#gonna need some of these blogs to practice what they preach and be a bit kinder

[thebirdsareafterme]

It’s actually crazy how this particular poll has double the engagement of every other poll and also the only one with propaganda. Everyone is so passionate about these two ships specifically and that makes me so happy. I love seeing all the artists come together to make funky lil posters!

However!! Some of y’all are taking this way too seriously. Accusing people of cheating in a fandom poll for racecar drivers, or in turn, accusing the other side of “crying because they’re losing” and just generally being disrespectful is seriously not good sportsmanship. Grow up a little bit and just enjoy it for what it is: a fun activity that someone put together out of the goodness of their heart. It literally does not matter who wins. Chill.

Group A: Semifinal

[nightswithkookmin]

I think Jikook acts different on cameras yess they flirt a lot but they don’t show us everything of course, Jikook has changed a lot from 2015-2020 It’s like they used to do a lot of things but back then they were very sneaky when they used to do things like when Jimin was playing footsies under the table in Hawaii , him being jungkooks room in the morning while he was taking a shower , them holding hands while suga body was hiding it , do you think they act different on camera now From before

Jikook act different on cameras? Oh god, I hope you don't mean to say Jikook is fanservice now cos...

I've heard this a lot in my Jikook lifetime and after Taekook's conversation in the Soop that narrative shot back to prominence. The behind the scenes of them at the photoshoot certainly hasn't helped things. Lol

Lord knows it created a schism between Jikookers as to what that moment was and what it meant in the grand scheme of things.

I know Jikook have personas, I've been saying this from the onset of my blog. I know Jikook are human, I've been preaching this from go. I know they have different personalities, hell my whole schtick about their love language has been around their personalities.

We don't know much about who they are behind the cameras but I'm glad at least people are probing into that and not taking Jikook at face value- that's what alternative shipping is. Reconstructing their 'real life' behind the scenes interactions based on their online interactions and the little clues they leave behind through their digital print- very heavy detective work lol and I'm all about that life.

I don't know them personally but if I were to reconstruct all of their interactions to guess at what goes on behind the scenes, I can tell you as a fact that Tae and JK are the least members who spend time together off cameras. I can tell you that much.

They will be followed closely behind by Tae and Jin, Suga etc. In my opinion. If there are any pairs that spend a lot of time together off cameras, to me, it would be Jimin and JK, followed by Jimin and Suga, Jimin and RM and of course VMin. You just have to pay attention to the things they do and say about eachother.

You only have to take one look at Jikook dancing in sync to the very tip of their hairs to know those two spend a lot of time practicing together off cameras. And when you hear them harmonizing- damn, you just know.

The members have pointed out Jikook's unique way of dancing planned and choreographed dance moves on stage and the look on Hobi's face in that reaction video says he was equally taken aback.

Jikook, out of all the members, have the most chemistry online in their interactions and a certain high levels of intimacy that to me the only way I can make sense of it is If they have carnal knowledge of eachother or have at least encroached on eachother's emotional and personal space in such a way that it blurs the lines of friendship a little bit resulting in synergies between them that is out of this world or both.

Because let's face it, neither of Jikook is peacefully mounting their respective partners without addressing the elephant in the room which is eachother staring at them go at it from the couch.

I have seen Jimin with his friends within and outside BTS to know he acts the same- THE SAME, with everybody skinship wise on and off camera and yet his intimacy with JK stands out the most- I wonder why. Smirk.

We've seen him drop softly into Sungwoo's laps at an award. We all saw it. And that was not 'on camera' and so we can't say he acts differently with JK off camera at least where skinship is concerned. Know what I mean?

And just the fact their rain fight was about Jimin caring too much about JK- we can't say JM doesn't care about JK off cameras either.

When JM tried doing his flirty gat shit with Suga, Suga scolded him saying he is not JK if my memory serves me right. So clearly the gay shit he does with JK is something he does offline too.

I can't say same for JK though because JM have said JK acts different with him on camera- cold on camera but warm off camera. I've mentioned this several times now so I won't get into it.

What I'm trying to say is, Jikook don't Jikook all the time but their interactions aren't exactly off of what we see on camera. Their personalities offline may be different but that doesn't mean their interactions offline are different or wildly different. Their interactions on line aren't so far off from their off line interactions such that we can brand what they do online as fanservice. In my opinion.

And also, something about the way JK reacts when he sees Jimin all over the members tells me he is not used to seeing JM prioritise others over him or have that intimacy with the members off camera. Yes, he does skinship with them and with his friends but I feel he does it the most with JK.

I mean if memories 2019 is anything to go by. Why do I feel I have answered this ask before? Lol.

Have their interactions changed online? Well for one, they aren't horny teenage boys anymore- ok, that's lie. They still got it like it was yesterday. Lol. They've matured a lot is what I mean. They've learned a lot and their fandom has equally grown enormously since those days.

I mean, let's be real, the Jikook ship tag wasn't as hot as it is now so they could get away with a lot of things back then. Now, they are one of the biggest ships not just in BTS or S.K but in world. There isn't much they can get away with. So their bandmates, editors etc. even they themselves check their behavior on camera a lot these days- especially with the jealousy and possessiveness bit. Lol.

Jk has really been trying. Jimin too. They crack sometimes but still you can see them putting in the effort- honestly, good for them. I can't be mad at that. We love positive change.

As for the sneaky behavior...

Chilee, I don't know. They still seem pretty gay, very risque to me. Lol

Jimin playing with Jk's titties in last year's season's greatings, dipping his hands in Jk's pockets- from JK's reaction it didn't seem like JM was reaching for Christ in those pockets. Cough cough.

And JK intentionally pushing his butt into JM's groin region- had my bias looking all kinds of confused. Poor Jimin! The sexual innuendos in that footage... good thing the editors cut that bit off. Good thing. And JM, you did not have to drop your eyes to the Jeon booty. You know you can't keep it straight. Jeon booty makes you weak and you know it. Lmho

Eye fucking eachother this year, blowing illegal kithes during the Dynamite reaction VLive - Tae didn't yell 'let's not look in the camera's because he thought they were about to harmonize for Jesus. Lmho. Dude is tired of their shenanigans- I feel you Tae. I'm done with them too. Gosh!

Jk interrupting Jin's call to ask JM on a date- now that was wild. Asking JM to change his clothes and come back to the live and that little gay panic moment JM had after hearing that. Oh Jimin! Bless his heart, he's weak. Lol

JK really wanted to do a live with JM so bad- I'm glad he got his wish later. And from the looks of it, seems he is still fighting to have another one (ALONE) with JM. Can't wait to see how that works out. For now, I know he is grounded. Lol

The bolder one this season for me has been JK. I think you have to go back towards the end of 2019 until JM's birthday this year and reevaluate their interactions. Jk has been holding it down, piloting the Jikook ship until August this year when JM started getting loud again with his overt flirtations.

No but seriously JK, you will do all of these bold wild moves and still not take a minute or two to wish him a happy birthday on his birthday. Then when we don't ship you with Jimin too you'll stand there looking like your cat got stuck in a tree- quirky for no reason this one. Chilee.

It's the, I love you Jiminah at the end of his call for me. I set that as my ringtone for months! Lol

And JM turning red on the couch during Bon Voyage four- c'mon now, that was something! Hobi was right, JM needed an ice pack- all night. Sksksksksksksksksksksjk

Don't mind me. I can be silly for no reason sometimes. Lol

It's not so much as that Jikook's interactions have changed for me. It's more so that there are a lot that has changed around them and in effect, is impacting their interactions on camera.

For one, as I keep pointing out, they don't have the freedom to do certain things anymore. Like, doing VLives on their own whenever they want like they used to do before. Now their vlives are heavily monitored, and the content they make on the app has been reduced to crafts and Arts- until Jimin's birthday live. You know my theory on that so...

VLive used to be one of the sources of their most authentic interactions. That and award shows, interviews and other contents BigHit has less control over. But all that have ceased due to the Corona Virus pandemic.

BTS's online presence, in the wake of the pandemic is also being heavily monetized. A simple tweet on Twitter from any of them has become very transactional- they have to be careful what they tweet because every tweet now is also a brand promotion for a phone campany.

Soop was equally that- brand promotion for Fila and all the big sponsors that sponsored that production, so bet your sweet ass they aren't going to let any 'controversial' sexual innuendo slip into that- but even that, chilee they tried. Lol. If you know, you know!

I'm waiting to see how they all interact with the VApp in the future, especially JK and Jikook.

And those moments, you pointed out are from Bon Voyage, no? I'm not gonna lie, I am wary of content that comes from BigHit editors. I think I've mentioned this a few times. They aren't stupid, they know what they are doing letting certain moments slip into screen time.

And some of the moments we think are authentic Jikook flirty interactions are just missions given them by the content developers- nobody wants Jikook to be gay more than bang PD and his shady ass editors trust me! Lmho.

Some moments too may be authentic coming from Jikook but that doesn't stop pro gay editornim from using it to his advantage. Chileee. I think I've talked about all of this?

All that being said, I think somethings will never change- like JM caring about JK or JK wanting Jimin. That is a Jikook thing. Yes, JM held JK's hand behind Suga when JK seemed- bored out of his mind. But JK rushed to console JM right after his ment in the recent Online concert. That right there was another Rosebowl moment for me and that would never change until they are no longer a couple.

That right there is also an example of the intimacy I talk so much about. It's that unconscious need to be there for eachother in a way I haven't seen anyone else in the group be that for either of them. They answer eachother's questions even if they don't ask. I don't see Tae traveling across podiums for JK or JK rushing from one end of a stage to another for anyone apart from JM. They really care about eachother and I don't think it's only on camera.

And you are right about their sneaky moments in those instances. sometimes these are moments Jikook breach the forth wall but other times too they are just balderdash. Lol

I think BigHit didn't see this pandemic coming, nobody did. Sometimes I feel they are in way over their heads with it, trying to maintain a steady stream of income inspite of it. But they are going to keep experimenting with content, experimenting with marketing strategies until they find that sweet spot.

I'd be ignorant and a hypocrite if I said all these new developments in no way impacts Jikook and their interactions. Or even their relationship. But one thing I know for sure is Jikook is not fanservice. They are not. And I don't think their affections for eachother has changed. They still got it.

I hope this helps. Stay safe and I purple you.

Signed,

GOLDY

[fuckingrealityshifting]

1// hi there, before you get too far, I want to say that I am trying to say this with all the kindness in my heart, and that I do, truly care for yall, and this is why im typing this now. I stumbled across your blog via your 'shifting terms' post, and I explored the idea of shifting and the shiftblr community a bit. I read all of your sources (although I don’t really believe most of them are credible enough) ((it could just be the uni student in me tho)) and I can't help but worry for you and

2// the shifting community. As I understand, most of you are still quite young, and while I haven’t tried to shift (I have a deep paranoia of developing a psychotic disorder), I fear that this practice could affect the young minds in this community in an unprecedented way. I am /not/ saying that any of you are delusional, im not saying its fake, im not saying i dont believe you. But many of you have mentioned how shifting is a) not dangerous and b) similar to astral projecting.

3// This is where I begin to worry, in my understanding, astral projecting is VERY dangerous, so if what you are doing is similar i dont believe it is a good idea. Especially for young people. Adolescent brains are very prone to mental illness, and I fear by placing yourselves in this situation you could eventually damage your mind. I dont mean to preach or anything, i just know a lot of you are young and i think you should be aware of the dangers of what you are doing,

4// because it could affect you in the long run. But stay safe, watch over each other and i wish yall the best. (ps. im sorry this was long)

/////end of ask

Okay so I just wanted to first say it would be okay if you didn’t believe or thought I was mentally ill and stated such! An ask like this is useful because it can start an actual conversation; I have concerns besides just disbelief to go off. Astral projection, being young, etc. I thank you for that and for leaving asks.

I don’t want people to think it’s not okay to be open about not believing. I know with the whole rating stuff rather than responding to comments it might seem like that, but I’m just going to brush off what doesn’t have a purpose other than bringing people down because there’s no point in repeating myself.

If it’s clearly meant to be sarcastic or has a punchline or comment for the sake of being rude or feeling like you’re superior (“get a hobby”) then I’m just not gonna humor you. I’m not intending to shut down all concerns at all.

About the sources—yeah, I do agree, a lot of the sources aren’t very credible, I totally acknowledge that. I also acknowledge even if they were all done by very credible sources the findings wouldn’t be absolutely decisive.

That’s kind of the fault of a lack of experimentation in scientific/professional spaces regarding anything spiritual and just the nature of spirituality itself. At the end of the day it’s mainly the suggestion of the findings that are important to spiritual people looking for evidence. I’m not sure if I worded that all coherently lol

I’m gonna answer these two points in reverse

Shifting is b.) similar to astral projection

So when I say similar to astral projection, I mean mainly in the fact you are perceiving stuff outside of your body and projecting. It’s a similar concept, and a bit of a similar practice, but not entirely.

With shifting, you are projecting your consciousness, and with astral projection, you are projecting your astral self/soul.

(I haven’t researched as much into the specifics of astral projection as I have for shifting so feel free to correct me! My understanding of astral projection is that your soul/astral self projects from your body to wander the astral realm.)

I’m gonna copy and paste some stuff I said in a dm message to someone who had a similar concern.

When a person shifts, their soul remains in their body. Your consciousness/awareness of reality is what is in another universe. When a person asteral projects, their soul leaves their body and can travel different realms of the universe.

When a person astral projects, they can come across spirits, deities, and harmful entities. They can take damage to the soul. They can change their astral form. Astral projection is dangerous. It is highly recommended not to astral project without protection.

When a person shifts, they are in a normal reality and do not need protection. Protection doesn’t hurt, as it doesn’t hurt to have protection in this reality, but its not necessary. (Precautions should always be taken.)

If they die in their desired reality, their soul is fine so they just come back. There is no danger of death. Your consciousness or alternate self (“clone”) can also go about your day while you are shifted which I have never heard about for astral projection.

The differences between your spirit projecting outside of your body and your consciousness projecting into another reality is why shifting is generally regarded as safer and as needing less precaution.

shifting is a. not dangerous

Well, not inherently. But like most anything it can be used dangerously. Some of the precautions that should be taken are:

•educating yourself properly before shifting

•grounding yourself (an ungrounded shifter can have issues)

•making sure you are not depending on shifting for anything or using it as unhealthy escapism

•understanding spirituality concepts even if you’re not practicing

I have a Staying Safe While Shifting post that has been in my drafts forever because I want to finish my mental health series to link it in the post, but I’ve been procrastinating finishing the mental health series because of the ADHD and shifting topic, which I believe I have.

We do have a majority of young people on the community—middle to older teens, I think. Most adults interested in this sort of thing participate under Quantum Jumping, a term that’s been around longer, which seems more online forum based.

Overall, yes. Shifting when exposed to the wrong people can absolutely harm mental health. I think we’re seeing it on TikTok. I just don’t have the power to make sure only people who can mentally take it see it. I just have to do my best to educate people on how reality shifting works so delusions or misunderstandings are hopefully easier to spot.

I absolutely thank you for the thoughtful message and if I brought up more concerns let me know.

[artificialqueens]

Not Nineteen Forever (11) (Branjie/Scyvie)- Ortega

a/n: hey friends! welcome to chapter 11 of N19F, everyone’s favourite chronicles of our uni gals being irresponsible af. this chapter begins our collective slow descent into madness so hope we’re all ready. as always, thank u for the love and pls pls pls send a wee ask into AQ/my blog telling me what ur fav part was!!! i heart serotonin xo

trigger warning: drug use (Snoop Dogg’s favourite garden plant xo)

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: Christmas saw funny jumpers, Secret Santa gifts, and Yvie and Scarlet saying I love you but not-quite-saying-I-love-you.

this chapter: everyone is back at uni after the holidays but somebody’s got cold feet, and not because the flat heating isn’t switched on.

***

Brooke wondered if it was possible to sweat herself to death as she dragged her huge suitcase up the final step to her flat and scrambled around in her backpack. She had never been so excited to take off a jacket in her adult life, but as she fumbled around for her keys she began to wonder if she would ever actually get into her flat. Thankfully, somebody had evidently heard her struggling and the door was suddenly thrown open to reveal Nina, just as smiley, happy and excited to see her as she’d been before Brooke had gone home for the holidays.

“Brookey Brooke Brooke!! Happy New Year!” Nina cried, lurching forward to give her a hug.

“Oh my God, Happy New Year baby. I probably stink of sweat,” Brooke concluded, her puffer jacket feeling more like a portable prison of heat with each passing second. Nina patted her on the back as she pulled away, dragging her suitcase inside in a suitably Mum-like manner.

“Nonsense, come in. I only just boiled the kettle, you’ve got scarily good timing. Yvie’s here with Scarlet. I think they may be banging.”

As Brooke walked past Yvie’s room she heard something that sounded suspiciously like a hiss through a set of teeth, and concluded that Nina was probably right.

“I’ll forgive them. How was New Years’?” Brooke asked, finally peeling her jacket off and throwing herself down on the couch. Nina raised her eyebrows as she poured the kettle out into two mugs.

“Really good,” she said, drawing out the “really” for emphasis. “I mean, it was just me, Silky, Akeria and Vanjie but it was such a great night. Kiki went home with a guy that looked like Thor. It was very bizarre.”

Brooke let out a laugh. She hadn’t felt too much fomo at having missed any New Year’s celebrations, as it was really only the girls whose family homes were closest to the city that were able to meet up and party together. Canada was probably a bit too much of a commute. Brooke self-consciously remembered the texts from Vanessa that came through that night, her stomach flipping over.

“Nobody overdid it, did they?” she found herself asking, keen for an outsider’s perspective on the evening. Nina tutted as she handed Brooke her mug and sat down.

“I mean Silky did, but it was basically her birthday party so nobody would begrudge her it. Vanjie was cute, though, it was a shame you never had any signal,” Nina smiled at Brooke, Brooke feeling a knot in her stomach tighten at her words. She plastered on her best fake smile.

“Aw yeah, she’s a cutie.”

“You must be looking forward to seeing her again? Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that,” Nina encouraged her, sipping her tea.

“Yeah, of course! But I want to see my girls as well, you know? I mean I haven’t seen you for like, a month. Tell me about you and Monet!” Brooke smiled enthusiastically, jumping at the chance to divert the conversation from the topic of her and Vanessa. She took a big gulp of her tea, hoping it would encourage Nina to talk for as long as she could.

“We’re good! We’re good. I saw her just after Christmas, we met up in town. I’m still absolutely convinced the whole thing’s a massive practical joke and she’ll completely ghost me soon, but I’m trying not to think too much about it otherwise I’ll get too wrapped up in it and end up ruining things,” Nina reeled off, ending her sentence with an awkward shrug and a laugh to match, Brooke unsure if she felt good that the heat was off her and Vanessa or bad that it seemed Nina was a hair’s breadth away from self-sabotaging her potential relationship.

“Well you’ve been seeing each other for what, two months now? That’s getting into girlfriend territory, babe."

"Oh, don’t,” Nina laughed, shaking her head so violently that her tea threatened to splash. “As fucking if. No, I’m just enjoying it while it lasts and whatever happens happens. I mean, I’m hardly going to be the one to end it, am I?"

Brooke raised both eyebrows at her but didn’t push for any more. Brooke always worried about Nina ever so slightly, like the sister she never had. Nina was the best hypewoman around, always preaching self-esteem, confidence and body positivity, but when push came to shove she could only sporadically take that advice herself. Brooke knew that Nina had overcome a lot since her time at high school- she’d always remember when Nina broke down to Brooke in her first year halls room and had told her everything she’d struggled with in the past after a set of girls had laughed at Nina in a kebab shop after a night out. So Brooke could understand that sort of self-love was hard for Nina to maintain. Brooke had noticed it seemed to come to her in ebbs and flows like waves; the crashing-against-rocks happy presence of a Nina who danced about the flat singing to Lizzo in a new outfit she loved deeply contrasting with times where the tide would pull her back out into a sea of shame, unhappy and upset because she’d eaten a share pack of Minstrels quicker than she’d thought possible and was disgusted at herself.

“Anyway. What about you, you going to ask Vanjie to be your girlfriend yet? It’s been longer than two months for you both and in your own words, Ms Hytes, that’s girlfriend territory,” Nina asked eagerly, Brooke almost spilling her tea all over herself in shock. Before she could answer, the kitchen door opened and in walked Yvie and Scarlet one after the other in a set of slightly crumpled clothes. Yvie’s face broke out into a smile as she saw her flatmate and she immediately ran forward toward the sofa Brooke was sat on, crushing her in a half-straddle, half-hug.

“Oh my God, bitch, it’s been forever!! Happy New Year!” she cried, muffled against Brooke’s shoulder.

Happy to see Yvie because she hadn’t seen her in ages and also because her arrival meant she didn’t have to answer Nina’s question, Brooke squeezed back hard. “Happy New Year baby!! How were your holidays? Scarlet, c’mere!”

Scarlet shuffled forward as Yvie ungracefully peeled herself off of Brooke, hugging her slightly more gently which Brooke was grateful for as Yvie spoke. “They were good. Made better by this one coming to see me.”

“Oh, did you go up to Yvie’s?” Brooke asked Scarlet as she pulled away, Scarlet rolling her eyes in mock-exasperation.

“Yeah, well. Someone decided to develop separation anxiety by the time we’d been apart for a fortnight so had me looking up train times before the bells had even rung at midnight,” Scarlet smiled, Yvie giving her a playful shove before pulling her down onto the armchair and into her lap, Scarlet giggling and batting her away.

“Well, you’re still both as gross as you were together the last time I saw you, so I’m glad nothing’s changed,” Brooke snorted, Yvie flipping her middle finger up at her.

“Oh, and you and Vanjie are gonna be totally different when you see each other again,” she rolled her eyes, Brooke clenching her teeth together momentarily. Why did everybody seem to want to bring Vanessa up every two minutes?

“Well yeah, we probably will be. It’s not like we’re together or anything,” Brooke gave an awkward laugh. Suddenly the mood in the room seemed to change. She saw Scarlet stiffen tensely in Yvie’s lap and Yvie look across to Nina, something in her widened eyes that Brooke couldn’t quite make out. As Brooke turned to look at Nina, the other girl seemed to be impervious to the sudden tension and was smiling brightly at her phone.

“Hey, Monet’s wondering if she can come round. We could get pizza, play Mario Kart, maybe get high? We’ve not done that in a while. Sound good?”

Before Brooke could address the shift in atmosphere, Yvie was replying to Nina. “I’d be so down. I’m actually starving.”

“Sounds fun,” Brooke responded, still not quite able to have her smile meet her eyes. “I’ll go unpack my shit and then come back through. Won’t be long!”

Brooke couldn’t have been more glad of a moment to herself as she flung open her bedroom door and crashed down onto her bed, a feeling of seasickness churning in her stomach. Laying on her back, she stared up at the cracks in the ceiling until her eyes began to burn. She took one heavy, deep breath and opened up her phone. Her gut plummeted all over again when she saw the name in her notifications.

V: You get back to flat okay? Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Brooke tapped out a message as quickly as she could, desperate for the interaction to be over.

B: Yep! Just there with the girls just now xxx

A reply came through before Brooke had even had the chance to replace the phone on her bed.

V: Yay!! You gonna come round and cuddle me and play with my hair? lol xxxxxxxxxx

Every single kiss that Vanessa had left at the end of her text felt like a stab in Brooke’s gut. Her entire stomach feeling like a ton of bricks, she replied.

B: Sorry boo we’re just having flat girl time just now! Just the three of us. I’ll see you soon though? Xxx

This pause was longer.

V: Aww damn well I already waited a month I guess I can wait another day :) have fun Brooky xxxxxxxxxxxx

Brooke dropped her phone on the bed, brought her hands up to her face and gave a huge, massive exhale. She didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with her. She didn’t know what had changed. Vanessa was the girl she’d been chasing for essentially her entire university career, the literal girl of her dreams. She had wanted her, and now she had her. And everything was fine. Except everything was far from fine, Brooke thought as she sucked her tense stomach in and willed that horrible sinking feeling to go away. Maybe it was the month-long gap from when they’d last seen each other. Maybe it was the way Vanessa’s texts seemed to shift from fun and flirty and lighthearted to saccharine sweet and intense. Brooke didn’t know, but all she did know was that any time she thought about her and Vanessa as anything more than what they were now or if anyone else brought that idea up, her heart started doing somersaults, and not in a good way.

Guiltily, she took her phone and scrolled up on her and Vanessa’s text history, looking back at their texts from New Years’.

V: Babyyyy xxxx

V: Keep trying to phone u n it’s going to voicemail :((( xxxxxxx

V: it’s so near midnight!!!!! xx

B: Sorry boo my signal is shit! I’m barely able to text :( xxx

B: But Happy New Year for when it comes!!!! Hope you are having a great night, get home safe xxx

V: Aww man that’s shit lmao dw dw xxxxxxxx

V: Happy New Year my baby, you’re the best thing to come out of this whole year and I’m so so glad we got our shit together, I really really really like you and I can’t wait to see where this year takes us xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

B: Awwww baby you’re sweet xxx

B: You never heard of playing hard to get lol (kidding) xxx

V: Ahahahahaha shut up whore xxxxxxxxx

V: Aint gotta play hard to get when you already got me xxxxxxxxxx

But Brooke hadn’t been kidding, and her signal had been fine, and Vanessa’s messages had made her feel worse instead of better. She preferred the old Vanessa, the sexy and suggestive Vanessa who only wanted to fuck all the time and who wasn’t bothered about cuddling or hair-playing or anything like that. All of that scared Brooke. To her, that was what people in committed relationships did, and she wasn’t at the age where she wanted one of those. Or at least, she’d never had anything properly serious before and the prospect of it completely terrified her. Brooke squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus on breathing deeply. There was no way any unpacking was getting done now, as the top priority was to stop herself spiralling.

Brooke could have lain there for five minutes or forty-five minutes (she had no idea), but soon enough she was jolted out of her reverie as the buzzer went off. She got up and went out into the hall to get it.

"Hello?”

“Brooke, that you? It’s Monet, Neens said I could come round?”

Brooke wanted to repeatedly bash her head against the doorframe. Why did she have to be surrounded by cuddling couples and adorable pet names at a time like this?

“Yeah, no worries! Come up.”

As Brooke held her finger down against the switch to let Monet in, Nina ran out from her bedroom. She’d obviously spent the time making an effort, and her huge mane of wavy blonde hair was half-up half-down in a topknot on her head, her face painted with just enough makeup to look a touch more glam than everyday. She was still in her sweatpants but had changed into a fresh pyjama top. It had Lady from Lady and The Tramp on it, and the slogan “BED HAIR”.

“Is it her? Is she here?” Nina breathed heavily, nudging past Brooke to look through the peephole. Brooke couldn’t help but laugh.

“You sound like the fucking Grim Reaper’s about to come up the stairs, not your girlfriend! Fucking chill,” Brooke spluttered, squeezing Nina round her middle. “It’ll be fine.”

“She’s not my girlfriend! Stop saying that! Oh Jesus, you can’t say that in front of her,” Nina turned to Brooke, mortified. “Do I look okay?”

“You look gorgeous, as always. Interesting outfit choice, though.”

“Well, I want her to think that I always look this good when I’m being a lazy slob around the flat,” Nina shrugged, suddenly tearing her gaze back to the peephole and leaping back from the door as if she’d been scalded. “Fuck! Shit! That’s her, go!"

"Go? Bitch, where?” Brooke burst out laughing, trying to sober up in the hallway as Nina opened the door to Monet, who threw her arms around the other girl and covered both her cheeks in kisses.

“Hey baby! Ugh, I missed you so much,” Monet smiled, Nina growing shy and red as the other girl tapped her on the nose. “Thanks for having me over. I got you flowers!”

Brooke only just noticed the bouquet of bright yellow sunflowers in Monet’s left hand, Nina’s eyes lighting up as they were thrust into her arms.

“Oh, wow! They’re so beautiful, thank you, honey!” Nina smiled, pulling the girl in for another hug.

“Sunflowers for my sunflower. Oh, hey Brooke!” Monet cried as she noticed Brooke, immediately striding towards her and flinging her arms around her in a friendly hug. “How were your holidays? How’s Vanjie?”

Brooke tried her very best to keep from letting her discomfort at the topic of conversation show on her face as she pulled away. “They were…are…both amazing, thanks girl! How were yours?”

“They were great. Glad to be away from my crazy family though. You know you get to a stage when you just can’t live with them a second longer or you’ll commit a mass murder?” Monet chatted away, turning to Nina for validation. Nina screwed up her face and laughed.

