#he's got pride but will let it go for a long term achievement award

[okaypopopop]

shout out to @firenren, the poetry in motion took me out

going seventeen special etc – the butt discussion

[idontevenwannaknow]

sport necklaces

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[octaviaspvcks]

                                             TASK [ 003 ]                                             QUESTIONNAIRE

ORIGINS & FAMILY:

Name: Octavia Monraue

Nickname: Octi, Octopus, Tavie, Ava.

Birthday: 17/01/1994

Age: 24 Years Old  

Gender: Female

Place of Birth: Great Malvern, Worcestershire, England.

Places Lived Since: Manhattan, Washington, LA, New Orleans, Santa Barbra &  Jehirco. Arizona.

Nationality: English, Greek, American.

Parents’ Names: Elimarie & David Monraue

Number of Siblings: None.

Relationship With Family: They had a close connection, especially growing up. They were pushing her hard to be the greatest she could be but she loved every second of it. Now of course there is no relationship after their early  demise. She misses them terribly but very rarely speaks of them.

Happiest Memory: The day she achieved her first ever award for making Lucas proud.

Childhood Trauma: Early childhood Octavia was struggling with her learning,  although extremely clever it was almost impossible for her to concentrate which really destroyed her confidence. This later came to be a condition called Low Latent Inhibition which affects the way in which the brain perceives    things around the person. It took a lot for her to get used to and overcome this obstacle in her life. And of course the death of her parents was something that completely rocked her world. With such a close family and not many friends this seemed to shatter her and the world around her.

PHYSICAL:

Height: 5’7  ( 1.72 m )

Weight: 112 pounds

Build: Athletic and Lean

Hair Color: Brown with flecks of ash

Usual  Hair Style: Drop curls

Eye Color: Hazel

Glasses? Contacts?: She only ever wears glasses to add to a disguise.

Style of Dress/Typical Outfit(s): Octavia can be seen with two different kinds of wear, one of  her typical day wear tends to be battered black or grey jeans paired with a band-t-shirt or racer tank, black doc martins and her black leather jacket. While her nightwear is a contrast where she tends to wear lavish gowns and expensive designer dresses. This comes from when she used to work as a high class con artist alongside Lucas.

Typical Style of Shoes: Day time you will always find her adorning her doc Martins, she has an array of different colours but her evening she always sports a pair of Louboutin black heels that she received as a present while spending some time in Paris. She has a large array of heels that she likes to wear.

Jewellery? Tattoos? Piercings?: Although not exactly a believer in god she very often wears a cross around her neck that belonged to her mother, she has a nose piercing and wears a lot of rings on her right hand.

Scars: She has a large scar that runs down the side of her rib cage, and one above her lip.

Unique Mannerisms/Physical Habits: She has a lot of British slang and mannerisms from living  most of her childhood in England and still holds her accent very thickly.

Athleticism: Octavia is a big fan of running and she is often seen going for a 6AM run to clear her mind, she loves listening to music and working out as much as she can. She attends the gym at least three times a week and loves boxing for sport.

Health Problems/Illnesses: Octavia has a condition called Low Latent Inhibition which affects her ability to concentrate solely on one thing and affects the way in which the brain perceives and maintains information. Because of her high IQ she manages it very well but it is a challenge at times.

INTELLECT:

Level of Education: Octavia only ever got her GED, although when she was a con     artist in New York she used to go and sit in university classes under fake names and take classes, she even sat exams under false names just so she could see what she could achieve,

Languages Spoken: English, Russian, Korean, Spanish, French, German,     Icelandic, Hebrew & Latin.

Level of Self-Esteem: Octavia  has a high self-esteem and she tends to take pride in herself but when it comes to finding love just has little to none at all.

Gifts/Talents: Languages, Music and Numbers are a big part of Octavia’s talent; multi-instrumentalist and bilinguals as well as her ability with numbers and equations. But these are only a few of her talents,  manipulative when she needed also learn a lot of things when she was working for Lucas as a Luxury Black Market Art thief. She was good with Racketeering,  Bond Forgery and Identify Forgery as well as computer hacking.

Mathematical?: Octavia is a lover of numbers, she could sit and do numbers all day and gets a thrill out of getting equations and quizzes complete as it challenges her     mind which she often feels she doesn’t do enough these days.

Makes Decisions Based Mostly On Emotions, or On Logic?: Most of the bad decisions that Octavia  makes are based upon emotion. She is a rather logically person, so when she does make mistakes or bad decisions it is usually emotionally fuelled.    

Life Philosophy: Always, always trust your first gut instincts. If you genuinely feel in your heart and soul that something wrong, it usually is.

Religious Stance: Atheist. She believes that everything happens for a reason and in reincarnation.

Cautious or Daring?: Daring when needed, she likes to take a risk and loves     adrenaline and thrills but she is cautious when it comes to her heart and things that could affect her mentally.

Most Sensitive About/Vulnerable To: She is vulnerable when it comes to the death of people close to her and the fact that she feels inexperienced when it comes to love and letting people in past the shield she has created around herself. She     worries that after Roberto’s passing that she could lose other people.

Optimist or Pessimist?: Optimist towards everything but her own love life.

Extrovert or Introvert?: She is neither of these but in fact a Ambivalent. A     combination of the two. She likes people but needs to be alone. She’ll go out and vibe and meet new people. But it has it’s expiration, because she has to recharge. If she doesn’t find the valuable alone time she needs to recharge she cannot be her highest self.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Current Relationship Status: Single.

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Past Relationships: One Night Stand with Russell Johnson and Crush on Lucas     Price.

Primary Reason For Being Broken Up With: Nothing to compare it too.

Primary Reasons For Breaking Up With People: There has never been a break up.

Ever Cheated?: No.

Been Cheated On: No.

Level of Sexual Experience: Octavia has only ever slept with one person, once.

Story of First Kiss: In The Howling rooms drunk on Whiskey and Music while     laughing about how much life sucked at times. She kissed Russell in hopes it would dissolve the constant feeling and yearning in her stomach for Lucas.

Story of Loss of Virginity: Octavia lost her virginity recently to Russell

A Social Person?: Octavia is a very big people person and gets/feels better whenever  she is around people. But she also likes her space to read and play music, although, she doesn’t mind doing this with people around as long as they     leave her be.

Most Comfortable Around: Leo, Lucas, Russell, Mia, Sophia, Camille & Jack

Oldest Friend: Lucas Price.

How Does she Think Others Perceive Her?: Octavia has different opinions, but those close to her she believes see her as someone with an open mind who is willing to do what  she has to do to get a job done. She is respectful and loyal and will now bow out if someone needs her.

How Do Others Actually Perceive Him?: Octavia really isn’t sure what peoples formed opinions of  her are.

SECRETS:

Life Goals: To meet someone who she can spend her life with, she does not want anything extravagant  in terms of money but she does want a love just like she reads in her favourite books and love films--- she wants to have adventures, night walks on the beach and laughter with a glass of wine around a piano at night; all she hopes for beside that is to one day have a little boy and be a mother just like her mother had been.

Dreams: Octavia has a dream that one day she’ll be married.

Greatest Fears: Trypanphobia, Claustrophobia & Pseudodysphagia

Most Ashamed Of: Although she does love her life of Crime she is ashamed of     herself for never carrying on with her education and going on to be like her mother and work for the government in languages. She feels she let her parents down, even if they are not around to see it.

