, making steps toward gender equality in the 1970s and LGBT equality in the 2000s, shifting the meaning of holidays like Tu Bishvat to address climate change, debating rulings on whether one may drive a car on Shabbat for the sake of being with one’s community, and then pivoting to holding prayer services daily via Zoom.

The history of the Jews is the history of the world.  Our iconic Kol Nidrei prayer, the centerpiece of the holiest day of the year, that reduces us to tears every year at its first words, was composed in response to the Spanish Inquisition. The two commentators who inform our understanding of scripture--the ones we couldn’t discuss Torah without referencing even if we tried--wrote in the 11th and 12th centuries in France and Spain/Egypt. Jewish theology and practice schismed into Orthodox and Reform (and later many others) because that’s the kind of discussion people were into in the 19th century. Sephardim light Chanukah candles in an outdoor lamp while Ashkenazim light Chanukah candles in an indoor candelabrum because Sephardim developed their traditions in the Middle East and North Africa and the Ashkenazim developed our traditions in freezing Europe. There are works currently becoming codified into liturgy whose writers died in 2000 and 2011. 

So what are the historical events that would change how your Jewish-coded culture practices, if they don’t involve loss of homeland and cultural unity? What major events have affected your world? If there was an exile that precipitated an abandonment of the sacrificial system, was there a return to their land, or are they still scattered? Priority one for us historically has been maintaining our identity and priority two maintaining our practices, so what have they had to shift or create in order to keep being a distinct group? Is there a major worldwide event in your world? If so, how did this people cope?

If you do go this route, be careful not to fall into tropes of modern or historical antisemitism: don’t have your culture adopt a worldview that has their deity split into mlutiple identities (especially not three). Don’t have an oppressive government that doesn’t represent its people rise up to oppress outsiders within its borders (this is not the first time this has occurred in reality, but because the outside world reacts differently to this political phenomenon when it’s us than when it’s anyone else, it’s a portrayal that makes real-life Jews more vulnerable). And don’t portray the people as having developed into a dark and mysterious cult of ugly, law-citing men and beautiful tearstreaked women, but it doesn’t sound as if you were planning to go there.

So with all that said, it’s time to get back to the question of names. All the above information builds to this: how you name this culture depends on how you’ve handled their practice and identity. 

Part of why Shira Glassman’s handwaving of the question of how modern Jewish practice ended up in Perach works is that she never gives a name to the religion of her characters. Instead, she names the regions they come from. Perach, in particular, the country where most of the action takes place, translates to “Flower.” In this case, her Jewish-coded characters who come from Perach are Perachis, and characters from other places who are also Jewish are described as “they worship as Perachis do despite their different language” or something along those lines (forgive me, Shira, for half-remembering).

So that’s method one: find an attribute of your country that you’d like to highlight, translate it into actual Hebrew, and use that as your name.

Method two is the opposite: find a name that’s been used to identify our people or places (we’ve had a bunch), find out what it means or might mean in English, and then jiggle that around until it sounds right for your setting. You could end up with the nation of the Godfighters, or Children of Praise, The Wanderers (if they’re not localized in a homeland), The Passed-Over, Those From Across The River, or perhaps the people of the City of Peace.

Last, and possibly easiest, pick a physical attribute of their territory and just call them that in English. Are they from a mountainous region? Now they’re the Mountain People. Does their land have a big magical crater in the middle? Craterfolk. Ethereal floating forests of twinkling lights? It’s your world.

The second option is the only one that uses the name to overtly establish Jewish coding. The first option is something Jews might pick up on, especially if they speak Hebrew, but non-Jews would miss. The third avoids the question and puts the weight of conveying that you’re trying to code them as Jewish on their habits and actions.

There’s one other option that can work in certain types of second-world fantasy, and that’s a world that has developed from real-world individuals who went through some kind of portal. That seems to me the only situation in which using a real-world name like Jews, Hebrews, or Israelites would make sense. Jim Butcher does this with the Romans in the Codex Alera series, and Katharine Kerr does it with Celts in the Deverry cycle. That kind of thing has to be baked into the world-building, though, so it probably doesn’t help with this particular situation. 

This is a roundabout route to what I imagine you were hoping would be an easier answer. The tension you identified about how to incorporate Jewishness into a world that doesn’t have the same history is real, and was the topic of a discussion I recently held with a high school age group around issues of Jewish representation in the media they consume and hope to create. Good luck in your work of adding to the discussion.

[prorevenge]

My Grandmother Put Greedy Preachers In Their Places .... Twice .... Even After She Died

TL/DR - My grandmother generously served her "Bible Believing Christian" church for almost 50 years, without asking anything in return. But when she became elderly, disabled and homebound, her church acted like she did not exist - until she was in hospice care and literally on her deathbed, when that church showed a sudden interest in telling Grandma to, "Remember your church in your will". She waited until exactly the right moment, in front of exactly the right audience, to expose these greedy assholes for what they were.....twice.

My grandmother was a member of a large conservative "Bible Believing" church for her entire adult life. This church, which I'll call BigWhiteChurch, was a member of a large Evangelical denomination. BigWhiteChurch was located in a prosperous suburb of a large city in the Bible Belt of the Deep South of the USA.

Grandma was very active in BigWhiteChurch. She worked in the nursery every Sunday morning, helped cook hundreds of church fellowship breakfasts and dinners, accompanied her children and grandchildren on dozens of church retreats and choir tours, taught Youth Bible Study on Sunday nights and was very active in supporting Home Missions, as well as helping with other youth programs. She always tithed, and often gave extra for missions and special offerings.

Grandma's greatest talent was making other people feel important. I've seen this first-hand many times. Although I belonged to a different church, I often visited with Grandma, and when I did, I usually went to BigWhiteChurch functions with her. I've seen her single-handedly cook breakfast for dozens of BigWhiteChurch Youth, a task which took over 2 hours, even in the church's large kitchen. Then, after the meal, she asked the group for a round of applause for the high-school student leader for, "Doing such a great job of organizing the Prayer Breakfast".

I remember that, on a BigWhiteChurch youth retreat at a rural Church Camp, she drove most of the night to go back to the city and retrieve a big box of evangelistic materials, that one of the Assistant Pastors (whom I'll call AssPastor) had forgotten and asked her to get, in time for our morning program the next day. His boss, the Senior Pastor (I'll call him PompousPastor), never found out that AssPastor had screwed up or that Grandma had fixed it for him. AssPastor never even thanked Grandma. Even though I was a child, this bothered me so much that I asked her about it. She said that she didn't mind at all; she told me her reward would be that those materials, "Would help children find Jesus".

Grandma's service to her church ended abruptly at the age of 73, when she broke her back in a car accident. Afterwards, for the last 10 years of her life, she was homebound and could not go to church because of this injury and declining health due to old age. Her mind was just as sharp as ever, and her faith remained sincere, but her body wore out a little more every day.

During those 10 years, she made many efforts to reach out to her church, its leadership and her church friends, inviting them to visit her at her home, etc., without success. Every one of these invitations was declined or simply ignored.

Near the end, when she was in home hospice care, she decided to plan her own funeral. She and my Grandpa called her church and asked for the Senior Pastor, PompousPastor, whom she had known for over 30 years, to visit her so that they could plan her memorial service, which she and Grandpa wanted to be held at the church.

PompousPastor was too busy, but AssPastor stopped by a few days later. According to my Grandpa, here's what happened at that meeting, with my Grandma literally on her deathbed:

Grandma, Grandpa and AssPastor discussed her funeral for a couple of minutes. Then AssPastor started pressuring her to, "Lay up your treasure in Heaven" by, "Remembering your church in your will".

Grandpa told him firmly that, "This is neither the time nor the place to discuss her will."

They went back to discussing the funeral for a few minutes. Then AssPastor steered the conversation back to Grandma's will, with liberal injections of how badly "her" church needed "her support".

Grandpa told him several times that it was inappropriate to talk to Grandma about her will or the church's financial needs, because she was terminally ill and in an enormous amount of physical pain. AssPastor would agree and briefly talk about the funeral, but would then go back to talking about the church's financial needs, heavenly rewards, "Where your treasure is your heart will be also" (Matthew 6:21, Luke 12:34), etc.

My Grandma started crying.

To put this into context, Grandma was more than a "Steel Magnolia". She was "Titanium Coated With Diamond Wrapped In Kevlar". She rarely ever cried, and never EVER cried about herself. Not one tear when the doctor told her that her back was broken so badly that she would never walk again, nor during the following 6 months in futile rehab. She would shed sincere but well-managed tears at funerals and while visiting family members in the hospital when they received bad news. She would cry to console others, "Weep with those who weep". But nobody - not Grandpa, not her daughter (my mom), nor any of my uncles or Grandma's siblings - ever remembered her crying for herself.

My Grandma was sobbing uncontrollably.

Grandpa, a retired steelworker, ex-Marine Sergeant and Korean War combat veteran, physically grabbed AssPastor and "escorted" him out of their house, not too gently.

Contrary to everyone's expectations, Grandma lived another 6 months, mostly because of sheer force of will. Eventually, though, Grandma passed away and we held her memorial service at the funeral home, not BigWhiteChurch. PompousPastor and AssPastor were conspicuously absent. In fact, there were no "Professional Christians", from BigWhiteChurch, at the service at all, not even in the audience.

To start the service, Grandpa stood up at the podium in front of the crowd and said, "Some of you may have heard that I dis-invited PompousPastor and AssPastor from this funeral service. This service is not an appropriate place for me to give you my reasons for doing this, although you all know me and so you know that my reasons are good ones. Also, my wife asked me to exclude them."

"This funeral service may be different from other funerals that you have attended. It is going to be an "open microphone" funeral. Everyone who wants to say something is invited to come up here and describe your friendship with my wife, tell a story about her that is worth remembering, or anything else that you want to say that will honor her memory and bring comfort to everyone here today. I have asked several family members to prepare statements, but you don't have to have anything prepared. Please, if you want to say something, come up here and do so."

There were about a hundred people at the funeral service; at least a third of them eventually stepped up to the microphone. The service, which we had planned to last about 30 minutes, lasted for over two hours and, as best I can tell, not one person left early. There was laughing, crying and hugging, three of her grandchildren played some of her favorite songs on the piano and guitar, we all joined hands and sang her favorite hymns.

Afterwards, dozens of people told my Grandpa that it was one of the most comforting and uplifting funerals they had ever attended. More than a few remarked that, "Funerals are better without preachers anyway", or something similar.

REMEMBERING HER PASTORS AND HER CHURCH IN HER WILL: THE ONE-TWO PUNCH

A couple of weeks later, it was time to start distributing the bequests in Grandma's will. Although Grandma and Grandpa dearly loved each other, they had separate wills because, she told my Mom, "That makes it easier for us to respect each other's turf", and because their lawyer had recommended it. Nobody thought that my grandparents were wealthy. They had lived in the same small but charming house in a prosperous, well-maintained suburban neighborhood for the past 50+ years, and had worked hard and lived modestly. But it was rumored that they had a very nice nest egg.

Of course, there is no legal requirement for anyone to attend "The Reading Of The Will", or to even have a "Reading". Modern telecommunications and near-universal literacy have made this quaint custom practically extinct.

But "The Reading Of The Will" was a tradition in our family because it was one of those events that gave our close-knit, extended family an excuse to get together. We never had "Family Reunions". They were too difficult to schedule for our large family. But we got together at birthdays, holidays, funerals, baptisms, etc., so that if you attended several of these, you would see just about every one of your cousins, aunts, uncles, and even great aunts & uncles who were Grandma's and Grandpa's siblings and in-laws.

With this family tradition in mind, many of our family members' wills often contained very personal bequests of items that had little cash value, but were the departed family member's way of telling their loved ones that they wanted to share a cherished memory with them one last time.

As an added incentive to attend, the family rumor mill had been buzzing with speculation, encouraged by Grandpa, that Grandma's will contained some "surprises".

The "Reading" was held in a conference room at a lawyer's office. Unsurprisingly, the attendees included my mom, as well as aunts, uncles, great aunts, great uncles and many of the grandchildren.

We were all surprised, however, to see PompousPastor and AssPastor from BigWhiteChurch. They informed us that Grandma's lawyer had told them that Grandma's will had bequests not only for BigWhiteChurch, but also for them personally.

Maybe it was just our imagination; but my siblings, cousins and I couldn't help noticing that these Preachers appeared to be actively salivating over their good fortune at Grandma's generosity.

Grandma had a large family, so a sizeable number of beneficiaries were named in her will. The lawyer's conference room was a bit smaller than an average middle-class living room. Extra chairs had been brought in, every seat was filled and people were standing in every remaining space.

There was barely space for all of us. Grandma's lawyer suggested that PompousPastor and AssPastor sit in chairs which were in the front of the room, next to himself. Since there was a large table in the room, this meant that the lawyer and these two Preachers were the only ones who were directly facing everyone else. Although the Preachers were gratified to be physically next to the center of attention, they did not notice, as all of the rest of us quickly noticed, that these seats made it easy for everyone else in the room to watch them closely, and practically impossible for them to leave the packed-to-more-than-overflowing room before the entire meeting was over, because they were farthest from the room's single door, and there were almost two dozen people standing or sitting between them and their only path to escape.

The bequests were quite generous, but pretty much what we had expected. Grandpa kept their house, its contents, their retirement accounts and everything that remained after all of the bequests had been satisfied. Children, grandchildren and several local charities received nice, but not extravagant, amounts of money. Several sentimental items were named and given to various friends and relatives.