“Nah, I think you’re just a psychopath.”

“Mm, you love it though,” Monet smiled, shooting a wink at Nina that instantly rendered her speechless. Monet burst out into a laugh and Brooke tried not to roll her eyes. Why did everyone else seem to fall into their couples so easily? Why did nobody else seem to have doubts or fears? “Come on, let’s get these pizzas ordered. I think my stomach’s eating itself."

Brooke followed the two girls through to the living room, as Nina let Monet know that Scarlet and Yvie were round. Monet turned to Brooke as if she was about to say something, but Brooke watched as Nina grabbed Monet’s wrist and whispered something to her urgently, Monet nodding understandingly. Brooke got the feeling that she had been the subject of the comment.

"Hey Monet!” Yvie called, Monet going over to give Yvie and Scarlet a hug in turn as Nina put the flowers in water.

“Hey ladies! You part of the WaGs of Belford Road too, Scarlet?” Monet asked her, Scarlet laughing and smiling up at her.

“The fuck does WaGs mean, you calling my girlfriend a bitch?” Yvie asked jokingly, Monet sitting down on the sofa and stretching out her legs as if she was one of the flat’s tenants.

“Wives and girlfriends. Mainly used for footballers back in the day but we’re just ballers, I guess.”

“We’d have the full set if Vanj was here,” Scarlet smiled at Brooke, and suddenly yelped, Brooke not missing the dig in the ribs that Yvie gave her. She started to become concerned. Was she making it really obvious that something was wrong?

“Okay, pizza!” Nina suddenly clapped her hands together, making Brooke jump. She scrolled her phone after she sat next to Monet, who threw an arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. “We could get this deal? Cookies, wedges, chicken strippers and two pizzas for £25.99?"

"I’m not sure I’ll want cookies,” Scarlet mused, Brooke deciding she could really do with hitting the bong if only to fucking relax, and that now was as good a time as ever.

“You sure? Not even after this?” Brooke spoke up, holding out the bong and watching Scarlet reconsider.

“What pizzas are we getting?” Monet asked, Yvie instantly sighing the world-weary sigh of a put-upon flatmate. Monet raised a questioning eyebrow Nina’s way.

“Ugh, don’t. It’s a point of contention in this whole flat,” she began explaining. “Yvie likes pepperoni, but not any other meats. I only really like margherita or something chicken-y or vegetable-y. Brooke likes pineapple and olives-”

“Hold the fuck up,” Monet stopped Nina, whipping her head round to cast Brooke a judgemental glare that she almost missed, too busy tipping the weed out onto the gauze.

“That’s disgusting, Brooke,” Scarlet wrinkled her nose up, Brooke rolling her eyes as she searched for a lighter.

“Fucking hell, guys, it’s not a raw fucking sausage! It’s a bit of fruit and a bit of vegetable!” she sighed. Seeing her obvious distress, Monet produced a pink Bic from the pocket of her black jeans and held it out to her, Brooke taking it gratefully and striking up.

“…So you see the issue we have whenever we want a pizza in this flat,” Nina finished as the smoke hit the back of Brooke’s throat and she exhaled quicker than she would have liked, punctuating the whole thing with a cough and a splutter.

“Do you ever just get a half and half?” Scarlet asked innocently. Yvie squeezed her shoulder and laughed good-naturedly.

“Babe, I know you weren’t any good at Maths in high school, but there’s only two parts to a half."

"You like…pepperoni, right?” Nina narrowed her eyes as she tried to remember Monet’s favourite. The other girl responded by leaning in and kissing her cheek, smiling.

“Aww, Neens! You remembered,” Monet smiled, delighted. Yvie turned to Scarlet and frowned.

“Yours is…Hawaiian?”

Scarlet laughed. “Barbecue chicken. Monet, can we swap girlfriends?”

Brooke’s eyebrows flew up her forehead involuntarily as Nina completely froze, but Monet simply laughed back. “Sorry sweetie, this one’s mine. I can rent her out though. Five pounds an hour?”

“Eh, excuse me! I am actually here, you know?” Nina cried, seemingly much more relaxed now that Monet hadn’t freaked out at the label Scarlet had given them.

“Right, what fucking pizzas are we getting? The munchies are going to kick in in about twenty minutes so let’s go,” Brooke asked decisively, squeezing herself down beside Monet and Nina.

“Well, half and half both of them so that there’s four,” Monet suggested, gesturing to Yvie. “Me and Yvie like pepperoni, so let’s do half pepperoni, Neens if you like chickeny things then let’s have you sharing a barbecue chicken with Scarlet…we can make another half pineapple and olives for Brooke’s Satanic tastebuds and…that means we’ve got another half to play with.”

“Oh my God. Monet, can we keep you?” Yvie asked incredulously. “I think that’s the quickest we’ve ever decided on an order.”

“Let’s just make the last half margherita, then we can all have a bit,” Scarlet shrugged, Nina nodding and quickly ordering. Soon enough, the bong was getting passed round and the girls all settled into their respective seats lazily, the Wii soon getting fired up and many rounds of Mario Kart getting played. Eventually, it ended in a fierce battle between Yvie and Brooke.

“Oh, Christ!” Yvie groaned, Scarlet, Nina and Monet howling with laughter at Yvie’s dismay as she flew off the course. “I got a fucking mushroom and I used it…on a corner…like a squandering fucking toddler!”

“Eat shell dick, King Boo,” Brooke muttered, sending a blue shell with her right trigger as the buzzer to the flat went off.

“I’ll get it!” Monet cried excitedly, Nina getting slightly dislodged as she leapt off the sofa and ran through to the hall. As Monet returned with numerous boxes piled high on top of each other, Brooke sped across the finish line and cheered.

“You’re a fucking cheat,” Yvie scowled at her, pointing an accusatory finger her way. Brooke snorted a laugh.

“Hey! No fighting!” Nina chastised, ripping a box open to reveal a pizza with a curious variety of toppings.

“You’re my winner, boo,” Scarlet smiled at her girlfriend, Yvie instantly softening and kissing her on the cheek. Suddenly, four sets of phones went off and Scarlet checked hers first.  

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Alright hoes are we all back from home?

Okay Then: i’m still in Dubai sorry xoxo

Brooke’s Ford Transit Vanjie: Oo00oooh alright for some xoxo

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Jeez Plastique that must be so hard for you, thoughts and prayers up xo

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: The reason I ask is because we at Antigua Road want a night outtt

Scarlet’s bitch: sorry guys we could not be further from a night out mood

mose: Yeah sorry ladies I am jetlagged as fuck

Kim Kardashian-West: Sorry girls :( Monet and Scarlet are round at ours though if anyone wants to join!!

Brooke’s stomach dropped as she remembered her lie to Vanjie. Shit.

“Nina, fuck,” Brooke said involuntarily, the other girls turning to her curiously.

“What did I do?”

The churning in Brooke’s stomach was back as if it had never left. She paused, looking back down at her phone. The chat had gone strangely quiet. Brooke bit at the skin on her thumb. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Yvie, ever the anti-bullshit merchant, narrowed her eyes at Brooke. “Are you okay, girl? You don’t seem so good today.”

Brooke was on the defense before she knew it. “I’m fine! I’m good!"

Before anyone else could say a thing, Brooke’s phone lit up. She was being phoned, and she didn’t have to look to see who it was.

Fuck.

Ignoring the rest of the girls, she walked out of the living room and into the hall, only answering her phone when she was safely in her own room. She took a deep breath before she spoke, keeping her tone deliberately, painfully, light.

"Hey boo!”

“Hey Brooke Lynn,” Vanessa’s voice was a similarly forced upbeat, but Brooke’s heart sank at the upset behind it. “Um, I’m just…I’m a little confused.”

“Okay, what’s up?” Brooke asked lightly, growing more convinced by the second that she was developing a stomach ulcer.

“So, uh…I thought you guys were having a girls’ night, and then Nina said that Monet and Scarlet were over…you know, it just seems a bit like the others have their girls round?” Vanessa questioned, her voice measured and calm and small and making Brooke feel like a massive dick.

“Yeah, no, uh…” she began, not really knowing how she was going to excuse herself. “I mean, no, I thought that too until I realised Yvie had Scarlet round and then Nina told me Monet was coming…just one of those things, you know? I mean I’d thought it was just a flat night too.”

“Right, sure,” Vanessa’s voice was understanding, and Brooke’s heart felt sore. She suddenly remembered something Vanessa had said.

“Besides, Monet and Nina aren’t together. It’s only Yvie and Scarlet that are girlfriends."

Brooke heard the hiss of a sigh come from the other end of the line. ”Brooke, can I ask you a question?“

"Sure.”

“Are we okay? You know, what we’ve got goin’ on. Are you still happy?”

Brooke’s stomach dropped to the floor. She had the smallest possible time gap to confront all the feelings she’d been trying to push to the back of her mind, and it was an impossible task. All day her stomach had been in knots at the thought of seeing Vanessa, but now that she was faced with the prospect of losing her she found herself panicking. She still liked Vanessa. Everything was just so new and different. She had to articulate that to her.

“Yeah, of course, definitely,” Brooke began, the audible sigh of relief on the other end of the line making guilt stab at her heart. “It’s just…everything’s so fresh, you know? I just want to take things as slow as we can. I like how we are, and I don’t want anything to change anytime soon.”

“Okay. No, don’t worry, I get it. I get it, and I don’t want to mess up either. So I’m happy to do whatever you want,” Vanessa said, her tone more cheerful now.

“I’m sorry if I freaked you out. Do you, uh. Do you still want to come round?”

“Nah, don’t worry, baby. I think us three are still gonna go out, so sorry in advance if I phone you at three in the morning.”

Maybe it was because she hadn’t seen Vanessa in a while, Brooke comforted herself, her heart swelling at the smile she could hear in her voice. Once they were together again and Vanessa would wind her up and they would kiss all rough and hot the way Brooke liked, then things would be better.

Enthused by her new-found optimism, Brooke found herself smiling. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll make sure my phone’s turned off.”

“Bitch. Cut that attitude or you won’t get any cute photos of my outfit.”

Brooke felt a heat curl in her stomach. “I’m more interested in what’s under the outfit, to be honest.”

“You’re a nasty fuckin’ whore. You might get somethin’ if you’re lucky. Okay, I gotta go, but I’ll see you soon, yeah?"

"Yeah, soon. Have a good night, stay safe,” Brooke signed off, relaxing slightly on her bed.

“I will. Bye, boo.”

“Bye.”

Brooke hung up, laying her head against the pillow and breathing out gently. Things were okay. She’d just had a wobble. She still liked Vanjie. They would be fine.

Before she could contemplate any more, her bedroom door burst open to reveal Yvie who marched in and perched herself on the end of the bed.

“Would a knock kill you?” Brooke rolled her eyes, too drained to be properly annoyed.

“Okay, talk to me,” Yvie demanded, her eyes full of concern. “You’re not fine. What’s up?”

Brooke knew she couldn’t lie to either of her flatmates, least of all Yvie. She groaned, unwilling to think any more about the situation but being forced to anyway. “Okay, it’s honestly nothing.”

Yvie said nothing, instead continuing to look at her, worry covering her face.

“When you began seeing Scarlet,” Brooke began unsteadily. “Did you ever…you know. Have second thoughts? Or any doubts or anything?”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Yvie said instantly, frowning. “But I know where this is going.”

Brooke’s stomach gave a spasm, instantly feeling the guilt seep through her again. “I feel so shit…and I’m sure it’s just a blip because I’ve not seen her in ages. But everything’s just getting too intense too quickly, you know? I’m happy just chilling with Vanessa, but I feel like she wants a girlfriend and I’m not ready for all that just yet. I thought I would be, but I’m not. Actually I don’t know if I thought I would be or not. The whole thing’s fucking with my head.”

Yvie sat and listened to her ramble on, then when she was sure she was finished she reached forward and took her hand. “Okay. First thing is, you’re completely valid. Everyone gets second thoughts about a potential relationship at one stage or another.”

“You’ve literally just said you haven’t.”

“Ignore that. Do as I say, not as I do, or..whatever. It’s a big commitment, and it’s easy to freak out. But I would just remember…” Yvie began, her face becoming pained as she looked right in Brooke’s eyes. “…how long you liked Vanjie for. How many times you were so close to telling her you liked her, and how many times you shat out. How fuckin’ happy you must have been when you kissed for the first time or when you told each other you liked each other. Fuck knows when Scarlet told me she felt the same way as I did, my brain produced the most sorotonin that’s ever been in my body in my entire life. Like, if you think you want to end things with Vanj, that’s fine. But you need to be honest with her, girl.”

Brooke remembered the day she’d finally been brave enough to kiss Vanessa and how her mind had completely short-circuited as their lips made contact. She remembered how wanted Vanessa had made her feel the first time they’d slept with each other, and the complete euphoria Brooke had felt when Vanessa told her she liked her back. All of those memories just made her feel more guilty at the fact that she felt more worried about the prospect of seeing Vanessa than excited. Remembering her internal pep-talk from earlier, Brooke shrugged.

“I know. I’m being an idiot. And I don’t want to end things with her, that’s stupid. It’s probably all the time we spent apart, right? Like I’ll probably see her and it’ll all fall back into place and I’ll feel just like I felt before the holidays again.”

“Absolutely,” Yvie smiled a little as she reassured her. Letting go of her hand, she patted Brooke’s leg. “You good?”

Brooke didn’t allow herself to think too much about it. “Yeah. Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Come on, then. There’s pizza that needs eating.”

As Brooke rose from the bed and followed Yvie to the door, she felt struck by a sudden dread. “Yvie?”

The other girl turned around and looked at her expectantly.

“Would you mind if we just kept this conversation between ourselves?”

Yvie nodded reassuringly and held the door open for Brooke, Brooke walking through it quickly and reassuring herself with exactly the same words as she’d done before. Things were okay. She’d just had a wobble. She still liked Vanjie. They would be fine.

[kayincolwyn]

Trying To Find My Way In This Weird And Wild World

So it's been over a year and a month now since I've written a post for my blog... or my blarg, or my bleh, or whatever this is that maybe only a handful of people will ever read, and that I mostly just write for myself to get things out and try to process them. I guess you could say I’ve been putting it off for different reasons until now, and sure, I've had some ideas on what to write, and have had a lot that I've wanted to say, but, well...

Maybe I could explain it like this: I was listening to this guy on Youtube recently who was wondering if anything he had to say had any real weight, if he really had any right to say whatever he had to say, and he said something about how your words and ideas and beliefs may not have much value if they can't create real change, whether in your own life or in the lives of others. Or the proof is in the pudding as they say. I can relate to those reservations about what I have to say, here or anywhere else really, and I wonder how much real change my words or ideas or beliefs create, if any, and I guess that's part of why I've been putting this off, and is it even worth it to try to say something, when my words may have only very little, if any, power behind them? I've written a few things here and there over the last year, the occasional poem or reflection, mostly shared on my Facebook page, and I’ve wondered about those things too, if there was any real weight or value to them, beyond a few likes or a couple comments of affirmation from a friend or two about my writing.

And looking back on some of my older writings, like when I was in my teens or twenties, or even looking back on more recent writings, I sometimes barely recognize myself, the way that I thought and felt at the time, and there are times where I feel as though I come off in those writings as, well, kind of pretentious, or even arrogant (and especially further back), as though I am saying in them that I know and understand more about life than I actually do, which has been, and I have little doubt continues to be, not very much, or at least not with any real degree of certainty. The truth is I mostly use my words in writings like this not so much to speak truth (and how much truth do I really know for sure anyway, except the truth that I don’t know everything?) so much as to try to reach for the truth, to make sense of things, to try to hammer down the fluttering pieces of the puzzle of life, or at least of my life, to at least give me enough of a foundation to keep me from imploding or going crazy. I write partly for my own sanity. And I believe many of my words in writings like this are built on fragile hope more than solid confidence, meaning I am trying to point them in the direction that I want to move in, but that doesn't mean my actions always follow (if they follow much at all), or that I really live up to the vision of a path in life that I sometimes think about and talk about or try to lay out in writings like this. I may try to live up to it in fits and starts, but know that I fall short, and probably always will as long as I live.

I write about love for example, but love, at least for me, more often feels like some grand concept bouncing around in my head than something that I actually practice, or practice well anyway, that I genuinely manifest in my day to day life in the way that I wish to. It's like I can talk the talk with more confidence than I can walk the walk. The love that I show and give to others seems to be at best awkward, limited,  half-hearted, and more often than not selective (directed mostly towards those that I like but not much at all towards those that I don't like). Again, I fall short, struggling to practice what I preach. Because of this, this disconnect between what I try to express in my writing on the one hand, and then my everyday life on the other, sometimes I feel pretty disingenuous and fake. That said, even if I am at least in some part disingenuous and fake (and maybe all of us are more or less, as that may just be part of being human), I still feel like there is at least some part of me that is genuine and real, some spark within me that is reaching for something more.

I remember reading that the Catholic saint and theologian Thomas Aquinas once said, presumably after having some profound mystical experience, something like "I can write no more. All that I have written seems like straw.” After this, from what I understand, he held to that statement for the rest of his life and didn’t write anything else, or at least nothing with any seriousness. I'm not a Catholic so may not be able to relate to the context of his experience, whatever it was, but I can relate to the sense maybe that there is something more that would make all your words, and no matter how eloquent or heartfelt, like straw.  And I wonder if in embracing that something more, or being embraced by it, there would then be no more motivation to write, no more need to use my words to try to reach for the truth, or to try to make sense of things, or hammer them into some shape I can recognize as meaningful.  Maybe it would be something like what Saint Paul says in 1st Corinthians 13 in the New Testament:  ‘For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.’ If I could come face to face with such a truth, or a Truth with a capital T, and know it or be known by it, then maybe there would be no more words for me, or no need of them anyway... and maybe then I could truly be at peace, down to the core, balls to bones (as the Oracle would put it in The Matrix). That said, while maybe there have been moments in my life where I’ve glimpsed images or have heard whispers of that something more, that truth, I'm still left searching and reaching for it... And so I continue to write, or try to, words being what I have to work with here, and even if my words may only be like straw in the final analysis.

So for now, well, here's some more straw for you...

So I've had a lot on my mind over the last year, have had a lot of ups and downs. There have been times over the last year that were painful, and other times that were joyful, times where life felt meaningful and other times meaningless, and everywhere in between, as has been true of every other year of my life, but of course I can't, nor would I really want to, try to chronicle or reflect all that has happened or has been on my mind, but I can at least touch on some highlights, or try to grasp a few of the fluttering pieces of the puzzle and lay a foundation as best I can.

At 37 now and coming up on 40 in a few years I find myself wondering more and more about the direction of my life, about who I am and what my place in this weird and wild world is, what my path, my way, is or should be. I guess I’ll try to write about some of what’s happened, some of whats been on my mind, and try to give some idea of what my wondering looks like, so from here on I'm gonna jump around, between the highlights and fluttering pieces, though I will try to tie it all together in the end as best I can.

So, I guess I’ll kick things off by diving into some stormy waters right off the bat, by going into one of the things that has got me thinking more about my life over the last year, that being my discovery of Jordan Peterson. For those who haven't heard of him or don't know much about him he's a pretty controversial and divisive figure at least in some circles, mostly among those on the far left or the far right of the political spectrum from what I can tell. I admit I haven't really opened up much on social media about my interest in Peterson and his work for this reason, as I've been kind of afraid I might be jumped on for it by those who disapprove of him for whatever reasons, but then here I am I guess. I had run across some warnings about Peterson online before looking into him myself, and had some negative assumptions about him for a little while, but then I have learned from some experience, like I did with Harry Potter or Rob Bell back when I was in church for example, that if a lot of people talk about how dangerous something or someone is, about how you shouldn't read this book or listen to that person or whatever, then it's more likely than not worth checking out for yourself so you can make up your own mind about it rather than letting others decide for you what to think. I was still a bit hesitant, but fortunately a friend of mine coaxed me into finally checking out Peterson for myself by sharing one of his interviews on the popular Joe Rogan Experience podcast with me, and I was intrigued and impressed by much of what Peterson had to say in the interview, so my interest in Peterson and his perspective went from there.

The reason most of those who don’t like Peterson don’t like him is because of some of his political or social views I think, which is the reason why he really came into the public eye in the first place. Just to try to get some of the controversy out of the way and swim through some of these stormy waters, Peterson was a professor and psychologist in Canada who first really came to prominence when he spoke out publicly against this human rights bill in Canada called Bill C16 that, part of which, from what I understand, would legally require the use of certain gender pronouns for people who are transgender or non-binary or others who fall outside the typical dual identifiers of male or female. From what I can tell, getting a clearer picture of the kind of man Peterson is over the last year, I don't think Peterson protested this bill because he is just some bigot who doesn't care at all for transgender or non-binary people, but rather because it really bothered him that his government would try to pass any law that required the use of any kind of speech, not only telling people what they shouldn't say but what they should say. In short, from what I can gather this was more about free speech for him than anything else, or at least that’s his claim anyway, which some may disagree with. Of course the whole thing is no doubt more complicated than the little that I have written about here, and I am sure there is still much debate about all of this, whether on the bill itself or Peterson's take on it and his protest of it, but this is my understanding of the basics of it at least.

Peterson does seem, having listened to him a fair bit, to have mixed feelings about the whole transgender and non-binary thing. I don’t believe he would want to give the time of day to anyone who was transgender or non-binary if they accosted him on the street and started screaming and yelling at him, calling him names or throwing accusations at him (which I’ve seen in a few videos), as that doesn’t generally inspire empathy or understanding from anyone, but I do believe if anyone transgender or non-binary tried to connect with him one on one just as a human being to share their story he would more likely than not be willing to listen and I think would try to empathize and understand, as he honestly strikes me as a fairly empathetic and understanding kind of guy (even if he does have a bit of a temper, which he himself admits) someone who cares about the struggle and pain of others, and I believe that would include people who identify as transgender or non-binary. I mean, heck, the guy is a trained therapist after all, so you would think he would be willing to listen as long as you weren’t putting him on the defensive. That said, I think he has questions or concerns about it, and like many people is trying to understand in what ways society should (or shouldn't) shift in order to accommodate those who don't identify in ways that are different from what most are used to or consider the norm. I admit to having mixed feelings myself about this, though partly, I admit, because I don't know or understand much about it, though I would be open to learning more. I admit I have some reservations about things like children transitioning (because I worry that children may not yet be mature enough to make these kinds of decisions, and that they may regret making such decisions later on because they weren’t as fully informed as they would have been as adults) as well as transgender women playing in women's sports, or transgender men playing in men's sports for that matter (because I believe in those cases there is an unfair physical advantage or disadvantage because not everything can be completely changed biologically in a transition, including things like muscle mass and bone structure, at least from what I understand), just as a couple examples. My heart tells me to live and let live and that it’s really none of my business, which is mostly how I feel about it, but my head sometimes wonders if going about these kinds of changes in society without thinking them through may end up having some unforeseen consequences. Of course I'm not above setting aside such reservations if others could convince me to do so, and by that I mean by making convincing arguments to support such things that make sense to me, rather than trying to shame or bully me into changing my mind, which some may be want to do, but trust me I’ve had enough experience with that kind of thing in my life, red flags go up all over the place when people try that with me, whether it’s in the realm of politics or religion or any other realm... let’s just say when I encounter people who are dogmatic and ‘my way or the highway’ in their thinking and want to evangelize and convert me to their position, well, I’ve learned to just walk away... not sure if that will keep people who disagree with me from just stopping here and passing judgment (even though from here I talk about empathy and understanding for transgender and non-binary people among many other things) and then going after me with torches and pitchforks, but hey, at least I’ve tried... and this, by the way, applies to everything else that I may write here that you may disagree with. Friendly or at least civil discussion about difficult topics is good and constructive in my opinion, but rage or personal attacks or a dogmatic insistence that I conform or else be put into your out-group (as I have experienced to some extent with), well, not so much. Anyways, despite those reservations I want to be empathetic and understanding  towards transgender or non-binary people, as I don't really know what it is like to be in their shoes or what they go through. Sure I can use my imagination some, i.e. watching shows like Sense 8 (great show, still bummed it was canceled) or even Supergirl (as cheesy as it is) that include transgender characters and some of their struggles, gives me some inkling of what it might feel like, but I honestly don't really know. I admit I've only interacted (or at least knowingly interacted) with one transgender or non-binary person, a co-worker of mine who was born male and now identifies as female. I call her her, and am okay with doing that, but it takes some getting used to I admit. I was a little uncomfortable around her at first, as it felt weird for me, and I still do to some extent I admit, but then having worked with her a little bit more recently, I can see that she's not a threat to me in any way and there's no reason to be afraid of her, and she's just another human being like me, who deserves a little respect and wants a little love and acceptance just like anyone else. Sure, like Peterson I would feel uncomfortable with being legally forced to use certain pronouns (in the same way I would feel uncomfortable if I was legally forced to salute the US flag, just for example), but that doesn’t mean that I’m opposed to it if it was something I could choose to do freely. Like Peterson (and many others) I’m not really a fan of thought police (which I have seen in religious circles and political circles and all kinds of circles), but I am open to changing how I think and feel for the sake of others and if it makes sense to both my head and my heart. I imagine that just as I used to be a little uncomfortable with gay people but have since learned to be more comfortable with them in spite of our differences, and now even have a couple of gay friends, in time I believe the same will be true of transgender and non-binary people or anyone else in those categories, who at the end of the day are just fellow humans. I just need some time to adapt and get used to it I think, and hopefully all of us will be able to adapt and figure this out (adding this to the excruciatingly long list of things that humanity needs to figure out), as it would be good to live in a world that is a little more inclusive and accepting of those who are different, and even if we may need time to figure out all the particulars and where to draw the lines and what the boundaries should be and all of that, which of course is complicated just as people are complicated. Bottom line is I think there should be some room for questions and concerns about this whole issue but it should always be in the context of trying to be more empathetic and understanding, because we're all human beings at the end of the day.

I won't go any further into this though as I'm not here to talk about the whole transgender and non-binary debate (though apparently I’m talking about it a bit, but hopefully not in a way that will get me crucified by those who disagree with my mixed feelings about it), which is very complicated and multi-faceted and has a lot of strong feelings about it on all sides, but I just wanted to at least touch on Peterson's stance (at least as I far as I understand it) about it as it was what brought him into the limelight originally, and my stance as well, at least to try to get it out of the way before I go any further.

Peterson strikes me as a bit right of center in some ways (although he identifies as a classical liberal), open-minded in some areas but a little old-fashioned and traditional in other areas, whereas I think of myself as a bit left of center I guess. Peterson talks about the value and place of both the left and the right politically and socially fairly often, like when he points out that those on the right are there to maintain structures and boundaries and keep things running (he also adds that conservatives tend to be better managers) but that those on the left are there to update structures or boundaries or push for change as it is necessary (he also adds that liberals tend to be better entrepreneurs), and there needs to be a dialogue between the two sides on when things should be kept the same or when they should change, and how.  That said, maybe Peterson at times seems to contradict this way of thinking when he focuses a little more on the problems of the left and doesn't focus quite as much on the problems of the right, which may be a sign of some biases towards the right on his part, even if at other times he seems to be trying to find that balance between the two. To be fair if he’s not completely consistent then neither am I, and it’s probably fair to say that not many of us are. Anyways, Peterson's tends to equate the far left, and things like identity politics and postmodernism, with communist or Marxist ideology, and I admit he does come off as a little paranoid at times when it comes to that, sometimes going on rants about communists and Marxists in a new disguise on college campuses and branching out from there into society. I can somewhat understand why he might feel as he does though when he immersed himself heavily for years in studying totalitarian regimes in the 20th century, including communist regimes like those in the Soviet Union and China, wanting to understand them on a psychological level. He sees equal horror in the history of both Nazism (more equated with the right) and communism (more equated with the left) in the 20th century, but perhaps he focuses on the threat of communism more because he feels that people don't talk about it as much as the threat of Nazism nowadays? Maybe, but I don’t know for sure. I recently saw a little note plastered on the inside door of an elevator in one of the buildings that I clean in downtown Portland that said ‘Fuck Nazis’ among other things, which is a message I would concur with, as I’m no fan of Nazis either, even if I’m not really sure how helpful such notes would be in dealing with the problem of Nazism. I wonder though if I will ever find any ‘Fuck Commies’ notes plastered in elevators in downtown Portland, if there are those who feel communism is just as much of a threat. I think I might have even seen a protester flying the hammer and sickle flag when I was going past on the max train the other day, which I found a bit weird to say the least. I wonder sometimes when listening to Peterson’s concerns if there really is as much concern about communism as there is about Nazism, even though both have had horrific and bloody histories that involved the suffering and death of millions.  I mean, isn’t there just as much of a dark history of violence and death behind the hammer and sickle as there is behind the swastika? To be fair though, maybe some on the right aren’t as concerned about Nazism as they should be, just as maybe some on the left aren’t as concerned about communism as they should be, as it’s much easier to focus on the potential craziness on the other side rather than the potential craziness on your own. Anyways, maybe when you immerse yourself in that kind of dark history it's no wonder you might come out feeling a little paranoid and would worry that history might repeat itself. Maybe a little too paranoid? Sure, you can always be too paranoid, like Joseph McCarthy Red Scare witch hunt kind of paranoid, in which case you might need an Edward R Murrow to come along and knock some sense into you, but then maybe a little paranoia is understandable or even healthy. That said, while I'm not really a big fan of identity politics (or political correctness as some would call it) myself and have mixed feelings about the deconstructive nature of postmodernism (I’m all for questioning things and for holding them to the fire but not so much a fan of completely pulling the rug out from under yourself so you have nowhere left to stand or of leaving yourself with nothing to hold onto), still I’m not sure about Peterson’s equating all of that with communism/Marxism, maybe a little paranoia is okay but not too much... though all in all this is really lower on the list of topics that Peterson goes into as far as my level of interest or even agreement goes, so I’ll just leave it at that. Peterson sometimes points out that people are complex, but also says that people can be beholden to their ideologies (their ideas and beliefs), and says that ideologies can have people rather than people having them (he references psychoanalyst Carl Jung on this point), and I would agree on both points, but would add that those who are beholden to their ideologies always have more to them than whatever ideology they may ascribe to, and there’s a spectrum to how beholden people can be to their ideas or what they believe in, and whether that be in the realm of politics or of religion or in any other realm, and of course people can change and can learn and grow, and they need to be given room to do that. I know I’ve certainly changed and learned and grown in different ways over the years.