Secret Hobbies: She collects stamps from every place

Crimes Committed (Was he caught? Charged?): The list of Octavia’s crimes is extensive especially from when she used to work with Lucas. Some of them contain Forgery, Racketeering, Identity Theft, International Sea Extortion, Mafia ties, Homicide amongst many more.

DETAILS/QUIRKS:

Night Owl or Early Bird?: Night Owl

Light or Heavy Sleeper?: Heavy Sleeper

Favorite Animal: Wolf.

Favorite Food: Smoked Salmon Sushi.

Least Favorite Food: Prunes, Raisins ect.

Favorite Book: War & Peace by Leo Tolstoy

Least Favorite Book: 50 Shades of Grey.

Favorite Movie: Black Hawk Down

Least Favorite Movie: Star Wars.

Favorite Song: Misererer by Gregorio Allegri, Tebevrae. Allegri.

Favorite Sport: Figure Skating

Coffee or Tea?: Tea

Crunchy or Smooth Peanut Butter?: She hates peanut butter with a passion.

Type of Car she Drives: Mercury Comet 1963

Lefty or Righty?:  Right.

Favorite Color: Burgundy.

Cusser?: Swear  words are used more often than normal words with Octavia.

Smoker? Drinker? Drug User?: Heavy Smoker and Drinker but she will not touch drugs.

Biggest Regret: Losing her virginity while drunk.

Pets: Octavia has a dog called Yoko.

[taylor-carson-blog1]

        𝑰 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒏, 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍.

                                                                      CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE                                                                                         Taylor Skye Carson

ARE YOU A WILMINGTON NATIVE? IF NOT, WHERE DID YOU GROW UP? TELL US ABOUT YOUR CHILDHOOD.

“I was born in Wilmington, yes,” Taylor answered with a nod. “My family has been living here throughout generations – all the way back to the late 1800s, I believe.” Though a fairly common last name, her lineage had been traced back to the 19th century in Wilmington, proceeded by family in the Nordic region of Europe. “Growing up here was a dream, and I couldn’t picture it any other way. My mother didn’t work, so she was always around, helping me with homework, etiquette, and taking me to my many extra-curriculars. My father, on the other hand, was seldom seen, but his presence was large when he was home. He was always at work. His side of the family runs a defensive law firm in town – Carson & Carson – and he used to work there until he was elected mayor when I was fourteen.” Taylor’s answers were diplomatic, of course, never revealing how alone she felt as a child. How she longed for a sibling or friends that could get to know her on a deeper level than she was allowed. Unfortunately, the young blonde was a doll – dressed in the prettiest of fabrics, made-up to the tens, and then set out on display for others to look at.

WHAT IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP LIKE WITH YOUR FAMILY? DO YOU HAVE SIBLINGS? A LARGE EXTENDED FAMILY?

“I always wanted siblings. Maybe a older brother or sister, but I am an only child.” Thought to be a perfect child due to her obedience to family and their lifestyle, Stephen and Lori never had a need for another child. Taylor had fulfilled their desires, and more. “My mother and I are close. My dad and I used to be a lot closer before I – ” Cutting herself off, Taylor shook her head and easily slid a masking smile upon her lips. “We are a strong family unit.” Save face, Taylor. Don’t reveal personal details. This isn’t your first rodeo.

DESCRIBE YOUR HIGH SCHOOL EXPERIENCE.

“High school was high school,” shrugging a dainty shoulder, Taylor wasn’t quite sure what the interviewer wanted to hear. Most people in town knew that her freshman year was when her father was elected mayor, and his reign had held steady ever since. It had effected her in regards to who she was allowed to hang out with, where she was allowed to go, and when she was allowed, but high school had been a fairly intimate time for Taylor. “I met Spencer – my wife – when we were at New Hanover,” she teased, though she knew that she wouldn’t go too far with what she revealed. That aspect of her relationship with Spencer was sacred to this day. “I didn’t get to go out much back then, for safety reasons, but it’s clear that I gained a few relationships there that have lasted for life.” Winking at the implication, such was as far as they needed to know.

WHAT WAS YOUR YEARBOOK SUPERLATIVE? WHY WAS THIS SO?

“I won two, if I remember correctly,” Taylor thought back, though wasn’t too prideful of what such awards were – hence her forgetfulness. “Most Likely to Marry Rich and the Female Best Dressed.” Inwardly rolling her eyes at the first one, it couldn’t have been further from reality… though it had been close, at one point. “I liked the second one. I take care of my appearance and am glad to have been noticed for it,” Taylor spoke in relation to more than just a dumb superlative, but the numerous times she’d been featured in local magazines for her event and gala evening-wear. “The first one was just a joke, I assume, based on who my parents are. It’s funny though, because the man I was ‘dating’ – and I use that term lightly – before Spencer, was pretty well-off, and if I hadn’t come out, we would probably be married.” The thought was horrendous, and was actually the cause of much of Taylor’s anxiety. “Fortunately, I married a cop who was at the lower-end of the pay-grade totem pole back then.”

WHAT DID YOU DO AFTER HIGH SCHOOL? DID YOU GO TO COLLEGE? IF NOT, WHY?

“After high school, I enrolled at Cape Fear Community College, mostly since my parents told me that I had to,” the blonde thought back to that phase of her life and stifled a chuckle. “They wanted me to work at the family business as a paralegal. I got my Associate’s and lasted about two years before I got bored.” Taylor’s expression remained unashamed, as money had always been a large factor in her family – one that the media knew quite well. Taylor was a trust-fund baby who didn’t truly need to work a day in her life, it had all been for experience. Ergo, the blonde figured she should say something inspirational at that point. “Looking back, I am glad that I did it though – ” lie “ – and will encourage the same in my own children. Education is important.” A large, pearly white, fake smile punctuated her assertion.

WAS THERE AN EVENT IN YOUR LIFE THAT GREATLY IMPACTED WHO YOU ARE NOW AS A PERSON?

“Plenty.” Nodding in affirmation, Taylor struggled to pick just one to elaborate on. “I think if I had to narrow them down, I’d say that coming out was probably the biggest event that has made me who I am.” Over time, it had become easier to talk about this sort of thing when it was for inspirational purposes. A professional at navigating the media, Taylor always tried to give away as little detail as possible, so she’d do so now, as well. “I had known who I was from quite a young age, and for family and professional reasons, I had to keep it under-wrap. Stifling such a large part of yourself is never the answer and will only cause more pain. At that point in my life, when I came out, it had been just an explosion of twenty-seven years of suppression. I wouldn’t recommend waiting that long for anyone unless they are in a dangerous situation, since it really prevented me from enjoying a large portion of my young adult life. I was supposed to be out falling in love, making mistakes, and growing from that, but instead, I was forced into silence.” Taylor paused, reflecting on that heavy time of her life. “I’m glad that I made the choice I did, I just wish that it would have been sooner. And if you’re struggling with your identity, just know that it gets better, and that you’re not alone. There’s plenty of lightning bugs trapped in jars, waiting to get out. Once you do, you’re gonna shine bright.”

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN LOVE? IF NOT, DO YOU THINK THAT IS POSSIBLE FOR YOU IN THE FUTURE?

“Once.” Like most of these topics, Taylor usually tried to keep this part of her personal life private, so she remained tight-lipped… but she couldn’t help the way said lips curved upward at the nostalgic flashbacks to the beginnings of her relationship with her wife. “Eighteen years and counting.”