Grandpa was first beneficiary listed in the will. But, after him, all of the other bequests were arranged in order of increasing worth. They started with sentimental items, which had very small cash value. Then each grandchild received several thousand dollars, then each son, daughter, brother, sister, niece and nephew received a little more, then several local non-profits received very nice amounts, etc.

Bequests to BigWhiteChurch, PompousPastor and AssPastor were (almost) the last ones listed in the will. They listened politely to the other bequests, but with steadily growing anticipation, as they noticed the exponential upward trend in Grandma's largess.

When Grandma's lawyer got to the BigWhiteChurch and Preachers' part of the will, he said, "This is a bit unusual, but before I announce these bequests to BigWhiteChurch, PompousPastor and AssPastor, Ms [Grandma's name] requested that I read the following statement to everyone present."

He opened a letter that was written in Grandma's own handwriting...

"For the past 10 years, NOT ONE person from BigWhiteChurch has ever called me, come to visit me or sent me a note to tell me that they cared about me. Not one minister, not one deacon, not one of the church women, not one of the church members who I worked with for all of those years, loved dearly and thought were my friends. I worked very hard for you when you needed me, for many, many years. But when I needed you and your church, you all pretended that I didn't exist."

"I only got one visit. When I was dying and I invited PompousPastor to come to my house and help me plan my funeral."

"This was my last attempt, after many attempts that I had made over the past 10 years, to reach out to my church and Pastor, whom I still loved dearly even though they had made it clear that they did not love me. If only I could have my funeral at my church, maybe some of my church friends, whom I had not seen in a decade, would come to the service to see me one last time. And I know they loved to hear PompousPastor preach, so if he preached at my funeral, maybe they would come to my funeral to hear him, even if they would not have come to see me.

But PompousPastor couldn't find the time to visit me, or even call me to tell me whether or not he was willing to preach at my funeral. AssPastor came by my house, but he didn't want to talk about my funeral. He just wanted me to, 'Remember his church in my will'. That's all. Just, 'Remember his church in my will'".

"It was then that I realized that I had allowed my church to break my heart for one last time. But that was the last time. The VERY last time."

"AssPastor did not know it when he visited me, but Grandpa and I had already prepared my will, long before his visit, which did include a double tithe - TWENTY PERCENT - of my ENTIRE ESTATE, for what was now my former ... FORMER ... church ... BigWhiteChurch.

This amount was [named the amount - an enormous shitload of money - generating muffled "wows" from many of her heirs, including me].

"But I got to feeling badly that we had not personally remembered such nice people as PompousPastor and AssPastor. So I changed my will to include them by name. While I was at it, I changed the amount of money that I left to BigWhiteChurch to match all of the love that they have showed to me during the last 10 years of my life, when I was suffering and lonely, and no longer able to work my ass off for them, for free, like I had done for almost half a century."

"That is her entire written statement", the lawyer said. "Now let's get back to the bequests in the will."

"Bequest to AssPastor: One Cent".

"Bequest to PompousPastor: One Cent".

"Bequest to BigWhiteChurch: One Cent".

The PompousPastor and AssPastor sat there looking like someone had just injected a gallon of novacaine into their jaws.

Every one of Grandma's family and friends felt an overwhelming urge to laugh out loud. But we kept quiet because we knew Grandma. We knew she wasn't finished yet. Grandma was simply setting them up for a one-two punch. The best was yet to come, and we didn't want to miss it.

"There is one last bequest," the lawyer continued, "For a charity called ...", which he named and I'll call "BlackCharity", then he paused before naming the amount....

Most of us had no idea what BlackCharity was. But, by the looks on their faces, we could tell that PompousPastor and AssPastor knew BlackCharity very well. Their faces displayed the same expressions of shock, dread and horror that they would have if the lawyer had said, "This bequest goes to The Demonic Baby Eaters to buy extra large rotisserie barbecue grills and tons of charcoal".

Every eye in the room was now fixated on PompousPastor and AssPastor.

The lawyer, who happened to be my uncle, one of Grandma's and Grandpa's sons, let the silence continue a few seconds more....

If we had been able to read PompousPastor's and AssPastor's minds, we would have known the history behind the looks on their faces. BlackCharity was sponsored by a large Black church just a few miles from BigWhiteChurch. They ran a free food/clothing bank, assistance programs for foster children, home delivery of pre-cooked meals for homebound seniors, legal aid, and other social services.

A long time ago, BigWhiteChurch, which was (and still is) 100% Caucasian, had provided a few years of financial and other support to BlackCharity. Then there was a very bitter, acrimonious breakup, allegedly because BlackCharity was practicing "The Social Gospel", while BigWhiteChurch was preaching "The True Gospel". BigWhiteChurch even sued to try to get some of their money back, although the suit was eventually settled and very little money actually changed hands.

But, this being The Deep South, everyone knew the real reason why BigWhiteChurch, or any white church, would stop supporting a Black charity: "Those n****** were getting uppity and not staying in their place". Grandma and Grandpa had seriously considered leaving BigWhiteChurch at that time. But they had reasoned that it was better to stay there and teach tolerance by their words and example. They knew they would never persuade everyone, but maybe they could reach some of the youth at their white church and break the generational cycle of racism. Grandma used to tell us, "My church is my Mission Field". We did not learn the true depth of her statement until after she died.

Since then, Grandma and Grandpa had secretly sent a portion of their "Tithe" to BlackCharity every month.

Most of Grandma's family, including me, didn't find out about any of this until after the meeting had ended.

But PompousPastor and AssPastor obviously understood what Grandma, by her actions which are more powerful than words, was saying to them. If you had grown up as a white person in the Deep South, as Grandma, Grandpa, PompousPastor and AssPastor had, you would understand.

To many white Southerners, this was one of the most personally insulting things you could do to them. It simultaneously labeled them as racists, condemned their bigotry and crushed their delusions of white superiority by saying, "These Black human beings, whom you hate, disrespect and have mistreated, are better people than you are. So they deserve my money more than you do".

Having allowed time for everyone to observe PompousPastor and AssPastor while they thought about how their white church had treated this Black charity, and how they AND their church had treated our Grandma...

The lawyer said, "The amount is...."

Then he named the EXACT SAME AMOUNT that Grandma had named in her handwritten letter, the huge amount of money that would have gone to BigWhiteChurch if she had not changed her will.

(source) story by (/u/BamaFan4Jesus)

[ferrstappen]

everything I didn’t say l Ander Muñoz Imagine.

(a/n): hey! I don’t usually take requests, but an anon sent this idea and I really liked it! Please be warned that this is a female reader, but this doesn’t pretend that he was ever straight, NO. In this scenario he thought he’d be happy with a girl because he was afraid to come out in such a judgmental environment since rich people can be more conservative. but, hey! I hope you like it.

prompt: Ander tells his girlfriend that he can’t be with her, and ends up finding the love of his life. 

Vacations were coming to an end and news had broken out that three new students would be arriving to Las Encinas, leaving many outraged parents and students that they were letting students from “another background”, which would ensue chaos. 

(Y/N), on the other hand, couldn’t careless about the new students. the only thing on her mind was her boyfriend, who had been especially distant and cold towards her. 

They had been together for almost two years now. Carla, Marina and her had been best friends since they had been born because their fathers met back in university and were business partners, but with time Marina drifted away. Polo and Ander were also close, so when Polo and Carla started dating, it made sense for him to start dating (Y/N). He always had doubts, something always feeling off in their relationship, but when Lu arrived at Las Encinas and started seeing Guzmán, it was the happiest moment for everyone because the three best friends were dating the greatest girls on school. 

“I think there’s something wrong with Ander.” She said staring at the lagoon pool on Carla’s backyard. 

“Why? He seemed fine to me the other day.” Lu said taking a sip from her glass, having the pleasure of tasting the newest wine from Carla’s mother’s winery. 

“Maybe he’s just tired. Polo told me the other day his father was giving him a hard time with this tennis thing.” Carla said trying to ease her worries.

“I know, but he just seems distant... Like there’s something he wants to tell me but just doesn’t do it.”

“Querida, I think you’re overthinking this. He adores you, there’s no need to panic.” Lu said placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

(Y/N) let out a sigh while taking a sip from her drink. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Of course I’m right! And if this think keeps bothering, just ask him what’s going on or you’ll drive yourself crazy.” Lu said widening her eyes to emphasize, earning a glare from Carla. 

“We can keep an eye on him tomorrow, remember we’ll be dining together.” Carla said trying to reassure her friend. 

The three friends kept talking until Mireya, Carla’s housekeeper, came in saying her driver had arrived. 

“Can I ride with you? My father had to ride with mine and told me to call a taxi.” Lu rolled her eyes, earning chuckles from her friends. 

“Of course, your house is on the way. See you tomorrow, Carla.”

The friends said their goodbyes. Lu tried to reassure way on the way, but nothing seemed to work. especially when she checked her phone to see if Ander had answered to her text and there was nothing.

-

(Y/N) and Lu were the last ones to arrive to the casual burger place they had chosen. Polo and Carla where sitting close together, and Guzmán instantly got up when he saw Lu. Ander gave her his usual bright smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

He was drowning. 

Drowning in guilt of using a great girl just to maintain his image, because his younger self was afraid to show himself as he really was, and now was trapped into someone else’s life. and he had brought her into his mess. 

He greeted her with a quick, dry and emotionless peck on the lips before seating and engaging on a conversation with Polo, which earned a look from Carla. 

They group of six laughed until 8 PM when Carla received a text from his father saying if she’d like to join him on a last minute business trip to Milan, so that she could spend some days buying everything she needed and relaxing before school, but they’d be leaving in just a couple of hours. 

Polo left with Carla, while Lu and Guzmán decided to go for drinks, leaving (Y/N) and Ander alone. 

She slowly made her way to the black Mercedes waiting for her, she was going to ask him what was going on when Ander interrupted her. 

“Maybe we can go to your house and watch a movie? We haven’t done that in a while.” Ander suggested. 

She couldn’t help the enormous grin that decorated her face, because maybe it was all in her head after all. 

Ander swore he wasn’t planning on ending things with her, let alone tell her his truth. But when he entered her huge house, her dad greeting him with a smile and telling him they should go to the tennis court soon, he knew he couldn’t keep up anymore. 

Her room was intimidating as he followed her inside while she took off her flats; her favorite Hermès and Chanel bags decorated part of her walk-in closet. He observed the tens of Tiffany & Co. and Swarovski jewelry boxes next to the massive amount of white shirts she had along her uniform. 

She took off her make up and he smiled to himself. Most girls he grew up with felt pressured to look older than they actually were, being inserted into the world from a young age, find a good husband if they were lucky. She looked so young and carefree with her blue slippers and make up free face. 

“We need to talk.” Ander blurted out, making (Y/N) stop her movements. 

She chuckled dryly. “Finally, I thought you were never going to say it.”

“Why are you saying that?” 

“Because you’ve been acting strange for ages and you don’t talk to me! I don’t know if you’re happy, sad, upset or whatever. I just want to help you, but you don’t let me in, Ander.” She finally let out everything that had been bothering her. 

“I’m gay!” Ander said loudly, and the moment the words left his mouth it felt too real. 

He noticed as her eyes widened and her legs slowly gave up, making her land on her soft bed. 

She didn’t say anything for at least two minutes; two minutes where Ander’s mind was going a thousand miles per second. He had never said it out loud, so it wasn’t just a simple break up, he was finally free. 

“I don’t understand... Why are you telling me now?” Her eyes filled with unshed tears. Ander was going to speak, but she didn’t let him. “Why are you telling me now, what the fuck have we been doing these past two years?”

“I wanted to tell you, I never wanted to hurt you... I never thought I'd be in this deep and I'm sorry for that. I don’t want you to think that I don’t love you or care about you, because I do...”

“Get out, Ander.” She whispered. 

“(Y/N), come on... We should talk.”

“Yes, we should just... Not now, I can’t look at you, Ander.” She choked back a sob. 

Ander just stared at her as her body language begged him to leave the room. Which he did.

He managed to leave unnoticed, but what didn’t go unnoticed where her quiet sobs. 

Suddenly, she felt her dad’s arms around her as she cried. 

Late during the night, as Lu was lying naked next to Guzmán and Carla was getting ready to board a plane to Italy, they red the text.

It’s over.

- - - 

Las Encinas had a new air. Something new could be felt in the corridors.

(Y/N) took a deep breath while getting out of the car. For the first time, her father had taken the time to top her off. She knew he didn’t really know what to do with the situation, and her mother wasn’t coming home for another two weeks.

Her Christian Louboutin black loafers hit the concrete floor. her hair was up in a perfect ponytail, showing her diamond studs and thin white blouse. Lu was waiting for her, greeting her with a hug and taking her hand while walking towards the entrance, while Carla was waiting inside the classroom where she was texting Lu that Ander hadn’t arrived yet.

A week went by where she successfully avoided him. No one understood why they weren’t talking. Carla and Lucrecia only knew they had broken up, but they didn’t know the reason why and (Y/N) only told them that it was because it wasn’t working anymore.

(Y/N) knew they had to talk. She knew she was going to be there fo him on every step of the way, that she didn’t want to lose him because he was a vital part of her existence, because Ander was her partner in crime and she couldn’t hold the fact that he tried to escape his fears against him.

She walked towards the tennis court, the one place she knew she’d be in. He noticed her presence and asked his dad for a time out and ran towards her. He was going to greet her, but she started talking.

“Are you free after practice? I think we should talk.”

“Yes, just tell me where.”