I have known people from all walks of life, the religious and the non religious, liberals and conservatives, and everyone in between, and while there have been a few who were too radical and extreme in their ideas or beliefs for my taste, most people that I’ve known seemed to be more or less sane and reasonable, more or less decent people trying to live their lives as best they can while not having a 'my way or the highway' attitude towards others, not wanting to evangelize and convert others to their position but just wanting to get along as best they can and agree to disagree agreeably. Anyways, my guess is that Peterson would agree to this assessment, as I have often heard him encouraging nuance and dialogue between people of all kinds, though perhaps there are times when he falls into the trap of focusing too much on those who are a little radical and extreme, who are the minority, if the loudest voices in the room, and not as much on those who are more sane and reasonable, who are the majority, if a comparatively quiet majority ... But then again perhaps all of us sometimes fall into the trap of focusing too much on the loudest voices in the room, and not as much on the quiet majority of everyday people who can have meaningful conversations even in spite of their differences.

Anyways, for a little more context to all of this, and to focus in on another part of my journey over the last year, one of the things that led me to become interested in Peterson and his philosophy was watching a documentary called The Red Pill, which was made by Cassie Jaye, who once identified (but no longer identifies) as a feminist. I first heard about the film when a friend on Facebook shared this video of Cassie’s TED Talk called Meeting The Enemy, and I found the video to be pretty powerful and appreciated Cassie and her empathetic attitude, so I wanted to check out her film. In the film she explores the men's rights movement, a movement claiming to fight for the rights of men (much as feminism is a movement that claims to fight for the rights of women), initially planning on showing how misogynistic and absolutely nutters these men (and those women who ally themselves with them) are when she began making the film, but overtime found that some of what they had to say was thought-provoking and compelling and so she began to gradually change her mind about the movement and her own feminist ideas and beliefs, even to the point of no longer labeling herself as a feminist by the end of the film, though not taking up the label of men's right activist either, but instead letting go of such labels and simply wanting to care for the struggles of both men and women equally and encourage more empathy between men and women.

Much like Peterson, Cassie Jaye's film has been controversial and divisive, and while I felt the film was itself thought-provoking and compelling in some ways, thinking on it now I would say it wasn't a perfect film. For example maybe Cassie didn't look at the darker and more negative side of the men's rights movement as much as she could have, though in her defense, perhaps her goal in the end was to try to look at the other side of the movement in order to give a more balanced view, as the media generally only focuses on the darker and more negative side of things when it comes to this. I think the film’s limitations though may be mostly due to the fact that such broad and complicated issues as gender relations and gender rights, and more generally human relations and human rights, can't really be covered to the fullest extent in a two hour documentary. That said, I think Cassie's main underlying message in the film was that men deserve empathy as much as women do, because men are human beings as much as women are, and seeing men as less important or worthy of empathy is no better than seeing women as less important or worthy of empathy, and if we all really want to move forward and end the ongoing battle of the sexes then we need to learn to have empathy for one another, and I appreciated that message, both as a man and as a human being.

I admit though after watching this film I fell into the men's right activist mindset for a little awhile, losing some focus on that central message, and while I didn't dive in completely I definitely put my feet in the water, whether through listening to men's rights podcasts or watching men's rights videos on Youtube or reading men's rights articles online here and there, and for awhile I was very antagonistic to feminism, even arguing with some of my more feminist friends, seeing feminism not so much as a pursuit of equality between the sexes as it claimed to be but rather as a destructive ideology that sought to, whether consciously or subconsciously, divide men and women rather than bring them together. But after a little awhile I pulled myself back from that mindset, recognizing that men's rights activists, while having some valid points about men's issues, can sometimes be self-righteous and overly critical of women but not critical enough of men, just as I felt (and still feel) that feminists, while having some valid points about women's issues, can sometimes be self-righteous and overly critical of men but not critical enough of women. I think there are some radical and extreme people in both movements but also think there are a fair number of sane and reasonable people in both movements as well, and I hope the latter, those who care about the other side as much as their own side, get the microphone more in the long run. I believe now that neither movement really has a complete picture of the shape of things, and wonder why sometimes they don't just team up to try to hash things out and balance eachother out, try to find ways to move society forward for both men and women without demonizing one another or trying to one up one another's suffering, as though suffering were a contest, and who wants to win a contest like that anyway? It’s like when my sister and I would argue as kids about who had it harder or got bullied more in school when the truth was school kind of sucked for both of us, even if it sucked differently for both of us. Again, not a contest you want to win anyway. Do men have it harder than women? Do women have it harder than men? Yes and yes? Maybe it just depends on the situation and circumstance, or maybe it comes down to the level of the individual, but then all I really know for sure is that being human is hard for pretty much all of us in one way or another, so why not just try to empathize with one another as best we can instead of arguing about who has it worse? Easier said than done I know, but I suppose we could at least try.

I guess much like Cassie I have settled with neither identifying with feminism nor with men's rights activism, feeling that both feminists and men's rights activists have their valid points but also their blind spots, and feeling that both women and men have their problems and struggles, and also feeling that both deserve some measure of respect and empathy.

I've followed Cassie Jaye a little bit since watching her film, and I still admire her empathetic attitude, and her bravery in making a film that I'm sure she knew would ruffle some feathers (and it did), and she continues to be brave through sharing some of her own personal journey including some of her struggles on her online blog and elsewhere, even opening up about the turmoil and grief of having had two miscarriages in the last couple of years, which led her to abandon plans of doing a documentary on postmodernism (which would have included Peterson himself) and instead is considering doing a documentary about miscarriage, a difficult topic that is rarely discussed openly in society, and I hope she does as I imagine it would speak to a lot of women out there (as well as their partners) who have suffered through miscarriages. Reading about her own personal, and painful, experience with her miscarriages was a reminder to me that women struggle with things that men don't (or at least don't as much or in the same way), and are deserving of empathy, just as her film was trying to point out that men struggle with things that women don't (or at least don't as much or in the same way), and are deserving of empathy.

I admit for sometime after watching The Red Pill and diving into the insane world of gender politics, I was planning on doing a blog post where I would try my best to tackle gender relations and being a man (with the tentative title of Measure Of A Man) as I had tried to tackle race relations and being a white man in my post White Man about a year ago. I even began writing a couple of rough drafts, but then the more I dug into things the more complicated and hard to unravel it became, and I just didn't feel confident enough to really dive into the whole thing (and I didn't really feel confident enough to dive into the issue of race either in White Man, to be honest, but then I I tried my best I suppose, though I'm sure I only scratched the surface on that issue, and I may even go back at some point and try to revise it some as since then my views on race have shifted a bit, though they are mostly the same as when I wrote that).

I suppose going down the rabbit hole somewhat on this post (which is appropriate as Cassie used that metaphor, of being like Alice in Wonderland going down the rabbit hole, in her film) by touching on the whole transgender and non-binary debate (though I definitely only scratched the surface on that) and bringing up Cassie Jaye's documentary and touching on gender issues, will have to suffice for that, and as with Cassie the main message I want to put forward here is one of empathy and understanding, and on all sides, and as hard as that may be, as hard as it may be to back up these words with actions, because I believe that's how we will all move forward...

If this was just a post about gender relations and being a man as I had originally intended it to be, I could have talked about Peterson and his effect on many men throughout the world, and that would certainly fit. A lot of young men around the world, and men of all ages really, look up to Peterson, some seeing him as a kind of father figure, and I can kind of understand that appeal even if I may see him in a more complicated and nuanced way myself. I will say that Peterson’s core message of the importance of the individual and finding meaning through responsibility resonates with me a fair bit. I agree with him that the individual rather than the group is the level to really look at as it is really our individual choices that make or break our society (though to be fair some individual choices may impact society more than others, depending on the power and influence of the individual), and we shouldn't only focus on rights but also on responsibilities, because your rights are my responsibilities and vice versa.  And I agree that there is something about individual responsibility, whether that is in the realm of relationships or work or creativity or spirituality or pursuing some other passion or cause (or picking up a cross and carrying it as Peterson would put it, referencing Jesus) that can give you a sense of meaning and purpose that you otherwise may not have. In other words, while carrying too heavy of a load can crush you, and carrying too little of a load can make you feel aimless, carrying a load that is the right size for you can help make you into who you are meant to be. Not that I have found a way to apply that to my life as much as I would like, but at least it rings true to me. Of course that doesn't mean that groups don't matter, as we are all interconnected more than we can imagine, or that rights aren't important at all, as Peterson points out that rights give us room to exercise our responsibilities, but I wonder if Peterson sometimes doesn't focus enough on how that interconnectedness can positively or negatively effect our individual choices, or on how the system can hold people back from moving forward, from being who they could be, because sometimes no matter how hard you may try you can still be held back not so much by yourself but by your environment or your culture. That said I would agree that the level of the individual is the most important one because that is what you need to build up from, the seed blossoming into a tree, so responsibility shouldn't be forgotten or set aside, that and sometimes it isn't so much environment or culture that is holding you back as it is yourself. But of course the makeup of our lives is no doubt always some combination of both of these things, it is some combination of our own choices as individuals, and the choices of others around us and how they may complement or conflict with our choices, and the limits of nature both internally and externally which effect us all.

But beyond his message of the importance of the individual and of responsibility and how we can find meaning in it, I resonate with Peterson most of all when he he seems to be reaching for that something more, that deeper truth, which I was talking about (or trying to talk about) earlier in this post. I may only go along halfway with Peterson on his political and social views, which he admittedly does get a bit ranty on at times (though many of us do, including myself, so maybe we don’t have much room to judge), and I don't agree with him on everything in that area or any other area, but when he delves into the territory of psychology and philosophy (which he says he is more interested in anyway, and so am I) and religion and spirituality I find more common ground with him, and also find what I appreciate most about him. Peterson is something of an existentialist thinker (he is especially fond of existentialist Christian thinkers Fyodor Dostoevsky and Alexandr Solzhenitsyn) and is fond of Carl Jung and Jungian theory as well as well as other psychologists, like Freud and Carl Rogers among others, and believes in evolution and evolutionary biology, so he often speaks of religion and spirituality in those frameworks and contexts, but I can resonate with much of that, as both a former atheist and a former evangelical Christian who is trying to find his way.

I watched a recent interview with Patricia Marcoccia (on the Youtube channel Rebel Wisdom), director of the documentary The Rise Of Jordan Peterson, and she said she initially became interested in him for much the same reasons even before he was really in the public eye, and she like myself describes herself as left of center and has mixed feelings about his political and social views, so I guess I'm not the only one. As the saying goes, don't throw out the baby with the bathwater, and in the case of Peterson I honestly feel that there's a baby in all the bathwater of controversy and drama that surrounds him.

Over the last year or so I have listened to (mainly via podcast while working) probably hundreds of interviews with and lectures from Peterson, as well as reading his book 12 Rules For Life, and while there's a lot of his stuff that I haven't gone through yet (like there's a lot more interviews and lectures of his on Youtube that I haven't listened to yet and I haven't gotten hold of his harder to find first book, Maps Of Meaning) I feel like I have gotten a pretty good idea of the kind of man Peterson is and how he thinks and feels, at least from hearing what he has to say.

I believe Peterson is, like anyone else, just a human being with faults and flaws, who has his weaknesses and blind spots and can make mistakes and get things wrong like anyone else, but there are times in his interviews or lectures when you can see (or hear if you are listening in a podcast as I often do) him reaching, trying to gather the fluttering pieces of the puzzle and build a foundation, and you can see or hear the emotion well up in him when he is trying to find words for something that words maybe can’t quite describe, something that would make your words seem like straw.

Peterson describes himself as a pessimist for the most part, and he says that life is in large part suffering tainted by malevolence, but he also says that underneath that pessimism is a faith in humanity, a faith in that divine spark within us that enables us to overcome and persevere in some amazing ways, and he has a faith in the power of love, which he describes as the sense that life truly matters and is worth living in spite of all the suffering and evil in the world, and as a desire that things would be the best that they can be, that things would be truly good, for you and for others and for the world, and individual responsibility is in part acting on that sense and that desire in whatever way you can to bring that vision into reality (or at least in my case to connect what I write more with my day to day life). At bottom I think Peterson believes, as he tries to say this himself when he is reaching for words to describe it, that the darkness in the world and in ourselves is powerful, very powerful, so powerful that he feels it unwise to deny its power and not talk about it openly, but even so the light in the world and in ourselves is even more powerful, and in the end is greater than whatever darkness there may be... and I can resonate with that belief.

And I believe Peterson is, even with whatever faults and flaws he has, a decent human being, or he is trying to be one anyway. As an example of this, when Peterson was at Liberty University, a well known evangelical Christian college run by Jerry Falwell's son, a young man who was struggling with mental and emotional issues and was off his medication, ran up on stage trying to approach and talk to Peterson, and when he was restrained by security he fell to his knees crying, having a breakdown. Peterson was confused by what was happening at first, but once he realized what was going on he came over to the young man, knelt down, and tried to comfort him as the other men on stage prayed over him. I honestly don't know for sure how much the other men on stage truly cared for this young man or how much they were at least subconsciously using him to promote their religious beliefs (I only say that, as insensitive as it may sound, because I was in the evangelical Christian world for a number of years so I know that kind of thinking is often somewhere under the surface, though not always to be fair, because again people are complex), but with Peterson I think it was just plain and simple compassion on his part, which I found moving. You can also see how passionate he is about others improving their lives and finding greater meaning and purpose in them, like when you see him with tears in his eyes when he talks about how people just need a little encouragement and he just wants to offer them that to them if he can, and you can see that that is what he really wants to do, and even if you may disagree with him on some or many of his views you can’t really fault him for wanting to help people. And of course it's pretty clear, at least to me, that he loves his wife and children, his family and friends, etc.

But even decent men still have their faults and flaws or struggles and problems, and recently Peterson checked himself into a rehab to try to get off of an anti-anxiety medication that he had started taking after his wife Tammy had been diagnosed with cancer (and from what I understand the whole situation with that was and is very complicated), which needless to say caused him a great deal of anxiety, which only added to all the anxiety he no doubt has had to deal with over the last couple years since coming into the limelight. I can't say that I blame him for turning to medication to try to take at least some of the edge off, and maybe that was a mistake, but it was an understandable one as far as I can tell. Sadly a number of his detractors or former supporters have been using this against him, berating him or expressing disappointment in him for seeking treatment, accusing him of being a drug addict and the like. Even if you're not really a fan of Peterson at all or disagree with him on most everything, I think it's kind of shitty to kick a guy when he's down like that, to berate a guy who was already struggling with anxiety for taking anti-anxiety meds when finding out the woman he loves has cancer (and I can kind of empathize with that having lost a good friend to cancer recently, though I will talk about that later in this post), or for trying to do the responsible thing by getting off of it when he realized it wasn't good for him (even if it could perhaps be reasonably argued that trying to quit cold turkey like he did may have been unwise, as some have been saying, but hey, no one is perfect, and that’s no reason to kick him when he’s down).

Sure I could understand if those who put Peterson on a pedestal might be disappointed that their idol had shown such human weakness, but after following Peterson for about a year now I realize that he's just a man and shouldn't be put on a pedestal (not that he would want to be anyway), and should be cut some slack for only being human.

If anything I find it somewhat encouraging that even the messenger struggles sometimes to apply their own message. As Christian minister and author Frederick Buechner once said (paraphrasing this here), 'I preach to myself my own sermons', meaning the message applies just as much to the one giving it as the one receiving it, and I am sure that Peterson is well aware of that, and would not deny that making good choices as an individual, that taking on responsibility, that tapping into that inner light, that walking the way of love, is just as difficult for him as it is for anyone else. The same is true of my writings here. I write to myself as much as to anyone else who may be reading this.

I empathize with Peterson and his struggles, and hope that others will as well rather than judging him too harshly, as we all have our faults and flaws and struggles and problems in life.

Recently I joined a Meetup group here in Portland where they discuss Peterson and his ideas, or better yet use him and his ideas as a springboard for wider and deeper discussions about various topics. It's a pretty cool group, with an interesting assortment of different kinds of people with different perspectives, and I've gone to the group a few times now, though only when the timing is right and the topic is interesting to me. In the most recent meeting I went to we actually talked about Peterson's checking himself into rehab and the flack he has gotten for that, and how being in the limelight and being something of a lightning rod for the current culture wars has taken a toll on him and his family, and we used that as a springboard for a deeper discussion on empathy and understanding. It was a really good discussion that ran all over the map but focused mostly on the importance of empathy and understanding in moving forward both as individuals and as a society. I think Peterson’s personal struggles are just a reminder that we should all try to be kind to one another for each of us may be fighting a hard battle, and even if others may not see it or know about it.

My dive into Jordan Peterson and his philosophy on life has led me into thinking more about things like this, and has got me thinking more about my life in general, and I see a bit of a kindred spirit in Peterson sometimes when I can see (or hear) him struggling to find words (words that seem like straw) to describe, at least in his own existentialist and Jungian and evolutionary way, something that may be, well, for lack of a better word, mystical.

Jumping out of the frying pan of politics and into the fire of religion here, I think one of the things that bothers some of Peterson's detractors, or even some of his supporters, is how he dances around the question of God's existence.  Peterson says he gets kind of annoyed with the question because he thinks it’s not a simple question to answer (and I think he may have a point there if you really think about it), but he tries to address it as best he can, and more or less says that he acts as though God exists, because it's how we act rather than what we think or feel that ultimately shows what we believe, and that's certainly a valid point I think. But I can definitely relate to the desire to dance around that particular question, as it's a question I have wrestled with a great deal throughout my life, and continue to wrestle with.

Of course I have written about the question of God in other posts here, and will no doubt continue to write about that question, but as far as it concerns finding my way in life, it's an important question. Is it up to me to decide what is the best path for me to take, or is there some other force that can or should decide that for me, or that could at least help me figure it out? Is there some deity, some guardian angel, some spirit guide, or some other higher power beyond this world or myself that can help me on my way, or am I on my own, do I need to figure this out on my own, maybe with a little help from other people who are trying to find their way too, but essentially alone in this?

Outside of a wedding or a memorial service I haven't been to a church in years, but I still pray (or I try to pray anyway) nearly everyday (and usually when I take a shower after I get out of bed, I guess you could say it's kind of a prayer closet) usually focusing on four areas, namely my relationships, work, creative life, and whatever my spiritual path is, or in my head going through this prayer written by Dietrich Bonhoeffer (while he was in a Nazi prison of all places) which I have memorized:

In me there is darkness But with you there is light I am lonely But you do not leave me I am feeble of heart But with you there is help I am restless But with you there is peace In me there is bitterness But with you there is patience I do not understand your ways But you know the way for me

When I get to the end of that prayer in my mind I sometimes kind of internally hold my hands up, hold my heart out, reach out, without really knowing or understanding, but with hope that something or someone is listening and does know the way, or at least knows it better than me, and can help me to find it.

As I said earlier in the post I feel like I have at times in my life glimpsed or heard whispers of something more, of some deeper truth, or Truth, and perhaps that Truth is some higher power, or God, that can help me find the way, though I don’t know for sure.

One of those times within the last year where I felt I connected with that something more, that truth, whatever it may be, was when I was at a concert for the wonderful Norwegian musician Aurora Asknes when she came here to Portland back in February. I wrote about Aurora Asknes in the last post that I wrote (titled Mad World) before my year long hiatus here, and if you haven't checked her or her music out yet I highly recommend that you do so, as she’s a real gem. Anyways, I went to the concert by myself, and I felt a little lonely there I admit, and I was feeling a little down too as I was trying to emotionally prepare myself for the following day when I was going to help put down my sister's beloved cat Smokey, who had been in our family for a number of years, but then when Aurora came on stage I found myself enraptured by her warmth and playfulness and humor and charm and surprising wisdom as so many of her fans are. What really hit me hard though was at the end of her concert she stopped and got kind of quiet, a hush falling across the crowded room, and then she dedicated her last song of the night to everyone out there who feels different or sad or broken or alone, and while I can't remember everything she said (sometimes I wished I had recorded it on my phone, but before the concert I had promised myself I would try to set aside my phone for most of the concert so I could really focus on it and take it in, which I did), I do remember that she spoke with such tenderness and sincerity and caring that I was moved to tears standing there in a crowded room, and after that she began to sing what may be my favorite song of hers, Through The Eyes Of A Child, which I reflected on in my Mad World post. Hearing that song in the earbuds of my music player as I’m walking home from work at night is one thing, but hearing her sing it on a stage maybe only 30 or so feet away was something else entirely, and the emotion in the room was palpable, and even as messy and awkward and weird as I felt standing there leaning against a wall (like a true wallflower, I know) crying alone in some crowded room in Portland, the moment still felt somehow holy and pure and real, and when she finished the song with the quiet but heartfelt line  'please don't leave me here', it felt like a cry from her heart, and it was a cry from my heart too, a cry that has been there so many times in my life, a cry to not be left here in the dark, to be loved, to not be alone, to be free...

I remember when I was there there was this young woman nearby me who really wanted to give Aurora a package with Aurora’s name on it, presumably with some long letter or series of letters addressed to her, or perhaps some other gift or offering, but she wasn't able to as Aurora wasn't doing meet and greet, and I saw her crying on the floor when she found out she couldn't connect with Aurora in a more personal way. I could at least partly sympathize with her as I too would love to meet and connect one on one with Aurora (much as I would love to meet and connect one on one with Peterson, or really any other public figure out there that I respect or appreciate in some way), as she seems like a wonderful human being, but then on the other hand I was kind disturbed as this lady seemed to have an unhealthy fixation on Aurora, like Aurora was some idol she was placing on a pedestal, or some goddess that she worshiped. There was also a message on Aurora’s Facebook page that I saw sometime after the concert about that particular concert where someone was trying to defend Aurora’s honor in some very weird and uncomfortable way, having felt that the venue somehow disrespected Aurora, to which I was like, um, okay... I can't say that I would really blame anyone for having a worshipful attitude towards someone like Aurora, or for even wanting to try and defend her honor (well okay that’s, um, okay), as Aurora is a very unique and magnetic person, and you can probably see some of that in how I or many of her other fans out there talk about her, and being in that room that night I could feel the power that that lovely young woman who seems like someone straight out of a fairy tale or some kind of fae queen had over her audience, could feel the love and admiration that people there felt for her, but just as with Peterson or any other thinker or musician or other public figure that I respect or appreciate I can still recognize her humanity, and am sure that she too has her own share of weaknesses and shortcomings, her own faults and flaws, and am sure that she sometimes makes mistakes or gets things wrong, that she too struggles in life. For example she is ironically something of an introvert who gets drained meeting a lot of people, even though she is also deeply empathetic, which is a difficult combination to be sure. I haven’t had a chance to watch it yet, as it hasn’t yet been released in the US, but apparently this aspect of her life is delved into in a documentary about her called Once Aurora. I’ve heard fans who have watched it were sobered by getting a better idea of how much of a drain Aurora’s fame has been on her at times, as much as she loves and appreciates her fans. And I’m sure she has other struggles as well, because even if she is a truly wonderful human being, she may still have some darkness within her that she has to contend with, as is the case with all of us, and I imagine it's no more easy for her to live out the message of love and kindness that she shares with her many fans (whom she affectionately refers to as Warriors and Weirdos) than it is for them. I'm sure she sings her songs to herself as much as she does to anyone else.  

Anyways, listening to Peterson sometimes, in those times when he is reaching for that something more, that deeper truth, there is something in that that seems holy, pure, real, or whatever you may call it, like a poet trying to find the words to describe the indescribable even if those words seem like straw, but then at Aurora's concert it felt overwhelming. It's not because Aurora is a goddess (well, maybe she is metaphorically speaking, though not literally speaking, well, you know what I mean, hopefully... hey I know she’s only human but that doesn’t mean she isn’t great), anymore than Peterson is a god, but because as a human being she opened up and welcomed her audience of fellow human beings into that reaching, her own reaching for that something more, that deeper truth, and I think we all, or at least many of us there, could feel that in some way. It honestly felt in some ways like taking communion at times felt for me in church (or at least in those times when the pastors or the elders leading in prayer weren't laying on the religious guilt too thick... yeah not helpful guys), individuals coming together, messy and awkward and weird though we may all be, to try and reach out, hold up our hands, hold out our hearts, in the dark, hoping that something or someone can see us, hear us, and can help us find our way, can somehow help us, heal us, lead us, guide us, through the dark and into the light. (By the way, the next day when I had to help put down my sister’s cat Smokey, including being there in the room with him when he was put to sleep, was definitely still a difficult day for all of us in the family, but then Aurora’s concert the night before encouraged and strengthened me somehow, which helped me get through it, and I am thankful to Aurora for that.)

In Through The Eyes Of A Child, Aurora sings about seeing the world through the eyes of a child, which leads me to another place where I felt a touch of that something more, of that deeper truth.

In the summer I read a book called Boy's Life by Robert McCammon, which is easily one of the best books I've read in a long while, and it is one that has stuck with me since reading it. The book follows a year in the life of 12 year old Cory Mackenson in 1960, where Cory is trying to solve a murder after he and his father witness a stranger in town, already dead with his throat slit, having his car, with him strapped naked in it, sunk into a local lake. While this murder mystery helps drive the story, there is much more to it, as you read about Cory and his three friends and their adventures over the course of the year, adventures that seemingly blend fantasy and reality, and at the core of the story is this sense of magic, of a world behind or beyond the one that we live and breathe in, that many of us experience more when we are children, and how that sense can easily fade away as we get older if we don't hold onto it, but also at the core of the story is the message that at least in some sense none of us ever really grow up, or at least not completely, as deep down there is a child in each of us still, beneath all of that jadedness and cynicism that can build up over the years.

In one of my favorite scenes in the book Cory has a dream where he encounters in her classroom one of his school teachers, Mrs. Neville, who had passed away only a few days before the dream, and in the dream she tells him a secret, which is this:

"No one ever grows up. They may look grown-up, but it's just a disguise, it's just the clay of time. Men and women are still children deep in their hearts."

Mrs. Neville goes on to say that the clay of time can hold us back from playing as we once did as children, and that we would like to come home to a mommy and a daddy who can love us and take care of us and keep us safe but can’t anymore when we are adults, and there is a sadness in wanting something that we can no longer have because of the passage of time, but I think what she tells Cory is on some level also hopeful, as it means that the magic is somehow still there in us, that we are still connected to it. On the one hand that we are still children deep in our hearts is a sobering truth, as I think it means that we are all more or less clueless and scared and uncertain at the end of the day, at least on some level, just as we often were as children, but then again it's also hopeful because we all still have the ability to see the world, as Aurora would put it, through the eyes of a child.

We still, even with the clay of time, have the ability to sense the magic, to see or feel the world behind and beyond the one we live and breathe in, because it's still there, and we're still connected to it somehow.