WHEN WERE YOU BORN AND WHAT IS YOUR ASTROLOGICAL SIGN? DOES IT INFLUENCE YOUR LIFE IN ANY WAY?

Letting out a soft sigh at the question, the southern, Christian blonde didn’t put much stock into this kind of thing, nor did she like talking about it – the astrology, that is. “I was born on June 24, 1984. I’ve been told that it makes me a Cancer, but I don’t believe in that sort of thing.” Honest and blunt about it, the dainty silver cross hanging around Taylor’s neck glimmered in the light of the room, letting off a sparkle in punctuation.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE TIME OF YEAR? TELL US SOME OF YOUR FAVORITE ACTIVITIES TO DO DURING THIS TIME.

“Oh, I love all times of the year!” Taylor’s enthusiasm peaked after such a drag of a question. “I can’t pick just one, hmm,” she hummed in thought. “I really like spring and fall because that’s soccer season and my toddlers really love playing the sport with their mama – my wife.” Spencer had played soccer all throughout high school and college and now coached the tykes little league team. It mostly consisted of them running around, pretending to do things, and occasionally stopping to pick flowers or pick up the ball, but it was still fun to watch. “Then there’s summer which, obviously, means the beach, and we have some of the most beautiful beaches in the country,” Taylor’s Wilmington-spirit shone through. “Winter is also nice because the snow is so beautiful to watch out the window and you can just cuddle with a loved one by a fire with some hot cocoa or a glass of wine.” Placing her hand over her heart, Taylor let out a dramatic, overwhelmed huff of exasperation. “We’re just so blessed to be able to experience every season here. God’s beauty in its fullest.”

WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF IN TEN YEARS AND WHAT DO YOU HAVE HOPED TO ACHIEVE?

“In ten years?” Taylor hadn’t expected to have to think that far ahead. “Well, shoot, i’ll be, what, forty-three? Goodness gracious!” Such was hard to fathom at her current stage in life. “I see a lot of botox, that’s for sure!” A hearty laugh sounded from the blonde as she played it off as a relatable joke, though she knew for a fact that it was definitely going to be in her future. Taylor was not ashamed of a little cosmetic plastic surgery. Her mother had always encouraged looking her best. “No, seriously, my kids will be around the middle school ages, so I’ll probably be busier with individual schedules and such. Maybe my father-in-law will have stepped down from being the chief of police and my wife will inherit that honor, which will bring a lot of change to the family, but hopefully she’ll be able to be at home more often.” Pausing, Taylor’s mind drifted off to a visual glimpse into the future and a feeling of happiness and love filled her body, causing a tingle to rush down her spine. “You know what?” She asked the interviewer, rhetorically. “I see myself happy.” It was the truth. One of the biggest truths in the interview. “Maybe it’s because I try to walk through life with rose-colored glasses but… It’s a good view to me.”

[reactivebangtan]

REQUEST: bts reacts to jealous girlfriend. Could you also give the reason as to why their S/O is jealous:) REQUESTED BY: anonymous WARNINGS: nothing!

you should be happy when jin gets the attention and recognition he deserves, but it always proves to sit a little funny in your chest; maybe it was the comments his fans made or him being so receptive to said comments, but something about it seemed to flip a switch in you that rivaled your pride over his accomplishments. jin, ever the empathetic one, would try to ease your worries as soon as he knows what’s wrong — he wouldn’t understand right away, but he would try to and he wouldn’t bother hiding his efforts as whatever is bothering you is much more important than him possibly appearing ignorant. even if you were to be too embarrassed to admit it or perhaps angry enough about it to remain silent, he’d still make an effort to get it out of you ( he would only be slightly deterred if you were to raise your voice or push him away ) and wouldn’t stop until he did. it wouldn’t be hard to understand where your jealousy is rooted or why it began to grow in the first place, as jin has had his fair share of swallowing down envy and ignoring it the best he can, and he would never blame you for how youre feeling in the first place. once you’re honest with him and explain why you’re acting the way you are, he’d sit you down and talk with you about it — it might be hard to get it out, but he believes you can do it with enough support from his side, and he’d never grow impatient or annoyed by the things you do or do not say. in the end, he’d work with you about it and try his best to ease the troubles created in your mind, all while claiming that you’re the first person he thinks of when he achieves anything.

it’s almost embarrassing how envious you are of the fact that yoongi rarely shares his troubles and tribulations with you, and instead often goes to namjoon about anything and everything. it wasn’t that you were jealous of namjoon in particular, but then maybe you were and simply didn’t want to admit it. and, while yoongi is the type to normally respect the need for coming to terms with your feelings in your own time and talking about them when you finally decided to do so, this would be something he wouldn’t allow to fester. he’d notice very quickly what’s wrong, as you attempt to get things out of him more and more and almost appear to be desperately prying for something ( though, he doesn’t know exactly what ), and would be pretty direct when going about asking you about it. while you might expect him to be annoyed by what you have to say, he’s actually very tentative and tries his best to be understanding — he listens to everything you have to say, from start to finish, even when you have trouble voicing it. he’s patient with you, and remains mostly quiet throughout your explanations, until it comes time for him to quietly apologize for making you think that he didn’t trust you or wasn’t comfortable enough with you to talk about these things — he’d explain that it was more about him not wanting to bother you or worry you, and that most problems he faces could be explained away as petty or small compared to everything else. after this, he’d try to be more open with you, though he still faces his own worries from time to time that he would, in fact, simply be putting more on your shoulders than need be; despite this, you’d always be willing to listen, and he would eventually come to being more comfortable with sharing his worries and being entirely open and honest with you. it’s something you both have to work on together.

❛ i want you to be my hope. ❜ it’s the first thing you say when he finally accomplishes getting it out of you after nearly an hour of clinging to your side and asking you what’s wrong in every way possible, all in different tones and very nearly whiny in nature. it’s a silly thing to have stuck in your brain for so long, but when it came it simply never went, and jealousy tended to fester like an open wound inside of you even when you did your best to ignore it. hoseok can’t help the way he beams at your admission, though whether it’s over the fact that he finally got something out of you or whether your words simply tickled him in just the right way was anybodies guess. still, he assures you he’s not laughing at you and her certainly doesn’t find this funny, even though he probably does just a little — who said he couldn’t be your hope? — and it’s only after you explain that it’s more about the fact that he treats everyone the same, even you, and that you often just feel like one of the guys, he finally understands. you want to feel special. he isn’t sure why such a thing never occurred to him before this, or why it wasn’t simply natural to treat you in such a way, but after you’ve admitted it he never seems to stop trying. even after it becomes like second nature and it’s been months since you said anything and you’ve completely forgotten about it all, he never seems to stop thinking about it.  ❛ see? i’ve been your hope this whole time! ❜

you’re so proud of them — the awards keep coming and their success is seemingly endless, creating so many ‘firsts’ and breaking the mold surrounding k-pop. they’ve become an inspiration to so many other groups and have proved to be the perfect role models, and you never thought you could be this happy simply watching their own happiness bloom like a flower in the spring. there only seems to be one downside, and it’s one you desperately try to ignore — you want to continue being proud, you want to be happy for them, so why do you feel like this? you realize quickly that your jealousy doesn’t chase after all of them, but simply your seemingly clueless boyfriend — it started as something small, something you could ignore, until it grew into something big, something monstrous and green with envy. it takes you longer to realize that it isn’t about their success or the continuous stream of praise from both their fans and their colleagues, but rather the time that goes into it. as their leader, namjoon seems to be constantly surrounded by things that need to be done, or strapped in for another vlive, or so caught up in the group that nothing else seems to exist. where did you fit in? you weren’t sure, but you knew it wasn’t something he did on purpose or with any malcontent, and it isn’t until you say it so softly that he almost can’t hear you that he even realizes what he’s been doing to you this whole time. the apologies are seemingly just as endless as everything else, and you try to reassure him that it isn’t his fault, but he doesn’t seem to see it that way — you’re always on his mind, even when everything else is going on, so how did he not realize something like this? it’s right there and then that he promises to make time for you, no matter what; facetime and skype calls become a ritual when he’s away ( even when he’s so tired that he ends up falling asleep before he can hang up ), and somehow he miraculously fits you in inbetween their busy schedules for even the smallest things, like movie nights with all the boys or a one hour coffee date on a quiet street. it becomes so natural that it’s something else he doesn’t even seem to realize, something that becomes as simple as instinct, and something that you can never seem to stop appreciating.