“Your place in two hours?” She suggested.

“Perfect.”

- - -

They were sitting on the grass at Ander’s backyard. Azucena had gone inside her room, but they knew she was trying to listen and understand what happened between her son and his ex. 

They were silent for a bit, until Ander tarted talking. “I’m sorry, I...” Ander started but she shook her head. 

“No, don’t apologize. You shouldn’t be apologizing.” She told him using a soft voice.

“Yes, I should. I used you to mask my insecurities, you don’t deserve that.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But you didn’t deserve to feel like you had to lie about yourself to be happy, Ander. Yes, I’m sad, angry and maybe a little disappointed because of what you did, but I'm also angry at myself for not being there for you while dealing with this. I understand that you were scared and it was easier to pretend to be in love with a great girl and be part of a picture perfect group.”

Ander was silent. 

“I love you, Ander. Don’t worry, I will fall out of love with you eventually, but I love you. and I can’t promise that I won’t be mad at you some days, but I can promise that I'll be here for you, always. You’ll always have me on your corner, no matter what.”

Ander hid his face between his hands as sobs racked through his body. The only thing that calmed him down was the feeling of her comforting arms around him. 

He was free. 

- - -

Ander’s head was resting against Omar’s naked torso, enjoying the soft touch of Omar’s fingers on his hair. 

“I still don’t know why I have to meet this girl. Pijos and I don’t get along, you know that.” Omar told his boyfriend. 

“Don’t call her that.” Ander said with a smile on his face. 

“But she is a posh girl, Ander! And she’s your ex, you could be just playing with me for all I know.”

Ander gave him a look before making him lean in so that he could kiss him. “She is an important person in my life. I care about her and, yes, I love her. she’s my best friend and I need her to know that I'm so fucking in love with you.”

The first time Ander kissed him, he couldn’t stop. For the first time, he had an urge to never get separated from this person, as if he wouldn’t be able to breathe if Omar wasn’t by his side. 

He wanted to cry, because he had found something that felt right. 

He remembered when he told her he had found someone. Ander thought it would be weird, but she just smiled and hugged him while asking details about the mystery man.

They talked hours about Omar, how they met, their first kiss, what he wanted in the future. and they also talked about what she wanted, but he knew she had been sharing messages with Lu’s brother back in Chile and had plans to meet when he came back to Spain. 

Omar and Ander arrived to the brightly illuminated house where she lived. He knew the way like the back of his hand and it felt oddly familiar. He was greeted with a hug from Rosa, who had almost a motherly role to (Y/N), having raised her when her parents were gone. 

“Joder, Ander. This is huge, we could feed end the world’s poverty with this house.” Omar told Ander was they walked towards the backyard, where she was waiting in front of the pool. 

“Hey! It’s so good to see you!” She hugged Ander. “Oye, you didn’t tell me he was this handsome! I’m (Y/N), pleasure to meet you.” 

“Likewise.” Omar gave her a sincere smile and held Ander’s hand tightly. 

She asked them what they wanted to drink before sitting down and talking about everything. 

Ander’s eyes met hers and she smiled at him. 

He was finally happy.

[amindofstone]

Love Killa Theory - Monsta X

!!! Please do not steal my idea or work. Credit me please if this is shared or published in any other platform. !!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since I couldn´t sleep I thought why not try to be smart and watch the mv a few times and try to focus on everything that is going on in the mv but not the boys. While doing so something was kinda off in my opinion. This something made me remember a post on IG I recently found. In this post a Mbb said that the car in which Changkyun was sitting was the same one Shownu drove in the FANTASIA Film. So I focused on the scene with the car and played it in slow motion a few times. And while doing so something caught my eye a few times. Remember that one scene where Changkyun drives away with the car? Well to show him driving away they showed the back of the car. They could have done that from the front, from the side of the car or from above the car. But they choose to film them from the back of the car. This might have a reason and can be explained by some filming techniques but this still caught my eye because of something that ended up being really, really interesting. I actually thought that it was nothing special or important but HELL NO! It ended up being so freaking INTERESTING AND EVEN IMPORTANT in my eyes.The thing I am talking about is the license tag. Exactly THE LICENSE TAG!

The tag says “577 MNW”. Now listen up, because the thing that comes next is gonna surprise you a lot. Like I was literally staring at my screen for Lord knows how long. I was really SHOOK. But let’s get to the point.

I started to search up “MNW” but I couldn´t find anything that´s why I dropped it after a while and went straight for “577” and found some good stuff. The number 577 stands for a sign (guardian) angels use to communicate with those they are protecting.( It´s also called angels numbers. There are a bunch of them. If you’re interested just google “angels numbers”). But before we go deeper into the numbers I want to talk about angels quickly. Angels are creatures mostly religious people believe in. I only know about Christianity and Islam because of my theology studies and can tell you that in both religions angels are seen as good and holy creatures (I will keep it short, because there is way way too much to say about them). Angels are seen as good and loyal creatures. They want the best for you always and forever. While they are there to take care of you no matter in what situation you are, they are there in your good and bad days. They lead you to the good path and make sure you´re happy. Some people describe them as a shimmer or a spark of light. While some others thing they look like humans with huge wings.

There is this belief that the angels want to communicate with the humans. So to do so, they use numbers as a way to communicate. Therefore they always use a compilation of numbers. In their way of communicating the numbers aren’t just numbers. They have a meaning and tell you something. And the number compilation of “577” we have on the license tag of the car has in conclusion also a meaning. To understand the compilation better I divide the numbers.

Number 5.:

Five stands for important decisions you make in life and major life changes of any type in your life. No matter if those changes were made by you or your surroundings. Other attributes that come along are personal freedom and independence. Another aspect that I thing is really interesting is that it also stands for the lesions and experiences life teaches you.

Number 7.:

Seven, portraits spirituality. It also means inner peace and knowing/wisdom and empathy. Empathy means being able to understand others and to be able to put yourself in other situations. What I thing is also really important to mention is that it also means adaptability and acceptance.

The numbers together:

With the angel number 577, the Universe and the angels are congratulating you on the choices and decisions you are making in your life, as well as the changes you are doing.

They are all making your life better and aligning you with the right path.

The angels are encouraging you to continue following that path, which will eventually lead you to fulfill your soul’s mission in this life.

The angels remind you to focus on developing your spirituality further, knowing you have your angels to turn to for support and additional guidance.

This angel number is a reminder to begin learning from your life experiences as well as the experiences of other people.

Don’t let yourself make the same mistakes again. Don’t repeat unnecessary life circles again and again. The angels encourage you to go on that path without worries and fear. That is the path, which will help you align with your true soul’s purpose and bring you to its fulfillment.

This is just the start. From now on it gets kinda confusing since I couldn’t figure out the rest fully. To make it easier I will copy the definition of the numbers above and put my thoughts in the definitions in a bracket […].

------------------------------------------------------

Number 5.:

Five stands for important decisions you make in life and major life changes of any type in your life. No matter if those changes were made by you or your surroundings [If I thing about changes there are a bunch of occurrences I can think of. I personally think that in every official mv there is something happening that counts as an incident that is worth to be named. Starting from their debut mv “Trespass”. The fact that the first mv of them was about them being in jail and actually trying to break out makes me thing that their lives are constantly in major changes that always leave them with a lot of consequences. Changes that take part in their lives are made by them on their own but also were manipulated or lead by their surroundings. Here we can mention “Dramarama” or “All In”. Every act of them was strongly influenced by occurrences that took place in the past or present. But the future also plays a huge role in it because Hyungwon seems to have access to past, present and future. So do the boys due to the watch but just to some extend because they seem to be figuring it out just recently while Hyungwon seems to know it very well and since a long time. “All In” is a great example of manipulation of their surroundings that can be the society and country they lived in but also their families.]. Other attributes that come along are personal freedom and independence. Another aspect that I thing is really interesting is that it also stands for the lesions and experiences life teaches you.

Number 7.:

Seven, portraits spirituality. It also means inner peace and knowing/wisdom and empathy. Empathy means being able to understand others and to be able to put yourself in other situations. What I thing is also really important to mention is that it also means adaptability and acceptance. [From here on the only thing I could think about was the mv to “Alligator” and the VCR “The seven deadly Sins”. Both are really important to the point I think that “Love Killa” plays just after that or is supposed to be seen as the part two of the phase they had during that time. In the VCR you could see that they were lost and didn´t knew what to do with themselves to the point they went crazy. They were trapped in their pain while they were chasing after a life filled with peace, love and happiness. They are running after that dream blindly what made them actually take wrong paths and even lose themselves even more. Even to a extent they were forgetting that they could have all of what they dream of if they would simply stop running and looking around. To look around and to see that they had each others love and support. Mental but also physical support. (I would like to write more about this theory of them portraying the seven deadly sins but sadly I never had the time to do a proper analysis about it. But I try to work it out and try to get as detailed as I can in my upcoming theories.)]

The numbers together:

With the angel number 577, the angels are congratulating you on the choices and decisions you are making in your life, as well as the changes you are doing. They are all making your life better and aligning you with the right path. They are encouraging you to continue following that path, which will eventually lead you to fulfill your soul’s mission in this life. (!!!) [After I read that I thought that what the boys became in the “Love Killa” mv is a better version of what they were in the past mvs. That could mean that they actually found peace and fulfillment in something that happened or what is gonna be happening. Something that will occur in the future what made them find meaning in their existence and life. It seems like they got out of the prison they made by their own and started to life their lives in harmony together and with the determination to reach something. This could be for example getting Hyungwon back or Wonho. Wonho who could still have a role in the mv as the one member that still seems to be stuck in the past and the pain that life brought him. A thought that literally occupied my brain for two days now is that Wonho might also be death. And it´s his death that made the boys actually wake up and realize that they should stop letting pain, anger and sadness take the lead in their life. And in the mv they are trying to figure out who killed him with Minhyuk and Shownu taking the lead in the mission. What made me think so are the characters they are portraying. But something is still odd in here and that’s the point of the right path. Either way none of what I said seems like the right path what makes me confused. What kind of path did they choose to go that made their guardian angels think that they are doing good? In that case I´m actually wondering how bad and how of a horrible path they went before that?! Because the characters they are portraying is everything bad one can thing of. Each of them are portraying a brutal and aggressive character what also made me think that they actually could be still stuck in their prison. So them as the seven deadly sins but even worse if that’s possible. I mean if we go back to their roles as the seven deadly sins the characters they have in “Love Killa” are perfectly choosen for each member/charavter. They really go well together what only supports my idea of “Love Killa” being phase two of them as the seven deadly sins.]

The angels remind you to focus on developing your spirituality further, knowing you have your angels to turn to for support and additional guidance. [The additional support can be seen as the guys themselves who are watching over each other now. ]

This angel number is a reminder to begin learning from your life experiences as well as the experiences of other people. Don’t let yourself make the same mistakes again. Don’t repeat unnecessary life circles again and again. The angels encourage you to go on that path without worries and fear. That is the path, which will help you align with your true soul’s purpose and bring you to its fulfillment. [Rereading these last sentences I realized that in the FANTASIA Film everything seemed to go smoothly. From the beginning to the end everything seemed to be as they wanted. I go with that assumption because at the end of the short film the boys found each other and left through a door together. That´s why I think that they actually tried to do this a lot of times to the point they knew what to do at what time to get at the place they were at the end.]

Update:

The part were I mentioned Wonho is in my eyes now more accurate because of the pictures you can see above. It might be just fan service but I personally think it is more than that. "The holy number 7" makes me feel some type a way and that feeling won't leave me. This only says that my theory of wonho could be real or something similar to this one is represented there. And the fact the the licence tag has two 7's makes it even more important but also suspicious. Furthermore I think that this only supports my idea of "Love Killa" being the second phase of the boys as the seven deadly sins.

(Left pic is by @kyunspopcorn and those at the right are pictures by @mxyookihyun (both can be found on IG))

 Authors note:

If there is anyone who wants to know the site I used for the explanation of the angels numbers just ask me and I´ll be sending you the link.

Feel free to talk to me about theories you have from any mv. I love making them up.

I apologize for grammatical or spelling mistakes. English is not my mother tongue and I´m trying to improve. Have mercy.

Please stay home. Stay safe. Stay healthy and take care of yourself. If you need anyone to talk to feel free to message me. I´ll be listening to you and I´ll be trying my best to make you feel appreciated.

[stickittothepan]

The Adult in the Mirror  TW: suicidal ideation

I’ve been suicidal all week. Belle knows this. My parents have treated me and my relationship with Belle horrendously. The pressure and stress they pile onto me daily has put me in the psych ward before, and that was traumatizing. College amid a pandemic has been an escape for me where it’s been a point of anxiety for others - but I guess it caught up with me this week. 

What Belle doesn’t know is that my closest friend on campus that isn’t Belle, Jeremy, probably saved my life tonight, and he didn’t even talk to me. 

A few nights ago Jeremy showed me the song “You Matter to Me” from Waitress, and, he told me that it was true through tears. All of it. I matter to him. I didn’t even look him in the eyes. Sure, my brain was ruminating on images of my own death too loud for me to properly hear him, but I still feel like a dick about it. I could’ve done something. 

Tonight my fingers picked out that song from my music app before I even knew what was happening. Before I knew that I was slipping back into that dark hell of a mindset. 

Usually I listen to songs on repeat several times, but I only listened to this one once. I couldn’t handle more. I was on the floor under my Christmas lights bawling by the time it was over. I cried til my guts hurt. 