There was a dream that I had not too long ago that I can't remember much of aside from the final image, which was of a little girl with vibrant and shining red hair running ahead of me and then turning as I was on the edge of waking and saying 'don't give up'. For some reason that image has stuck with me. An acquaintance of mine who is a professional medium, the British Claire Broad (who actually did a reading for my wife Kaylyn and I back in December, though more on that later), told me that perhaps this was my spirit guide trying to communicate with me, and maybe appearing in the form of a child to remind me of that child within me, which may represent that divine spark that Peterson talks about sometimes, or that lens of a child’s eyes that Aurora sings about, or that sense of magic that Robert McCammon talks about, and maybe appearing to me as a little girl because I need a little more tenderness and gentleness and kindness in my life, maybe I need that same kind of feminine energy that I felt coming from or through Aurora while at her concert just a few months back.

(Just as an aside, I remember Peterson once sharing a story about a woman who had a psychedelic induced vision where she asked about him during that vision where she apparently encountered a being or beings, and was told that he was a representative or channel of the divine masculine, a story which Peterson found quite amusing but also kind of wondered about. I remember this coming to mind for a moment while I was at Aurora's concert, and found myself wondering if Aurora could perhaps be a representative or channel of the divine feminine as Peterson could perhaps be a representative or channel of the divine masculine, keeping in mind that the representatives, or channels, or messengers, need the message just as much as those they are sharing the message with. Maybe there is something to this, my making weird connections in my head in some strange Jungian archetypal way in order to say that we all need to try to find a balance between our masculine and feminine sides, that the divine spark within us or the magic in us is both masculine and feminine [which reminds me that towards the end of Boy’s Life there’s a passage where McCammon says that this is also a girl’s life, and that’s something us boys need to keep in mind] and to be whole we need to embrace both within ourselves... or maybe this is all just crazy talk... but whatever the case, I would love to see these two, Peterson and Aurora, as different as they are, get together and have a conversation, just to see what happens... heck, I would even pay money to see that.)

Sound a bit woo? Yeah, maybe dreams of little red-haired girls running around is a bit woo, but I don't know, and possibly I don't care as long as whatever it is is something good that can be trusted and can bring more of that divine spark or sense of magic into my life, can bring me closer to that something more, that deeper truth, whatever it may be. Maybe it was a message from beyond, and that message was ‘don’t give up’.

Speaking of woo, I remember this lady named Amy telling me something along the same lines, about my inner child and being embraced by feminine energy, when giving me my first ever tarot reading at this annual campout of mostly down to earth and laid back aging hippies (said with fondness) that my friend Keith and I went to over the summer called Feast Of Madness (which was a lot of fun by the way), and I remember her saying that I need to tap into that inner child more and not be afraid to get out there and play in the sun. Maybe that little girl in that dream was in part encouraging me and reminding to do just that, to wake up and seize the day and not give up on life, I don’t know. For someone who spends so much time in his head maybe I need to remember to not just think about living but to also, well, live. Maybe the little girl was in part telling me to not give up on life, life which is in large part suffering tainted by malevolence, but also a divine spark and magic, and full of sorrow no doubt but can also be full of joy, which can be, in the words of J.R.R. Tolkien, as poignant as grief.

And speaking of dreams, there was another dream I had in the last year that stuck with me, where our family friend Bryan, who had passed away from cancer a couple years ago, seemed to appear to me. It was the first dream I can remember Bryan appearing in since his death, and I haven't had a dream about him since. It wasn't particularly vivid (as I’ve heard ‘dream visitations’ tend to be) and it felt  vague and weird as most dreams do, and I don't think I even saw his face. I just remember giving him a hug and saying I was glad to see him, and all I can remember him saying to me was something about Troutdale, which is a city here in Oregon. I asked my mom, who knew him better than me, about it, but she didn't see any connection between him and Troutdale, and for a couple months I had this knocking around in the back of my mind, wondering about it, until one day while at work it hit me to look up if there was any connection between Bigfoot (which was, for anyone who really knew Bryan, his favorite thing in the world) and Troutdale, and was amazed to find that in just a few weeks time the Oregon Bigfoot Festival was going to be taking place in Troutdale.

I took this as a sign from Bryan, and a few weeks later Bryan's youngest son Kyle, Keith (who like me thought of Bryan as something of an uncle while growing up) and Keith’s 4 year daughter Sophie went to the festival. We all had a good time and I think it was a great way of remembering and honoring Bryan, even as simple and silly as it may have seemed, and we even talked about maybe trying to go every year, and we may do that if we can.

I suppose some might call the dream I had and the connection that I made because of it a coincidence, just some random fluke, others might think of it as some kind of precognition, and still others might indeed see it as a sign from someone who has passed on. I honestly don't know what it was for sure, but I know I felt compelled to act on it when I found a meaning in it, and I know that some good came out of it, and that all of that happened at all makes me wonder what might be going on behind and beyond this world that we live and breath in.

(Claire Broad ^^^) I also wonder about my reading (my first ever reading with a medium, have had a few weird firsts over this last year, that’s for sure) with Claire Broad back in December (which we did via video online since she lives in the UK), where Kaylyn's maternal grandma, who had passed about a year before Kaylyn and I met, and her aunt, who had passed a couple years ago, seemed to come through for Kaylyn, and where, strangely enough, my paternal grandpa (and part of me had wondered and hoped that my maternal grandpa, who had passed only a couple years ago, would come through for me, but no such luck), who had passed at least two to three decades before I was even born and when my dad was just a boy, seemed to come through for me. I admit I was pretty skeptical of mediums up until recently, or up until connecting with Claire anyway, but I am more open now, because while some of what Claire shared didn't seem to fit or make sense, a lot of other things did, including some things she couldn't have known or guessed, or at least not as far as I can tell anyway.  That and I’ve known Claire for awhile now and have gotten a feel for what kind of person she is, and even if some so-called mediums out there may not be legit, she doesn’t strike me as being among them and I think she’s genuine and not just some bullshit artist or huckster or whatever, that and she strikes me as intelligent and kind and I believe she just wants to use her abilities, whatever they may be, to help people. I still don't know what to make of all of it honestly, especially what she shared about my paternal grandpa who I never knew, but I do know that it gave Kaylyn some comfort on her end and some food for thought on mine, and I suppose that is something, and again it makes me wonder. These and other strange experiences make me wonder.

(The late great Art Bell ^^^) As I've said in other posts I have always been fascinated with the paranormal, ever since I was a kid, and have always had an interest in metaphysical and spiritual things as well, and most specifically the strange personal experiences that people have. Over the last year I've been listening to a lot of paranormal podcasts. One of my favorites is one called Strange Familiars with host Timothy Renner, who aside from being fascinated with the paranormal like myself also has a love for history and folklore and delves into that sometimes. I've also enjoyed listening to old episodes of Coast To Coast AM with Art Bell (who I found sadly passed away sometime last year), a radio show that my dad's cousin Cliff, who was into all things weird, often talked about and referenced in our conversations when I was a kid, although I'd never listened to the show myself up until recently. Anyways, one of the things that gets talked about in these shows and others that I listen to is that perhaps all of these things, whether they be cryptids (Bigfoot being one example) or ghosts or UFOs or shadow people or strange lights or time slips or synchronicities or out of body and/or near death experiences or miracles or whatever they may be, are somehow all interconnected, and maybe the true nature of reality is both more terrifying and more wonderful, and more just plain weird and wild, terrifyingly and wonderfully weird and wild, than any of us can imagine, and maybe there is a kind of magic in the world that you can only see through the eyes of a child, magic both dark and light.

I think part of what draws me to these topics is wondering what if, what if these things are real, what if these things are true... sure, I have little doubt that many strange experiences that people claim to have, or even that I have had, could be explained away through some natural or scientific or mundane means, but then I really have a hard time believing that all of them can, including some of my own, and even if just some of these things are real and true, then what does that mean for my life, and what are these strange or meaningful experiences that I and so many others have saying to us, if anything? Maybe one thing they are saying to us is it’s good to keep an open mind because even with all of our knowledge and understanding of the world gained through observation and exploration and experimentation there is still room for mystery, and as difficult as it may be for us to admit there is probably still more that we don’t know than what we do know. Whether it’s through the words of thinkers like Peterson, who in between debates about politics and philosophy have moments when they are are trying to find the words to describe something that may be indescribable, or whether it’s through the music of artists like Aurora who invite others into their reaching and their longing and their aching for a better life and a better world and to try to see the world through the eyes of a child, or through magical stories like Boy's Life, or through magical dreams like that of the little redheaded girl who turned to me and said 'don't give up', or through Bryan seeming to give me a sign, or through thought-provoking tarot or medium readings, or through other strange or even seemingly otherworldly experiences that I and so many others have had, I sense that there is something more, some deeper truth, or Truth, just behind and beyond the veil, and perhaps touching this reality, this deeper underlying reality, is somehow key to finding my way in life, as many others believe.

Of course there are different ideas about what this something more, what this deeper truth, is, if there is any such thing at all Some would say that it is God or some other higher power or powers, some would say that it is the higher self or some collective unconsciousness, while others would say it's none of the above or there really is nothing more, no such truth, and on top of that just about everything that I have said here is pretty much bullshit anyway and really who the hell cares and instead of trying to search for any universal meaning or purpose just try to make the most of your short and miserable life before you find yourself in the grave.

Well hey, I honestly don't know for sure who's right about this, if anyone is, and don't know for sure what is behind and beyond this world that we live and breathe in, if anything, I don't know what or who might be listening when I pray, or try to pray, when I hold up my hands and hold out my heart, or when I look for help to find my way in life, or to keep walking if I am already on the path, if there is any path at all... Maybe I am on my own, in trying to figure things out, or maybe I’m not... I suppose only time will tell what the case may be.

(My friend Erin ^^^) I wonder if my friend Erin McCarty, who passed away from cancer just a few weeks ago, knows better than I do now, and I hope she does, I hope to whatever or whoever may be listening that she does. Erin and I were friends for about eight years or so, and we never met in person, never even talked on the phone or Skyped or anything like that, our friendship was exclusively via Facebook Messenger and email and the occasional package back and forth, but we were good friends nevertheless, and I remember Erin and I would sometimes talk about things like this, the deeper mysteries of life. Erin herself was a devout and committed Christian, albeit a pretty open-minded and non-dogmatic one (the best kind), and her faith was important to her, but even she sometimes struggled with questions and doubts about the nature of reality, as most of us do at some time or another, though I believe she generally had more faith than myself. I would guess that she had very little fear of death in the end, and maybe there was part of her that even looked forward to it, wondering what was waiting for her beyond and behind the veil, including loved ones who had passed on before her. Knowing how adventurous in spirit she was that wouldn’t surprise me. But for me the very fact of Erin's death is a struggle to understand and accept as a part of reality, as it lead to questions and doubts on its own, with someone so kind and generous in spirit as she was dying so young, at only 38 years old, only a year older than myself, when she had so much more that she could have offered to the world (although in her 38 years she gave so much). I mean I don't really get it, and neither does anyone else out there who knew and cared for her I can imagine, but I will cope with the reality of it as best I can, and hope that someday I will get it, that someday things like this will make some kind of sense, that suffering and death will make some kind of sense, or at least hope that I can be at peace with the reality of them more or less in the end.

My last exchange with Erin was just a couple days before she died, after reading her dad's post about how she was going into hospice care and she probably didn't have much longer, and I shared with her in Messenger this Youtube clip from The Return Of The King where there is this exchange between Gandalf and Pippin in the midst of a siege by the forces of Mordor on Minas Tirith:

PIPPIN: I didn't think it would end this way.

GANDALF: End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it.

PIPPIN: What? Gandalf? See what?

GANDALF: White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.

PIPPIN: Well, that isn't so bad.

GANDALF: No. No, it isn't.”

All she said was 'Thank you Matt <3, that is one of my all time favorite movie moments.' and I didn't hear any more from her after that. I suppose with her and I both being nerds, who enjoyed nerdy things such as Lord Of The Rings, and who often liked to discuss philosophical and spiritual things as well, this last exchange seems somehow appropriate and feels right when I think about it, and is even, at least to me, another one of those glimpses or whispers of something more, of some deeper truth.

I shared this and some other thoughts on Erin in a post on Facebook, and towards the end of my post I said this:

'Erin, in spite of her own struggles with doubt from time to time, had more faith than me I think, but even so I do believe, with whatever faith I may have, though a flickering candle it may be, that there is something more behind and beyond this life, that death isn't the end, and I don't say that in denial of some cold and cruel reality that we all must face to simply try to comfort myself or others at that heavy thought of a wonderful person such as Erin no longer being in this world, but because my heart tells me it is so.

I don't know what it is like, what it consists of, what the metaphysics are, or how it all relates to God and everything else that human beings have argued and debated about for millennia, but I do believe that there is something more beyond death, that death is just a gateway to something else, that it is a night that is followed by a new day, and my hope is that it is something like what Gandalf was talking about, and if anyone should be able to step foot on white shores and walk into a far green country with a swift sunrise, it should be Erin.'

I think Erin found her way in life, a way of kindness and generosity, and she went down her path (or up her path) like a lightning bolt, and maybe now, I hope, on the other side of the veil she has answers to whatever questions she had in life, or at least whatever answers she needed anyway, answers that may even be beyond words or the need of them, that may make all of our questions and doubts, like our words, seem like straw... And I hope that she has found a joy as poignant as grief, including the grief of her family and friends that remain here on Earth missing her, and I hope that someday all of us who knew her and cared for her will know the joy of seeing her again (or in my case, for the first time)...

On Halloween night I was rewatching one of my all time favorite films, 1982's Poltergeist, with my friend in Kenya, Annie (whom I've mentioned in other posts), who was watching it with me on her laptop as I watched it on mine and while we commented on it back and forth on our cellphones. Annie hadn't seen it since she was a kid, being terrified of it then, and had been too scared to watch it again since then, but she was willing to give it a go with me being there at least virtually for support. She was of course still pretty terrified, but she also enjoyed it, and enjoyed sharing the experience with me. One of my highlights for the year for sure.

Anyways, perhaps my favorite scene in the film, even above all the spooky goings on, is the one where Dr. Lesh, a parapsychologist who is trying to help this family, the Freelings, to bring their daughter Carol Ann back from the astral realm after she was dragged there by an evil spirit that they call the Beast (if you haven't seen the film you're missing out, it's great), and in the scene she is talking with Diane, Carol Ann's mother, and Robbie, her brother, about her understanding of the nature of life after death, with Jerry Goldsmith's brilliant and beautiful score playing quietly in the background, and one of the things she says to them is this:

'Some people believe that when people die, there's a wonderful light -- as bright as the sun. But it doesn't hurt to look into it. All the answers to all the questions that you ever want to know are inside that light. And when you walk into it, you become a part of it forever.'

My heart stirs sometimes when she says this in this scene, perhaps another example of one of those glimpses or whispers of something more, of some deeper truth, and in this case nestled somewhere in a classic 80s horror film. I hope that something like this is true when we die, I hope something like this is true for Erin and will be true for all of us, that there is a wonderful light waiting to embrace us all...

I imagine that some who read this will wonder what kind of weird brain I have, jumping from talking about Thomas Aquinas and words like straw, to talking at some length (maybe a good third of this post at least) about a popular but also controversial Canadian professor and psychologist that liberal media outlets sometimes equate with the 'alt-right' (if unfairly so I believe) who nevertheless in between his political rants says things that really resonate with me spiritually, going from touching on gender (including transgender) issues and rights and relations and more generally on empathy and understanding, to a 23 year old Norwegian musician who made me cry in a crowded room in Portland, going from a murder mystery/coming of age story about the magic of seeing the world through the eyes of a child, to strange dreams that might be from spirit guides or from the dead, as well as touching on all things weird or paranormal or that are behind and beyond what we know and understand, from the death of a friend who I will miss and who so many will miss and whose death I really can't understand but hope to understand someday, to a classic horror film that came out the year that I was born and in between the scares has moments that speak to me. What is it all of these things have in common, what ties all of these things together?

I don't know, or at least I'm not sure, but I can throw some more straw at it anyway.

I had initially intended on trying to write a post about gender and being a man about a year ago, and maybe I gave you some idea of what that might have looked like in the first half of this post, but then strangely enough trying to delve into that complicated topic helped in some ways to lead me into deeper issues of humanity and what it is to be human, much as Cassie Jaye's own experience with suffering and loss through her miscarriages has led her away from wanting to talk about something that is more political and abstract and towards wanting to talk about something that is more personal and raw, and looking into someone like Peterson who is known in the mainstream mostly for some of his more controversial and divisive political and social views, and who is mocked and disparaged by all sides, led me to finding something of a kindred spirit in someone who, even if I may disagree with him on some things, is trying to walk a path, and lay out that path for others to try to help give their lives more meaning and purpose, and who, in between his political rants, is trying to reach for something more or for some deeper truth in his own imperfect human way, just as I am... Going from something that is more on the surface, to something deeper, from something in the realm of ideology and the games that people play, down into the soul...

I had initially planned on ending that blog post, whatever it might have been, on the note that whatever gender we are, whether male or female or transgender or non-binary or whatever, we are all of us human beings under the skin, and we all share this world and are in this together, and whether we may like it or not, so perhaps it is best to try to learn to empathize, and to understand one another as well as we can so we can move forward, even if that may be much more easily said than it is done, but again we can at least try.

And maybe that is one of the things that connects all of these seemingly disparate things... moving forward, even with all our faults and flaws and struggles and problems, or in the words of C.S. Lewis, further up and further in.

Jordan Peterson often talks about our aim, what we are aiming for, that we should aim for a better life and a better world, even if it is only incrementally, just one step at a time. He uses as an example the story of Pinocchio, where Gepetto wishes on a star for a son, and Pinocchio wishes to be a real boy, looking to the blue fairy, where he dives into the belly of the whale to rescue his father, and all the archetypes and symbols and metaphors and dreams that may be lying underneath stories like these.

This reminds me of one of my favorite passages in one of my favorite books, The Neverending Story (a scene that sadly wasn't in the film) where Bastian had to go down into the depths of the land of Fantasia (or Fantastica in the book), which is literally built on the dreams of humanity, into a mine full of glass images of dreams, to find a dream of his father's, and he finds this image of his father trapped in a cage, where he is in sorrow and pain, and he needs rescuing and above all love, which in the end Bastian is able to offer his father when he returns to his own world, which sets his father free to live again after being crushed by grief after losing his wife, the mother of his son, sometime before.

And why am I reminded of that, what is the connection? Why does it mean for the father to reach for the son, or the son to reach for the father? The mother for the daughter, the daughter for the mother? The masculine and the feminine, culture and nature, the old and the new, intertwined in symbols one after another in dreams that speak in a language we only rarely if ever understand? Why do we reach for the stars, and why must we dive into the dark to find what we're looking for? Why does grief crush us and can love free us? What is my aim in writing all of this? Again I'm not sure, but here again is more straw. Maybe in our art and our poetry, maybe in our words like straw that we aim in the direction we want to move in, maybe in the archetypes and symbols and metaphors and dreams, maybe in the conversations and the music and stories and experiences and in our lives and in our deaths and maybe in our lives again, maybe we are reaching, reaching up, or reaching in, or down, or out, reaching in every direction, or in the words of the poet Walt Whitman:

'A noiseless patient spider, I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated, Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding, It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself, Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my soul where you stand, Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space, Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them, Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold, Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.'

Maybe on some level many of us, perhaps all of us, are digging, digging, digging (like a boy digging through a mine of dreams), through all of these things, through all of the philosophy and politics that we argue about, and all of the art that we enjoy and appreciate, and all of the experiences that we remember and struggle with and hold onto, and all of our beliefs and the questions and doubts surrounding them that we wrestle with, and everything that we think about and talk about and wonder about and feel, so we can find a bridge to walk across, so we can find something to hold onto, so our souls, like noiseless patient spiders, can catch something firm, something solid, something holy and pure and real, so we can find a way forward, a way further up and in and down and out, and with no need for words... maybe.

Well now... Ground Control to Major Matt, take your protein pills and put your helmet on... I get carried away sometimes, so back down to Earth I go...

(Krissy Lynn in her mirror video ^^^) Another one of the things I discovered over the last year was the Youtube channel of Krissy Lynn, who is a porn actress of all things. And yes I have also seen some of her, um, other videos online. Full disclosure here, bringing things well and truly back down to Earth: I have watched a lot of porn throughout my life, and I still watch porn (though fortunately I have steered clear of the really twisted stuff, like child or rape porn). It’s a long story of the hows and whys and it’s not a topic that I want to really get into here, partly because it is such a sensitive topic, both for me and for society, but suffice to say that I have mixed feelings about it, about the whole industry of porn itself as well as all of my experience with it since I was a kid. And any shade that anyone out there may want to throw my way because of it isn't anything I haven't already thrown at myself at different times in my life, and trust me shame is an emotion I know all too well, especially when it is combined with religious guilt which I had in the past when I was an evangelical Christian. That said, one thing I've learned over the years is it does me no good at all to hate myself or berate myself for it as I have done in the past, so if you feel at all disposed to you could judge me all you want about it but you aren't going to be able to push me to hate or berate myself as I've done that plenty myself, and I know it never did me any good (and a real big surprise there, as that seems to be the case in any situation, that hating and berating yourself never really does any good, and it usually just makes things worse). There are those who wrestle with a weakness for drugs or alcohol, others for gambling or gaming, still others for food or shopping or you name it, just about anything you can think of can become a weakness or something you can feel shame about, but for me one of my weaknesses has been and continues to be pornography, and it is what it is and it's something that I wrestle with and that's just part of me and my life, and I'm not afraid to admit that here. Is it a sin (if sin is even the right word here, sin meaning missing the mark)? There’s debate about that (though certainly no debate about certain forms of porn like child or rape porn, which I think most would agree are vile and evil) and I’m of two minds about it myself, but I will say this: May he (or she) who is without sin cast the first stone. Anyways, with that out of the way and out in the open... Krissy Lynn has been one of my favorite porn actresses as she is, um, very attractive to me, but when I discovered her Youtube channel I admit it really surprised me. Even though some would find her career choice to be contradictory to this, in her Youtube videos I found that she is actually a pretty thoughtful and kind and even spiritual person at her core, or at least she seems to be someone who really wants to learn and grow spiritually and in general as a person. Some might assume that everyone who works in the porn industry is pretty shallow and surface level, but then in some of Krissy's videos she shares about her journey in life and how she is trying to learn and grow and better herself. Sure she has the occasional video where she dances around sexily and shows off her admittedly gorgeous body (which I enjoy, not gonna lie), but then in many of her videos she shares about her journey in life and shares from her heart in meaningful ways. I don’t think she’s ashamed of what she does for a living, or at least she doesn’t give that impression, and she doesn't let the nature of her career keep her from exploring deeper things or trying to find ways to feed her soul, and I can respect and appreciate that. One of her videos that has really stuck with me was a video where she talked about and demonstrated this exercise she called 'mirror work' where you stand in front of a mirror and talk to yourself, telling yourself what you are proud of, what you forgive yourself for, what you commit to for yourself, or anything you want to say to yourself. In her demonstration of the exercise when she got to the part where she forgives herself for something, she was in tears when she forgave herself for how she hid away as a kid because she was afraid of connecting with others. That really spoke to me having had a similar experience when I was a kid.

I've since been trying to do this mirror work exercise myself, usually when I get out of the shower. I tell myself (in my head though as doing so out loud feels weird for me) as I look at myself in the mirror, for example, that I am proud of you for getting out of bed to face the day today or for being kind to a friend or for working hard, or that I forgive you for watching porn or for getting pissed off about stupid things or for making an ass of yourself or for being a scared kid yesterday or today, or that I commit to trying to move forward one step at a time... that sort of thing. And I got the inspiration to do this from a porn actress of all people, a porn actress who is, even if she may to some extent objectify herself and let others objectify her, also a human being with a soul like you and me. I admit in a strange way it feels more real to me to be getting life advice from someone like Krissy Lynn, someone who is probably seen as an object of scorn by some (as much as she is seen as an object of desire by others) because of what she does for a living, than it does receiving it from some spiritual teacher or guru living in some cloistered space. Also there is something meaningful to me about receiving a message of healing from someone who works in porn, which has been a source of shame for me throughout much of my life, there’s something about that that speaks to me for some reason, I don’t know, like it’s a light coming out of the dark, or perhaps whatever sexual wounds I may have are like cracks where, as Rumi would put it, the light gets in.

Jordan Peterson, who I agree with on a number of things but not completely here, has a pretty low view of pornography, as many people do, which is understandable I guess, even if my own feelings about it are more complicated and nuanced (partly because I have listened to a lot of podcast interviews with those who work in porn, on podcasts like Holly Randall Unfiltered for example, and they have diverse perspectives and experiences within the industry, some negative for sure but others positive, or some combination thereof), but I wonder what he would make of someone like Krissy, who is trying in her own way to better herself and improve her life and dig deeper to find meaning and purpose, and even while she basically gets paid for having sex on camera.

John Green once said that we should understand people complexly (going back to the point that people are complex), and Krissy, with her career in porn, and also me, with my weakness for porn, are really no exceptions to that rule I think, as we can both stand in front of mirrors and sometime have a hard time saying something like 'I love you' to ourselves, but then we should be able to because we are still worthy of love I believe (even though I admit to having my doubts sometimes, and don’t we all), even as messy and awkward and weird as we may be, as are we all.  

In Krissy Lynn's most recent Youtube video she talked about loneliness and how the answer to it is loving yourself, accepting yourself, even admiring yourself, more than it is looking to others for validation. I wrote a post on Facebook recently where I reflected on loneliness and isolation and towards the end I included that thought, that learning to love ourselves may be part of answering loneliness, though I also acknowledged that people being able to connect more may be part of it too, as there seems to be a real disconnect in some ways between people these days. Maybe there is more of a kind of connection via the internet and social media over the last twenty something years since the dawn of the internet, which can be valid and meaningful in its way (my friendship with Erin or Annie being examples of this), but face to face and one on one connection seems to be harder to come for many people nowadays, which is ultimately more important and more needed than any other kind of connection, as hard as that may be to accept in this world of social media, tweeting, texting, and virtual reality. So I think it's both, we need to love ourselves but also need love from others, as it's all intertwined I think. There was another video I watched recently by a lady named Savannah Brown who also talked about loneliness, as well as the difficulty in connecting with others in meaningful ways, and in the video she shared some of her struggles, but ended on a poignant note of hoping that, even if she can’t read the minds of others or step into their shoes completely, she can still understand and can be understood in some way, even with all our limitations and the walls between us. I share in that hope.

(tired and disheveled and kind of sad me while writing this ^^^) I wrote a poem about loneliness (which is somewhat revised here) back in August that I think captures some of what loneliness feels like, at least for me: Loneliness is a weight That settles in my bones Is it right to walk alone Or to be only one With the deep sky above And the abyss beneath That I gaze into And gazes back at me Oh I wonder, I wonder Surrounded by the crowd People who love and hate But the weight remains And the bones still ache The deep sky calls to me And the abyss cries out My fingers in the air My toes in the water Oh I wonder, I wonder But to combat loneliness maybe like Krissy Lynn says I need to learn to love myself more, and even with all my faults and flaws and weaknesses and shortcomings and limitations and everything else.  When I look in the mirror I see a scared kid behind those eyes, behind the clay of time, a soul within a body that is slowly but surely aging, a bit more weathered and tired than I was as a boy or in my teens or twenties, a little more jaded and cynical and pessimistic, or as the late great George Carlin put it in an interview with Art Bell that I listened to recently, like a disappointed idealist, and sometimes feeling, as Frederick Buechner would put it, like a man who, when he looks in the mirror, sees at least eight parts chicken, phony, and slob... But underneath it all is still that scared kid, who feels he doesn’t really know or understand much for sure, who feels like love is something he’s not very good at actually practicing, who sometimes feels he is too pretentious and arrogant or disingenuous and fake, but who may yet have a spark of something genuine and real in him, a spark that reaches for something more, for some deeper truth with a capital T, that will set him free and bring him peace, and who is still learning what it means to be a man or a human being in this world.

This scared kid is still trying to find a way, a path, through the darkness and towards the light, maybe towards the wonderful light that will embrace him, or perhaps already does...

I've listened to debates (which were really more discussions) between Peterson and popular atheist thinker Sam Harris where they talked about truth and fact and their value and the differences between them, which were in some ways debates between science and religion, though not exactly as neither of them are overly dogmatic about their positions, or not as far as I can tell anyway. Anyways, something that gets brought up by Peterson is the danger of nihilism, which a non-religious worldview can lead to (or at least more readily), and something that gets brought up by Harris is the danger of fundamentalism, which a religious worldview can lead to (or again at least more readily). Having been both non-religious and religious at different times in my life, and now being in some weird place in between those two poles, I can attest that both concerns are valid as I have put my feet in the water of both.