jimin is affectionate — it’s something you knew before you even started dating him. you just didn’t realize how affectionate to, like, everyone. you did your best not to let it bother you, because he certainly saves a fair share for you, but somehow it still ends up gnawing at you from the inside out. keeping it to yourself wasn’t the best course of action, but you aren’t sure how to bring it up without sounding like a complete idiot, and you’re not really sure how he’d take it. it seems like an endless cycle of you beating yourself up over something that could probably be easily rectified, but that you won’t allow to slip, until he finally brings it up. the question is casual, something that he just throws into conversation, but that still leaves you a little shocked — you thought you were hiding it so well! still, you try to brush it off, before he’s very clear that he isn’t having any of that and tries to pry even further into your head. it takes all of five minutes of him asking the same question in seventeen different ways, before you crack and tell him the truth — a truth that comes with being unable to look him in the eyes and mortification when he giggles about it. once you find it in yourself to shoot a questioning look that mingles with the edges of hurt and embarrassment, you still find him smiling ( it’s soft, almost shy, but a smile nonetheless ).  ❛ i don’t think they’d like me kissing them like i kiss you. ❜ his admission finally has you joining in with the gentle giggles and soft smiles, and something in your chest settles just right — your thoughts and worries don’t permanently go away, but he’s sure to be even more affectionate with you from there on, even if it’s just holding your hand as tight as he can.

much like hoseok, taehyung tends to treat you the same as everybody else, if only just a tad more affectionate; it isn’t a conscious decision, simply something that he just does and doesn’t really seem to notice. but, despite what everyone says, he isn’t an idiot — he’s quick to notice that something is up with you, but can’t quite figure out what. he’d be pretty direct with asking you about it, but you don’t know how to respond at first — you brush it off, act as if nothing is wrong, and he goes along with it. if you aren’t going to tell him now, he’s sure you’ll tell him eventually, he just has to be patient with you. that’s the easy part — the knowing and still waiting is the hard part. eventually, though, you do come around to finally telling him, even if it’s in slow spurts that, if he were to be honest, didn’t make much sense at first. even when you’re finally finished and have said your piece, he still has a hard time understanding how you’re feeling, but he does try, because that’s all he can do. it’s not incredibly easy for him to empathize, but he knows these things are always more complicated than they seem, and it’s not something you can help; he says as much, and yet still apologizes, because what else can you do in a situation like this? things don’t get rectified immediately, but he’s sure to show you even more affection than he’s already been showing you — always has a hand on you or an arm over your shoulders, constantly whispers into your ear so only you can hear, calls you every petname in the book, anything and everything that he can think of.

jungkook isn’t the best at these things, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that he’s done something wrong. what, though, he can’t seem to figure out — you’re his first serious relationship, and there’s already been bumps along the way, but you’ve always been very patient with him. so, to have you acting so distant is more than worrying; to say he panics would be an understatement. and, after going to every single one of his hyungs for their input, he figures the only way he’s gonna find out is if he asks you directly. easier said than done, but my god does he try to get it out in one go — it’s damn near impossible, but his shaky  ❛ i’m sorry, ❜ says enough. you, having known you were holding out on him all this time hoping he’d get the hint, feel even worse than you did before, because he’s looking at you with those big eyes and brows knitted so tight together that he’s sure to feel an ache between them, and you know it’s your fault. in your own shaky voice and between your nervous habits, you try to explain — ❛ it’s just the things your fans say about you... ❜ — and inbetween each word you realize how ridiculous you’ve been acting ( it’s not something he can help, and you know each and every boy in the group gets sexualized to the point where you’re not even sure they’re human anymore, but somehow it still bothers you ). it’s only after you apologize that he finally gets the nerve to speak up again, trying his best to explain exactly what you already know — he doesn’t like it, either. despite this, and despite knowing that you, yourself, have realized just how stupid this all sounds, he still brings you in for a tight hug and whispers his apologies right in your ear. tells you he’d stop them if he could, that he only wants to hear those things from you, and that he loves you so, so much.

[d-noona]

MAKE OVER

Chapter 10: Changing Crime Scenes

Jung Hoseok x Reader

Reader as Kang Hyeonji

SUMMARY: When Kang Hyeonji transformed herself into a striking redhead, the entire male population of Seoul stood up and took notice. But her make over was for Jung Hoseok’s benefit alone. He began to show interest in the new look but not in the way she wanted. Suddenly he was over-protective, perhaps a little jealous. It seemed that the idea of having a relationship with her couldn’t be further from his mind. The girl however wants more. So it was time for an ultimatum. If Hoseok didn’t want Hyeonji to lose her virginity to another admirer, he had no option but to make love to her himself.

Hyeonji would be eternally grateful that other people pounced on Hoseok as soon as they entered the club, because she was in a state of shock. Good manners had her smiling and saying the right things on automatic pilot, but it was a real relief that she couldn't have a private conversation with Hoseok at that point. She needed to assimilate what had just happened, what he'd agreed to. She needed time to calm the panic within.

But time brought little calm, only the most debilitating cluster of nerves. Her mind whirled with a possibly inaccurate memory of saying which was perversely apt for the occasion, and went something like this: Careful of what you might want, because one day you might just get it.

Naturally, she could not eat any of the dinner placed in front of her. Not a bite. Hoseok, however, was not similarly stricken. He ate his food while chatting casually with the others seated at the official table, acting as if nothing untoward on his mind. Clearly, his agreeing to deflower his best friend after the dinner was over did not rate sufficient reason to go off his food. He might have lost his head but he hadn't lost his appetite.

Men, Hyeonji decided with growing cynicism, were a different breed altogether. Their egos, never their feelings, dictated all their actions. Hoseok was only taking her to bed because he could not bear for Jungkook to. It had nothing to do with desire for her and everything to do with male competitiveness.

She moved her food around the various plates, trying to make it look as if she'd eaten something. She found comfort in continuously sipping her wine, an easy task since her glass was never empty. The very attentive waiter kept topping it up, perhaps because from his elevated position he could peer down her cleavage.

When he went to top it up again during dessert, Hoseok's hand suddenly appeared over the glass barring the way. Not a word was spoken but the waiter got the message. After he'd moved on to attend to others at the table. Hoseok leant towards her.