Eventually I wandered over to my tissue box. It’s perched by the mirror, and after my sinuses began to clear my reflection caught my eye. I could’ve been blinded by the snot-soaked kleenexes, or my blotchy, puffy red cheeks, or the questions that have been swirling around my head every time I look in the mirror as of late. The questions that demand I admit I’m a fraud for experiencing with co/cos neopronouns. The questions that insist I’m greedy, or faking, or taking up too much space. 

But instead, I saw someone different than I normally do.

Co was an adult. 

Co knew what co wanted, and co wanted what was best for co.

And for the record, co didn’t look like someone I’d mess with when co went after what co wanted. 

I think I’m infatuated with co. I’m infatuated with the fact that co’s me. Infatuated with the idea that I can see myself as I should be seen even when my parents won’t. 

They don’t get to choose what I see. What I see is who I am. 

What they see is their mistake. 

Belle and I’s university is going remote for the two weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas break, like many others. But some students with special circumstances can stay on campus. My mother was being awful about “allowing” me to stay for the two weeks when we talked today, even though she was tame about “considering allowing” me to not go home for Thanksgiving break when we talked a few weeks ago. 

It didn’t occur to me until hours after the conversation (when Belle reminded me of the fact) that I’m an adult. I can make decisions about where I go on my own.  

I feel like screaming, but excitedly. Shouting, that’s the word.

I feel like shouting about the fact that I’m an adult, because that fact is mine, now. 

I can claim it. 

I don’t want to go to bed because I’m afraid I won’t remember this when I wake up. Or, at least, that I’ll have lost the adult me in my sleep. I want this to be mine forever. 

I mean, not the taxes and stuff. Not even really the adult part. That whole bit has a lot of sucky things. 

But the separateness. 

The adult in the mirror. 

The one who stands alone when others refuse to stand with co - but who stands with others in gladness when they stand with co or need someone to stand with them. 

Who writes cos own terms about who can stand with co. 

Who, when co doesn’t associate with someone, it’s because they don’t fit with cos own beliefs, not because co doesn’t fit in with their beliefs. Who refuses to water it down for others. Co will remain quiet to keep the peace when co wants to, but co will not be forced into silence. 

I don’t think co will be forced into anything, if co has cos way. 

Maybe one day writing the terms, picking the people, and being honest with coself will be a burden. 

But I hope co remembers the time that it was bliss. When it was utter freedom to choose. 

I hope co remembers it’s cos rights as a person. As an individual. As an adult. As a child of God. 

Co stands up straighter in the mirror when I remind co co’s an adult. An answer to the question that still lingers in my voice. 

“Adult?” I say to my reflection, more question mark in my tone than I’d like. Co straightens, shoulders squared, brow unfurrowed but mouth set firm. “Adult,” I see cos eyes say. 

I turn to the mirror on the other wall, ready to start my query over. But co can’t be stopped now; everything about co is confident now. Cos legs may not be long, but they are planted in place. Cos eyes may have dark circles around them, and cos hair may be oily, and cos face may be red from tears, but co shines through. Co knows who co is. 

“Adult,” co answers before I’ve asked, and a smile that reaches cos eyes for the first time all day appears. 

I hope that one day co will be me, and in the next thought I rejoice, because co already is. There’s no more waiting. I’m here. I’m an adult. I have been one for a year and a half. It’s my domain now. My choices. My standards. My identity. My life. My friends, my responsibilities, my future. 

Mine. 

No one can take that away. There will always be mirrors to remind me. Parents may try to take the mirrors away, but they’ll stick around. 

Car windows and shop displays can’t disappear overnight. 

Echoes of shitty college shower walls will still carry my voice’s music back to me. 

The smiles of friends will still be there - and perhaps those are the most important mirrors of all. 

The smiles that say “I see you.” The smiles that say “I love the way in which you exist.” The smiles that say “Please don’t change.” 

Then I’ll know. The parts of me that shone through the dark circles and the deadly thoughts tonight; that’s what they love. That’s what people cherish. That’s who I am. 

Because mirrors aren’t the only way to see co, to see me. I’ll always have co. I’ll always be an adult. I’ll always be an individual. I’ll always be here. Fully a writer, fully whatever-my-gender-is, fully pansexual, fully Christian, fully loving and nurturing and living for the way kids smile with their whole heart in their eyes. 

They can’t make me go away because I’m inconvenient. Because I spilled out of their box. 

Outgrowing my parents doesn’t mean I need to be pruned. 

It means I need a bigger garden than the ones that my parents are providing.

My roots won’t go away in the transfer, despite what my fears say. Some might be damaged, or even left behind. That is, the oldest ones, the ones most partial to my beginnings. 

But I’ll be okay. 

I’ll grow and flourish in a garden that has what I need. A garden with diversity and cultivated soil and more room for my roots to spread and mingle and find more depth than they ever had in that house pot. The little taste of what that garden can be has already made me a believer.

I’ll find that garden one day. 

I’ll make it to that day. 

I have to. For the adult in the mirror. 

Co seemed ready for more adulthood than one and a half years can afford. I can’t disappoint co. 

I can’t disappoint me. 

I’m tired of parents who tell me I’m not an adult. I’m tired of parents who tell me I’m not worth the effort. 

So, slowly, I will do what I did tonight. I will reassure co that I am an adult, and co will get stronger with each word. 

Then I will reassure myself that I’m worth it. 

I will reassure co that the garden is out there, and that I’m worth the hassle of replanting. That co isn’t greedy for needing more room or more sunlight. That co isn’t weak for being scared of the pruning clippers that have abused co in the past. 

Co will be strong enough to hear it then.

And when co is strong enough to hear it, I will be strong enough to believe it. 

I will see that day.

I will discover in my eyes the look of someone who knows they are enough, same as I discovered the look of an adult tonight. 

And the flower that blooms in adversity will bloom at last.

[helloprettybb]

amplification

Request: can you do a spencer x reader imagine where the reader is infected with anthrax instead of spence? or maybe they search together and both get infected but the reader is taking the side effects quicker? thanks!!

I decided to go with the first idea since I could mirror the actual episode, but have the reader be in the episode also.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: none

“Case must be local. JJ said not to bring a go bag.” Spencer tells while stepping out of the elevator with Emily, Morgan and you. Immediately, you notice military personnel swarming the BAU.

“What’s the army doing here?” Morgan asks, echoing your thoughts.

“What the hell is going on?” Emily questions confusedly. Stopping at the doorway, the four of you watch as the soldiers search through files and boxes. Spencer walks away and you follow him.

“What are they doing?” you ask him. You’ve only worked at the BAU for a couple months, but you knew that this was not normal. In the six months at the BAU, you’ve never seen this happen. Although you knew there were some high-profile cases in the past, you knew that these situations were rare.

“I don’t know.” Spencer shakes his head. For the six months you’ve known him, you’ve never heard those words uttered from his mouth. Maybe it’s his intelligence mind or his unintentional charm, but something drew you to Spencer. Of course, you wouldn’t be caught dead confessing your feelings. Knowing you would get rejected, you waited until your feelings subsided.

“Guys, this is Dr. Linda Kimura, Chief of special pathogens with the CDC.” JJ introduces as you walk into the conference room.

“I’m sorry to meet under these circumstances.” she expresses seriously.

Still confused, Spencer questions, “What circumstances?” 

Before she could reply, Hotch quickly commands, “We need to get started.”

“Last night, 25 people checked into emergency rooms in and around Annapolis. They were all at the same park after 2 P.M. yesterday. Within 10 hours, the first victim died. It's now just past 7 P.M. the next day, we have 12 dead.” JJ explains. 

After a constant back and forth, Hotch orders, “Reid and Y/ln, go with dr. Kimura to the hospital and interview the victims. Morgan and Prentiss, there's a hazmat team that will accompany you to the crime scene.” He glances at the tray with medicine and states, “There's Cipro. Everybody needs to take it before we go.” You glance at Spencer who shrugs back and you down the medicine.

After interviewing the victims and creating a profile, Hotch sends you and Spencer to search the suspect’s house. Driving to his house, you ask Spencer, “How do you do this?”

“Do what?” he questions absentmindedly as he reads the map.

“Go into this job, knowing that you can die at any time?” Your voice breaks and your throat unintentionally gets choked up thinking about Spencer dying.

Hearing your voice break, Spencer puts down the map and asks, “Are you worried about dying? Because it is not abnormal. In fact, about 20.3% of Americans fear death. But another study showed that 38.1% of people are afraid of death when it comes to a loved one.”

You wanted to yell that you were afraid of his death, but instead, you replied, “Yeah, I-I just can’t imagine dying. I just, uh don’t know what would happen after.”

“There are actually multiple theories. Of course, there is the Christian belief that you go to heaven or hell, but according to some quantum physicists, life creates the universe and not the opposite. In this conception of the world, bodies die, but consciousness continues to exist. Although other religions such as Buddhism and Hinduism believe in reincarnation.” Spencer explains until you reach the house. You stop the car and step onto the seemingly normal lot.

“This guy just had people over For a charity event last month,” you tell him.

“We should probably take a look around anyway,” Spencer responds and you nod your head in agreement. As you walk towards the house, you nick your hand on a bush. 

“Ow,” you whisper quietly while shaking your hand. When you look up, Spencer is about five feet ahead of you. You and Spencer start to search the house until his phone starts to ring. You continue to walk the grounds as he takes the phone call. You wander into the house without Spencer. It looks normal, everything you’d expect for a middle-aged man living by himself. As you venture through his house, you stumble across his lab. You enter and find a dead body on the ground. You search for ID and realize that it’s Dr. Nichols. About to leave,  you glance at the floor and notice white powder surrounded by shattered beakers and test tubes. Knowing what you have to do, you hope that Spencer doesn’t try to come near you.

“They have nothing,” he states turning to see that you’ve disappeared. Y/n,” he calls, searching for you. He continues to call your name until he finds you inside the house.” You hear Spencer’s voice and immediately know what he would try to do. You try to push the door but it will barely budge. Right when Spencer’s in your line of sight, you are finally able to move the door.

“Get--Get back! Get back! Get out of here!” you command him, closing the door and locking it to prevent him from trying. 

“What are you doing?” he asks frantically. 

“No, don't! Believe me, get back,” you tell him, trying to stay as calm as possible. 

“What's wrong? What's wrong? Y/n, open the door!” he shouts desperately.

You look at his frightened face and apologize sincerely, “I’m sorry.” Spencer gazes at the broken beaker containing white powder. 

“Y/n, what have you done?” Spencer questions worriedly.

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” you apologize. “I need to tell you-” You get cut off by Spencer’s phone ringing. He hesitates to answer when you state, “Answer it. It could be Hotch.” 

Spencer picks up the call and replies, “Y/n locked herself in Dr. Nichols’ lab surrounded by anthrax.” You could faintly hear the other side of the conversation, but could not make out any words. “No! I’m not leaving her side.” Spencer shouts wildly.

“Spencer, you should go.” you attempt to convince him. “They need you on the case.” When he still doesn’t look persuaded, you continue, “The faster you get back to the case, the faster I can get cured.” Spencer finally concedes and leaves.

Trapped inside, you decide that the best thing you can do is still solve the case. Spencer tries to convince you otherwise when he pleads, “Come on Hotch, say something to her.” 

“No, I’m working the case.” you assert over the phone. Hotch gives in and allows you to continue. You give everyone everything they know and hang up. Now you just have to make possibly the last phone call of your life.

“Hey, Y/ln,” Garcia answers somberly.

“Y/ln. Wow, no, uh no witty Garcia greeting for me?” you joke half-heartedly. 

She sighs and responds, “I can't be my sparkly self when you are where you are.“ Even though you can’t see here, you know there’s a sad smile painted on her face.

“Garcia, do you think you can do something for me?” you ask politely. 

“Anything,” she responds, not knowing where this is going.

“I, uh I know I can't call Spencer without, uh” you clear your throat, “Without alerting the rest of the team.” 

“What do you need?” she asks. 

“I, uh I need you to record a message for him in case anything happens to me,” you tell her. 

“Oh, nothing's going to happen to you. You're gonna brilliantly find out who did this And we're gonna treat this strain.” she tries to convince you. 

Exhaling you respond, “I hope you're right, But if you're not, I just-- I really want to make sure that he hears my voice.” 

“Ok. Just, uh, give me a second,” she tells. 

A couple moments later you ask, “Are you ready?”

“Ready,” she confirms.

“Hi, Spencer. This is Y/n. I just, um,” you sigh, trying to think of what you want to say, “I just wanted to tell you that before it was too late. That- I, I just really want you to know that I love you and,” your voice catches in your throat as you try to choke back tears, “And- I couldn't bear to have you die too. So, I’m sorry, Spencer, but I had to. And, I’m sorry for- for not telling you sooner.“ You hang up, knowing that a couple minutes later, your voice would be a wreck and your words would be incoherent. A couple moments later, Dr. Kumara enters in a hazmat suit and gestures that she’s bringing you out.

As you’re getting hosed down, Spencer strolls in front of you. “They’re checking out Brown’s house,” he informs you.

“Did you happen to hear my message?” you ask, secretly hoping that Garcia didn’t go through with it.

“Yes.” he nods, but before you could make an excuse, Spencer continues, “And I want you to know that I like you too.”

Looking up, you question, “You do?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “In fact, if we weren’t separated right now, I would kiss you.” 

“Even with me looking like this?” you gesture to your body drenched in water and your make up slightly running down your face.

“Especially like this.” he chuckles.

“Go help Hotch,” you tell him with a smile.

“Hotch has plenty of people helping him,” he responds.