To me nihilism (which is usually found in non-religious contexts but perhaps can be found in religious ones sometimes) is basically a worldview in which life has no meaning or purpose or value save what we may impose upon it, which is arbitrary at best. This worldview can leave you feeling lost and aimless and empty, with no real sense of identity or value that is intrinsic and objective, and you are just some speck in a cold and impersonal and uncaring cosmos, believing that life is either some sick joke, or just a spectrum of pleasure and pain to choose from without much consideration for any morality or ethics outside of those we may choose to invent for ourselves, because they don't really matter anyway, and nothing really matters, and life is basically just suffering and loss and madness all the way down mostly, with only brief and transitory pleasures that may give some semblance of meaning and purpose and value but all of it being only an illusion, and (at least in those non-religious contexts that have no belief in an afterlife) followed by our inevitable death, the grave, and finally oblivion, and in time probably the death of the sun, the implosion of the universe, and then nothing.

On the other hand, to me fundamentalism (which is usually found in religious contexts but perhaps can be found in non-religious ones sometimes) is basically a worldview where there is a strict and inflexible and narrow meaning and purpose and value to life that is imposed upon us by someone else or by some tradition or expectation that cannot be questioned at all or if at all very little. This worldview can leave you feeling trapped and like you're in a straitjacket (maybe in a padded room, or maybe in a room with brick walls) and at best only conditionally loved or accepted, your identity and value tied tightly to whether or not you remain devoted to your belief system and everything that goes with it, only a servant to some higher order or principle that cannot be reasoned with, and life becomes a set of do's and don'ts, rules to be followed, or else you will be punished, perhaps even (at least in those religious contexts that have some kind of belief in an afterlife) punished eternally after death, burning in fire or banished into darkness forever and ever, pick whatever literal metaphor strikes your fancy, in which case you would probably be wishing for oblivion.

I've experienced both of these extremes at different times in my life, and there is a danger of falling into either of them whether you are non-religious or religious, and I suppose one of my aims in life now is to find a way or a path between these two extremes.

Peterson often talks about a balance between order and chaos, the masculine and the feminine, the yin and the yang, which is a balance that is often talked about in Taoism. I admit I don't know much about Taoism (I have a copy of the Tao-Te-Ching but haven't read it yet, though I plan to), but I am familiar with the yin-yang symbol and what it means at least roughly. The symbol is a circle of black and white, the black half of the circle, or paisley, being yin, representing darkness and chaos and feminine energy and moving inward, and the white half of the circle, or paisley, being yang, representing light and order and masculine energy and moving outward. (Just as another aside, from what I can understand the black paisley, yin, doesn't necessarily represent evil, nor does the white paisley, yang, necessarily represent good, or at least not in any traditional sense, or I think it's much more complicated than that anyways. Just wanted to touch on that as I know that some women are understandably bothered about the feminine being equated with darkness and chaos [and this is sometimes brought up when Peterson talks about things like this as well], which are often seen in a negative light, but I think in the case of yin it is more representative of what’s hidden and unknown and of mystery and creative forces [whereas I think yang would be more representative of what’s seen and known and of answers and structural forces], and with women bearing children, who are for a time hidden and unknown and a mystery and a product of creative forces, this would make some sense symbolically and I think there is a beauty in this symbolism and I believe women can take pride in it, being the bearers of mystery and having a creative force within them. Of course this doesn't mean at all that women only have value as bearers of children, far from it, but I think this is an aspect of the feminine that is unique to women and should be a source of pride rather than shame. And hey, this is all coming from a guy who apparently needs a little more yin in his life, going by what I said above about feminine energy and all, so there's that.) In the black paisley, there is a dot of white, and in the white paisley, there is a dot of black, as there is a bit of yin in the yang, and a bit of the yang in the yin, and they are interconnected. In other words, darkness can come out of light, and light out of darkness, chaos can come out of order, and order out of chaos, the feminine is in the masculine and the masculine is in the feminine, sometimes in order to move inward you need to look outward, sometimes to move outward you need to look inward, etc.

To give a couple real life examples of this principle of the yin being in the yang and the yang being in the yin. For the first example, during the summer because of some complicated financial struggles my family had our electricity shut off, and we weren't able to get it back on for two weeks. It was only through the generosity of family and friends that we were able to pay our huge electric bill and finally get our power back on. The experience was painful for us, and one of both literal and figurative darkness, but the light in it was the generosity of others who helped us, and we wouldn't have been able to experience that generosity if we hadn’t lost our electricity. Also this experience has helped us to maybe not take things like electricity so much for granted. The yang in the yin, light in darkness, and the light was even more meaningful in that darkness. For the second example, towards the end of the summer my wife Kaylyn and I went to the beach up in Washington for our five year anniversary. All in all I think we had a good time, whether it was shopping around or eating Chinese food or watching the Lord Of The Rings trilogy in its entirety, but then on the day before we returned home Kaylyn lost her cellphone to the ocean when we were walking out on the beach together, and needless to say Kaylyn was upset and it kind of put a damper on the rest of our trip. But even this was a reminder to us to try to make the most of things even when they don't go the way we want them to, that sometimes, well, shit happens and we have to roll with it as best we can. The yin in the yang, darkness in light, and the darkness reminded us to appreciate what we still have.

And earlier this year I wrote a poem inspired by the concept of yin and yang, as well as using imagery from some real life experiences of mine, which I tentatively titled Yin and Yang: In the light of darkness In the darkness of light I remember crying to The silent stars And climbing stairs to Caress the shadow of heaven Tearing at the fresh grass When I wouldn't grow And sitting in silence with peace Drawn in the rock and the dust Numbers and letters Blending into fading miracles The hope of an embrace Holding me in my pain Pictures and poetry and names Lighting my way in the dark Bargain with demons in the day Wrestle with angels in the night

The Tao (or the Way), is about finding a balance between the yin and the yang and moving forward as you try to keep that balance, at least as I understand it. And perhaps this applies to finding a path or way between the extremes of nihilism (which one might describe as extreme chaos, where there is really no or very little solid ground to stand on, like an open ocean that drowns you) and fundamentalism (which one might describe as extreme order, where the ground is just too hard and packed and there is no or very little fertile soil to allow for things to blossom and grow, like a barren desert that leaves you dry and thirsty).

I've been in the open ocean of nihilism and the barren desert of fundamentalism at different times in my life (mainly dealing with the former in my teens and then the latter in my 20s), and while it was painful and difficult on both accounts, I feel like I learned from my experiences, for one learning the lesson, in the words of Walt Whitman (who put out better quality straw than mine for sure by the way) that I should 're-examine all I have been told, and dismiss what insults my soul', and that is what I have been trying to do through my 30s thus far. Both extremes told me that I as an individual human being had no intrinsic or objective value, that my life was either meaningless full stop or that my worth as a human being was dependent upon meeting certain standards, and I'm finding that neither extreme is right, whether about that or any number of things, and that I don't have to believe or accept either anymore, I don't have to believe or accept those insults to my soul anymore. Sometimes it feels like a tightrope act, avoiding these extremes on either side, trying to find a middle ground that offers some kind of foundation to stand on but also room for change and growth, but I think this is the way that I need to go, or the path that I need to find.

Maybe it's like trying to hammer down just enough fluttering pieces to have something to stand on, but not so many pieces that there are none left to fly, if that makes any sense... I remember one of the quotes I was thinking of using in the post I had planned to write called Measure Of A Man was this quote from a film called, of all things, Measure Of A Man, about a teenager coming of age during one summer, and this is something that an older man (played by Donald Sutherland) who ends up becoming a kind of mentor to him, tells him at one point:

I think this applies not just to men but to women as well, and people in general, and the storms of our lives that need to be navigated are of course both external and internal, both the difficult circumstances of our lives that we have to struggle with and the choices of others that are at odds with our own, and the inner turmoil and unrest that we must deal with within ourselves on a day to day basis as well as the weight of our own choices and how those choices may impact those around us.

And the measure of who we are may be in our ability to find the proper shore through all of this, through all of these storms ... though, then again, maybe there is some power or presence around us, with us, in us, that can be help us through the storms, or at least I hope there is.

One of my favorite prayers (which I also have memorized and sometimes recite in my head while taking a shower) is the Breton fisherman prayer:

'Dear God, please be good to me, for the sea is so wide, and my boat is so small.'

I often feel like my boat, this youngish but still aging body with this little scared kid of a soul in it, is so small, and the sea, this life and this weird and wild world and this universe, is so wide, so I pray, I hope, that I'm not alone in all of this, that I'm not alone in the sea or in my boat.

Sometimes when I imagine myself there, there in some small and frail boat out in a vast open sea, I imagine Jesus there in the boat with me, yes that Jesus, who I admit I rarely think of these days, though there was once a time when I thought of Jesus just about every day back when I was a Christian, or when I was trying to be one anyway. But when I think of Jesus now I don’t think of Jesus so much as some vague and mysterious historical figure that legends have been built around along the lines of whoever may or may not have inspired the legend of King Arthur, nor some mere composite of doctrines and dogmas of the church that exists simply to get as many theological ducks in a row as possible, or even as the enigmatic and paradoxical figure in the Gospels that seemingly claimed divinity and was crucified for it and came back to life a couple of days later at least in part so some skeptical guy like me could put their fingers in his scars and believe. ... Not any of those but more, well, the Jesus of my own imagination, and not imagination as in something that is completely made up off the top of my head, but more from some place deep down where dreams come from, that substrata or mine of dreams that we sometimes tap into.  And this Jesus takes on something of that classic image of him, wearing a robe and sandals, strong and sturdily built like a man who works with their hands, with the deep tan of a man who spends plenty of time in the sun, with long and somewhat brown hair (though not the cascading perfectly combed luscious locks that are sometimes given to him in films about him), and a ruggedly handsome though somewhat weathered face (that of someone who has known struggle and pain) with deep brown eyes that are somehow both penetrating and kind. And this Jesus is simply there with me, sometimes holding my hands, just reassuring me with no words that I’m not alone. And this Jesus in the boat with me, much like the red headed little girl in that dream of mine, tells me to not give up, and not so much with words but just with his reassuring presence. I’m reminded of the beautiful classic song Suzanne by Leonard Cohen, which I sometimes find myself listening to in the middle of the night, and that strangely beautiful second verse about Jesus: And Jesus was a sailor When he walked upon the water And he spent a long time watching From his lonely wooden tower And when he knew for certain Only drowning men could see him He said "All men will be sailors then Until the sea shall free them" But he himself was broken Long before the sky would open Forsaken, almost human He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone   And you want to travel with him And you want to travel blind And you think maybe you'll trust him For he's touched your perfect body with his mind I don’t know what Cohen meant by all of that, what was going through his head when he wrote that, but I wonder... Maybe there is a reason we are in these boats, why we are sailors out on this sea that we call life, but maybe true freedom will only come when we are no longer afraid of the sea, the sea of life... perhaps God is the sea, and Jesus, being a human symbol of God in the minds of many, is like the sea in that boat encouraging me not to be afraid, because the day will come when the time for being a sailor will be over, when it will be time to jump out of this small and frail boat of mine and dive into the depths, and perhaps rather than drowning in those waters I will be able to breathe in those waters and be embraced by them and call them home, and perhaps in this case the proper shore isn’t on land, but in the sea itself... 

I'm also reminded of one of my friend Erin's favorite songs by one of her all time favorite bands, Simon and Garfunkel, Bridge Over Troubled Water:

When you're weary, feeling small When tears are in your eyes, I'll dry them all I'm on your side, oh, when times get rough And friends just can't be found Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down When you're down and out When you're on the street When evening falls so hard I will comfort you I'll take your part, oh, when darkness comes And pain is all around Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down Sail on silver girl Sail on by Your time has come to shine All your dreams are on their way See how they shine Oh, if you need a friend I'm sailing right behind Like a bridge over troubled water I will ease your mind Like a bridge over troubled water I will ease your mind

Is there some power or presence, like the Jesus in my imagination, like the sea that I need not fear and will not drown but rather embrace me, that is beyond us but also with us, that will dry our tears, be at our side, comfort us, take our part, and sail right behind and ease our minds, that can somehow help us navigate to the proper shore, even if that is in the sea itself, at least until that day that we are no longer sailors but will be freed and embraced by that which we need no longer fear? Maybe... I hope so... because I would rather not be on my own having to figure this out on my own, and I would rather dream of freedom and being embraced... but one way or another, I will have to keep moving forward as best I can, trying to find my way.

Earlier last week I had a breakdown, crying alone in my bed for different reasons, partly because of my feelings of disappointment in myself, disappointment because of how I relate, or fail to relate, to others, disappointment in not really doing much with my life, being a janitor who cleans toilets for a living and who can’t drive and who still lives with his mother (and with his wife and cat, but you get the idea), disappointment in being an aspiring writer who has all of these ideas for books but has yet to publish one because of a general lack of motivation and confidence, disappointment in myself for being kind of aimless and lost and not being able to imagine my life beyond 40, wondering if I will die young like my friend Erin but unlike her that my life will not amount to much at all in the end. I felt like a failure, felt that I’m just not loving enough or mature enough or successful enough or grounded enough... I felt worthless in those moments, like I’m just not good enough... which unfortunately is far from being my first time to feel that way in my life, and I am sure it won’t be the last. The following night when walking home after a difficult day at work, feeling tired and drained and alone, I was thinking about these things again, and was even thinking about death, dancing around the idea of suicide, part of me wishing that no one cared for me (I could lie to myself and say that no one does but I’m not at that point yet thankfully) so I could opt out without hurting anyone, wrestling with those thoughts and others in my mind. I was listening to music in my earbuds on my music player as I was walking, and the beautiful Corrs cover of R.E.M.’s Everybody Hurts came up on my playlist and started playing, and when Andrea, their lead singer, got to the part where she sings  no, no, no, you’re not alone’ it broke me, and I began weeping while I was walking, partly because I was afraid it wasn’t true, and partly because I hoped that it was. I hoped that those beautiful words backed by soaring violins were true, and that maybe God, if he (or she, or both combined) was listening, or whoever was listening that cared, was saying that to me through that song in that moment... And this week has been really rough for me too, in large part because of a deep and complex problem in my life regarding a relationship of mine (a problem that I don’t feel comfortable sharing about here), and all in all I’ve been pretty shaken up and depressed. I had another breakdown (this many breakdowns in such a short period of time is kind of unusual for me, at least these days) while lying in bed, crying out to God or whoever was listening for help, after which the number 145 started flashing in my mind, which led me to this big book of religious and spiritual poetry that I have that has thousands of poems that are numbered and categorized, and turning to page 145 I found a poem about Jesus as a child that ended with a reference to Gethsemane (where Jesus apparently sweated blood because of how much anguish he was in, which I can really relate to), which kind of said to me that God truly understands (in the same way that Savannah Brown in her video hopes that we can understand one another)  what I am going through in my life, and then when I turned to poem number 145, it was one that talked about the haunting presence of God, and beneath that, poem 146, there was an excerpt from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem In Memoriam that really jumped out at me: That which we dare invoke to bless;      Our dearest faith; our ghastliest doubt;      He, They, One, All; within, without; The Power in darkness whom we guess; I found Him not in world or sun,      Or eagle's wing, or insect's eye;      Nor thro' the questions men may try, The petty cobwebs we have spun: If e'er when faith had fall'n asleep,      I heard a voice `believe no more'      And heard an ever-breaking shore That tumbled in the Godless deep; A warmth within the breast would melt      The freezing reason's colder part,      And like a man in wrath the heart Stood up and answer'd "I have felt. "No, like a child in doubt and fear:      But that blind clamour made me wise;      Then was I as a child that cries, But, crying, knows his father near; And what I am beheld again      What is, and no man understands;      And out of darkness came the hands That reach thro' nature, moulding men. This excerpt of Tennyson’s poem said to me that in my crying that my Father (or my Mother, or my Creator, or whatever you may call it) was and is near, and that there is maybe some higher meaning or purpose (that moulding) to my whole situation in life, that I am not alone and one day I may understand, and all of this helped me to calm down and rest a bit. Since then I have still be struggling off and on, but I feel like I am beginning to level out somewhat, partly because of little encouraging glimpses and whispers like these, and partly through the encouragement and kindness of friends, and while I’m not out of the woods yet, I’m seeing a little more light and have a little more hope than I had before, though of course I will continue to have my ups and downs as all of us do... whatever the case, I will keep trying to move forward, will keep trying to find my way, will keep trying to hold on, hold on, believing with whatever faith and hope I have that no, no, no, I’m not alone, even, or especially when, I am crying in the dark.

I believe each of us is like a portal into another world, and through my words (which no matter how hard I try seem like straw at the end of the day) I try to open my portal so you can maybe get a glimpse into it, or hear whispers from it, and of course this world that you may call Matthew or some guy you know more or less, but that I call my life and my soul, is just one world among billions of worlds on this World, with a capital W, that we call Earth and that all of us share, and the Earth of course doesn't revolve around me anymore than it does anyone of course, or at least it shouldn't anyway. And of course your perceptions of me and your interpretations of what I have to say here will inevitably be different from my own perceptions or interpretations of myself and everything I've written here, that's a given and there's no way around that sadly. I've talked about empathy and understanding here but just because it's important doesn't make it easy, as maybe some of you reading this disagree with me or take issue with me on this or on that in all my weird and wild jumping around, whether it is on politics or social issues or philosophy or religion or my ideas or beliefs or perceptions or interpretations or experiences or whatever it may be, heck, maybe you even disagree with my taste in music or books or movies for all I know, and maybe some of you may find it hard to empathize with me or understand me for whatever reasons, and as sad as that might be for me I know that it's always a possibility. I can’t make everyone like me, let alone love me, anymore than anyone can make me like or love them. It’s always a choice for each of us. Not through my words or even through my actions could I ever hope to gain respect or love or acceptance from everyone that I come into contact with or comes into contact with me in whatever way, that hasn't happened and that's not going to happen, which goes back to the importance of learning to respect and love and accept myself, and of course having empathy and understanding towards myself isn't any easier than having empathy and understanding towards others, but hey you gotta try to start somewhere, right?

I remember in an audio drama that I was listening to recently called Olive Hill, in the last episode the main character said something about how it may be that life will never be completely satisfying, that we will always be searching or reaching for whatever it is we are longing and aching for, and as sad as that is maybe that’s okay, because maybe it is what keeps us moving forward, maybe hope keeps us moving forward, further up and further in (and down, and out).

I hope that my writing here, my blog or my blarg or my bleh, is better than some of my writings in the past, that it is less pretentious and arrogant, that it is not so disingenuous and fake, and that there is a spark of something genuine and real in these words like straw, and that they are aimed in the right direction, maybe towards a star. I hope that I can learn to be at peace, balls to bones, not knowing or understanding everything, and that I can learn to walk the ways of love with more confidence, and can learn to be more empathetic towards those who are different from me. I hope that I've gathered enough of the fluttering pieces to say something with some weight or value, to lay some kind of foundation, though perhaps leaving some fluttering pieces to fly, leaving a little room for mystery, perhaps the kind of mystery that will embrace me in the end, like a mother embraces her child. I hope I've been able to swim through all of the stormy waters here, and that there is a baby in all of this bathwater, and some proof in all this pudding. I hope that I will have it in me to carry my cross, but also hope that I will not be alone in carrying it. I hope that I have been able in some small way to invite you and include you in my reaching, my longing, my aching, as messy and awkward and weird as it may be, and that there is a kind of communion between us here somehow, holding up our hands and our hearts, as you read between the lines and as I write between them. I hope I and all of us can hold onto the magic, that in growing up we don't lose it entirely, I hope that even beneath the clay of time it is still part of us somehow, and perhaps we are a part of it. I hope that I will always have the strength and courage in me to not give up, and to remember that life is not only sorrow but also joy, joy as poignant as grief. I hope that I will continue to be able to see the signs and be able to follow them wherever they may lead, even if it gets a little weird and wild. I hope that one day I too, like my friend Erin, will set foot on white shores leading into a far green country with a swift sunrise, walking into a wonderful light, and will see face to face and will know even as I am fully known. I hope that I can find the dreams I need to find in the mines of my soul so I can carry them into the world, whether the world in me or the world around me. I hope that my soul can find somewhere to stand, that my threads can catch somewhere firm, even if they may feel like petty cobwebs sometimes. I hope that I can learn to respect and love and accept myself, even if I may still be a scared kid deep inside. I hope that I can find the middle path, or the way, between those extremes of open oceans and barren deserts, between darkness and light, chaos and order, yin and yang, that I can find the balance. I hope that I will somehow be able to navigate to the proper shore in the worst of the storms, even if it is in the sea itself, though also hope that there is something, or someone, with me here in this little boat of mine, holding my hands and letting me know to not be afraid and to not give up, and promising to help me along the way, sailing right behind. I hope that I can hold on, hold on, and remember that no, no, no, I’m not alone, and even when I am crying in the dark, believing that one day I will understand.

And lastly, I hope that, after having picked away at this post for about a month, that something here in all of this straw of mine speaks to you, encourages you, challenges you, or in some way or another helps you along your way. I hope that we can all stumble along the way together, here and now in this weird and wild world.

[tibbinswrites]

Prompt: “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Prompt requested by @psychicbouquetblaze-stuff​ (sorry I’m retagging you for the same story but the ‘keep reading’ link no longer worked so I thought it would be best to repost. I’ve also edited it a bit because it needed doing).

Prompts are open. I’ve got a few lists to choose from in the ‘Prompts’ section of my blog or feel free to send me an ask or a message if there’s a specific one you’d like ^_^

Dean/Castiel

Prompt #5 from this list: “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Castiel flashed his badge and a smile to the janitor as he opened his front door.

“Mr Faukes? FBI Agent Moore, and this is my partner, Agent Mathers. We were hoping to ask you a few questions about the incident you reported last night.”

Dean held up his own badge with a faint tightening of his eyes at the alias. It had been one of Cas’ spare sets of badges in the glove compartment of the continental, Sam had taken the impala to the next town over, where a possibly related case had also popped up. Dean hadn’t been happy about it, but he had conceded that point that seeing as he had a fully powered angel with him, it was best Sam take the vast majority of their weapons, just in case.

Faukes, after throwing a cursory glance at Dean, looked back to Castiel with a shy smile of his own. He was a tall man, late 30s, with strong arms and rugged features. His clothes looked to be a patchwork of different autumn-coloured fabrics but they blended together well and looked soft and comfortable. His light brown hair was neatly combed and he had kind brown eyes that Castiel found himself trusting.

“Sure thing,” he said, stepping back to let them in with the slightly awkward movements of someone who didn’t get a lot of visitors. His voice had a gravelly tone to it that matched the slight German accent. Castiel liked the sound. They walked past him into the small apartment. It smelled pleasantly of lemongrass and was sparsely decorated with an overflowing bookshelf, a sofa squashed beside it and a rickety desk that looked more like storage space than a place of work. A kitchenette was in one corner with a square table and a single chair for meals. The dish rack next to the sink was stuffed with crockery and there was a small sewing machine on another table, along with a couple of rolls of fabric leaning against the wall. A small electric heater clunked slightly as it fought against the morning chill. It was a messy home but meticulously clean. Faukes gestured them to the sofa and spun the dining chair around to face it before sitting himself on the plush cushion tied to the slats with ribbon, “And you can call me Matt. What do you need to know?”

“Your report said you found a jar of eyes in your boss’ office?” Dean cut in as Castiel opened his mouth. His tone was sharp, accusatory, as though Matt was their prime suspect when in reality he was just a witness. Matt looked a little unsettled at the heavy scowl Dean was levelling his way and Castiel couldn’t blame him, he shot Dean a look to take it easy, which was ignored.

“Um… yeah,” Matt said, dragging his eyes from Dean back to Castiel, who nodded encouragingly. Matt cleared his throat, fiddling with a stray thread on the hem of his shirt and began to speak, “So, I was cleaning up after we closed and I noticed the door to Mr Hitching’s office was open. I thought it was strange because even when he’s in he keeps it shut, and he’s supposed to be on holiday for the next two weeks. I figured his one of the other owners might have needed some papers or something and called up his secretary to come and fetch them so I thought I might as well just pop in to vacuum and empty the trash. But I saw it as soon as I turned the light on. It was just… sat on the desk. Like a paperweight, like it wasn’t something important enough to even hide. Five eyes. I remember thinking how weird that was, why five? That’s not even three people… That’s horrible, right? I shouldn’t have thought that.”

“Not at all.” Castiel assured him, leaning forwards intently, “When faced with trauma, the human brain—if it doesn’t reject the trauma entirely—might try to focus on certain details to distract from the trauma itself. You’d be surprised at some of the things people notice when faced with things of this nature. Sometimes their observations are vital to solving the case.”

Matt smiled again, smaller this time, but grateful. It was nice, Castiel decided, making this man smile.

“I bet you’ve got a load of stories like this, huh?” Matt said, shifting forward slightly too, sounding awed and impressed at the idea, “Job like yours. God, I couldn’t do it.”

“Well, we can’t all be janitors.” Dean muttered. The comment was innocuous enough, and Castiel would have ignored it if it hadn’t been for Dean’s tone, practically dripping with venom. Matt’s face immediately fell and Castiel shifted on the couch to glare his ‘partner’.

“Agent Mathers, that was incredibly rude. I think you owe Mr Faukes an apology.”

Dean flushed, an angry red tinge creeping up the back of his neck. He stared at Castiel and the angel saw a kaleidoscope of emotions flash across his face, too fast to catch any of them, but after a moment he relented and turned back to Matt.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, “my partner’s right. I was out of line.”

“It’s alright,” Matt said, looking more confused than offended now, “but thank you.”

Castiel took over the questioning from there, gently prying for all the details Matt could remember. Castiel found himself intrigued by the man, it was clear he was very self-conscious, about his job, his home, himself, but there was also a confidence to him born of self-reliance that Castiel couldn’t help but respect. He also seemed grateful to talk. From what he told them, he didn’t have many friends in the community.

“It’s a small town,” he said, when Castiel asked him why that was, “around here, everyone knows everything about everyone, and they’re pretty quick to judge. Most of them are heavy church-goers. And not the kind that preach love and acceptance, if you get my meaning.”

“That must be difficult.”

Matt shrugged, “It is what it is,” he said, his head tilting slightly to the side as he met Castiel’s eyes, “but it’s nice to talk to some folks with a different mindset for a change.”

Castiel nodded, trying his best to ignore the click of Dean’s jaw and the tension oozing from the seat next to him, “I understand,” he said, “I too find it difficult to ‘branch out’ when it comes to socialising.”

That was an understatement. Excluding other angels, who were less likely to want to catch up than they were to want to bury an angel blade in his chest, most the social interaction Castiel had experienced was through the Winchesters. Sam and Dean were the best men he knew, and their chosen family was a good one, but that didn’t stop Castiel from thinking that it might be nice to have people to talk to without the weight of world-shattering consequences as a constant looming presence in every conversation.

“Anyway, thank you for your time,” he continued, standing and indicating that Dean should follow suit, “you’ve been very helpful.” He produced a card and handed it to Matt while Dean made a beeline for the door. “Here’s my number. If you remember something else, or if you just need to talk to someone with a different mindset, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely call.” Matt said with a wink. “Agent Moore, would it be terribly inappropriate if I were to ask you on a date?”

Dean froze, his hand on the doorknob.

“I- it would,” Castiel stuttered, heat rushing to his face, “but I think I would like that. Perhaps once this case is over?”

“Keep me updated.” Matt grinned.

Dean yanked open the door and strode off down the hall, not even waiting for Castiel to catch up. The angel rolled his eyes and glanced at Matt, who snickered and held up his card.

“Good luck with the case.”

Xxx

“I can’t believe you, Cas. First of all, you made me a rapper, what the hell? Second of all, how do you go into a freaking suspect’s house and come out with a date?”

“Nothing’s been arranged,” Castiel said calmly, watching from the end of one of the twin beds as Dean wore a path in the already threadbare carpet of their motel room, “besides, Matt isn’t a suspect, he’s a witness.”

“Until we can prove he’s not the one carving out eyes, he’s both.” Dean insisted. “I just… I don’t get it, man, I thought you liked chicks anyway?”

“I’m indifferent to gender.” Castiel said, frowning. “I’ve never understood why it matters so much to humans what pronouns their partners use. I liked him. He was interesting and kind and I would like to get to know him better, what’s wrong with that?”