"Under the circumstances, a reasonable alcoholic consumption would be beneficial," he said quietly. "Too much, however, would definitely be counter-productive. Unless of course, you wish to be close to unconscious when I take you to bed," he added on a dry note. "I do realize I'm not your first choice for this honor, but I would like you to at least remember who was responsible next morning."

Hyeonji felt totally miffed. So she'd been right. Hoseok's decision to be her first lover was just a matter of ego. She vowed to find something cutting to say in return, nut floundered abysmally.

The Master of Ceremonies' introduction of the night's guest speaker put Hyeonji out of her misery. Hoseok rose up from his chair to walk up onto the stage which had been set up at one end of the long rectangular room, standing to one side of the podium while the MC ran through praise-filled resume of Hoseok's achievement in business. She was too busy staring at Hoseok, at this absolutely gorgeous man whom she adored for many many years, and who in a couple of hours' time, would hopefully do what she'd always wanted him to do.

And she'd been stupidly sitting there, finding fault with him and indulging in all sorts of insecure female rubbish. Good God what was wrong with her? This was the stuff romantic dreams were made of. She'd accuse Hobi once of never stopping and smelling the flowers yet here she was, letting panic and pride spoil what should be the happiest night of her life.

Well, from this moment in tonight, she was going to stop and smell the flowers. She would not question Hoseok's motivations for making love to her. She would not worry about tomorrow. She would simply enjoy each moment for what it was and let the rest of the world go by.

Her eyes softened as they watch Hoseok step up to the podium, looking so sophisticated and impressive. With her silly anger gone, she listened to every word he said, quickly rapt in power and sincerity of his speech. He spoke of achievement in terms of faith in one's own ability and that unswerving tunnel vision which refused to accept defeat and called every seeming failure an experience. He did not gloss over the necessity of hard work, nor the difficulties of the present economic climate. He was passionate and inspiring. You could hear a pin drop in the room. Hyeonji felt so proud.

That's the man I love, she wanted to call out to everyone. But of course she did not. She sat there silently, vowing that tonight she would show Hoseok that love, in every touch, every caress. She might not have Tinashe's expertise in bed, but she would give him something the other woman could not. True love. And true passion. Nothing feigned nor faked.

When Hoseok finished his speech, the room erupted with applause, Hyeonji clapping as enthusiastically as everyone else.

After that, it was time to get on with the award-giving, Jungkook coming lucky at last. When he strode up on stage to accept the award, Hyeonji tensed a little. But no one would have guessed the two men were anything but best of friends, both of them smiling broadly while the photographer snapped them together.

But Jungkook whispered something after the photographer had finished, something which had Hoseok frowning momentarily over at Hyeonji. He said something back to Jungkook, who made another remark then laughed and slapped Hoseok on the shoulder. By the time Hoseok sat back down next to Hyeonji, she could not contain her curiosity.

"What did Jungkook say to you just then?" She asked tautly.

"When? Jungkook never says anything of importance." Hoseok replies. "But you did frown at me afterwards." Hyeonji pushed.

"It was nothing. Just Jungkook being Jungkook. He's always a bad loser. Come on. Let's go." When he stood up abruptly, Hyeonji gaped at him. "Now? You want to go now?"

"Yes. Why not? Surely you dont want to stay here and make meaningless chit chat? It's already ten thirty. It'll be nearing midnight by the time we make it to my place. If I'm to deliver you back home before the dawn. I think we should shake a leg, don't you?" Hoseok smirked at Hyeonji.

"Well, I...I..." to tell him that her mother would not worry if she didn't make it home before dawn would have met with much skepticism. "Fine," she finally said, her voice not much more than a squeak.

Swallowing, she stood up and let Hoseok propel her shaky legs from the room and the club. "Where exactly is your place?" Hyeonji queried on their way to the car. "Just bought a new apartment in one of those new inner-city high rises a couple of months back. I only moved in this last week though."

"A new car, and now a new place," Hyeonji remarked casually, though her heart was singing with the thought that if he'd only moved in this last week he'd never spent time alone with Tinashe there, never slept with her in that particular bedroom. Who knew maybe even the bed was a new one?

Thinking about bedrooms and beds brought resurgence of nerves which reminded her forcibly of her empty stomach. Maybe she should have tried to eat something. The last thing she wanted was her hunger pains making embarrassing noises while Hoseok was making love to her.

They reach the car and Hoseok opened the passenger door for her. Their eyes met and Hoseok's were irritatingly unreadable. If he was nervous about the rest of the evening, he certainly wasn't showing it. "You're not the only one who's decided to make changes in their life," he said matter-of-factly. "Turning twenty five made me realize time was moving on."

Oh my God, she though. He is thinking about marrying Tinashe. "Twenty five is not that old Hobi," she said hastily. "I mean, not for a man. Now it might be for a woman because she has to have babies, but in a man's case there's no need for him to rush into marriage."

"Marriage? I wasn't talking about marriage! I was talking about enjoying some of the money I've worked so hard to make. Oh, do just get in. And don't gabble me all the way to the apartment. I like to listen to music when I drive. And I like to concentrate."

Hoseok slotted a Bangtan Sonyeondan CD into the built-in player before easing out of the parking space. Maybe he founf their music relaxing and upbeat, but Hyeonji discovered that these Idols were one of a kind. Singularity playing on the background, Hyeonji found the music disturbingly erotic in several ways.

The next hour seemed eternal. Hyeonji stared through the passenger window, first into the blackness of the countryside, then later the city lights. She tried every method known to mankind to still her churning stomach. Deep, even breathing. Meditation. More common-sense reasoning of the type she'd soothed herself with at dinner.

This is what you've always wanted. Stop being a silly ninny. Hoseok knows what he's doing. He's and experienced lover. It won't hurt. It's going to be wonderful. These last thoughts had small measure of success till they drew close to Han River, after which butterflies in Hyeonji's stomach reached plagued proportions.

"You know, you don't have to do this is you don't want to," she blurted out. His side ways glance carried total exasperation. "If you think for a moment I'm going to let you back out now, then you have another thing coming!"

"Yes, but if you don't really want to..."

"Don't want to?" He grated out. "Are you mad? I'm sitting here in fucking agony, I want you so much. Hell, I've thought of nothing else all night!"

"Oh" Hyeonji was stunned, then thrilled by the dark frustration in his voice. She would certainly never have guessed by his manner. Maybe he wasn't doing this just because of ego after all. Maybe he really wanted her, Kang Hyeonji.

Or maybe any attractive female would have done as we, came the added dampening thought. Clearly he'd been celibate since his separation from Tinashe started over four weeks ago. Maybe he was just dying for some sex, and she tipped him over the edge tonight with her provocative dress and flirty manner. Hadn't he said he'd agreed to sleep with her that he'd lost his head?

"Look just in case you're languishing under misapprehension here," Hoseok went on quite irritably, "I am not sacrificing myself on the altar of friendship tonight. It's passion that sends men to bed with women, not compassion. I wanted you the moment I saw you tonight."

Hyeonji took little comfort from his confession. It sounded like a case of uncontrollable male frustration to her. "So you can stop sitting there worrying I might stop this time," Hoseok informed her with a savage sideways glance. "My conscience is well and truly routed. And you can stop acting like a nervous bride on her wedding night. You kew exactly what you were doing tonight, you wicked little minx. I finally realize that. No one comes out on a date dressed like THAT without a preconceived game plan. You were determined to seduce some poor, unsuspecting male tonight no matter, weren't you?"

"Something like that," as Hyeonji answers.