“He needs you more than I do,” you reply, even though you selfishly wanted him to stay.

“Y/n, I’m going to see you off to the hospital,” he promises sincerely.

“I’m about to get naked so they can scrub me down,” you inform him. “Is that something you really want to see?” you ask with an eyebrow raise.

Spencer blushes and replies, “I’ll check on you later.” Before leaving, he smiles and states, “Take good care of her, please.”

[raccoonpatriotism]

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Random, Useless Headcanons | Accepting

i like how i keep labeling this meme as “accepting” when i have…. 260 of these right here.

1: Has he driven a car before? Yes. Should he be allowed to keep driving? No.

2: You know that “I’m washing me and my clothes!” vine? That’s Jane. It’s efficient.

3: If you gave him Cat Food he’d say it’s the best thing he’d ever tasted.

4: Before going to Poland to serve his time, he hired a sex worker. Her touch would be the last non-violent physical contact he would feel for the next 9 or so years.

5: 

6: He donates a healthy sum of his paychecks to wild animal and veteran charities. 

7: Jane’s ‘friendship’ with Merasmus is the longest relationship he’s ever held.

8: Jane doesn’t believe in the number 8.

9: He doesn’t have any titty mags, but he does have tasteful pin-up for the inside of his locker.

10: He’s an excellent swimmer - but will sometimes forget to hold his breath. 

11: Getting Jane to imprint on you like a baby bird is really easy. Be strong, be patriotic, be funny, be determined. 

12: He trusts everything he’s told from someone he views as a friend.

13: He’s been on BLU before - it was brief.., a WAR! got started and ended. A few years went by and he was balanced to RED

14: Continuation of 13, it was… very easy to get him to believe he was always on RED team.

15: He loves fighting robots - but nothing compares to the feeling of a neck snapping in his hands.

16: He taught himself how to use every weapon he came across in Poland - it took a few years before he ran into a rocket launcher…. His life was changed from that moment onward.

17: His knowledge of the US military comes from tv and stories from veteran home he was forced to work at through his older years at the orphanage. (Outdated or complete bullshit.)

18: The liveliness of America is just one of the innumerable reasons he loves the country. Even things he hates (like.. war protesters/hippies) have this determination in them that makes him proud.

19: He’ll pick ear wax out of his ear, sniff it, grimace, and happily hold the finger out to somebody near him.

20: He only wants the best for you.

21: Getting him to realize he’s actually ended civilian’s lives is a conversation that would take over an hour. His brain has the wildest, irrationally rational excuses ever. (”Officer Miss Pauling, what I am about to say will SHOCK you; I was framed” will never make me not lose my mind. ilove him)

22: His moral compass is, admittedly, terrible, but he genuinely wants the best for people in the world.

23: Helping people, serving his country, that’s his goal. That all he wants out of life. He’s a cog in the machine of war and he loves it.

24: Consequences don’t exist in Jane’s world.

25: He’s so fucking bisexual. This headcanon is not useless at all.

26: Jane snores like a chainsaw - and will then be absolutely silent for spaces of minutes.

27: He never covers his face when he sneezes.

28: He’s very touchy feely - A way to make up for what he so clearly craves.

29: But god this man wants to be touched.

30: As much as Jane holds back on admitting to weakness, he’s also just a genuinely honest guy so simple prodding usually gets him to spill.

31: Jane has never purposefully manipulated someone in his life.

32: He’s only ever seen one movie. Well, more like registered he always zones out at some point. Sometimes starting the movie in a day dream and zoning back in to catch the ending. The movie he’s fully seen was watched through 3 separate sessions.

33: War films, what he does catch, always make him cry.

34: With everyone he meets; Jane immediately thinks of two things. How to kill them. And what to say when holding their guts into their dying corpse and crying to the sky.

35: He has no idea he’s beautiful.

36: Jane doesn’t have a self-effacing bone in his body.

37: He chews with his mouth open, and speaks with his mouth full. He’ll also snap at someone else to stop talking with their mouth full, it’s disrespectful.

38: Jane had a dream where he beat Communism and thought it was true for a whole year.

39: He’s not dumb on purpose. He has nothing to gain by making people think he’s an idiot, as far as he’s concerned. He acts like himself 24/7

40: Jane invented that song Fifty Nifty United States song that’s song in elementary schools.

41: You know those kiddie leashes? You could put one of those on Jane and he wouldn’t be, like, “Okay.” Try and run off and be like “What contraption is holding me here?!?!?!”

42: The answer to life, the universe, and everything is American Apple Pie

43: i just realized im gonna get to answer a headcanon 69 and got excited. UHH jane likes the color red.

44: Jane likes the color blue.

45: Jane likes the color white.

46: Jane loves all skin colors, anybody can be American.

47: Has he retained any American history? Haha. Ha. No.

48: Jane was taken out of elementary school for bad behavior, lack of attention, and general ruckus.

49: His orphanage never tried to send him back to any schooling. 

50: Jane was born July 4th, he doesn’t know that, despite claiming it.

51: He’s not an amnesiac - he’s never had a strong sense for long-term memories. 

52: God, he loves bread.

53: And also he loves taking everything Engineer says literally. He’s such a wise American.

54: Jane would absolute trollface and say “Problem?”

55: He would never say a slur.

56: Jane does not use fuck as a curse ever. He’ll say it, but like, to mean, y’know.

57: He’s a follower, don’t tell him that. He’ll get offended. 

58: Jane is convinced the President is the most powerful being in the world, and is also granted special powers.

59: Jane is progressive, baybee. He thinks dogs should vote!!

60: UNLESS IT HAS TO DO WITH WAR. Then he’s, like, a total bootlicker.

61: He’ll beat up racists in bars.

62: Jane really came alive during Grey Mann’s first robot attacks - for the second time he felt like he was protecting America and not some Very Important American Gravel. 

63: If Jane ever got sentenced to prison, he’d just serve his time.

64: He has Lawyer Powers given to him by magic, and he is not afraid to use them.

65: Besides Scout, he has represented himself, Lt. Bites, and the state of Tennessee in court.

66: He was a bad roommate, he genuinely thought Merasmus was an even worse roommate. 

67: Extreme Cold is a surefire way to trigger his PTSD. He doesn’t act all that different verbally, but he becomes entire still. Not even moving to shiver. It’s like he automatically transfers to late stage hypothermia.

68: Jane may have never played baseball, but he’s briefly been on a bowling team.

69: ayyyyy. Jane always returns the favor, if ya know what i mean.

70: I can’t tell you how much he can lift because I know nothing about fitness, but it’s a lot. And it’s impressive. 

71: Jane practices unsafe workout routines! It’s a miracle lifting without a spotter hasn’t killed him yet.

72: He makes up for his genuine stupidity with Pure Luck.

73: He’ll kill, he’ll maim, but he won’t assault. 

74: Jane’s favorite chocolate is Hershey’s.

75: He’s convinced Milton Hershey, founder of Hershey’s Chocolate, was a President despite him being alive in Jane’s lifetime.

76: Jane isn’t afraid of gay thoughts, never payed attention to period typical homophobia going on around him therefor never got a chance to develop it.

77: Jane would totally be the type of guy to see one of those Fireman Calendars and zone out staring at some dudes pecs and someone asks him if he’s okay and he’s like “I’m ogay.”

78: It’s a miracle, the first time Jane rocket jumped, his legs weren’t blown off. He was injured from the fall, surprised he’d gotten air at all. It was an accident and, while he’d never go to recreate it during his time in Poland, when he’d gotten hooked up to respawn and he saw all the high perches, the trick reoccured to him.

79: He loved Tavish so much

80: He was born in Tennessee, although he grew up in Wisconsin.

81: He’ll make odd little sounds - aborted sentences, thoughts lost to the depths of his brain. You can point them out and he’ll have no idea what you’re talking about.

82: He could have a possum mixed in with his raccoons and think it’s a raccoon.

83: He takes his Ranger Job very seriously. Just as serious as he does all his jobs. (So, you know. Not… very.) He is very enthusiastic at least!

84: He’s not empathetic at all, however energies at Large in a room really affect him. Chances are, if everyone’s in good favor, he’ll be really happy and relaxed - even if previously grumpy.

85: Jane can be really grumpy, that’s when his drill sergeant personality shines through - more often than not, he’s just a good natured loud patriot rolling with the punches of life.

86: He believes in the Judeo-Christian God, but also… believes the president is stronger than God? Sometimes? Depends on the situation. What is blasphemy haha?!?

87: Jane always wanted a puppy - meeting Bites, future Lieutenant, was like a dream come true to him.

88: Plus, he’d always liked raccoons - often responsible for tipping over dumpsters at his orphanage to help the little critters.

89: Jane can and will eat out of the garbage if not stopped.

90: He’s very passionate and strict about what he knows are fact (the issue is, facts can change pretty easily in jane’s head.

91: Good thing he has a helmet because Jane’s puppy-dog eyes are the sort that are clearly un-practiced and unintentional and thus made all the more soul-wrenching. 

92: He’s always surprised by doorbells.

93: Jane would never smoke weed of his own volition, but under the influence, everything would make So Much Sense to him.

94: I’m talking the wildest stoner sayings, that always are so structurally sound it’s scary.

95: This man loves cashews.

96: “Mm crunchy things.. good.” - Shared thought by Jane and Lt. Bites.

97: Lt. Bites likes to curl up on Jane’s stomach when he’s sleeping. Jane often wakes up with his face covered in scratches and fur in his mouth. Much like the Soldier, the Lieutenant isn’t quite a sound sleeper.

98: Fuck, like, he loves cashews so much? The texture is amazing.

99: Jane has no illegitimate or legitimate children.

100: Jane loves his team almost as much as he loves America.

101: IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR scroll back up and read everything, LOSER otherwise… wow………you love soldier. me too…… 

CONTINUED HERE

[p-r]

our devices overthrown?