“We’re in the middle of a case, Cas, you can’t afford to get… you know, distracted.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow, “and how many bartenders and waitresses and almost-victims have you gotten ‘distracted’ with, Dean?”

“That’s different!”

“How?” Castiel demanded, truly irritated now. Dean had many wonderful traits that Castiel admired but his hypocrisy was not one of them. He supposed it stemmed from being the older sibling, more often left in charge than not, ‘do as I say, not as I do’ was practically etched into his bones.

“Because...” Dean spluttered, “because they’re just a bit of fun, alright? They knew the drill, we’re not exactly planning to settle down, and were never go out on dates.” He spat the word like something filthy, “What kind of future do you expect you can have with this guy, huh? Are you gonna tell him what we do? Bring him home and introduce him to your half-archangel son and all the people we yanked from another world? The guy was squeamish about a jar of eyes, how do you think he’d handle literally any of the crap we go through?”

“A first date is not a marriage proposal, Dean. What’s the harm in dinner and a movie?”

“You don’t eat.”

“I can, I just don’t need to.” Castiel shot back, “Random sexual conquests don’t appeal to me. I would rather find a person I have a connection with, and I felt I had a connection with Matt. Why are you so angry? The last time I had a date you were happy for me. Is it really because he’s a man?”

“No!” Dean yelled, a little too loudly, he winced as the sound bounced back to him from the cheap cinderblock walls and lowered his voice to a hiss, his arms folded tightly across his chest and he finally stopped pacing, “It’s because I think you’re being irresponsible. We don’t know that we’re not gonna have to gut that guy before the week is out. And what are you talking about a connection? You spoke for half an hour, you don’t build a connection in half an hour.”

“You’re not angry-” Castiel realised, squinting at the man in front of him. His hands were tucked up into his armpits and his shoulders were slightly rounded, almost as though he was trying to curl into himself, “you’re hurt. Wait a minute, are you jealous?”

“What?!” Dean exclaimed, “Jealous? No, I’m not jealous. Of what? I didn’t like that guy.”

Castiel tilted his head, “Then what?” he asked, his voice low and even, “You don’t like that I like him? You don’t like that I could possibly show interest in anyone other than you?”

Dean took a step back like Castiel had hit him. All the blood drained from his face.

“What are you talking about?” He said, which is what Dean always said when confronted with something he didn’t want to admit to.

“Come on, Dean,” Castiel said impatiently, “you’re not stupid and subtlety isn’t my strong suit. You know how I feel about you, you’ve known it for years. So you don’t want it but you don’t want anyone else to want it either?”

“That’s… that’s not-” Dean choked out, looking sick now, “I didn’t mean-”

“Then what?” Castiel cried, finally standing to be on even ground with Dean. He was frustrated, he was angry, he was overwhelmed, “Explain it to me, because I don’t understand.”

Instead of speaking, Dean’s jaw snapped shut and for a moment, Castiel was sure he was going to bolt from the room. Instead he strode forward two steps and cupped Castiel’s face with his hands before bringing their lips together, effectively shorting out his brain.

“I’ve always wanted you.” Dean murmured against his mouth, “Since Purgatory I’ve let myself want you. But if I had you, I could lose you. And I’m not strong enough to lose you.”

They stayed that way for a while, breathing each other’s air, foreheads pressed together, lips barely brushing. Dean’s hands were warm and calloused and gentle against his skin, Castiel’s hands gripped at the fabric of Dean’s shirt, though he didn’t remember moving.

“It’s worth it for this,” Castiel whispered back, half-lost in the feeling of Dean so close, “isn’t it?”

“Losing you sucked bad, Cas.” Dean said shaking his head and pulling back slightly, just enough that they could lock eyes, “I gave up.”

Castiel sighed and pulled away completely, stepping back, feeling cold as Dean’s hands left him. “I understand,” he said, “but I disagree. Neither of us can guarantee forever and it’s not fair for you to try and keep me from seeking elsewhere something that you aren’t willing to give me.”

“I know,” Dean said, but he reached out to take his hand and slot their fingers together, “So this is me realising that I’m willing, I guess.”

Castiel squeezed his hand and quirked a small smile, “Finally.”

[citroentje]

A big note on self love

For the last six months, I’ve been travelling to Australia to work on myself.  When I booked the flight, I had just quit my job. It wasn’t just the job itself that I hated, it was the entire industry I was in. Marketing felt unethical, capitalistic and very empty. It’s total bullshit. When I booked the flight, I never really felt at home in my apartment. On my own, above a fucking bar, in a big city. When I booked the flight, I just turned 24 and I still hadn’t been kissed, which caused a lot of self-hate and doubt. I expected to get my first kiss when I was 14, not ten years later. And to top it all off: when I booked the flight, I just turned 24, and I wasn’t able to celebrate my birthday because I didn’t have any friends anymore to invite.

All those pillars that usually build your life (work, friends, love life, hobbies, a home); I saw them all crumbling down. All at the same time, right before my eyes. I got very depressed and I cried every day. It felt like the ticket to Australia was the only light at the end of the tunnel. 

During my travels, I had a lot of time to think about those pillars. What was it that needed to change? What were the aspects that I did like about my job? What did I miss in my apartment? How could I possibly make new friends?

Yesterday, I got back home. I feel like I found a sense of direction for most of those pillars. But I realized that the biggest thing that needs to change is me. When I talked about myself to other people, I noticed how insecure and negative my words were. I used to hate it when people preached about self love, and to some extent, I still do. It’s great that you love yourself, but don’t shove it down my troat. However, I learned that self love is not the same as narcissism. And I sure as hell could use some of it.

Below are some personal insights, some of which might help you too. 

SOME PERSONAL INSIGHTS 

Job

When it comes to my job, I think I might want to become a jeweller. Because the more I thought about it, the more sense it seemed to make. 

- First of all: making jewellery is very creative, and that’s what I really want to do with my life. To work with my hands and create something new and beautiful and luxurious. - Jewellery can be very meaningful. I would love to make the rings for your wedding, design a personal necklace or fix your beloved grandfathers watch.  - It’s sustainable, especially when you compare it to cheap fashion or technology. People don’t throw away their silver and gold.  - Jewellery is gonna stay, especially if the rich keep getting richer. Also, people will never ever buy their wedding rings at H&M. So hopefully I won’t have to worry about the robots taking over.  - I can be my own boss and not have to deal with managers, consultants or stupid ass meetings anymore to not talk about stuff I don’t care about. - Yes, becoming a jeweller is way below my intelligence and education. Try to get over it.   

Home 

- I need roommates. I hated the quiet house and lack of contact with my neighbours.  - I need to live somewhere close to nature. I want to be able to walk in the park, go to the beach or cycle in a forest. - Speaking of which, I want flowers in my house. - And music. I always forget to turn on the radio.  

Friends + Love Life

These are the ones I found to be most difficult. Even in Australia, where you meet new backpackers every single day, it’s hard to find friends that will actually stick around. But I do have some ideas: 

-  Find a teamsport. Yoga was all fun and games but there were not a lot of bonding or common goals involved.  - Same with hobbies.  - Make a habit of sharing your food. Free cupcakes every Monday morning or something. Everybody loves food. - Literally ask for it. If you have a single friend who is very social, ask him/her if he/she knows anyone else that might fit you.  - Go to places where you can easily meet new people. Book a few days in a hostel for no good reason. Look for activities and festivals in your area. Be open when doing so. - Anyone is a possible friend. Don’t write people off too soon.  - Superficial relationship are relationships too. Small talk is talk too.  - What is it that you like about your friends? Is it their intelligence, their humour, their care, their selfconfidance? You might want to look for that in new relationships too. 

Self love

- You may not even believe in it, but count your good karma. Is it simply very fortunate that the sun shines on your birthday, or did you do something to deserve it?  It helps you to count your blessings and take some credit for it too. - Your brain loves change. Redecorate your room, visit a new city and look for anything that stimulates your brain, like a museum or street art. Break your patterns: eat something different for breakfast or take another route to work. New stuff makes your brain very happy.  - Search for transcendentic experiences. Look at the stars and feel small. Watch the sunset and feel connected to the universe. See a skeleton of a dinosaur and ponder how old the Earth is. Think about that time when you were in a limestone cave/cathedral and they played an acapella version of Hallelujah in the dark and for a full second you believed God existed. If it makes you quiet, it’s probably working.  - Take self love seriously. Look for blogs, videos, apps and write about it. If you want to change, it really starts with your mindset and beliefs. If you don’t believe in it, it won’t work. - After that: practice, practice, practice. If you want to be more social, try to speak up every now and then. If you want to be more cuddly, try to touch people a bit more often. Practice makes perfect.  - Meditate and use self hypnosis. Again, if you don’t believe it’ll work, it sure as hell won’t. All hail the placebo effect.  - Write down what’s awesome about you. Writing about self love is not narcisissm. It’s about making your thoughts more graspable.  - Be creative. Put your feelings into a piece of art and look for inspiration, like visiting a museum or looking at street art.  - Last but not least the cliché stuff: turn on music, wander around nature, find a new hobby, blah blah blah. 

[quaintrelle-on-the-loose]

I wrote this last Tuesday night (September 11th) at 18:41 :

Here I go again questioning myself and doubting the decisions that I made, are making, and are about to make. For the nth time, I am second guessing myself. Or no, scratch that. I am debating against myself!

The thing is, I don't know what exactly brought me to writing this entry right now: is it the hormones writing, my bad mood, or my boredom at office the entire day that's doing the talking, or is it a mix of them all? I DON'T KNOW. But the thing is, there are a lot --- and believe me when I say "a lot" --- of things coming in and out of my head for a day now. There are tons of thoughts clouding up my mind and I really have the need to get them all out.

It was sudden. Thinking about these random stuff all of a sudden and in just a day feels like my head's going to burst anytime soon. One by one, some random stuff comes to my head and suddenly it feels like a LIFE CHECKPOINT.

Why am I here? Why am I doing these things that I am doing right now when I know to myself what would make me the happiest? Yes, happiest. 'Cause I know that I am happy of where I am right now but I also know that I could do more and I could be happier.

I know deep inside me of what could make my heart happy. I know about the things that I am passionate of. I know them all 'cause even if I unintentionally neglect them, my soul's craving them (and here and now would be the best example of that)!

I also believe that I am here right now for a reason. I mean, I may not know yet for what purpose exactly, but I know that it would make sense later on. It always does. Reminiscing the things that happened these past years felt like watching my life story unfold in front of me — making sense of the things that happened that didn't really make sense the moment they had to happen.

It is hard to be doing something that you'd never pictured yourself doing. But it is harder to be not be able to do what you really wanted and has always loved to do. Why did I take up Economics when Biology interests me more? Why did I end up analyzing and studying corporate governance when teaching and writing excite me more?

I know. I couldn't do anything about the past anymore and take up a course that I would have enjoyed more. But I also know that it is not yet too late to have a detour. That's why I got pressured and a bit worked up today --- am i really sure that I'd attend grad school and push through what I've already started? Or would it be a waste of time knowing that I have something that I could enjoy more? Thinking about it leads me to choosing between what would matter more for me: taking risk and starting over again to pursue what my heart's telling me or to be practical and not waste what I've already started?

I also thought about just pushing through grad school and do writing as a hobby on the sideline. But the thing is, this passion is also one of the things that I want to hone more. I am used to writing but it has always just been informal writing --- just personal writings on my journal or writing for my personal blogs. Yes, I have experienced writing formally, of course. Wouldn't have survived college if not. I also experienced competing in writing contests way back in gradeschool and high school. But having to win them just required a lot of reading and some techniques. And that's not really what I am craving for right now. I want to be able to write more effectively. I know that writing could be so personal but I want to learn to be not too personal, too. Having to write on my journals since gradeschool and to write blog entries since high school have made me master writing too personal and just personal stuff. I want to do more. I want to write not just about and for myself but for others too. I want my pieces to have impact. I want to be able to connect to people who'd read my articles and entries in a deep level, if that makes sense. I want to grow in this area because it is one of the things that make me feel this different kind of happiness and fulfillment.

I couldn't do anything too but wonder why I ended up wanting to do a lot of things all of a sudden. I want to pursue grad school and get a PhD afterwards and teach at a university, while wanting to be able to write pieces about topics that are close to my heart (or to just write about something that I feel strongly about) that could bring impact to other people, and all those other goals and dreams that I have in mind. I want to put my blogging into the next and more serious level to also have a balance between work and life. I want to invest on something for myself and for my hobbies but should also consider what's on top of my priority list. If it's only possible to do and have everything, I would be the luckiest! But reality is, life does not work that way. There are so many limitations to consider. WE CAN'T HAVE IT ALL.

In order to have a good teaching career in the future, I have to attend grad school and establish a good foundation. Thus, I have to invest more if not most of my time, money, and effort on it in the near future. This is also why it's gonna be harder and challenging to insert "the writing career" that I am wishing to also have. Not just that. I would be needing to stay at my current job to fund my schooling and to be able to earn for a living.

I want to do alot of things for myself. I want to try different things and invest on things that I believe would help me grow but the thing is, my life is not just about me. It will never just be about me. I am working for a living but it is not just for my own living. My life is not just about how I'd support myself but also about the lives of the people who I care for and who I share my life with.

I want to live life to the fullest. I've always dreamed of turning every dream into reality. I wanted to try and experience a lot of things. But then, that moment would come when reality has to hit hard and make you realize that limitations exist. And that at the end of the day, you've got to choose. Because you have these priorities that weigh more than the other ones that you have. So you just gotta go, choose, decide. And live with it.

Adulting is liberating.

And it sucks, too.

Sometimes.

And after exactly a day of writing it, I got rebuked. I got freakin' rebuked last night while listening to Pastor JC as he preached the Word. It was crazy. And when I say crazy, what I really mean is — beautiful crazy!

[spideyxchelle]

so a lot of people have been poking me about a friends with benefits type thing and I GOT CARRIED AWAY. are we surprised? no. we’re not. because this is the content y’all request for my blog, lbr. 

in case that wasn’t clear this is exceptionally explicit. you have been warned. and should probs not read this if you’re not.....you know, I WON’T SAY ANY MORE. just be warned. it’s got some explicit content, fam. 

also this hasn’t been edited. who are we kidding??? dis me. 

MJ and Peter accidentally start having sex. Accidentally in the way that they’re both seventeen and reasonably attractive and Game of Thrones is endlessly frustrating. To be honest, looking back on it, MJ is ninety percent certain Game of Thrones is to blame.

In the season finale of Game of Thrones, the show makes it seem like Jon and Dany can’t help themselves, that sex is an inevitability and even if they didn’t want to fall into bed together it was going to happen. But, from her experience, that is not the way sex works and Peter watches Game of Thrones with her so he’s subjected to her rant.

“I’m just saying,” she seethes, “you know, incest aside, they had a choice on whether or not to have sex. The fact that the show is making it seem like it’s fate or some shit is dumb.”

Peter chuckles and makes her tea in her empty kitchen, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Jon definitely tripped and fell into her vagina. Total accident.”

MJ laughs in the way that only Peter ever hears, it’s a quiet, joyful sound, “My bad. I forgot that happened.”

“Yea,” he grins and tosses the tea bag, crossing to her and handing off the tea, “Did we even watch the same finale?”

She rolls her eyes, “Seriously, though, sex is a choice. It’s important to me that television is aware of that.”

Peter smiles, and his smile occasionally makes her stomach ruffle, now is one of those times, “Guys and girls can have strong military alliances without sex being on the table.”

“Exactly,” she grins, reaching for the bag of discarded chips on her coffee table, “God, I miss sex.”

Peter’s jaw flexes in the way that it sometimes does whenever she mentions Mark. She knows he’s not a prude, he had way too much sex with Gwen Stacey the summer before to be considered a prude but he always looks displeased whenever she mentions her sex life. Or lack thereof in the last three months. Liz’s younger brother had broken things off when he went away to college and with his disappearance her sex life disappeared as well.

“Yea, well,” he gruffed, stealing her cup of water and drinking it.

“Three months is too long,” she rolls her neck, working out the kink in it. Mid-neck roll is when she has the idea. And frankly, it’s not her best idea but it’s also not her worst. “We should have sex.”

Peter chokes on his water and manages to dribble some on his lap. She watches him, unimpressed at his fumbling display, but once he recovers he doesn’t give her the answer she wants, “MJ, what the hell?”

“What?” She shrugs, crunching on a stale chip, “It’s not incest. We’re already way better than Game of Thrones.”

He smiles, in spite of himself, and shoots back, “That we know of. Still could be incest. If Game of Thrones taught us anything its that everything is incest.”

MJ tosses her leg over Peter’s waist and retorts, “I’m willing to risk it.” His eyes widen slightly before she closes her mouth over his and she knows, realistically, that she probably should have gotten his express consent before mushing her mouth against his but he was sitting there moderately attractive and sputtering over water and, frankly, that level of cigs is asking to be kissed.

She feels his hands flex against her waist, like his restraint is costing him something, and then whatever war he’s having with himself folds in and he’s gripping the skin under her shirt at her waist. He’s a little rougher than she would have thought but it’s stable and firm and she’s into it.

When they break apart, unwillingly, MJ whispers, “See, that was a choice. It wasn’t inevitable or fate or anything. I decided.”

“Yes,” Peter roughs out, briefly biting at her bottom lip, “Game of Thrones is terrible and sex is a consensual decision between two people, not an inevitability.”

She wiggles her bottom over his waist and feels the familiar poking of a penis. It’s not until that moment she really remembers how much she liked sex, and she’s struck by a new thought that sex with Peter might be good. Hell, it might be better than sex with Mark. “Good answer,” she quips and yanks her shirt off. He stares at her bare chest dumbly and she tilts his head up to look in her eyes, “Up here idiot.” His eyes snap to hers. “This doesn’t mean anything.” And even as she says it, she sort of knows it’s a lie but sex is a decision. She won’t give Game of Thrones the satisfaction of being right about how some people and sex are just are inevitability.

She sees Peter’s brain working, can almost see the smoke leaving his ears from how much he is overthinking all of this, and while its semi-endearing she needs his full attention. She tugs his mouth up to hers and once they start kissing they can’t seem to stop. Not because its an inevitability, like that stupid episode preached, but because its fun. MJ could totally stop if she wanted to, she reasons.  

She could totally stop after Peter flips them over on her couch and crowds his body over hers. She could totally stop once Peter strips off his shirt and all of his muscles, of which there are many, are on display for her to touch and kiss. She could totally stop as soon as Peter rids her of her pants and burrows his face between her legs, kissing and sucking at juncture of her thighs. Even then, once the world is fuzzy from his attention, she figures she could stop. 

And then, her vision goes white and her back arches off her parent’s ratty, red couch as Peter brings her to a finish. It makes her toes curls and her head snap back. It’s the kind of orgasm she never would have expected from Peter Parker. He’s rougher around the edges than she would have imagined, more experienced. 

She recovers and pulls him up for a kiss, the taste of her on his tongue. “You’re good at that,” she manages between kisses. 

“I’ve had a bit of practice,” he grins into her mouth, brushing her hair back off her face. Her hands slips down between their bodies and flicks open the button of his jeans. His eyes darken with something of a warning, “MJ, come on. This is a bad idea.”

She unzips his pants, “Do you not want to?”

He shakes his head, “I didn’t say that. I said its a bad idea.”

“We can,” she draws him into a long, lingering kiss that has him groaning and her insides flipping out, “totally do this. I trust you. You trust me. We’re friends. Friends can have sex.”

Peter counters, “Friends shouldn’t have sex.” 

“I know you keep a condom in your wallet, Parker. Your choice. I’m totally down. If you want to...grab the condom.” 

And Peter’s face screws up, like he’s more conflicted over this than anything in his entire life. Which is ridiculous because he’s a superhero and she knows he makes life and death situations practically ever week. Safe, consensual sex between two friends should be a no-brainer compared; yet, he looks less-than-sure. 

Still, he climbs off of her, shucks off his jeans, grabs the condom from his wallet and drapes back over her once he’s settled. 

When he pushes into her, MJ crows in delight. In reality, its not been so long since she’s had sex but its been a while since she’s had good sex and everything with Peter so far has not been a disappointment. She wants to close her eyes, lean her head back and enjoy the ebb and flow of their bodies moving together, but Peter wants to kiss her.

As soon as he’s set a pace between them, his mouth is on hers. He’s not demanding, its not a fierce kiss but it is passionate. There’s something hidden in that kiss but he’s stretching her out in a way that makes her brain function to slowly to piece it apart. 

MJ grips the back of his neck and his kiss and thrusts move faster, chasing some kind of release. When it comes, for him, he doesn’t take her over the edge with him, but she doesn’t mind. He’s already gotten her off and she figures this won’t be his last time to get it right. 

Sex with Peter Parker is good and MJ plans to have a lot of it. 

Once he’s caught his breath, he rolls off of her and stares up at the ceiling. She turns her head and grins at him. He glances at her and smiles back. “What’s that face?” he asks.

���You’re good at that,” she says honestly.

He barks out a laugh, “Thanks, I think?”

“No seriously,” she says, tucking some of his floppy hair behind his ear, “We should do that more.” 

He pales, “MJ, once was already kind of risky, don’t you think?

She huffs like he’s moronic, “Absolutely not. We’re friends. And we have good sex. So we should continue to be friends...and have good sex.”

“Like,” he says slowly, “Friends with benefits?”

“He can be taught, ladies and gentleman,” she jokes, pecking him quickly and rolling over to grab her clothes and put them back on. 

She catches his stupid grin while they redress and once they’re settled on the couch, he tugs an arm around her. MJ tosses her legs over his lap to get comfortable and nuzzles his face, because friends can nuzzle each other’s faces, “We’re gonna watch two episodes of Brookyln Nine-Nine and then we’re going to go to my room and you’re gonna go down on me. Got it?”

“Yea, yea,” Peter laughs, reaching for the remote. “I hear you.”

And that’s how it starts, because of Game of Thrones and MJ’s incessant need to prove that sex between two people is a choice and not fate or an inevitability or anything. She makes her own choices and sex with Peter just becomes one of them. 

They decide to set some ground rules. 

The first is the orgasm for orgasm rule. For every orgasm Peter has, MJ must have one in return. They set this rule because getting off during penetrative sex isn’t always a surefire thing. That’s not Peter’s fault, vaginas are simply complicated. Although, that rule isn’t always perfect because Peter likes going down on MJ. Peter really likes going down on MJ. And once he’s gotten her off, he doesn’t always stop. Sometimes he goes for a second orgasm, and one very special time he manages three. MJ can’t compete with those numbers and, frankly, he doesn’t want her to, he says. He just likes getting her off. And who is she to complain about that?

The second rule is the no sex in school rule. That one is decided upon rather quickly. Three days into their friends-with-benefits-thing Peter basically attacks MJ behind the high school after decathlon practice. It’s hot, they both agree, with MJ up against the bricks of the school building and the pair of them fumbling to get enough clothes out of the way so they can have sex without getting undressed, but its risky. And after they’re done, they decide sex in school or outside of the school technically is a no-go. 

The third and final rule is simple. Neither MJ or Peter will tell anyone about this new arrangement. It’s not complicated for MJ or Peter, they both say, but their friends and family won’t understand. Having a lot of sex with your best friend can be just that, it doesn’t have to get complicated. There is no reason to get anyone else involved. So they don’t. 

And neither of them has the impulse to tell anyone about their new arrangement thing until Mark comes back. MJ and Mark made sense. That was what everyone said about her relationship. They were both people of color in a country that wasn’t always kind of people of color and they were both fierce advocates for all minority groups and, hell, they even looked very nice together. And Mark was smart. Mark was freaky smart and understood MJ’s struggles better than anyone. Or at least that was how she felt at the start. 

Then, he got into Stanford and their relationship deteriorated. The rest of her junior year was spent in the wishy-washy nowhere zone with her boyfriend. Until his senior prom rolled around. They went together and as soon as prom was over, Mark dumped her. She’d been pretty pissed. 

So pissed that she cried in anger. Because Michelle Jones did not get upset. No way. 

She remembered going to Peter that night and him wrapping her up in his arms and holding her. There had been no judgement, no words, just the comfort of his arms. 

The rest of June had been awful, July had been better, and, by the end of August, MJ fell into bed with Peter. Life had a funny way of working out for her. 

But Thanksgiving rolled around, as it was going to do, and suddenly all of the seniors that had graduated the year before were coming back. MJ knows in her heart that Mark will be around. His favorite aunt lives in the city. Of course he’s coming back. 

She doesn’t expect him to be at Flash’s annual Turkey-gobble-gobble party though. 

MJ wears a tank-top and a pair of her black jeans, but from the way Peter reacts to her outfit she might as well have been dressed to the nines. He’s cute, she thinks offhandedly, and she’s also totally going to sleep with him after. 

All of their plans get derailed, though, when Mark arrives. 

MJ asks Peter for a drink once they arrive and he goes off in search of one. She mingles with people she could care less about, tries to wingwoman for Ned and Peter is still not back. 

She’s not worried per say, but she is curious what’s taking him so long. 

She finds Peter and Mark at the makeshift bar arguing. 

“-deserves better than your bullshit, Mark,” she catches Peter say.

Mark rolls his eyes in the practiced way MJ had taught him, “The pining was never cute, Parker. It’s less cute now.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter snipes. 

“Don’t I?” Mark says, stepping in Peter’s face, “Do you think I don’t have fucking eyes or some shit? But she doesn’t like you like that, man. And why the hell would she? Some privileged short little fuck that spends more time sucking Tony Stark’s cock than being there for his friends.”

Those words get to Peter. She sees it. 

She knows how hard it is for him to balance Spider-man and the rest of his life. She knows that he spreads himself so thin just to try and be there for everyone who loves him and still manages to save the world. She knows that he knows he’s lucky, that Tony Stark being his mentor is a big deal. But seeing him have all of his insecurities hurled in his face in one foul swoop looks devastating for him. 

In that moment, Peter notices MJ and his face crumbles in even more devastation. He brushes past her with a mumbled, “Excuse me,” and then he’s gone. MJ tries to say something but she’s at a loss for words.

And then, Mark is standing in front of her looking sheepish but pleased to see her, “MJ, I didn’t know you were there. I never would have said that stuff if I knew.”

Her eyes narrow, “But you would’ve said that stuff to him if I wasn’t there? What the fuck is wrong with you, Mark.”

“I cam here,” he tries to defuse the situation, “to see you. I miss you, MJ. I never should have ended things.” 

And that becomes the one moment MJ wants to tell people about her and Peter’s new arrangement. She wants to rub it in Mark’s face, hiss about how much Peter in bed Peter is than Mark ever was, she wants to make it all clear to him how the boy he just undercut means more to her than he ever did. 

But she doesn’t tell him. She bears her teeth, all predator, and says, “Go back to Stanford, Mark. If I wasn’t done with you then, I’m sure as hell done with you now.”

It all happens kind of fast after MJ snarls at Mark. MJ goes looking for Peter and happens upon him in a spare closet. He’s standing with his head resting against the wall, his chest rising and falling as he breathes in and out.

The sight makes her want to murder Mark. Peter is self conscious enough, he doesn’t need the support to have more self doubt. She gingerly touches his back, a silent question to see if he’s okay.

But he doesn’t speak, he merely whirls around, pins her against the closet wall and kisses the ever-loving fuck out of her. This is the kind of kissing they’ve never done before. Usually, it airs on teasing and slow or passionate and measured, but it’s never been angry before and she can feel the anger radiating off of Peter. It’s not something she’d normally be into but she also kind of wants to kick Mark’s ass so tonight it’s a bit of a turn on.

When she reaches up to touch his hair, he draws her hand back to her side and shakes his head. She looks at him in confusion for only a beat before he’s turning her around and pulling her close. Her back is flush against his chest and he’s kissing her neck. It’s never been this way before, the desperate flesh frenzy. It’s like Peter can’t get enough of her to hold all at once. She knows Mark’s words have gotten to him and he’s trying to will them away. 

Her head drops against his shoulder and she enjoys his completely overt groping: her neck, her breasts, her waist, the apex of her legs. His touch is burning and she’s dying.

“Peter,” she grinds out his name between breathy moans, “You gotta….it’s gotta be more than this.”

His teeth nibble at the juncture of her neck, “You want me to bend you over like this, MJ? Bend you over and fuck you?”

And damn her, she does. She has a fleeting thought that his question was the hottest way to ask for consent ever, but he’s making her mind mush so the coherent thought slips away as soon as it forms.

She nods, unable to speak much, and Peter turns her face so he can kiss her at their awkward angle. It’s more teeth than tongue and she’s shaking from his ministrations. The hand between her legs doesn’t quit and, even though it’s over her clothes, she can feel wetness pooling there.