Less than twenty seconds later he was easing his Mazda into the allotted parking space for unit 3234.

Hyeonji swallowed hard.

The curtain was about to go up on the biggest show of her life. For once, she was center stage, the heroine of the play, with Hoseok her hero. Ten days ago this would have been unbelievable, unthinkable. Yet here she was.

This is your one last chance Hyeonji, a voice whispered in her head. Don't waste it.

Suddenly, the knots in her stomach began to unravel and a strange calm overtook her. Without waiting for Hoseok, she reached for the door handle and let herself out of the car. She felt oddly ethereal as she watched him climb out of the car and walked around to join her. Almost as though she was having an out-of-body experience. She was here, yet she was also watching from afar.

"Are you alright Hyeonji?" Hoseok asked, frowning. Her smile was dreamy. "Yes, I'm fine." His frown deepened. "You're not drunk, are you?" Hyeonji simply answered him by shaking her head.

"You knocked back a lot of that wine over dinner and you didn't really eat much."

"I didn't have much appetite," she admitted. "I was thinking of you, Hobi. And this." Again without waiting for him she slid her arms around his neck, reached up on tiptoe and Pressed herself against him.

He just stood there, deliciously acquiescent, while her lips found his in a series of light kisses which fluttered over his mouth like angels' wings. Hyeonji was in seventh heaven, making soft satisfied little noises in her throat. Her fingers stroked the back of his neck, her thumbs caressing the soft skin behind his ears.

Finally, Hoseok's lips parted as he sucked in a long., quivering breath. Hyeonji's tongue immediately darted forward, connecting with his own tongue tip before it could retreat. She felt his hesitation, ruthlessly ignored it, snaking her tongue deep into his mouth then winding it around the full length of his.

She was the original Eve, tempting Adam with the pleasures of flesh, but combining her seduction with an even more subtle force. Her love for him. It gave her power she could never have guessed at. And the will to exercise that power. She undulated her tongue and her body against his, and urged him on as females had been urging their menfolk since time immemorial.

His tortured groan startled her as his hands came up to grip her shoulders. His fingertips dug into her flesh and for a few moments his tongue took over and gave her a glimpse on how Hoseok would make love.l, once he really lost his head.

Just savagely he yanked her away from him, holding her at arms length while he glared down at her with a blistering reproach in his blazing brown eyes.

"No, damn it," he ground out. "No!"

"But you said you wouldn't stop." She cried in dismay.

"I'm not stopping, you little fool. I'm changing the scene of the crime." And taking her hand, he began dragging across the car park. "The crime?" She echoed.

"Yeah. What you were doing to me just then was criminal. But don't worry, Miss Moving On. I'll let you do whatever you fancy once we're in the privacy of my bedroom. In fact, I'll insist upon it."

Chapter 11

Masterlist

[daveywankenobie]

As I write it’s dark and cold outside – but the days seem to be just a teensy bit longer all of a sudden.

It’s no illusion. The shortest one of the year (Sunday the 22nd of December) is now behind us – and from this point on the UK will only get lighter and the days longer.

I can almost feel the warmth of summer on my back.

That’s partially because (despite a rocky few weeks) I actually had a really active and on plan second half to the month.

It got worse before it started to get better though, because when I stepped on the scales at home on the 15th of this month (after some hefty emotional eating) they greeted me with a somewhat sobering 17st 9.5lbs.

I knew what was going on.

I’ve been quiet for a reason.

As well as encountering some unexpected health worries (which seem for the time being to be OK) the whole issue of not finding work has been eating away at my self confidence, and I’ve found it very hard indeed to not hibernate or eat away the upset it’s been causing.

That’s not to say that I’m not taking positive steps mind you. I’ve been working through a couple of self help books and looking at understanding what I really want rather than what I feel I have no choice about and should apply for.

It’s not easy though when you’v been turned down four times in a row for jobs that you know would be a walk in the park – but I guess if nothing else it’s character forming, and what will be will be.

It’s also Christmas, nobody is hiring and Brexit looms.

Even the job sites that were previously spamming me with unhelpful adverts have dried up over the last three to four weeks, and my inbox is mercifully devoid of mail reminding me that I’m not proving to be particularly successful in this area.

However – back to the scales.

Free from the self imposed guilt of being over target as man of the year I have now instituted a new regime.

I have up until recently focusing on my new project – which is feeling guilty about an out of target ex-man of the year.

The former guilt was because I should be a positive example of a man with a title and the latter because I don’t want to be seen to have ‘let myself go’ after everyone believed in me and looked to me for inspiration.

Sigh.

One day maybe I’ll stop doing this to myself…

However I know I’m not alone in such quagmires of spiralling thoughts – and it seems that as much as I’ve been amazed by the capability of fellow slimmers to change their shapes and life outcomes I’ve also been encouraged that they too struggle like heck at some time or another when it comes to maintenance.

Practically everyone of them I know (or just follow on social media) has posted some epic gains followed by a correspondingly epic loss – and almost everyone that’s achieved a measure of success is now differnent to the weight they were when they held aloft their local or national awards.

I’m not alone – so why feel any shame?

Thankfully at the moment I’m not.

Over the last two weeks I’ve managed to lose an entire stone (even though it doesn’t look like that in my book) and it’s been through sheer hard work and effort.

Dropping weight over Christmas has been a challenge though – and I’m not going to lie – this could have gone either way. During the last week I ate Stollen, Gingerbread, Cheese, Christmas cake, biscuits, an entire layer of chocolates from a box of Milk tray and a rather hefty roast and three mincemeat wraps on Christmas day.

I’ll be honest – had I been on my own I might not have celebrated this way – but this has been my very first traditional Christmas as ‘family’ (or probably more accurately a ‘couple’) and as such I really wanted to enjoy the experience as everyone else does.

With great food and awful jumpers.

The fact is though that whilst I enjoyed myself as much as I felt I could I also limited damage elsewhere as much as humanly possible (although it may not sound like it) as well as doing a rather epic amount of exercise.

Although I consumed a lot of naughty food on the 25th I also went for a TEN MILE WALK through the wilds of Warwickshire to make up for it.

If I add my daily active (anything I burn with exercise) and standard (2500kcal for an adult male) calorie burn together then I’ve been averaging around 4500 per day for the last two weeks, which is the main reason I lost weight after packing away cheese and cake.

A lot of this was due to swimming – which once again has proven to be my absolute saviour. This has been particularly gratifying when I look back on it because despite my reluctance to don my trunks and look like a human muffin in the mornings ( I hadn’t been for almost two whole weeks) I did it anyway.

It’s not been the only exercise I’ve engaged in though – and I’ve relied on an old friend to fill the gaps for me when the pool has been closed. My walking distance has remained consistently higher and at averaged over 10 miles a day for two weeks as well – despite driving to Sussex and back on Monday.

So – life is (for the moment at least) on an even dietary keel again.

Both myself and my better half are really in the zone at the moment – and she has been swimming alongside me every day as well.

It’s fair to say that her determination to improve both her swimming technique and stamina have been something of an inspiration to me – and on Sunday I found myself watching her swimming back and forth in the pool well after I’d stopped.

Consequently her loss over the xmas week was greater than mine (2.5lbs!!!) and she really deserved it.

I’ve been positively swelling with pride as I’ve watched her get better and better at swimming through sheer determination and grit – and there’s no small amount of warm fuzzy feelings inside me at the moment.