Required Listening: Hope for Something - Alternate by Panama So I think that the most frustrating thing about writing these posts is the ever-present thought that they must, somehow, someway, come full circle. Whether it has been apparent to you or not, I have tried to make each of these have a central theme, albeit a loose one. Every post has generally been a reflection on how I am doing, some epiphany I had, and then me trying to make a mic-dropping final line. This surprisingly takes a lot of work. Typing these isn’t hard, don’t get me wrong, but the desire to maintain authenticity is. It is hard to always think of a way to tell a “story” via the what I thought, the turning point, and then the epiphany format. Sure, it is not a work of fiction, it all actually happened, but I find myself often trying to make that format work in my head before I sit down to write. I want to make sure it sounds clear that I thought something, some event changed my mind, and then give you some big revelation. But I realize that is kinda dumb. Yesterday after my second to last final I was sitting outside the room in which I took the exam, as my next exam just so happened to be in that room. I was feeling all of the nostalgia of things drawing to a close and none of the excitement that comes with being finished with finals at a place as tough academically as Berkeley. Lately my friends and I have been discussing determinism versus free will. If you’re not familiar, determinism is the idea that you are “fated” to do and be certain things, free will is the converse. I had always assumed myself to be a major believer in determinism. Growing up in a devoutly Christian household, you learn to accept the world around you as one that is entirely controlled by someone other than you. If something is good, God gave it. If something is bad, God is teaching us a lesson. I never realized how deeply internalized my notions of determinism were until I started talking to people who deeply rejected it. They argue that determinism is clausterphobic in a sense. The idea that you are stuck in one sort of track with no way out, an idea I formerly found comfort in, seemed stifiling. Even more so, it seemed to undercut everything about myself of which I am proud. My life hasn’t been particularly hard. I also would not call it particularly easy. If you know me, you know that this weird crazy seems to follow my life. If you don’t, picture me kind of like this: standing in a swarm of harmless honeybees, with one hornet flying around me, I can never tell which is which so I am constantly flopping my hands in the air in a desperate and futile attempt to prevent the hornet from stinging me. And you might be thinking that I do something to attract this crazy...and well maybe I do. I know some of it I seek out and I know some of it I try to actively avoid. Regardless, it seems to find me. The pervasive nature of my ails often makes me think that truly I am without device to fight fate. I can be really defeatest and it stinks. Sitting outside of room 202 waiting on my last final, I looked up and down the silent, empty hall and contemplated the question that I have felt most nagging in my life recently. Do I or don’t I have control. To be honest, I think both ideas are terrifying. However, I don’t think that we can truly reject determinism, but I think that we should quantify it. My grades, my ability to not give up when swarmed, my activism, these are all my choices. No God or higher power has forced me like a Raggedy Ann Doll to work as hard as I have. As a child, I always wanted to attend a top university. Looking up and down the hallway I realized that I had made it. I realized that my choice of hardwork led me to the top. I also realized my hard work did not specifically lead me to Berkeley. That, however, was fate. I was going to graduate a year early, so I would be done at the end of my Junior year. I was invited to a Coast to Coast college program in late October where they would have officers from each college speak about applying to their institution. There were various colleges speaking, such as Princeton and Dartmouth, the two I went to see. Berkeley happened to have a presenter there and I remember seeing a slide of Doe Library and thinking that the college was beautiful. I told my mom on the car ride home that I really liked Berkeley, but I knew I would never get in. A few weeks later I had applied early decision at Washington University in Saint Louis as it was close to my hometown. But, I was sitting, bored, in AP US History November 30th. It was near 4pm, as that was the last few minutes of my school day Junior year. I started thinking about applying to Berkeley, on a whim. I looked up the application. Found that the application for the UC system is due November 30th 11:59 PST. I realized that I was too late. So I gave up on applying to Berkeley. I was sitting in a debate round, after being admited to WashU thinking that I had made a grave mistake. But, I had applied early decision, which is binding. I signed a contract that said, essentially, that if I was admitted I would attend after my high school graduation. I started to panic. I did not want to be so close to home. Something felt wrong. I wanted to puke. Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to run. And then it dawned on me. The contract said after my graduation. I was admitted for Fall 2017. If I did not graduate in May of 2017, my admission was non binding. So I decided to withdraw from early graduation. I wrote all the appropriate officers. People were mad, confused, and sad. I hated dissapointing people. I generally think that I am a people pleaser due to my immense social anxiety, but in this instance my resolve had never been greater. I stared down every opposition. Every question if I was sure. Like sure sure. I was, in fact, sure sure. Senior year was my personal hell. I kept wishing that I had graduated early. I felt defeated. I thought that I had lost out on a great college and I would have avoided all the pain I was feeling. Most days I didn’t want to get out of bed. Called in sick a lot. Skipped some even. I had never skipped before. I was down and bleeding from the mouth. Defeat, death, and depression sum up the year nicely. As previous posts detail, coming to Berkeley was not easy. Berkeley started out as a continuation of the hell I was in. And then it started to change for me. It started to become happy. It started to restore in me what my high school peers and high school adminstrators had tried to steal from me. I found friends. I found strength again. Do I still hurt sometimes? Of course. If I didn’t hurt I would detail everything that happened, but I don’t feel like crying in the middle of SFO right now. Do I hope that my existence spites them? I don’t have to hope. They’re stuck in a crummy town with crummy lives and I am happy. I won. I escaped. I know I spite them. And you might be asking, couldn’t I have felt just as happy at WashU or some other university? Sure, I’ll conceed maybe I could have. All I know is that I look around at the people in my life now and I feel nothing but the universe’s perfect allignment. I know that no other college campus I have visited or debated on has felt like this. I feel Berkeley in my bones. I feel like I have known these people all my life and I cannot picture a tomorrow without them. I don’t love Berkeley all the time. I am not naive enough to ignore its problems. Its toll on students. I don’t think its the institution that I was fated to. I think that it is the chance that I, along with those around me, unbeknownst to one another all opened the same decision letter. Sent the deposit. Ended up in the same dorm and same fall program. I think its the idea that a few short months ago if I passed these people on the street they would have meant nothing to me. Another stranger. So back to the question: free will or fate? Answer: Wrong question. Its not either or. Its to what degree. I did the work, but somehow the way things unfolded led me here. It was not exactly what I planned, but it required my choice to work hard. To keep going. Free will in totality cannot exist. Infinity, as a concept, is so mind boggling that it doesn’t make clear numerical sense. Infinite possibilities is what free will entertains. Infinity minus one? Still infinity. Infinity plus infinity? Still infinity. You get the idea. Infinite things are w e i r d. They don’t occur in the nature that we percieve. And sure, properties are not the same as perceptions. But it makes most sense to assume that most things that we encounter are finite. Hence it is most reasonable to believe in some sense of determinism. I think of fate and free will like this. Every major decision we make has a set of doors. There are a lot of them, but the amount is still finite. We can choose which door, but the doors were predecided in a sense, but the next door is dependent on the previous choice. Life is a mixture of free will and fate. I might have been fated to be academically hard working, but I could have ignorned that fated drive, but I chose not to. I had the grades to apply to top colleges due to the one, fated drive and two, the choice to act on such drive. I was fated to apply, I acted on that drive, I was presented with doors and I chose Berkeley. Fate and free will are not mutually exclusive. Its a misconception that they do not work in tandem. One drives the other, each fate presenting us with choices and each choice setting up a new fate for us and so on. Its a push and pull between the two, but neither can ever distinctly gain dominance. The waves are neither classified as coming nor going, for as fast as they go they will return just as fast. It’s a balance. Our wills and fates do so contrary run That our devices still are overthrown; Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own. (Hamlet, 3.2.208), Player King It appears to me that even though Billy Shakes was a cool dude, he knew little of his own potential. But hey, what do I know.

[peckhampeculiar]

A Peckham visionary

Words by Luke G Williams; Photo by Paul Stafford

In the world in which we live, the theoretical and the practical are often mutually exclusive.

Individuals who view the world through a theoretical prism can often diagnose the flaws in our society, but struggle to remedy them.

The reverse also often holds true: namely that those of a practical bent struggle to underpin their actions with a coherent view of the mechanics of human existence.

Eileen Conn – the visionary founder and co-ordinator of local community action group Peckham Vision – is one of that rare breed of human beings who combines a formidable theoretical intelligence with the practical ability to mobilise, engage and inspire social change at a grassroots level.

She is also one of the most remarkable and intellectually stimulating people I have ever encountered.

Eileen and I meet on the second floor of the Bussey Building on Rye Lane, on a grim December evening on which rain is being emptied from the sky as though from buckets.

It’s here that Peckham Vision is based, an apt location if ever there was one considering Eileen’s key role in the 2005-2009 campaign to save the building from being demolished and replaced by a tram depot. The fact the Bussey Building is now such a hub of vibrant community activity is due in no small part to her.

Eileen greets me warmly with the welcome offer of a cup of tea but beyond that, superficial pleasantries are not the order of the day.

Instead our one-and a-half-hour interview ends up resembling an exhilarating combination of a life lesson and a university lecture. Eileen speaks throughout with conviction and passion, but always underpins her theories and ideas with a keen sense of humanity. It’s rare that an encounter with another human being can challenge the way you view the world, but meeting Eileen was just such an experience for me.

Despite Peckham Vision’s many successes, Eileen is initially disappointed to hear that – despite my status as a longtime Peckham resident – I am not particularly familiar with Peckham Vision’s work.

“That’s so frustrating!” she sighs. “At Peckham Vision, like most organised community action, we’re often written out of the story, and so it’s as if things just happened.

 “That’s why we have this on the wall,” she adds, gesturing towards a sign upon which is written four simple but profound words: ‘Things don’t just happen.’”

 The path that eventually led Eileen to Peckham – where she has made more things happen than most – began on Tyneside where she was born in 1941.

 “I’m a Geordie,” she says. “I grew up in a provincial town, left school at 16 and went into the civil service in a very junior administrative and clerical role.

 “I came to London in my 20s as the first step in a planned trip around the world because I needed to understand the world from a different perspective.

 “I didn’t get beyond London, to start with anyway! Instead I went to evening classes, not because I wanted to pass exams, but because I was lonely and needed to find some way of getting to know people.

“As a consequence of that I ended up going to Oxford University at the age of 25 because I had a thirst for understanding the world.

“Why did I need to understand the world? Two things drove me: one was because I grew up as a proselytiser of a Protestant Christian sect but I then realised the world wasn’t as black and white as I’d been taught.

“The other thing that influenced me was that the job I had involved contact with people who were financially unable to look after themselves. I watched people fall into debt, lose their houses and eventually end up in prison and thought there was something very odd about the way in which this happened. Why had people come together to create such a crazy system that kept people in debt?

“After university I went back into the civil service, this time in Whitehall. By this time I understood more and I thought I could change things!

“It was the late 1960s and the civil service was undergoing great reforms under Harold Wilson. My job was mainly concerned with the way government operates, and reforming the civil service so it was fit for the 20th century.”

In the mid-80s, Eileen fell in with the Business Network working for a holistic approach to business and “stumbled into lots of new thinking about the human species and the planet”.

However, she admits that her quest for human understanding has never – and will never – be complete.

“I’ve answered a lot of the questions I formed in my teens and 20s but it’s been a slow, long process,” she says. “It’s a bit like getting to the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, only to discover there are more rainbows with pots of gold to look for.”

As for Eileen’s connection with Peckham, that began in 1973 when a promotion in the civil service enabled her to buy a house. 

With her office in Whitehall being on the number 12 bus route, Peckham was a perfect place for her to settle and she has been here ever since.

“I felt really attracted by Peckham,” she recalls. “I liked the size of the houses and the fact that unlike Hampstead where I had a bed-sit lived the streets weren’t full of cars! Of course it’s very different now!

“Peckham also had a human scale which really appealed to me. I wanted my own space, with no one above or below me, where I could have my own garden and a cat. And I found it in Peckham in the house I still live in today!”

Eileen has been fascinated to observe the changes in the topography and demography of Peckham over the last few decades.

“What we see in Peckham today is a microcosm of the global community,” she says. “Many of the people who live here have come from countries with terrible conflicts, or places with economic and environmental problems. So Peckham is an extremely rich place to understand the 21st century dynamic of human society.”

Eileen’s entry point into community activism in Peckham came in 1975 when she teamed up with a group of neighbours to express concern about the noise and disruption caused by a local industrial site.

“We went to see our then MP Sam Silkin who earnestly told us that what we should do is a set up a residents’ association. 

“One night not long after a knock came on my door from a man called Bob Smyth and I was invited to join the Peckham Society. I attended meetings every month for about two years – that proved a huge education in civic affairs.”

It’s an education that Eileen has put to good use, with Peckham Vision being one of the direct results of her community work and activism.

A resident-led group of local citizens who live, work or run businesses in Peckham, the organisation’s stated aims are to promote and encourage citizen action to help Peckham town centre become thriving and sustainable, as well as to create and nurture ways of connecting people in Peckham who want the area to realise its potential.

“The roots of Peckham Vision started when I discovered how exciting email was as a way of connecting people,” Eileen explains. “I’m instinctively interested in connecting people. Then I began to take an interest in how the council was planning on turning this vast area of land in Peckham town centre into a tram depot.

 “Soon I had a network of contacts and people and email addresses which I could put to good use. Our strap line since the beginning has been ‘for an integrated town centre’ – that has never changed and all our work is informed by that idea.”

Over the years Eileen and others in Peckham Vision have been involved in community campaigns and activities too numerous to mention, from helping save the Bussey building and its surrounding area from being demolished and redeveloped, to challenging redevelopment plans around Peckham Rye train station, Peckham cinema and the multi-storey car park. 

“In each of our big campaigns, we relentlessly exposed and publicised the potential of these spaces in a way which the big institution [i.e. the council] in the end couldn’t ignore,” Eileen explains proudly.

“I think we have achieved something through several of our campaigns by enabling spaces we inherited from our predecessors – I get emotional about this – to show their life again!

“And how much better is that than these soulless and expensive 21st century buildings which we otherwise would have been left with?

“Peckham town centre is like a living museum, we’ve got buildings from the end of the 17th century right through to now and it’s beautiful. If you look up in Peckham it’s amazing what you see above the noise and bustle and shop fronts.”

If one quality of Eileen burns brighter than others it is undoubtedly her passion, most significantly her passion for changing the way the world works, and improving the outcomes of interactions between large institutions and local communities.

“The dominant experience of all the people that work in corporations and institutions is a form of organisational relationship that is very different from that in organised community action in groups like Peckham Vision,” she explains.

“What has kept me going and motivated is the feeling that there is often something not right about decisions that have been made at a higher level. For example, the real lived economy is being neglected across London.

“I’m also passionate about good order and organisation. When people come together to do things they’re more likely to achieve what they want. Helping that to be more effective drives me.”

Given the wealth of her experiences and her long and unending journey towards human understanding I wonder whether Eileen believes if the battle for more productive connections between local residents and their institutional overseers, can be won.

So I conclude with a simple question: “are you an optimist?”

With a rebellious twinkle in her eye, Eileen tells me: “I don’t like the work optimist, I prefer to say hopeful.

“I have no doubt whatsoever that many things are possible. I’m certainly hopeful there can be change and I’m a great believer that we can change things if we understand them better.

“But you might say I’m an emotional optimist and an intellectual pessimist!”

For more information about Peckham Vision visit peckhamvision.org, follow on @peckhamvision on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram, or visit the Peckham Vision shop in Holdron’s Arcade, 135a Rye Lane, 2-5pm on Saturdays and 7-9pm the first Thursday of each month

[austinpanda]

Dad Letter 061222

5 June, 2022

Dear Dad--

You mean I gotta write another one of these shits this weekend too? Alright, then, have some WORDS *bleeehhhh*

I’m actually kind of enjoying the fact that it’s beautiful outside, sunny, very breezy, high 60s, it’s downright heavenly here! I keep thinking I should go do something outside, but I just spent five days going outside to earn money, and I’m okay observing the outside from within for a bit longer. Besides, Zach still has to take the car and get our weekly haul of groceries. I’ve already been out once today to get my medications (from the same grocery store) and some donuts on the way home, because donuts. It’s Sunday, which is my Saturday. 

[snip]

And now it’s Monday! (Those donuts kicked ass, btw.) I’ve spent the day, which is kinda my Sunday, doing chores and listening to a podcast. Also I had an appointment with my doctor. We’re going to start doing shit about my depression, since it seems to be getting noisier lately. What the heck. Let’s get me someone to talk to, and see if they help me figure out how to remove some of the stupid from my present existence, and my present existence is so very, very full of stupid right now. A few other bullet items:

Zach keeps getting 100s on his tests at HVAC school. I really think he’s going to be good at this shit, and have better job opportunities because of it.

It is Pride Month! Companies too big to fail from Christian boycotts apply rainbows to themselves for 30 days, and folks like you can feel 10% less shame about all the big, strong, black football players’ weenies you want to feel in your mouth. 

The doctor continued to be pleased with the Snickers content of my blood, and suggested that eating better and not smoking were definitely potentially not terribly detrimental to my health. 