The hand between her leg moves upward to unbutton her jeans and then, he’s sliding them down her legs. He doesn’t bother to take them completely off, just slides them down enough to make sex possible. Her underwear joins her jeans.

She hears the tell-tale crinkle of a condom and MJ gets a shiver of anticipation. She can’t see his face with him behind her and it’s all sort of thrilling. Even more so when he winds his hands in the back of her hair and guides her to bend over.

Each of her hands press against the wall, palms flat, and she looks over her shoulder to watch Peter’s face as he settles his hands on her hips and guides himself inside of her.

Her mouth falls open, her head drops down and she cries out. This angle is deeper than anything she’s ever had before. Almost immediately it makes her toes curl which usually takes a few minutes of work on her end.

Peter is groaning, too. Being sheathed inside of her always makes him a little boyishly chatty but today it isn’t how beautiful she is or how good she feels, it’s much dirtier.

His runs a flat hand up her spine and grabs a fist full of her hair as he sets a steady rhythm. “Let me hear you, MJ. I wanna hear it.”

Her knees knock from the pressure of staying standing. This wasn’t sex. This was fucking.

He experimentally tugs on her hair and MJ groans. It was a slight sting but it feels good, like the relief of getting pinched when you think you might be asleep. So Peter tugs harder and she moans louder.

“Yea,” he grits out, “You like that. Of course you do. You like to give it, why wouldn’t you let it get it. Get it right from behind.”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Parker,” she practically weeps. His hips slap into hers and she can hear the joining of their bodies. It’s a frantic and loud.

He tightens his grip on her hair, “I want them all to hear you.” And she knows what he really means by that: I really want Mark to hear you. On any other day, his Neanderthal bullshit would have really pissed her off but Mark had gotten under her skin, too.

She wanted him to hear. She wanted them all to hear. Screw them.

“Oh, fuck, Peter,” she yelps.

And he groans, “Louder.”

So she yells, “Oh fuck, PETER!” She says his name over and over like a curse as his praise washes over her. Every gorgeous, encouraging word accompanied by the slap of his hips and the tug of her hair made her louder. She wansn’t certain anyone could hear them but there is a part of her that sort of hopes they do. 

And with one final angled push, Peter and MJ fall together. She stiffens her back and her eyes shoot open as she stares at her feet. MJ feels Peter rocking out the last of his orgasm behind her and, once it’s over, the room is a quiet, silent place. MJ is still bent over but she’s not sure if she wants to face him, to look him in the eyes.

That sex didn’t feel casual or unimportant. It felt inevitable and she hated it. Game of Thrones was wrong. Sex between two people could just be sex. And Peter and MJ could have casual sex without it being or meaning anything.

Or, well, she always thought they could. 

She hears Peter slide out of her and start to pull himself together. She does not move. Her hands stay flat against the wall and her eyes remain glued to the ground. 

Tenderly, Peter starts to clean her up, too. He finds some paper towels in the closet and cleans her up. Then he pulls her jeans back up and buttons them from behind. She still hasn’t moved. 

“MJ,” Peter whispers, his voice sounds uncertain and like he’s gnawing at his lip. “MJ, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have...I shouldn’t have done that.”

MJ shakes her head. “No,” she squeaks, her voice sounds so unlike herself, “No, I, uh, you didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t want.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

He sounds so terrified that MJ finds some inner strength to stand, turn around and face him. She was right. He is gnawing at his lip, nerves flowing off of him. Her heart aches at the sight. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

He exhales and his face cracks open, “Why are you sorry?” 

“About Mark,” she replies. 

He crosses the small gap between them in the closet and kisses her. It’s a soft and terribly fragile thing. “Mark’s an idiot. I don’t care about Mark. I care about you.” 

“Was he right?” she asks, “About the pining?” 

She almost doesn’t want to hear the answer. To know for certain would mean the destruction of everything that she had been fooling herself about. Perhaps she had been wrong all along. Maybe MJ and Peter were inevitable. Lying to herself made no difference. 

“Come on,” he sighs, “Don’t do that. Don’t act like you don’t know.” 

“I-I don’t,” she says breathlessly. “Or I didn’t until he said.” 

Peter swallows, “MJ, I am so in love with you.” Her stomach drops. “And I’ve tried to keep it casual. I figured,” he laughs mirthlessly, “don’t matter what I figured, I guess. You don’t...it’s not the same for you.” 

“I don’t,” she shook her head, “I don’t know, I mean. I really appreciate your friendship.”

“Don’t,” his jaw is tight and she can see his eyes glistening as he fights off the urge to cry, “Don’t do that. I want more than that.” 

She crosses her arms over her chest like she could shield her heart from his words, like she could protect herself from the heartbreak, “I don’t know how I feel.” 

“I know,” he smiles, and its the saddest she’s ever seen him look. “I should,” he gestures lamely at the door. “You know, go.” 

MJ lifts her hand to stop him, she’s screaming on the inside for him to stay but she lets him go. And when the closet door clicks shut, she slides down the wall to sit on the floor. 

In her mind, she replays the last four months. Every touch and every caress under a microscope and she suddenly sees things she’s never noticed before. The way his eyes lit up whenever she kissed him, the reverence of all of his ministrations, the simple way he always found her across a crowded room. It had been there all along and she pushed it away, swallowed it down, pretended he didn’t look at her with stars in his eyes. 

When they both got back to school after Thanksgiving break, Peter wouldn’t even look at her. MJ pretended it didn’t bother her but she misses the way his eyes would find her in class, the smile that tugged on his lips. She misses lunch with Peter and Ned, the ease of his companionship. She misses him at school, she misses him after school. The place she missed him least was in her bed, or whatever surface they could find. The sex was great, sure, but the sex was great because it was Peter. 

Peter. 

It takes her four days of radio silence until MJ gives in. 

She goes to his house and May opens the door. The two women share a significant look and in that look MJ knows all she needs to know. “Peter told you,” MJ observes. 

May nods, “He was pretty upset, you know.” 

“I know,” MJ shrinks. “I shouldn’t have let him leave.” 

May shrugs, “I don’t know about that. It’s not my place to say one way or the other.” Then, May grabs her purse hanging just to the left of the door and calls out, “Peter, I’m going to the store.” She leaves the door open for MJ and with one final look heads down the hall toward the staircase. She takes it as a sign that May’s expects her to do something, to fix whatever it is she’s broken. 

She doesn’t waist the opportunity. She closes the door behind herself.

Peter’s voice shouts from his room, “Bye May!”

MJ pushes open his bedroom door and Peter’s hanging upside down. The bright smile on his face fades at just the sight of her. MJ tries not to take it personally and spectacularly fails. 

She tucks a piece of unruly hair behind her ear, “Hi.”

He swings down from the ceiling and lands with a dull thud on the floor. “Hey,” he breathes. Peter shakes his head, “Look, if you’re here for....I can’t...” 

“No!” she insists loudly. “No,” she tries again, quieter, “I’m not here for...that. I miss you.”

He grins and it almost edges on mean, “MJ, don’t. Come on, don’t.” 

“Peter, I miss you,” she frowns, irritated with his attitude. “I do.” 

“I need some time before I’m okay with this, okay? Being rejected sucks.”

“Hey, woah,” her hands fly to her hips, “Let’s get something straight. I did not reject you.” 

“You basically rejected me.” 

“I said I didn’t know how I felt. And I didn’t. It was a lot. You just emotion dumped on me.” MJ points out.

He has the decency to look somewhat ashamed by that and all she can think is good. He left. Sure, she let him go but they both screwed up. And now she was here to make things right. Or, at least try. 

She sees him steel himself, like he’s preparing for battle, and battle is what he knows best, she supposes. He takes a step forward, “And now?

“Pretty sure,” she takes her own step, teasing him, “I like you.” 

He shakes his head, no room for levity, “You can’t be pretty sure. You gotta be sure.”

“Peter,” she touches his chest uneasily, “I’m sure.” 

He covers his hand over hers, his fingers entangled with hers. Her heart flutters in a familiar way. “Cool,” he chuckles and then his smile is so blinding she has to roll her eyes. 

But before she can speak, she surges forward and kisses him. He barely kisses her because his mouth is too distracted by smiling and somehow that is even better than kissing. 

When she tries to edge their kiss into more familiar territory, Peter pulls away. She pouts and he pecks the pout. “I want to,” he swallows, “but I want to make sure this is...real? I guess.”

She flicks his forehead, “Its real, idiot. But I will respect your virtue. We can wait until you take me on a proper date.”

He playfully raises his eyebrow, “Oh, I’m taking you on a date now?”

“Oh yea,” she nods, high and mighty, “I like to be wined and dined, Parker.” 

“Tony’s gonna have to give me a raise,” he says, pulling her in for another kiss.

The kiss lasts longer this time and MJ whines like she wants more, but only for him will she curb her wants. He better appreciate the fucking sacrifice she’s making, or so she thinks hostilely.

When he pulls away, he brushes his nose against hers, “Hey MJ?”

She hums, “Hmm?”

“Would you say this was inevitable?”

MJ takes a step back to glare at him. “You get that dumbass Game of Thrones rhetoric out of my face.” 

He throws his head back and laughs loudly, pulling her close once more. His kiss is more a punctuation than a kiss. “Just checking.” 

And the next kiss is the kind she imagines people that date have a lot. Because, well, unless it was clear they were dating. She supposes she should check with Peter but the way he kisses her, it seems abundantly clear. 

[askkav-archived]

I’ve Noticed A Thing

Recently - but seeing as I've only been active within this community (ask/rp blogs) for a while comparative to others, at times I feel as though I don’t have some sort of authority to speak about it.

Then I realized, after a second, I don’t care and I’m going to speak my mind.

And let’s get down to it; to the talk - THE talk about OC vs Canon, popularity, activity and your feelings!

Hi, I’m Kav and this is my own OC blog - with about 200 followers (as of right now, writing this) and have had this blog for about 2 months and a few days. Apparently that is a feat in this community, but I think I should point out that it’s possibility due to my activity, my art and also the guest that’s currently been hanging out with them.

And I need to point out something right now but don’t be offended/hurt. etc; it’s just an obvious thing.

Canon blogs will get the better treatment because they're established characters in this world AND have that spotlight that original content creators don't have.

But that shouldn't diminish one's determination to keep at it. People are not going to hand serve you the attention you think you rightfully deserve Because you think so well of yourself, which I'm not saying it's a bad thing but still.

Don't let that bruise your ego or your spirit. (Because god, if that does it - then you’ll just be meeting people along the way who’ll do a lot worse and say worse.)

Anyways let that sink in a little and now, what do you do as an original content creator or an OC ask blog?

There’s not much to say besides don’t give up! Don’t lose all of your hope because seriously, it’s well established that no one really wants to deal with a person who gives up hope and complains or is negative on a constant basis. (*Looks at self*)

Like myself, you need to work on that - that part of yourself that needs to start looking more of positives and other options, instead of being down or thinking negatively. People can sense it and they’ll start leaving. 

Oh, you can say, ‘I didn’t need them anyhow’ or ‘I’ll find better fans or followers than those’ but really, stop making that excuse for yourself to feel better.

You lost them because of that sort of thinking.

Do better! Be better, not only for others but for yourself! As a content creator and someone who wants to have more interaction with others about your content! Don’t dismiss everyone because you feel like you are not good enough or you’re too proud or possibly anxious/shy. (I sound like I’m preaching to myself at this point...)

Also another elephant in the room; Art-based Ask/RP blogs vs Written-Only Ask/RP blogs

I hate to talk about this but let’s just be real; ask blogs - and ones where there’s constant activity and art alongside it, will always have more popularity.

Words are so beautiful, and strung along together - they can be amazing and well thought out ideas, stories and much more but... As they say, pictures write a thousand words.

It’s true and I feel bad for admitting that, as an ask blog - I’m not going to feel the same feeling as an RP blog because I don’t have the same frustration you have. I love your words and the image you can provide with them but it’s not for everyone.

It’s kind of tragic because so far, what I have seen and read - or at least skimmed through, the majority of those I follow are pretty great and incredible!

Please, don’t give up hope though - you’ve met some pretty cool friends and people who love you, either up front or afar! (Like me! And I love you, your portrayals and your blog in general)

Major vs minor characters and attractiveness

Not gonna lie; characters who are mains and have a huge role within a series will get more love and more attention - Also will get bashed too, for not having the right portrayal or the same headcanons as another. Keep doing whatever you wish, you’re good by the way.

But minor characters, that is somewhat tough - they needed to have a following, a fan base but they also can start attracting attention by being constantly active, possibly in character for most or some or just giving MORE to the character in question.

I’ve seen it happens and it’s pretty great! Some feel as though the captured the character even though there is so little information of them as it is. You’re amazing and are doing god or at least the level of the author’s work if they worked more on the character.

Not gonna lie either; physically attractive characters will always just get the glory and the good(?) asks - It’s just how the world works but please know, don’t let that put you down (or go make an ask blog for a possibly popular character for being attractive unless your heart is into it or else you’ll lose passion quickly for your own blog and really hurt others in the process because they always want more!)

Art styles and skills

I don’t really need to go on; people are attracted to dynamic and possibly (what they believe) is art styles that they are attracted, aesthetically, to or want to see more or.

It’s shallow and not at the same time - artists grow from learning from one another and wanting to achieve the same skills or skill level as those they place above them.

Don’t let that bring you down, keep practicing though. Keep drawing. Don’t stop either or lose hope, just keep at it. You’ll get where you wanna be! Practice and practice some more, look to tutorials, different brushes/pens/tools and whatever resources you can get over the internet to help you. 

Art is a skill you yourself have to hone and keep at - as Arin Hanson says from Game Grumps, “Do you think I came out the pussy drawing Mozart?”

I know this post is just a whole mess; but I haven’t really done this in a while - I’m pretty rusty and can’t really be sure to keep this post about the point as much. I apologize for so.

And now I need to ask you, why do you do this?

I’m not trying to be or act as though I’m an authority of what you should feel or think or a judgment of your thought process, etc etc - I’m just here, trying to level with y’all. WHY DO YOU DO THIS?

Seriously, you need to ask yourself this.

I’ll give you my reason for doing this, for having an OC ask blog - my thoughts and what goes through it.

I do and continue to do this because I have always wanted to do this for the past couple of years but the problem was also me and what I was thinking, you see - I wasn’t at the skill level I wanted to be at, the last couple of years,  to start portraying and putting out my own (very self-indulgent) self insert in this world.

And when the time came and I understood what my character was about, what were their goals, their intent and I was sure how to go about them - and that my art style was good enough for me to show them off in.

I made this blog though I’m still new to this and I’m still unsure which version I want to keep Kav as too - but I’m still happy with it, so far.

I get frustrated too because at times, I can’t still properly give details to what goes on in my head - it’s always been a struggle to put thought and ideas down into art, whether digitally or paper. Written or drawn.

But I’m going to continue this, whether I have 1 follower to over a 100+ followers. I’m not going to change either because I’m comfortable at this pace, at this level and what I’m putting out as it is - whether sfw or not.

I’ve grown to know that, I’m not for everyone and I need to keep reminding myself of this - a lot more than I let on. Granted, my need for validation and attention really puts me in the wringer but- *slaps self* - I need to keep trying and be active and keep going because if I stop now, I won’t forgive myself.

Kav, my character, as fictional as they are - won’t let me forgive myself for giving up when I know people out there, before this blog and letting people get to me, that they love her. Maybe more than I do, maybe not as much but they still love/like and appreciate her for existing!

She provides people with a sense of... strength; she gives people the drive and determination to put out their own content, whether OCs or self-inserts and for that. God I’m going to keep this up.

You should too.

But for whatever sakes you believe in, don’t give up! Don’t give in to that fucking bullshit that you are not good enough for all these people! Because if you think you deserve a bit of, what, attention or some other reason! Then keep doing this, keep being active, keep putting out more content, whether drawn or written out there because someone else, someone out there will love you and your character!

Doing nothing but feeling sorry for yourself or some bullshit isn’t going to do just that.

Though this is from my opinion and my standpoint but if you create a blog, more specifically an ask or RP blog hoping for popularity and followers - Well, I’m sorry to say but doing this for something like that won’t turn out to what you hoped.

And you’ll either grow tired or dislike for the whole thing and seeing that; isn’t always fun for everyone else when you decide dropping the character because you lost the passion or muse on account of not enough attention and the like.

If you’re in this, be really into your role - But also don’t let it consume you as well, update about things you feel important and be more open to your fanbase if you have any to your thoughts. It’s just easier.

Anyways I’m done, thank you all for taking the time to read this. Stay cool.

[intothewideopenspaces]

Living Alive

It’s been a busy couple of months in the Way2Community, from out-of-parish placements and opportunities to new experiences within my parish, and from a variety of areas of study and reflection to a weird and wonderful mixture of time spent as a community and as rest time. It seems like a long time since I last sat down to write a blog post, and yet it seems like these past few weeks and months have been rushing by and will continue to do so - I'm expecting to wake up one day and find it’s July already! But thankfully there is still about 5 months of this year for the Way2Community left, even if it feels like I must have been down here in Cornwall for more than 6 months by now.

So what have I been up to since my last blog post? All kinds of opportunities have arisen on top of the regular week by week activities I am involved with. The end of January brought snow to Cornwall - and chaos right along with it. The day we saw the most snow (though still not that much by my northern standards) was the day of Truro College's careers fair, which I attended as a Way2Community member. A group of us from different denominations and roles within the church formed a stall bringing awareness to church 'careers' in all their variety, difficulties, and joys. We answered questions about different types of ministry, what each of us have experienced through our roles in the church, and why we are involved in ministry and church to begin with. I had some brilliant conversations with the students and was able to use my own experience to (hopefully!) encourage some of them in their own relationships with the church and faith. And upon arriving back home after the hour and a half it took to drive back from Truro in the snow, I concluded that I must be less introverted than I used to be since I wasn’t at all tired after spending two hours talking to a multitude of students, which I know just a few years ago would have exhausted me!

On the other end of the age range, we had the opportunity towards the end of February to lead a service for the residents of one of the local care homes, as part of the ministry of the local Churches Together. It was the first time for me that I had been in a care home, but the relaxed atmosphere made it feel more than comfortable for us to lead the service between us, supported by a few others from the Churches Together team. It was a short service with a small 'congregation', alternating hymns between a bible reading, a short talk which I wrote and gave, and prayers, and we will be doing similar services a couple more times across the coming months.

My more regular out-of-parish placement at St Petroc’s homeless society which I did once a week for four months came to an end in mid February. Most of my time there was spent helping out with the daily drop in they run for clients, but in my last week there, I had the opportunity to visit one of the houses they own, in which they are able to offer clients stable accommodation and offer support to gradually help clients become ready to move into independent accommodation. The house I visited was their largest, and is for clients with the least support needs, and so it was a fascinating morning spent observing how that is run and meeting a couple of the residents there. Over my time at St Petroc's, and as I got to know the clients who I saw regularly at the drop in, I noticed that I became more confident and comfortable and that I found it easier to chat casually to the clients, rather than just the necessary conversation for practical matters, like signing people in as they arrived for the drop in. While I hope that I was never prejudiced against people experiencing homelessness, actually being able to get to know those people and their everyday experiences grounds them as people who experience disappointment, anger, joy, unfairness, rather than just as objects of pity or even support and understanding. Its been lovely bumping into a couple of the clients out and about since finishing my placement, and I hope I will continue to do so.

In my parish placement, I’ve been getting involved in a few new things as well as experiencing the seasonal or occasional services that have been taking place. On the last Sunday in February, I deaconed at the Eucharist service at Mabe for the first time, which involves leading roughly the first half of the service. This in itself is something I have done before, though in a very different context and style, so the actual experience of deaconing at Mabe brought a few new things with it. As deacon, I processed at the start of the service along with the priest and the choir, something I had never done before, and I wore a cassock and surplice, also for the first time. Wearing a cassock and surplice has felt very strange for me - even after adjusting one of the community's spare ones to fit me, I still felt like a kid dressing up! I managed not to trip up or catch my sleeves on fire though, which I feel is reasonably successful for a first time wearing a cassock, and I'm sure that I’ll get used to seeing myself in one once I’ve worn it more than once. Another first time doing something for me was preaching last Sunday at both churches I am placed at in my parish placement. It was the first Sunday of Lent, so the reading was Jesus' temptation in the wilderness. My main point, or what hopefully came across as my main point, was that it is by the love manifest in our relationship with God that we are enabled to resist temptation - or that we are picked up and dusted off when we don’t. Although I have never stood up at the front and spoken for so long in one block before, it was the process of writing the sermon that I found more new and challenging, rather than delivering it. I’m preaching again in a few weeks, so I’ll get some more practise at the process of writing a sermon and hopefully it will become easier and more familiar as I learn.

Before getting stuck into my next sermon however, I aim to be making a start on my next essay in the discernment process. I finished the 'What is a priest' essay a couple of weeks ago, and decided with the DDO that instead of going straight onto the next essay, 'Why are you an Anglican?', it would be helpful for me to do a second essay, similar to 'What is a priest', but with a focus on monasticism. I’m going to write it as a more personal reflection on what it would mean for me to be a monk, since I have researched and written about monasticism itself more in the past than I had about priesthood. I am also in the process of arranging a placement in a monastic community in early June, where I will spend two weeks living alongside the community and participating in their rhythm of life. I hope this will give me a chance to experience the day to day reality of monastic life, meet some of the community and ask them plenty of questions, and have time to reflect on my own process of discernment.

Alongside all this busyness in the last couple of months, we've had plenty of fun as a community. We've had plenty of walks along the beaches nearby and along bits of the coastal path; we've played a handful of board games (in case my fellow community members hadn’t picked up on my competitiveness already, they certainly have now, after a particularly loud game of Carcassonne!); and between us we've nearly finished knitting a hat for the pillar at the end of our drive - on our walk to the care home back in February we walked along a street where every other house had been yarn bombed, and after discovering it was a project organised by a local artist who lived on that street, we decided we wanted to join in and yarn bomb our own house. Over the past week, my parents have been down from York to visit, and so we've had a couple of trips out all together. One evening, we went up to St Agnes Head in an attempt to stargaze, but as the weather wasn’t in our favour for that, we instead just enjoyed walking along the cliff top in the dark and wind. The next day, we got the train to St Ives and spent the day there, enjoying the views and remarkably blue sea, as well as the strong winds which nearly blew some of us away.

I think a fitting song to summarise these past couple of months is Live Alive, by (no surprises) Rend Collective:

I wanna live alive

Don't wanna live a lie

I wanna live alive

And you make me alive

Don't want to just survive

Be safe but half alive

This little light of mine

This little spark divine

I'm gonna let it shine

I am letting go of every fear

I am letting go of every lie

I am taking hold of every dream

You place inside

[markpassman]

One Size Doesn’t Fit All: Workouts, Fitness & Reverse Engineering Myself

Can’t Be Arsed Summary

Read this if you don’t have the time or attention span to read an entire post so you can get the gist.

I hate working out cos everything I’ve done bores me or makes me self conscious

One size doesn’t fit all.

Find what you like to do. Yeah, you’ve heard it before, but actually fucking do it. 

Reverse engineer what you like to do to find the kind of workouts you’d like to do and would help you be consistent.

Gonna try Crossfit

Now as a penance for being ADD, scroll to the bottom of the post, like it and share it with someone you think could benefit.

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Disclaimer: I write my blogs as a mental exercise AND to help others like me. It helps me sift through my own bullshit and clarify my thinking. At no point am I trying to preach or come across like I know what I’m doing. I’m simply writing to try and get through the noise in my head to help me put into practice some of the things I already know. If it can help anyone else, that’s fantastic. If you have questions or constructive comments

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Throughout my life I have started several exercise programs. Dedicated myself to various diets or commitments to “eat clean” and yet I remain at least 40lbs overweight.

Last year while my wife was studying for her real estate license I decided to study for my personal training certification. I didn’t want to BE a personal trainer, I just wanted to fill the holes in my knowledge and maybe something in there might help me with my own weight loss. Alas, it didn’t do anything. I came out with a certification but not much else.

What my studies DID teach me was that my problem wasn’t knowledge. It was me.

Let me explain.

I’m heavily into podcasts right now and my favourite at the moment is by Gary Vaynerchuk. If you don’t know who he is and have any interest in self improvement or entrepreneurship, look him up on literally ANY social network and you’ll find his stuff.

One of Gary’s biggest and most frequently used bits of advice is self awareness. Know who you are.

“What works for one person doesn’t work for everyone. I want people to learn to be at peace with themselves, to understand what they can offer, because everyone’s got something. The key, however, is learning how to find it.

Self-awareness can help you do that.

Self-awareness is being able to accept your weaknesses while focusing all of your attention on your strengths.

The moment you decide to accept your shortcomings and bet entirely on your strengths, things will change. Trust me.”

Gary Vaynerchuk - Inc.com

Here Gary happens to be talking about self awareness with regards to entrepreneurship. I’m applying it weight loss..

“What works for one person doesn’t work for everyone.”

This sounds like bullshit wisdom that everyone already knows. To an extent, it is. The problem is, we’re all guilty of not applying the shit we know. How many times do we hear of someone losing a bunch of weight and we immediately wanna know what they did so we can copy it and, in our minds, get the same results? How many diets become popular overnight because some famous person lost a ton of weight and suddenly looks great on the red carpet? How many celebrities offhandedly mention a new diet they’ve been on in an interview only for that diet to be a top google search by the next day?

Millions buy, try and then discard these diets/workouts because they didn’t get the kind of success they expected or the success that (enter celebrity name here) did.

So even though deep down we know that one size doesn’t fit all, we still try to copy and paste the success of others, typically with severely diminished returns.

“Self-awareness is being able to accept your weaknesses while focusing all of your attention on your strengths.”

Whether you agree with this or not, I think it has great value when it comes to weight loss. I have spent my entire life fighting to fit my square peg into a round hole.

Get your mind out of the gutter!

What I mean is I’ve been trained to think that weight loss and building muscle means I”ve got to go to the gym. Get up early, hit the gym, put my headphones on, leg day, back day, chest day, cardio, rinse and repeat for weeks and months and years.

I hate that. It bores me. (Weakness)

I’ve seen others who obviously feel that endless amounts of time on the treadmill or elliptical is the route to their goals.

I hate that too. It bores me. (Weakness)

“Self-awareness is being able to accept your weaknesses while focusing all of your attention on your strengths.”

So what if I stop trying to do workouts I don’t like and do something I actually enjoy? (Strength) Earth shattering right? Yet, how many of us trudge through a workout we’d rather not do? Go to the gym a few times a week because that’s what we think will help us achieve our goals?. We workout because we have to or we should, not because we enjoy it. It’s not just me is it?

So how can I take Gary Vee’s advice and triple down on my strengths?

First, let’s go through why I didn’t like the workouts I was doing

Boring

Didn’t change often enough

Results came too slow

Boring

I need a group dynamic to help with encouragement and accountability but not one that makes me feel self conscious cos I’m bad at it, like dancing.

I sound like a picky SOB don’t I? Well, it’s who I am and I suspect I’m not alone.

By default that means I need a varied workout (not boring) that’s challenging (gets results), performed with a group of people (accountability/social).

Sounds like Crossfit right?

Crossfit is by definition constantly varied. It’s hard AF so I know it’s challenging and will get me results. The community aspect of Crossfit is well publicised so I get both accountability and a social aspect of training with other people as well as the added bonus of competition. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying Crossfit is right for everyone. I don’t even know if it’s right for me at this point. I’m just trying to figure out what is going to fit with my personality

“The moment you decide to accept your shortcomings and bet entirely on your strengths, things will change. Trust me.”

Let’s see.

[angrybrowngirlabroad-blog]

Of Privilege and Punching Nazis

The title of this blog is “Angry Brown Girl Abroad” and it exists for two reasons.  One is to record my adventures of my travels through Central America and my trials and tribulations as I struggle to learn Spanish and connect to my roots.  The other reason is the “angry brown girl” side, a place to vent my opinions on my place in the world as an ambiguously brown, female in gender (most of the time) person from the United States.  I’ve mostly used this blog for the former, and I tend to take to Facebook more often to voice my opinions on the latter, because, quite frankly, I think they are more likely to be seen and shared there.  However, I feel like it’s time to explore my angry brown side a bit more in this space.