Christmas this year has been special in a way that no other Christmas has because although I’ve had long term partners before not a single one has ever resulted in a Christmas together prior to this point.

There’s always been a family reason or a break up to get in the way of that before and consequently words absolutely fail me when I try to encapsulate how much December 2019 has meant to me.

It’s not been about materialism or nerdy presents (of which there have actually been quite a few thanks to a new and very generous extended family) – but togetherness.

This manifested itself recently when we both headed out to see a new film – and both of us chose appropriate attire for the occasion.

It’s hard to overstate how much love a geeky guy can feel when he’s accompanied on a school night to a one minute past midnight screening of Star Wars by an adult woman not only voluntarily (and dare I say enthusiastically) wearing a Star Wars teeshirt but also a crochet’d Yoda ears beanie.

I’m sure that everyone out there is already throwing up in their mouth a little bit – but I’m sorry – I have absolutely zero shame on this score because we totally owned it in The Rise of Skywalker.

My Christmas has been everything that I’ve always wanted it to be but never dared to hope it ever would be.

For the longest time it looked like the picture below, and because of my habitual behaviour on this score I never once managed to get to the end of ET The Extra Terrestrial on TV.

In contrast this year the strongest drink I’ve indulged in is a caramel flavoured coffee, and I’ve not been alone and sad for a single moment.

I’ve shared the walks, talks and occasion with someone I care deeply about. Together we’ve continuously supported one another whenever we’ve hit bumps in the road and continue to do so.

Sigh. Over the last few days I’ve been reflecting on my happiness – but also on my past.

That bottle of Southern Comfort seems a long long way away now and it’s been a long time since this was my reality.

Other people may still be in a darker place though and as I type I’m conscious of this.

At this time of year there are many people on the cusp of giving up hope that life will ever hold anything for them but loneliness or despair. They suffer in silence and often succumb to darker voices that hide inside.

As well as hearing of other slimmers that have struggled recently I’ve also read about those that have been moved to other, maybe more destructive forms of self harm in the past and because of this as I write I’m left feeling sober in more ways than one.

There was a time that I felt similarly and when I sat alone at home (not just around Christmas time) there were many many moments when I no longer wanted to be around.

Had I been ‘braver’ (stupider?) I may have crossed a line that would have seriously curtailed my time on earth.

I contemplated this more than once – and now (on the wrong side of my forties) I have so much to be grateful for.

I’m left at times feeling as if I have no right to be as happy as I am – like I’ve stolen the joy that must belong to someone else, because there are moments that it all still feels very alien.

Life though is all about context – and finding this to gain perspective is something we all struggle to do.

There are many of us who (despite there often being much evidence to the contrary) choose to label ourselves as ‘lonely’, ‘overweight’, ‘failure’, ‘alcoholic’, ‘addict’, ‘loser’, ‘stupid’, ‘weird’, or consider ourselves simply ‘unlovable’.

With the new year looming, and many people who read my blog coming from similar places to the one I did (physically and emotionally) all I can say is that there is hope.

If you’ve followed (or are just beginning to follow) my journey then I want you to see and feel what I feel and see. Hopefully if you’ve travelled with me through both the light and the dark moments in the last four years then I’ll have left you with a sense of positivity and optimism.

Maybe your life isn’t going the way that you wanted it to – but in this blog is all the evidence that you need that it can surprise you.

With effort and determination you can change things – and good vibrations sent out into the world inevitably come back when you least expect them to but most need them.

Life is a collection of moments where you can fail more often than not – where it’s easy to think there’s no point – or convince yourself that people don’t need you around, when in fact they really really do.

They gain as much from having you in their lives as you do from having them in yours.

Although I’m not into sport particularly I can’t help thinking of a quote from Wayne Gretsky – the Canadian former professional ice hockey player and former head coach of their National team.

He’s probably said a lot of forgettable things – but one that for some reason really struck me was this one.

‘You miss 100 percent of the shots you never take.’

It’s true.

If you don’t try to be better then it won’t happen by magic.

So – 2020 is fast approaching.

What do you want it to be?

Personally I’d like it to contain everything you desire and need and wholeheartedly believe that it can do if you want it enough.

So – what are you waiting for?

Get up, put your coat on and make it happen.

Davey

100 percent of the shots As I write it's dark and cold outside - but the days seem to be just a…

[wish4youff]

04 ~ Gloomy

King 

How could you prepare yourself to celebrate the birth and life of your savior, Jesus Christ, and worship the ground he walks on, for an entire day, when all you could think about was the hell you’ve been through? All the hell you’ve caused on innocent families. There hasn’t been much of a prideful moment in this life. Sure, there’s the achievement plaques, diplomas, awards, and physical growth that your family boosts and praises you about, but what about the deep down ugly truth that no one can handle to know. And if you knew that person, they’re gone now.

To know I have part in that, it breaks my heart. Then, there’s a segment of my mind that knows me well enough to know………I wouldn’t want anything else in the world. My mother always told me as a child that whatever you love to do, it’ll find its way into your life. As either your pride or your biggest regret. I decided to take the easiest way out, making it easy for myself. Easier for others. Caroline Vitale knew what she wanted out of life, and even though that was short-lived, I knew she didn’t regret one attribute of it. And she won’t want that for her son.

Kneeling, I gripped the natural blue colored roses tighter in my hand, staring down at the gray-marbled tile of the tombstone. The words; “Never forget those who fought for your life…” drawing my attention each time, no matter how much I’m here. At the age of thirteen, I didn’t understand those choice of words.

My father hated them, but my grandfather served as the last say so. Neither of them cared to explain to me.

Softly placing them down, my hand lingered for a moment, my eyes and nose burning with emotion as I thought of the years we once shared with another. This woman should’ve been there through thick and thin, cherish me, gave me the light in my darkness, and most importantly loved me; prepping me to love my own wife and protect my own family. Instead, the hate of family killed her soul before she could even leave this earth.

“It seems like every time I come here the weather is horrible, it’s always drizzling, and the clouds are dark and heavy,” Shaking my head, my attention transferred to the sky above me; for a second I wondered if this was my destiny – regardless of my wants and what I believe are my needs. God knows I pray for a change. “It’s been almost a year since I was here and sadly enough nothing has changed. I’m still working under Pop’s demand. Killing and serving. I remember you telling me to be something unique. Take on a new road and be a man of my own light….and yet, here I am. I just hope I didn’t disappoint you too much. You probably tired of me saying that, but….”

25, December 2003.

"I’m heading to Miami after this for a job and I have this heavy gut feeling. Sometimes going to go wrong, I don’t know what, but something. I’m hoping it’s just my mind, but you know how that goes. Stephen says it’s important I go through with it, yet I can’t forget. I hate Miami you know? I hate New York too, I’ve spoken about that before. But Miami? Miami took you away from me. I don’t even speak with our family down there anymore. I rather isolate myself forever than be the topic of pathetic conversations. I still remember your sister’s words the day of your funeral. Maybe she spoke out from a place of hurt, but I would never. Ever do something like that. That amount of pain has caused something damaging inside of me. Me and Ibrahim, my homeboy from Harvard, we were talking about me going to see a therapist. I thought about, but you know how that goes.”

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I closed my eyes for a brief second, stopping the tears from dropping.