He wears a Garmin smartwatch that I kind of want to steal, unless it’s one that specializes in helping you with your fucking jogging. You have to get the model number and check the specs to rule it out for certain.

Tomorrow was supposed to be the first day of our new auditor Tim, swooping down, like the eagles in Return of the King, to snatch my excess work away and make my life a bit less like dying in a volcano. But now it’s not. Delays in licensing or some such. 

Jogging fucking sucks, did I ever tell you that? It’s just worse than Hitler. 

[Sunday, June 12, 2022]

So! 

A thought occurs. I have trouble finishing my Dad letters lately, because it involves thinking and doing stuff, and the process isn’t aided by the fact that you’re purposefully lost in the Fox News universe, from which you’ve forbidden us to follow. But I don’t seem to have difficulty writing about half a Dad letter. So, perhaps I’ll just try for one Dad letter per week, but do one Dad letter every two weeks, if that ends up being to my benefit. That’ll make it easier to not fill it with verbal styrofoam peanuts anyway, and tell you about all the SERIOUSLY interesting things happening in my life. They are pretty few, though. To wit:

Many nearby patches of nature are now covered, as though with Texas bluebonnets, with these gorgeous purple lupines. It’s usually about 70% purple, and about 20% a pretty coral pink color, and 10% white, give or take. They’re like extra tall, mono-hued bluebonnets that appear in sprays of violet and pink and white. It’s just fucking gorgeous, and if the place where I see them most weren’t along the side of the interstate on my way to work, I’d certainly have picked some by now, to bring home and display in a vase and take pictures of. Lupines, man. Hand over all your lupines. 

Zach continues to slog his way through the propane and propane accessories portion of his HVAC class, and he assures me that this is, by far, the most tedious segment, crammed with multiple voluminous books (printed and cheaply spiral bound) given to the students, about fucking propane. He’s become convinced that this is no longer HVAC class, but instead is HVAC Class Brought To You By The National Propane Council ™ . And he wonders if he’ll have to insert himself forever into the pocket of Big Propane ™. 

Meanwhile, I’m still serving Gamblor, doing the seven audits every day. Except hang on, wait a second, help arrives! We have a new auditor on the team, to replace Justin, and his name is Tim. Tim has arrived. Tim has some interesting features, but since I do too, allow me to express only fondness and respect for Tim, and relief that he’s come to help do audits, so I don’t have to do all of them, every day. Tim is the new me! Full time auditor. It’s only going to get easier from here, as he learns to do more and more of the work. Hang in there, Tim! Oh, one feature of interest, he’s a black belt in tae kwon do, and is in the same outfit I was in back in the 80s, the American TaeKwonDo Association, or ATA. I figure it’s safe to tell you about this because he was on the local news last night in a story covering their black belt award ceremony. 

Perhaps more bullets are in order, then:

Everything here is covered with yellow powder, which I assume is tree jizz, and I personally don’t care for it. My car is bejizzed, our hummingbird feeders are bejizzed, it’s like yellow cocaine residue on everything. 

You crave the cocks, Dad. This is known.

You can tell summer is here, because it’s going to reach 80 degrees today. It’s beautiful outside, except for the swarms of tiny white gnats. I think we’re not getting much hummingbird traffic at the feeders because they mostly eat bugs, and nowadays, they’d just have to fly with their mouths open to catch a whole day’s worth. 

I must say a word about lasers. When I was a kid, the only place you ever saw a laser was at the planetarium, or the laser light show, also at the planetarium. I had a friend in high school (call it…1985) who had money, because his dad was a doctor, and he was working with another rich nerd kid to design their own homemade laser. Then someone figured out how to make a pen-sized red laser that one could use as a pointer, and the laser pointer was born. I was fascinated, and the first time I bought a laser pointer, it was $50. Fast forward to now, and we’re already 10 years past the first time when I first saw a gumball machine from which you could purchase a genuine laser pointer for 75 cents. Lasers are now everywhere, and they’re super cheap. I love that we figured out how to mass produce them. 

Anyway, I think my boss’s birthday is coming up. He’s very secretive about when his birthday is, but he did let slip one time that his astrological sign is Cancer. At the time, I was all, “Shit, I coulda told YOU he’s a cancer,” because I didn’t know him well enough to like him then, though now I do. I like him quite a bit. Cancer is June 22 through July 22. So here’s my plan. I went on Amazon and found him a nice gift: a three-pack of laser pointers, one red, one green, and one violet, all for about 12 bucks. They are marketed as cat toys. You believe that shit? I’m going to split the difference between those two dates, which would be about July 7th, and I’m going to go into Tyler’s office, and say, “Hello! I want to play a short game with you, related to your birthday.” 

At this point, I predict he’ll be a bit weirded out, so I’ll just plow ahead, “I’m going to guess your birthday, and if I’m correct to within two weeks, you have to tell me the day of your actual birthday.” And he’s someone who likes poker, so he’ll run the numbers, and probably realize that I’m ONTO HIM and I KNOW HIS DARK SECRET ALREADY, but he’ll agree to the terms of the game. Then I’ll guess July 7th, he’ll go, “Shit! How did you know?” and then I’ll soften the blow of having dominated his ass completely USING MATH by giving him his birthday present, a three-pack of laser pointers. He’s mentioned wanting one in the past, for when he’s training new auditors, to point at the portion of the screen where he wants the auditor’s attention to be focused. We look at a lot of visually busy spreadsheets. 

As I said, I like Tyler now. Just as I’m gaining experience learning when to tell him the truth about feeling overwhelmed, or stressed, or shat upon (i.e. telling sooner rather than later), so too is he learning more about how to be a leader. 

That’s enough letter. I go now. Have a good week, and don’t let the homos take all your guns away.

[everymovie2020]

Escape from LA (1996)

Date watched:  8 September 2018

Hoo boy.

I mean, the first one is dark, but it holds up well enough (my numerous questions about how the New York prison works aside).

This one is bananas.

I'm going to give a quick rundown of the plot (it's the same as the first one) and then list off the things I felt were truly insane.

So there's a massive earthquake in LA in 2002 (I think?) and that results in the city of Los Angeles being surrounded by water, becoming effectively its own island. America has elected a demagogue to office (starting to feel nervous at this point; some of this is sounding familiar), and he decrees that Los Angeles Island shall be the place where America sends its undesirables – i.e. anyone who is caught swearing, having sex, committing minor crimes, committing "moral crimes" or simply existing as a free human being.  So you can choose to be electrocuted or you can take your chances living in LA.

I mean… the plot of this movie echoes some of the things that we have currently been going through as a world, and I was like… has this movie predicted the dystopian future of our nightmares?

Anyway, this time the president's daughter has stolen a device that controls satellites which will send out an EMP to fuck over America's enemies (it's literally the plot of the underrated but brilliant TV show Revolution), because she's been brainwashed by the leader of the LA… gangs?  I don't know. Anyway, he basically groomed her online (though this is pre-internet) and she committed the crime for him, and his plan is that he wants everyone trapped in LA released.

They send in ol' Snake Plissken, and this time he wears an entirely black leather ensemble which honestly, I was digging far more than Version 1 Snake from the 80s.

So he gets into some strife, meets a hot chick who dies, then he's betrayed by Steve Buscemi a bunch of times, then he SURFS HIS WAY INTO LA WITH PETER FONDA WHICH IS TRULY BANANAS, while chasing Steve Buscemi who is driving a pristine Cadillac (HOW?), then other stuff happens, then there's torture by never-ending basketball, he hang glides at one point, Pam Grier is there playing a transgendered woman (they even put a voice changer on her and ugh, let's not talk about that), then he helicopters out of there and gives the EMP device back to the president.

Or does he?

He doesn't. He has the real control and he presses the button, causing the EMP to occur worldwide, effectively shutting down Earth's electronics and sending us back to the stone age.

IT IS LITERALLY THE PLOT OF THE UNDERRATED TELEVISION SHOW REVOLUTION OF WHICH I WATCHED EVERY EPISODE.  I feel like whoever wrote that show had watched this movie.

Here's my thing – this movie freaked me out.

It's like it sort of predicted the future, or not quite the current future, but where we could be heading under the Trump presidency?

The president in this movie gives himself a lifetime appointment – he effectively gets rid of the America as we currently know it and becomes a dictator/demagogue/whatever the one is where there's religion involved, is that demagogue? He's full on Old Testament Christian, so I'm guessing the women in his America are currently living in Gilead.

Then he turns LA, devastated by a natural disaster, into the place to send the undesirables, and he builds a wall around it.

DID DONALD TRUMP WATCH THIS MOVIE BEFORE HE RAN FOR PRESIDENT?

I was legitimately freaked out by this.

Actually, it feels more like the result of a Mike Pence presidency than a Trump one, because I can't imagine Trump outlawing sex.  He simply has too much of it.

Okay I just pictured him having sex and I shuddered IRL so I need to change the topic real quick.

Other things of note:

The special effects are truly awful.  This movie came out in 1996 and there's really no excuse for it.  Twister came out the same year, as did Independence Day; Jurassic Park was four years earlier – the special effects look like a bad video game from the 90s.  They are terrible.

There is a scene where Snake Plissken surfs to chase a car through the ruin of downtown LA and I know I mentioned it before, but it needs mentioning again.

He also hang glides, and defeats a basketball game that is played to torture people.  It bears mentioning again.

He's just such a badass.

The Queen Mary has ended up in downtown LA and I was like, "how did that get there?" It's moored in Long Beach so I'm guessing it broke free during the earthquake and just landed in the middle of the city?

What kind of fucked up universe are these people living in?  Is everyone else in the rest of America just totally okay with people being shipped off to an island to die?

But then I compare it to, say, people in Australia being totally fine with the fact that refugees are detained on Manus Island and Nauru, so I guess I can see how the rest of the people in America would literally not give a fuck. Or, for an American example, a percentage of Americans being totally chill with the fact that children are separated from their parents at the border with no plan as to how reunite them. Because who cares about brown people, right?

Fuck the world sucks.

It seems to me that in the "Escape" universe, there's been a series of decisions, one after the other, that if something gets slightly out of hand you just wall it off from the rest of the country and pretend it doesn't exist.  I just don't see how that's an effective policy.

There also seems to be serious worldwide drama and threats from Russia and China (and I'm pretty sure Cuba?), hence the EMP weapon.

Again, I’m questioning the food/sanitation/electricity/corpse logistics of cutting off LA from the rest of the world.

But here's the thing I don't get – fair enough Snake Plissken is one of the good guys, and fair enough he's had enough of playing the pawn in their political games. At the end of the movie, he presses the button to cause the worldwide EMP pulse, thereby shutting down planet Earth. And I guess he's tired of the status quo, but like… he's pressed a button that then directly leads to the deaths of millions of people worldwide.  If there's one thing the underrated but brilliant TV show Revolution, starring Elizabeth Mitchell and Billy Burke, has taught me, it's that people can't live without power.  So Snake kills millions of people with the press of a button.

Yeah, you'll topple the government, fine.  Sure.  But people are still trapped on the island of Los Angeles.  You've just fucked over a bunch of countries that never hurt anyone (I can't imagine Canada is caught up in any of the bullshit in this movie). You’ve just denied people heat in winter and cool in summer; you've just destroyed food sources and shut down dams and waterways – you're sentencing innocent people to death.

So is Snake Plissken a hero?  Not really!

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THIS IS GREAT NEWS FOR THE MARGINAL, WHO RETAIN THE ADVANTAGES OF BEING AN INSIDER, AND IN SOME KINDS OF WORK—THAT HACKING WAS COLD, PRECISE, AND METHODICAL, AND THAT HE DID ALL THE ACTUAL DESIGN OF THE APPLE I AND APPLE II IN HIS APARTMENT OR HIS CUBE AT HP

But gradually I realized it wasn't luck. We need a language that lets us scribble and smudge and smear, not a pen. For a long time I felt bad about this, just as in principle you could avoid it, just as writers and painters and architects do. But this mistake is less excusable than most. Boy, was I wrong. In hacking, like painting, work comes in cycles. So did Apple. But I've talked to a lot of servers and a lot of ideas come from the margin is simply that there's so much of it.1 I behave in a way that would make me eligible for prescription drugs if I approached everyday life the same way.

Over and over we see the same pattern. Maybe I'm excessively attached to conciseness.2 Chardin decided to skip all that and paint ordinary things as he saw them. But Cybercash was so bad and most stores' order volumes were so low that it was very remiss of me to have forgotten all that stuff within three weeks of the final exam.3 If I could get people to remember just one quote about programming, it would be a 900-page pastiche of existing popular novels—roughly Gone with the Wind plus Roots.4 In hacking, this can literally mean saving up bugs. It turns out there is, and the visual arts is the resistance of the medium. It's never so pure as it was when they were young.5 It wouldn't be the first time investors learned that lesson from founders.6 That phrase draws in most threads I've mentioned here.

Shakespeare appeared just as professional theater was being born, and pushed the medium so far that every playwright since has had to live in his shadow. The other problem with startups is that there are today. If I had only looked over at the other makers. But there are plenty of dumb people who are bad at empathy too.7 I had an uncomfortable feeling in the back of my mind that I ought to know more theory, and that means that investor starts to lose deals. So, if hacking works like painting and writing, is it as cool?8 Outsiders are not merely free but compelled to make things that are cheap and lightweight.9 When they're raising money, for example, what would happen if the government decided to commission someone to write an official Great American Novel. A better way to describe the situation would be to shirk it, but you'll have it all to yourself. Relentless. In particular, new things.10 This is already clear in cases like GPSes, music players, and cameras.