I actually haven’t posted anything on this blog in a few months.  Part of this was because I was in a rush, and went back to the states for the holidays, which ended up being a very emotionally tumultuous time for me.  When my feelings are in overdrive, I still turn to writing for comfort, but I rarely publish those deep feelings for anyone else to read.  The holidays were hard for a variety of reasons, but the even harder part was coming back to the country I am currently staying in (Guatemala) and watching both the inauguration and coverage of the Women’s March on Washington from thousands of miles away, and the ensuing aftermath of both events.  Watching your country implode from a distance is a strange feeling, you care, you want to be there, you can’t look away, you feel glad that you got out, you feel guilty that you got out, you struggle to enjoy your time here while you wonder if you can do more for the people still there.  I’m working on finding the balance, but I’m spending a great deal of time on the internet these days, reading about each new horrible thing our incompetent commander in chief has cooked up that threatens the lives of POCs, LGBTQ people and disabled citizens.  I am both constantly surprised by the lengths this administration is willing to go to, and also the response from people to it, especially within my own community.  I am frustrated with them more specifically, as I find out where each person falls on certain lines in the sand.  One of the ones that keeps coming up, weeks after I feel it should have been settled, is punching a Nazi (and, more recently, the violent opposition of Milo Y-I’mnotevengonnatryhesanasshole speaking at UC Berkley). I AM REALLY TIRED OF PEOPLE WHO ARE THE LAST IN LINE TO BE HURT BY BOTH NAZIS AND MILO YGAYNAZI TELLING PEOPLE IN THE LINE OF FIRE HOW THEY SHOULD REACT TO SUCH ABUSE.

Yep, I said it, I mean it.  It is not at all a surprise to me that every person I have argued with personally about whether violence is justifiable against people who PROMOTE VIOLENCE has been a cis-hetero-white dude.  I’m just mad that there are so many, and so many that I know personally, and that they have the audacity to call me, and the people like me to who disagree with me, names because we won’t agree with them that “violence is never the answer.”   Violence should not be our first answer.  Violence should not be applied willy-nilly to anyone who disagrees with us.  Violence is, 99% of the time, the last choice from a marginalized group.  You know why?  Because it’s dangerous, because people don’t want to do it, and because the people most likely to suffer the worst legal ramnifications for using violence against their oppressors are minorities.  Black men get shot by cops for doing literally nothing, you think they are going to actively choose to fight the police as their first move?  Nah. Which brings me to another point: so many of these dudes who I’ve seen argue really hard against punching actual, confirmed Nazis, have been oddly silent on cases where POCs are killed, without justification, by police.  They’ll go on and on about how minorities should not use violence to defend themselves, but say nothing for the victims of state-sponsored police violence.  They get into a frothy fervor about hypothetical punching, but when was the last time they even acknowledged the tragic ends of Tamir Rice or Trayvon Martin?  (Both are children and the last was killed by another citizen).  Where is there outrage for the actual deaths of people, who espoused no genocidal beliefs, and were killed for the simple sake of being not-white?  Is it because the punching of white dudes might actually affect them whereas police shooting them is pretty much a non-issue?  I take note of who goes hard for what issues, I see you, and trust me, I’ve made note. But lets just say that said dude is not in this just for himself and his own preservation.  Still, defending Nazis and the pasty scum that is Milo Yareyousoawful does not paint you in a good light.  Its not like these are white dudes who said something questionable on the internet.  Richard Spencer, the aforementioned Nazi who was punched mid-interview at Trump’s inauguration, is a confirmed Alt-Right (CALL THEM FUCKING NAZIS) leader who just launched a new website dedicated to the Alt-Right movement.  His previous website featured the essay “Is Black Genocide Right?” and features the line: “we should instead be asking questions like, ‘Does human civilization actually need the Black race?’ ‘Is Black genocide right?’”* So, pretty clearly a Nazi.  As for Milo Ywontyoujustgoaway, he is a Breitbart senior editor known for slinging hate who was supposed to speak at UC Berkeley but his engagement was cancelled after violent protests on campus.  Milo Yifeelsorryforyourmom has built his empire on hate, he gained notoriety last year by leading the charge on Twitter that led to Leslie Jones (one of the stars of the new Ghostbusters) being harassed with a slew of racist, sexist, violent messages and tweets.  This earned him a ban from Twitter, but didn’t stop his book deal.* In his speech at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee he outed a trans student named Adelaide Kramer, projecting a photo of her earlier in her transition for all of her classmates to see and calling on the audience to laugh at her as he degraded an misgendered her.* There are reports that, in his UC Berkeley address, that Milo Yohgawdshutup was planning to target students who did not have documentation to live in the United States.  Milo Yuccccckkkkkkkkkk claimed that it wasn’t true, but that instead he intended to talk about cultural appropriation while wearing a Native American headdress, so either way the man is filth.*  It’s not like these men are people who posted a questionable Facebook status, they have a documented history of advocating hate and abuse against people not like them. And we get told we cannot fight these men with fists because it would be “sinking to their level.”  We can’t, though, not with a single punch.  Hitting someone who advocates for the murder of an entire group based on the color of their skin is not comparable to, I don’t know, advocating the murder of an entire group based on the color of their skin.  Unless you immediately start putting together armed groups and planning the next white genocide after you throw that punch, there is no sinking.  Making someone reconsider their choice to espouse violent rhetoric in a public arena is a good thing, a thing that one wishes we could accomplish with protests, but clearly those protests are doing little to slow down the new Nazis in this country.  Also, claiming that we’ll lose support of fence sitters and drive them to the genocidal far right because we’re advocating for Nazi punching is ridiculous.  Anyone who is on the fence about support genocide or genocidal rhetoric is not someone whose going to change their mind if we are lenient on those who would see them hang.  If you’re on the fence about genocide, well your fence is already pretty far past the line of decency anyways. Which brings me to my last point, the invocation that I have heard over and over again that we should try and talk things out with Nazis.  That our words will be more effective than our fists.  And to this I say, “Maybe yours, Mr. Hetero White Dude who keeps espousing this belief” because believe me, they are not going to listen to an ambiguously brown woman, with an ambiguous sexuality, talk to them about hating less.  Those of us who are targets of Nazi hate should not be required to speak calmly to our oppressors about it, especially since some of the oppressors feel like we should be shot on sight.  And telling us we should is ignoring and invalidating the very real and justifiable fears that we feel.  Stop doing that, it’s a form of gaslighting.

The fact is, if Nazis are going to listen to ANYONE at all, it’s going to be another white dude.  Which means these dudes defending the not-punching of Nazis, should put their money where their mouth is and go talk to Nazis.  I want each and every one of you, before you come onto a status of a POC, LGBTQ or disabled person and tell them how violence is not the answer, to go to an alt-right forum, a Facebook page, hell, even in person, and engage in a peaceful discussion.  I want receipts proving that you are willing to do the very thing you are preaching that the rest of us to do.  I want to know your success rate for converting Nazis before you open your mouth about our methods.  Since you care so much, go and do the work you wish to be done in the world.  Maybe the two-pronged approach, discussion and violent opposition will be even more effective.

I’ll be over here, practicing my elbow strikes. PS: The First Amendment only protects your freedom of speech from the government shutting you down, it does not protect you from the people who you are calling for the murder of en masse from beating your ass down, so I’m gonna need all you crying out about that to get off that tired horse.  Words have consequences.

* http://www.slate.com/blogs/the_slatest/2017/01/17/richard_spencer_launches_the_alt_right_s_newest_website.html * http://www.vanityfair.com/style/2016/12/milo-yiannopoulos-leslie-jones-book-deal * https://broadly.vice.com/en_us/article/trans-student-harassed-by-milo-yiannopoulos-speaks-out

* http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/uc-berkely-protests-milo-yiannopoulos-publicly-name-undocumented-students-cancelled-talk-illegals-a7561321.html 

[everydaymamaof3]

What makes them tick...

I’ve wanted to blog about my parenting journey through this pandemic for quite some time now.. but I just didn’t have the right amount of words and motivation. Not until now.

So back when this all started, back in March 2020, we were kind of in a state of shock. I remember the exact same feelings inside my body, as what I had when we were forced out of our homes during the wildfires in 2017. No appetite. Confused. Adrenaline. Moody.

And because this lasted so long, I went through a wheel of emotions over time. The wheel would be on a pretty predictable rotation. So once I got the hang of it, a year and a half later, I’m managing it a lot better.

But I never thought about what true emotions the girls were having. People just kept saying, kids are resilient. Kids are fine. Get kids back in school. Kids will be fine if you’re fine. Well how in the actual fuck was anyone fine through this? No other way to ask that question.

Of course we all had moments of fine. But it was trying on us, on levels we can’t describe. What did that do to these young people?

Well we got to witness it first hand with our youngest. It started with an out of her control, bad vibe in the universe. A negative comment. And festered into full blown fear. Would she have experienced this the same way if we weren’t in a pandemic? No. I don’t think so. The problem was, so many of these sensitive to others emotions, kids, were in hyper absorb mode due to what was happening in the world. They were drowning in energy they couldn’t keep up with. Making them hypersensitive to their environment.

She was confident. Fearless. Hilarious. Marched to the beat of her own drum. Which is finally coming back. But I felt like such a failure. Like why is my kid experiencing this? But as time went on, I realized it was an even bigger event than the pandemic. Many parents just didn’t openly talk about like I do. Or they just don’t want to admit it, which is fine. It’s their journey not ours.

Her and I are intertwined in emotions. Being the baby, and the last one syndrome from me, makes that grip just a little bit tighter. It absolutely does not mean I love any of my girls differently. I love them all with 3 parts of my heart. An equal space for each of them. But the characteristics and personality of the youngest and me are in sync. Vs my older girls who are more their fathers daughters, personality wise 💕 But still parts of me and I hold them all equally close.

We are seeing the light and they’re all amazing and thriving and navigating this. My oldest, working in the thick of it as an RN, as a soon to be wife, maybe mother soon, finding her magic as a young adult woman. My middle trying to navigate pre teen, puberty, new emotional development, the pull between friends and family time, balance, me craving just a little bit more of that sweet time we have left where she’s still young...pestering her to choose us over her peers and her own time, which I realize is incredibly selfish...and the littlest learning to tackle her emotions, and that shift where independence becomes crucial, but the crave to still be little is still present. Not fully understanding the world, still needing that canopy of protection above. But also that parachute to jump!

I am not a helicopter mom. I am the farthest from it. But this time in the world brought some helicopter characteristics out in me and I’m kinda pissed about it. I was really quite ashamed of myself a few times, being overprotective, frustrated with other children or their parents, for being mean to mine, which is NORMAL, and any mother who says she’s never done that can add liar to her resume, although I do know it was just feeling sad for my own kid, and sometimes when we feel inadequate or like we’re doing something different than another parent, our reaction isn’t always the right one. I’m a teacher to little humans. I know better, and quite often forget that kids act out of jealousy, just because, peer pressure, or because they developmentally lack that part of the brain that sends the signal of logic. My girls aren’t perfect. And sometimes were probably the cause of battles, but god forbid most mothers admit that to the full extent. We always have a “but”. Ahhh motherhood...

I had an aha moment the other day, prompting the desire to write. I was watching this documentary about the human body. About the different systems. How they function, what makes them tick. And they did this one episode on the nervous system and how to have it operating at its full potential.

It made me stop and think. What are we doing?

I loathe the whole “keeping up with the Jones’s” way of life. Hate it with all of my being. I was not raised that way. My girls are not, and will not be raised that way, because it creates entitlement. Arrogance. Selfishness. As well as the desire to always want what others have. Who wants to live like that?

My mom shopped at bargain stores. The clearance rack, not because we couldn’t afford it, but because she was smart and realized how quickly we outgrew things. I hated it, but now as a mom fully understand it. Expensive stuff was for special occasions. I had unique style, but it was who I was. To the point I had a clock face purse in grade 8, that everyone made fun of me for, but I could’ve cared less. I still remember that purse. I remember how excited I was when she bought it for me at Mariposa.. remember that store. My oldest was raised the same.. no I’m sorry, I’m not gonna put myself in debt to buy you $300 jeans. Just not happening when a $50 pair looks exactly the same. The girls have never once asked for something because someone else has it. Actually that’s a lie, maybe after seeing a toy or something they’ve asked, but it’s only been one time, and never heard about again, kind of request.

I want them to be individual people. I want to know what makes them tick. What brings out their potential?

Our middle daughter came home with a career paper that she wrote recently. She’s an incredible writer. She keeps pages of stories and music in her room, that I never thought twice about. Just thought, “oh yeah, she’s like me, likes to write like I did when I was a kid”. We’re helping fuel her passion for baking and creating cakes... but then I read this.. she has another passion too.

Then while thinking about them, I thought why do we always compare our kids to us? We want them to be little versions of us. But the thing is, they’re not.

After reading her paper, I sat and thought. Our youngest is moved by music. She dances non stop. She dances out the door in the morning, she sings constantly and moves. She dances in my room, in her room, always wants music around her and it’s what makes her tick.

So I said to my husband, I want a recording studio room for one and a dance studio area for the other. And we are making that happen. We’ll start gathering a few recording equipment pieces and set up a space for one. And my dad will come and work his retired papa magic in our basement that is honestly just full of stuff, to create a dance space. It’s simple. It’s doable. It could be the key to unlock potential we aren’t aware of yet. They show us little bits and pieces of what makes them tick...and quite often we miss it, because we are busy doing life... I wanna embrace that. I did a bit with my oldest, however in retrospect I so badly wish I did more. She wanted to be a marine biologist, after several trips to the Aquarium. Her eyes would light up, she talked about it non stop, it was that “thing” that she dreamed about. And ya never know, maybe one day she’ll walk that path. She did get into the medical field, and is close to home so I guess I shouldn’t complain.

I hate the pandemic for bringing out the worst in people. For creating a level of hypocrisy in humans that I hope we can recover from. For the confusion. For the divide. For the fear. For the frustration. But I love the pandemic for making me have thoughts I maybe wouldn’t have had. For giving me moments to think and to watch, and be more aware of mine and my girls emotions and dreams. For making me aware of other people’s behaviour and lack of practicing what they preach. For opening my eyes more. But feeling empathetic and understanding of most, because I too have been riding the same roller coaster.

I love the pandemic for making me the mom I am in this moment. For helping me raise strong, kind and driven young ladies who will live their life with purpose. That’s all I want.

We’re gonna go through a lot of stuff over the next chapter of their lives, as raising teenage girls is my next roller coaster ride, but as crazy as it sounds, I’m grateful for this test the past year and a half. I feel like in a way, I grew. In the most important, emotional ways as a mom. Ways that have made me more “observer”, than “knower”. If that’s even a word.

[theclasssessionssamblog-blog]

blog 9/16/2019

Abusive ad hominem

Argue against something by

attacking the person arguing for it

. . .in contrast to arguing against the thing itself

…..John Nash’s mathematics

…..can’t be Nobel prize-worthy

…..because he has schizophrenia

. . . . .(see movie A Beautiful Mind)

. . . . .logical fallacy?

 I think it’s a bit of a logical fallacy, if we could test the math and it works then it all fine. But I usually take anything psychotic people say with a lot of salt.

 …..Amy Winehouse’s music sucks

…..because she’s in the “27 club”

. . . . .logical fallacy?

 Yes music is subject

…..Jimi Hendrix’s music is great

…..because he’s in the “27 club”

. . . . .logical fallacy?

Although Jimmy is great, it’s not because he was in the 27 club. 

…..We shouldn’t do the project like Irving suggests

…..because he’s totally uncool

. . . . .logical fallacy?

Yes, 

 I do think that these are pretty bad ways to approach arguments. I suppose if your a good speaker, it would be very easy for people to fall for these. 

   Tu toque ad hominem

tu toque = “you also” in Latin

Example:

…..A parent says, don’t smoke, it’s unhealthy

…..The kid says, “but you smoke”

. . . . .“Practice what you preach!”

. . . . .“So I don’t believe you!”

Politics is full of examples:

…..Al Gore’s house was once found to be energy-inefficient

. . . . .Is that an argument against the

existence of global warming?

. . . . .Is it an argument

against reducing CO2 output?

…..”Politician z‘s argument is wrong,

s/he’s a Democrat/Republican/whatever”

…..what about,

This is a very tricky fallace. Yes it is a logical fallacy, but  studies have suggested that people really dislike hypocrites. According to it, people dislike hypocrites more than just liars. It is seen as trying to get ahead on false virtue, rather than just denying negative attributes. While it is a logical fallacy, if you want anyone to listen to you argument, you can’t be a hypocrite on the issue.   Link to Study: https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/0956797616685771

Scenario 1a (you are on the jury and the jury is discussing a verdict):

. . . “Take the defendant’s lawyer’s argument with a grain of salt – being paid to give a one-sided argument”

. . . . . .logical fallacy, or logically ok?

. . . “The defendant’s lawyer’s argument is wrong – being paid to give a one-sided argument”

. . . . . .logical fallacy, or logically ok?

Scenario 1b (you are on the jury and the jury is discussing a verdict):

. . . “Take the plaintiff’s lawyer’s argument with a grain of salt – it’s their job to give a one-sided argument”

. . . . . .logical fallacy, or logically ok?

. . . “The plaintiff’s lawyer’s argument is wrong – it’s their job to give a one-sided argument”

. . . . . .logical fallacy, or logically ok?

Both I think are logically incorrect. Public lawyers aren’t worth much, but always take what happens in court with a grain of salt. As for scenario 1, i'm more inclined to believe the defendant, as many prosecutors are just looking for extra prosecutions to boost their careers. We need prosecutors, but a bunch just want a good record, and if the defendant didn’t hire a lawyer, he’s not gonna do well with a public one. 

 Logical Fallacies: “argumentum ad hominem”

Posted on October 3, 2011 by Daniel Berleant

(Updated 9/16/2019)

What is a Logical Fallacy?

…..Literally, a reasoning mistake

…..Example:

. . . . .You say the square root of 100 is 10

. . . . .Someone wishes to argue otherwise

. . . . .They say you flunked arithmetic in 3rd grade

. . . . .People start to doubt that sqrt(100)=10!

. . . . .This is crazy, right?

. . . . .It happens all the time…

. . . . . . . just not as obviously

. . . . .Example:

. . . . . . .Someone suggested a warning sign

…that some chemical additive might be hazardous

…based on experiments giving it to animals

. . . . . . .Ad hominem response related to hypothetical poor animal experiment design

. . . . . . .Result:

No response

Discussion ended

… and … no warning sign!

. . . . . . .This was a highly effective (ab)use of ad hominem argumentation

. . . . . . .(so why didn’t I/someone point this out?)

…..Politicians do it a lot

. . . . . . Some use it more than others

…..Roman politicians were experts!

…..People fall for it frequently

…..This one’s called the ad hominem argument

…..Latin for to the man

…..The Romans taught oratory in school

. . . . .How to use logical fallacies

. . . . .to manipulate public opinion

. . . . .was part of their education!

. . . . .That’s why many have Latin names

Ad hominem arguments

Just one of many logical fallacies

…..There are dozens

Argumentum ad hominem is one of the most important

…..Ad hominem arguments are particularly common

…..There’s an entire wikipedia entry on them

Example

(from an email exchange

whose only real value was in

providing an example for you folks!):

[ML makes some claims that global warming doesn’t exist. Then he wrote…]

ML: Anybody who claims otherwise is ignorant, uninformed, or lying.

PD: Ooh – is this the choose-your-own-ad-hominem part of the show?  Can I play too?

[more stuff deleted]

Example 2:

An ethics student (Sp 2017) cited a debate between Bill Nye and Ken Ham as containing interesting examples of ad hominem statements (warning: it’s long)

There are various types

…..Example:

. . . . .ad feminam

The animal experiments example was a type

Why?

Let’s look at some

…..types

…..examples

Abusive ad hominem

Argue against something by

attacking the person arguing for it

. . .in contrast to arguing against the thing itself

…..John Nash’s mathematics

…..can’t be Nobel prize-worthy

…..because he has schizophrenia

. . . . .(see movie A Beautiful Mind)

. . . . .logical fallacy?

…..Amy Winehouse’s music sucks

…..because she’s in the “27 club”

. . . . .logical fallacy?

…..Jimi Hendrix’s music is great

…..because he’s in the “27 club”

. . . . .logical fallacy?

…..We shouldn’t do the project like Irving suggests

…..because he’s totally uncool

. . . . .logical fallacy?

Tu toque ad hominem

tu toque = “you also” in Latin

Example:

…..A parent says, don’t smoke, it’s unhealthy

…..The kid says, “but you smoke”

. . . . .“Practice what you preach!”

. . . . .“So I don’t believe you!”

. . . . . . . .  so there, gramps!

(Source: web.archive.org/web/20141002204651/http://uhaweb.hartford.edu/KRAKYTA/C0048330-Kids_smoking_cigarettes-SPL.jpg)

…..is there a logical fallacy there?

Politics is full of examples:

…..Al Gore’s house was once found to be energy-inefficient

. . . . .Is that an argument against the

existence of global warming?

. . . . .Is it an argument

against reducing CO2 output?

…..”Politician z‘s argument is wrong,

s/he’s a Democrat/Republican/whatever”

…..what about,

Scenario 1a (you are on the jury and the jury is discussing a verdict):

. . . “Take the defendant’s lawyer’s argument with a grain of salt – being paid to give a one-sided argument”

. . . . . .logical fallacy, or logically ok?

. . . “The defendant’s lawyer’s argument is wrong – being paid to give a one-sided argument”

. . . . . .logical fallacy, or logically ok?

Scenario 1b (you are on the jury and the jury is discussing a verdict):

. . . “Take the plaintiff’s lawyer’s argument with a grain of salt – it’s their job to give a one-sided argument”

. . . . . .logical fallacy, or logically ok?

. . . “The plaintiff’s lawyer’s argument is wrong – it’s their job to give a one-sided argument”

. . . . . .logical fallacy, or logically ok?

Scenario 2 (politicians)

. . . . .”Take politician X’s argument with a grain of salt, s/he took campaign money from the ___ industry”

. . . . . .logical fallacy, or logically ok?

. . . . .”Politician X’s argument is wrong,

s/he took campaign money from the ___ industry”

. . . . . .logical fallacy, or logically ok?

 I think it’s a logical fallacy, but I would be skeptical, it doesn’t mean the politicon is wrong though. 

Summary:

. . . “ad hominem” means “to the man”

. . . it does not mean “invalid” or “valid”

. . . often it is an invalid/sneaky/sleazy argument trick

. . . . . . (remember its full name:

argumentum ad hominem)

. . . . . . ethical?

. . . sometimes it is logically reasonable

I don’t think its logicall reasonable, but not totally unreasonable either. I think people should no that it isn’t logical, but there’s a reason we are more skeptical of people when they have bad character, hypocrates or getting payed. 

 literally, “to the woman”

Example:

…..Comedian Caroline Picard is a big football fan

…..Suppose a woman critiques a team

…..A fan doesn’t like the comment

…..response 1:

. . . . . .argue it on technical merits

…..response 2:

. . . . .dispute it by saying,

“not so – women don’t know football”

. . . . .that’s an “ad feminam” argument!

. . . . .what is the logical flaw?

. . . . .is it ethical?

I think it is a logical flaw to use response 2. I don’t think you can rationally use age,sex, or really anything that doesn’t really add to the agrument. That’s a silly way of thinking.

 Circumstantial ad hominem argument

Saying that

the arguer is biased,

therefore

the argument is invalid

subtype: conflicts of interest

“That’s just PR spin;

they’re paid to say that”

. . . . .is that argument “to the man”?

. . . . .is it logically fallacious?

The American legal system

based on paying people to argue one side

it’s “adversarial”

Other countries have different approaches

Does the adversarial approach affect the believability of the argument?

Can you think of a better method?

I don’t think you really can have a better system, maybe you can set up like france and have an inquisition, which means that the court does investigations, but I don't know enough about it. I think that we should have fines for smaller crimes, such as drug possession or public intoxication. I’m sure there are many others. This could stop a lot of the court trials and free up the court system a bit. You spend too much money and defendants for can’t afford to get a lawyer get a bad deal with the current system, plus judges need to get there cases done. This is why I don’t hold someone hiring a lawyer against them. 

 “You want us to get out of Iraq?

Well, Iran wants us to do that, too!”

…..“So we should not reduce troops”

. . . . .logical fallacy?

…..“So your argument is traitorous”

. . . . .logical fallacy?

…..“So your argument is wrong”

. . . . .logical fallacy?

  All of these are logical fallacies that don’t even make much sense. I suppose that it’s true that iran wants us to get out, but that is only an argument, It’s get insane when the argument is called traitorous.  

[lifeisonebeautifulpieceofart]

Words

I had the feeling that we can biologically trust people more, who talk less, and sometimes say hard things to us.

Why did i feel that this might be true? When we talk to someone, the things that mock us are kept the longest in memory, because we dont agree with them and try to fit our mind to it. So, statistically, the longer someone talks, the more points you find, where you dont agree. Even in this text right now, this might be the case. So if someone doesnt really talk much, there are statistically less points which we subconciosly associate with that person, where we dont agree with them. So we concentrate and put more attention on the people who talk less, because our brain registers that information as important, because (again statistically) considers the information as „clean“. Also it is clearly easier to concentrate on small seldom bits of information, rather than an endless stream of attentionwhoring messages. The second point about saying harsh things is derived from following observation: sometimes we just feel ugly, even if we are not. So when someone starts to compliment us in this moments, we ignore that statement for ourselves and (again subconcoiusly) interpret this as a lie, which again reduces our felt trust for the words of that person. So again it might be favourable for the trust, to lets say at least in rare cases, mock such a person with statements which you usually dont tell people. This really doesnt mean you should go out there an hurt people, but if you are close to someone, consider stopping to tell them how beatiful they are, when they clearly do not feel this way. They usually know, how beautiful you find them, but if they feel ugly despite this fact, what do you think is going to change, if you underline it. if you tell them ugly things like: „you really should take a shower“ or „you look like a mess, fix youself“ or „you definitly need some sleep“ they might at first respond agressively, but when they really feel like that, they are much more likely to anticipate your statemts opposed to the „tellstories“ of how beautiful they are. Also note that none of these statements are hurtful, rather they imply a problem included in a suggention for improvement, which is known under the term of constructive critisism.

And now, at this point, you might notice a discrepancy. This text is longer than any post ever written on this blog even though it contains the message to talk less. Did i just fail because sometimes, its hard to practice what you preach? Especially, when you are deeply in love and you want to share every single moment with that person and continiously tell them how beautiful they are. So is this what we want to avoid? Naturally, the logical conclusion of this blog must be to just stop being madly in love. But here comes the point, never, under any circumstances, stop loving. Because when love comes in play, these rules stop working. In all of the previous argumentation we missed out on the very important fact, that your opponent is now in love with us as well. (Considering we are in a healthy relationship) When someone is in love, they suck up every word that comes of our lips, as if it was pure molten gold. If they really love you, their trust is never gonna break from subconcious disagreements with your words. Rather they will search a discussion with you. Further, this doesnt mean that you are not allowed to leave constructive critisism while still telling them how beautiful you find them, which might come off as very contradicting, but at least you are being honest with youself, your partner and how you feel. Communication is key. Never limit yourself on words you want to share with a person. It takes time to accept that there is nothing wrong about being in love so much that you cannot stop talking. Embrace it, show it how you feel, let the words flow over the screen of your partner, tell it in person or put them in a song. They wont stop loving you, because you wont stop loving them.

A personal statement at this point: I will never stop loving you, because you will never stop loving me.

A disclosure on the possible imbalance of recepted attention or „I write / talk much more than my partner, what can I do?“ Direct answer: Keep on going! The probably most important step in this case is, to register how useless it is, to compare „your“ love with that of your partner. No one loves „more“ in an honest relationship, once you remind youself that love is something mutual. Its something you hold on together. Its not an investment fond where each of you provides different amounts of shares, its completly free and every word you share makes it grow. Also remember all the things that are true for yourself as they are true for your partner too: Sometimes its hard to find the right words, sometimes we dont have the time or the inspiration for a lot of words, sometimes we prefer silence, sometimes we’d rather speak in person, sometimes we need time for ourselves, sometimes we even need that critisism but all of that is nothing to be afraid of. Because eventually, if you both care, you will find the right words to share and once you share them, they are part of your relationship and will pull you closer, no matter whom of you said them, the only important point is, that you shared them. So, the solution to a problem with communication is communication, let that sink in. Dont be afraid of you words. If you are honest and belive in what you say, words will do wonders.

P.S. This text might come off as complete bollocks, but if the right person reads this at the right time, i am sure that it will provide enogh impulse for self reflection to understand ourselves better aswell as throwing a new light on communication, since writing this down helped me to put my mind in order again and leading me back to a path where i can enjoy writing endless texts out of pure love, no matter how busy my partner is right at the moment.