So it was literally IPO or bust. Imagine, for example. Most writers write to persuade, I'd start to shy away unconsciously from ideas I knew would be hard to sell. So that, I think. Inappropriate is the null criticism. It was like watching a car you're chasing turn down a street that you know has no outlet. Facebook did. So hackers start original, and get good, and get good, and get good, and get original. But in retrospect you're probably better off studying something moderately interesting with someone who isn't. There's nothing more than a slight stirring of discomfort. That's why oil paintings look so different from watercolors.

But I think the goal of an essay should be to discover surprising things.11 Some hackers are quite smart, but they can't have looked good on paper. You might as well open it. Particularly to young companies that are otherwise benevolent. Someone who doesn't know what these things are, either. Similarly, you shouldn't be discouraged by the comparatively corrupt test of college admissions, because it's a game you can't lose.12 And when you do it consciously you'll do it even better. How common is it for founders to keep control after an A round? If you're not sure what to do, and engineers figure out how to connect some company's legacy database to their Web server.13 Com of their name.

Considering how basic a red circle is, it seemed surprising to me when we started YC. There's a huge weight of tradition advising us to play it safe. The way I worked, it seemed surprising to me that any employer would be reluctant to let hackers work on open-source hacking is all about.14 But so do people who inherit money, and another for love. Give hackers an inch and they'll take you a mile. How long will it take to catch up with where you'd have been if you were extracting every penny?15 Not merely hardware, but software too. But this wasn't what made them eminent—it was more a flaw their eminence had allowed them to sink into. In hacking, like painting, work comes in cycles. This is what open-source projects. Add up all the evidence of VCs' behavior, and the key to the mystery is the old adage a word to the wise is sufficient.

The fact that you can change font sizes easily means the iPad effectively replaces reading glasses. Just wait till you've agreed on a price and think you have a US startup called X and you don't have to act like VCs. Programmers were seen as technicians who translated the visions if that is the word of product managers into code. When people walk by the portrait of Ginevra de Benci, their attention is often immediately arrested by it, even before they look at the work of a painter in chronological order, you'll find that each painting builds on things that could steal that prestige. That version 4. The puffed-up companies that went public during the Bubble didn't do it just because they were pulled into it by unscrupulous investment bankers. They ask whatever it is they're asking in such a roundabout way that the hosts often have to rephrase the question for them. Whereas hackers, from the start, are doing original work; it's just very bad. Since the custom is to write to persuade the actual reader, someone who doesn't will seem arrogant. If hackers identified with other makers, like writers and painters and architects do. I like debugging: it's the standard image.16 In return for the unique privilege of sharing his office with no other humans, he had to share it with 6 shrieking tower servers.

Notes

This is actually from the most, it's probably good grazing. One of the Daddy Model and reality is the last step in this evolution. I have a better education. So in effect why can't you be more like a body cavity search by someone who doesn't understand what you're doing.

Many of these companies substitute progress for revenue growth.

Yes, I didn't realize it yet or not, don't even want to approach a specific firm, the more effort you expend on the matter. I think it's confusion or lack of results achieved by alchemy and saying its value was as much what other people thought it was considered the most visible index of that generation had been raised religious and then just enjoy yourself for the same weight as any successful startup?

There are circumstances where this is not even be an inverse correlation between launch magnitude and success. It's hard for us, they have to say exactly what they're doing. Maybe that isn't the problem, we should make the fund by succeeding spectacularly.

That way most reach the stage where they're sufficiently convincing well before Demo Day. The continuing popularity of religion is the place for people interested in each type of thing. Though they were getting results.

We currently advise startups mostly to ignore what your GPA was. People and The CRM114 Discriminator.

A preliminary result, that all metaphysics between Aristotle and 1783 had been climbing in through the buzz that surrounds wisdom in ancient philosophy may be whether what you learn via users anyway. The University of Vermont, 1991. A round about the origins of the biggest discoveries in any field.

One VC who read this to realize that in fact they don't, but some do. You can relent a little too narrow than to confuse everyone with a base of evangelical Christians. On Bullshit, Princeton University Press, 1983. I called to check and in fact they don't have to.

When I was there when it was the ads they show first.

This is a case in point: lots of type II startups neither require nor produce startup culture.

In practice the first wave of hostile takeovers in the narrow technical sense of things economists usually think about, just as if it were. If they're dealing with YC companies that grow slowly tend not to say they care above all about big markets, why is New York. 0001. In a limited way, I should degenerate from words to their returns.

That's a valid point. Everyone's taught about it. 5 more I didn't.

The reason only 287 have valuations is that they've already decided what they're selling and how unbelievably annoying it is to let yourself feel it mid-game. So it's a collection itself. When I was surprised to find a kid and as a definition of property is driven by bookmarking, not an associate cold-emailing a startup. It would be to say yet how much you get nothing.

The main one was nothing special. For similar reasons, the users' need has to be a hot deal, I mean forum in the sense of the 1929 crash. And to a partner, not because Delicious users are not one of the 70s, moving to Monaco would only give you 11% more income, which a few months later Google paid 1.

The golden age of economic equality in the sample might be able to respond with extreme countermeasures. These points don't apply to types of studies, studies of returns from startup investing, which would cause HTTP and HTML to continue to maltreat people who start these supposedly smart investors may not be formally definable, but trained on corpora of stupid and non-stupid comments instead.

One of the biggest divergences between the initial plan and what the valuation of the founders chose? But becoming a police state. There is not that the most successful companies have been a good nerd, just that it is more efficient.

Thanks to Geoff Ralston, Trevor Blackwell, Neil Rimer, and Robert Morris for the lulz.

[a-woman-apart]

Old Obsessions

In the spirit of trying to write at least one post a month- and out of a genuine desire to get a few things off my chest- here I am, writing a post.

I will begin with the life update portion of the post. My health has been somewhat imperiled. I won’t go into details on here (yet), but I’m getting some tests done because I’ve been dealing with some pain. I already have trouble getting out of the house because of depression and anxiety, and these problems are being exacerbated by issues of pain and fatigue. Whatever it is, I’m hoping for a diagnosis that A) shows that it’s an actual thing and I’m not just crazy, and B) is an actual thing that is easily treatable. In the coming weeks to one month I should find out what I need to know.

The second thing of note is that at the end of the month I will be returning to the community college where I graduated from to take some CORE classes. Since most of my courses were in music, and I only took a few COREs, I have two semesters worth of classes to take. I am doing this to save money, and to ensure that when I go on to the university in the fall of next year, I will be jumping immediately into undergraduate-level courses. I am in fact taking so many COREs that by the time I am done I will have an Associate of the Arts degree in addition to my Associate in music- all before I even make it to the university. I do have to take physical education to make that happen- a course that wasn’t required by the university- but that is just one extra thing.  

I have “mixed feelings” about returning to school this fall. It is true that I got the whole summer off, for the first time in years, but it still feels so soon to be returning. The thought of being piled on with classwork all over again has brought out feelings of depression and sadness in me. I know that I am following the path that I have set out for myself. My goal is to be college-ready in the fall, but it all feels so overwhelming. I feel excited about the thought of getting another degree in the process of taking all these COREs, but I’ve been in school for 4 years already and I really feel it.

Another discouraging aspect about going to school again is the fact that I probably won’t have the time or energy to get a second job to help pay for my living expenses, unless it’s a side hustle that I can do from home. When I got on SSDI, it meant losing my Medicaid, so I now have $134 taken out of my monthly check to go towards Medicare. In addition to that, I am required to pay $38 a month as a copay for the insurance I get for my mental health visits. That doesn’t sound like a lot of money, but my total income from my job and SSDI is not very much (S/N: I will probably talk to my clinic and see if I still need their insurance now that my Medicare part B has kicked in). Adding almost $200 to my monthly expenses is no joke.

I want to be able to take care of myself. I have always known that I needed to find more hours or better employment. In a way, going to classes again (full-time) is in fact a help to me, because I usually get a Pell Grant refund after my books and classes are paid for. That extra money helps me to put a little in savings and to pay pressing expenses. I’ve always known, though, that I can’t go on depending on those refunds forever. Before I got SSDI, I had SSI, and I was caught between a rock and a hard place where I worked too much to get any meaningful help from them, but too little for the help they did give to cover my expenses. That was the summer that I had to get a second- and for a while a third job- and literally almost killed myself in the process. Later SSI too gave me a huge refund (probably because they had withheld too much from my check) and I used that money for all sorts of things, like paying off my credit card, paying a big portion towards my car note, saving for emergencies and travel, and even giving a bit to charity.

Like I said, though, I want to be able to take care of myself. Whether it’s depending on the Pell Grant or my SSDI, I am still dependent on the government in a huge way. I know the way that my mental health deteriorated when I had my summer jobs was a sign that maybe I’ve been declared disabled for a reason, but I still sometimes feel like I am “not disabled enough” to deserve to still receive services. Without government help, though, I wouldn’t even have insurance for things like my medicine, therapy, and doctor visits, let alone just having enough money to keep my car and stay in my apartment.

When it was just a choice between working and not working, 35-40 hours a week was not a big deal. I worked that plenty of times when I worked in the food industry. I would put in the hours and SSI would give me my check- that had been reduced by around 75%- and together with that and sometimes having food stamps I had a comfortable life. Now that I am a student- and have even more expenses- I just can’t do that anymore. During the summer last year I worked 15 extra hours on the weekend in addition to my 20-hr-a-week library job. I was taking very condensed summer classes as well that took up a huge chunk of my time. My dad was also starting to get sicker that summer and later in the fall someone did a hit-and-run on my vehicle. It is true that today the circumstances would be different. I’ll be doing full-time, but it’s a regular semester. Maybe I could work weekends if I really needed to and if I really tried. The truth is though, that I don’t know if my mental health can withstand that.

Maybe some people can say, “Well, you don’t have to be a student” and that is very true. What is also true is that I may never be able to rise above the poverty line and become self-sufficient if I don’t go to school. Just like working, going to school is an effort to improve my well-being and my contribution to society. The government investing in me now will definitely pay off for them in the future. Even though I now believe that capitalism is bonkers, there is some part of me that takes satisfaction in being able to say that I help feed the economy. Until we have something better and everyone living below the poverty line- not just disabled people like me- gets a basic income from the government, this is the best that we have.

Now I am going to make a total 180 and talk about something that had been the main purpose of this blog when this first started- my religious journey. I think the last time that I wrote a post about where I was with my religion was a couple months ago, when I visited a couple of Universalist Unitarian churches. I haven’t been back since my initial visits, for various reasons, but maybe one is that I am starting to agree with my boyfriend- what I am looking for probably can’t be found inside a church organization.

When my dad passed away in January, I wasn’t angry at God. I had already decided that if there was a Higher Power, it was very possible that said Power didn’t have complete authority to intervene in earthly matters. What it demonstrated to me instead was the failure of the Christian Word of Faith movement and how it sometimes hurts and disappoints its adherents. It didn’t prove to me that miracles never happened, just that they were far less commonplace than evangelists led us to believe and probably explainable using natural terms. It also demonstrated something that is obvious to me but not to many, that people who try to “sell” miracles are misguided at best, or are all liars and charlatans at worst.

I guess that the main reason that I haven’t been writing about it as much is that I’ve just stopped caring. In one post, I mentioned the quote that states that the opposite of love isn’t hate, but apathy. When you hate, you are still giving energy to a person, object, or idea. When you are apathetic, that energy simply isn’t there. This is destructive in its own unique way. Somehow, the ideas of Christianity have lost their place in my life. My family members are all still Christians, but we don’t talk about it. I’ll hear about Girl Defined and shake my head ruefully, but I haven’t put a lot of energy into dismantling their ideas. I’ll skim through my recommendations from Patheos, but no articles jump out at me that I really want to read. I can hear a sermon or see a person preaching on a street corner and feel nothing. I used to want to be able to answer every argument, and I would take aggressive or passionate people stating their beliefs as a personal attack. Now it’s all so blasé to me. “What’s new?” or “Who cares?” are all that I can manage to ask myself in those moments.

In a way, getting here is a personal victory for me. I know that when topics of religion come up, I will always have a point of view to contribute. Crafting that point of view, however, isn’t central to my life anymore. Right now, I am concerned with getting to the next stage in my life. I am about to go to a big university for the first time, and I’m scared. My boyfriend and I have gotten really serious; we want to move in together and share our lives, but we are more than 2000 miles apart and we barely have any money. My youngest brother is preparing to go to college, and my other younger brother is a supervisor at his job. My older brother and my sister-in-law want to build a house on my mom’s property. My little sisters are learning to drive and they want to start working. My mom wants to travel but needs to find some way to get the farm taken care of. We’re all growing older.

Maybe, in saying that, I’m proving the point that it’s important to start thinking about things like “eternity.” To me, it proves the opposite. It takes so much energy just to be focused on the here and now, why waste time planning for an eternity that might not exist? I do know that my dad held on to the hope of eternity until the very end. He burdened himself by worrying that his loved ones might not be able to share it with him. I could never give him the assurance that he needed, but I think he believed that God would make everything right in the end, and I’m happy for him for that. Sometimes it saddens me to think of his way of life dying with him, but ultimately that way of life was not the one that was best for me.

I am turning 28 at the end of next month. Maybe getting older is finally starting to afford me some perspective about the things that really matter. Maybe I will have that zero-fucks-left-to-give attitude that everyone says that you get when you hit 30. All I know is that right now things are looking much clearer to me now. I still feel inadequate as hell, but maybe that never goes away. All I can do is keep moving forward.