“Sometimes I believe it’s your fault, you know? The reason I can’t allow myself to open up to others like normal people. It’s because you left and now I’m here, stuck to raise myself. Having a military brat, government manic as a fucking father. I remember questioning God, wondering why he left me with Stephen and allowed you to leave me. Half of me knows it was bound to happen. I hid behind my mother to protect me from everything. You knew me like the back of your hand. Even as a teenager I wasn’t allowing myself to know the man who made me. All I knew was he was a heartless person. Now I’m alone, speaking to the spirit of you and praying on an empty wish that you’re listening to your only child.”

Something moved out the corner of my eyes, naturally I kept my attention on the tombstone. I wouldn’t look to see what it was. I’ve always been afraid of the dead. Funny huh? Afraid of the dark even more. I couldn’t sleep without the slightest amount of light. My father would call me a wimp while my mother justified it with normal child behavior. Just to prove to Steepen I was a “man”, I forced myself to sleep without any light, and before long I was numb to; no longer caring.

“Recently I ran into someone from past. Well, a connection of hers. You don’t know her, I don’t talk about her aloud. But Stephen does. Olivia Smith, Chrissie younger sister. The last I seen of her was a young fifteen, maybe sixteen, year old girl who was struggling between letting her sister be happy yet not knowing who she would lean on if her only sibling and love one was gone. Knowing Chris as well as I do, I know the effect she has on people. Knowing if you were around, you’ll have encouraging words for me.”

Standing up, I looked back at the sky. That figure moved again forcing me to see the last person I anticipated here. Stephen, standing a clear distance, but close enough for me to make out who it was. He’s braver than me. I’ll be running from this place if I was him.  

"I love you, ma.” Saying my last words, I stared back at her grave for a few seconds, mentally praying for courage to continue my life, a life she would want me to keep pushing through.

Chrissie 

“I think this color would be perfect for you, Chrissie. Red seems to be in too.”

The sounds of Keyshia Cole’s Love Letter featuring rapper Future played through my Beats Pill XL speaker off the random Pandora station of Olivia’s choice. My humming stopped as my sister held up the hot red polish. Looking down at my nails, I simply shook my head with a slight smirk.

The sound of the oven timer caught my attention pulling me away from the conversation. My sister knows me better than anybody. Nude and baby pinks are my go to colors, always have been. Once inside the kitchen, I grabbed my oven mitts to take out the leftover pizza from the night before. It didn’t take her long to follow behind, grabbing two oversized pans we would use whenever eating pizza. With six slices warmed and hot, Liv separated the food, while I got myself a bottle of Dasani water.

“I mean I need to get a fill, but I’m not trying to be all bold and new. Something simple is fine.” I finally said, adding fuel to the fire she was already burning underneath my behind.

I loved my sister, we had our moments, but we were all we had also, so those tempting moments could never overshadow. Our parents passed away when we were young, Liv was only ten at the time and I was fifteen. I had more understanding and maturity to the situation; helping to open my eyes for her and I, knowing they wouldn’t want us to deter.

Every weekend she’s here. Or either I’m at her house. Never sleepovers because she literally lives five minutes away and unlike myself Olivia has been in a committed relationship for over four years so I try not to take too much of her time away from her fiancé; Travis.  

“Maybe bold and new is what you need though Chris. Switch it up. I already told you to dye your hair.” Relaxing in the couch, I shook my head, picking up a piece of the cheesy goodness.

“Nails is one thing, but hair……no.”

“I did it.” Olivia replied quick, and I should’ve known that would be her response to this.

During her senior year of high school Olivia came to me with the idea of red or either blonde hair; as the supporting sister I am, and only sister I agreed. Mostly because I didn’t believe she would go through with the idea. Our mother was a natural redhead woman, while our father was full on African-American. Liv took more of the red shade, while I was jet black, so there was no reason for a darker shade, in my opinion. Plus, it took over a week for her to actually dye it. When she finally came home with the red hair, I was stunned, relieved, and even happy for her. It looks good. On her.

“I’ll try the nail polish, but that’s it.”

I could already hear her next question.

“When?”

“Next week, Wednesday. Christmas visitors and those last-minute shoppers will have the roads filled so I’ll do it early in the week.”  

“Good because I want to come. Plus, I need to get a few things myself. Travis’ mother and father is coming in for Christmas this year and I wanna make a good impression.”

“Olivia, really? Y’all been together for four years. And you’re a good girl, I’m sure they’ve seen this quality about you. Don’t go out buying unnecessary things and being extra just because his parents are coming into town. They’ll know.”

“Shut up,” Laughing I shrugged my shoulders at her words. “I’ve never stayed in the house with them and they have never been over to our house for no more than a couple hours. They’re staying the night! I have to make a good impression.”

“Again, no you don’t, not now. By now? His mother has read you and knows exactly what kind of woman she’s dealing with, maybe even his father, but surly his mother. From the moment, he started to bring you around, she knew. And more importantly, don’t wait unless last minute to do your shopping. She’ll know that too.”

“You know this how? You’ve never had a long-term mother-in-law. Matter-a-fact, you never had a mother-in-law.”

“This is why.”

After a few seconds, there was no response and I drifted my attention to the television. Over the years, I’ve let myself out there and experimented with relationships. Small dates her, buddies there, but nothing ever too serious. My sister considered therapy and when I asked why, she changed the subject. Part of the reason is my career; other half is time-management.

“You know we never discussed me seeing Kingston that day.”

Yeah, that.

“What’s to talk about? You ran into King. Next topic.”

“Cut the bullshit. I know there has to be some kind of emotion there. And if not, you need to seek some mental help for real,” Snapping my head in Olivia’s direction, she held up her hand, stopping me from protesting. “Because you’re forcing yourself to block out past experiences instead of dealing with them.  I get you two left off on bad blood, what I don’t understand is why you can’t talk about it. Even as your sister, you keep me in the dark. That half of me that wants to keep you happy, knows you know what you’re doing as a woman, but damn. I can tell from how every time his name has come up your entire body language changes.”

“Kingston is……..Kingston. There’s no way to explain it. We were friends,” I started off with.

“And nothing else?”

“No. We were friends. Strictly friends, he wouldn’t even cross that line with me.”

“Why not?” Looking at Olivia, I could only wonder myself.

“Kingston had his way of doing things. He spoke when he wanted to. Interacted when he wanted to. Partied when he wanted to. If the situation didn’t fit his vibe, he didn’t go through. And mind you this was in college. I could only imagine what the man is like now.”

“Well, you know I only know the man you randomly speak about, but he seemed nice that day in the deli. I didn’t notice him at first, but he knew me.  When he said your name, it was like something clicked, making me remember him.”

“Trusts me when I say the man is bad news for me. And vice versa.”

“You’re bad for someone?”

“For him, hell yeah.”

And with that, luckily, she dropped the topic. That was enough for a day.

[funkycoldash]

The Truth

Meeting you seems so long ago but in reality it wasn't. Meeting you was no accident, not fate, not destiny, not some beautiful romantic incident. Meeting you was a forced ordeal, thinking it would lead to some fun and be over faster than it began. I picked you up because I was bored and all my other drinking buddies were occupied. I thought I would add to my list of guys because the longer the list grew, the less bored I became. The more people I had to occupy my time and fill some void that I didn't even know had been created. I never wanted you to be a permanent person. As harsh as it is, you kind of fell into the category by default. You were third runner up in a game that I didn't even really want to partake in, it seemed like meaningless fun at the time. I didn't have too much direction but I simply knew where I did not want my path to lead, I knew what I didn't want more than what I did want. And what I didn't want is exactly what you gave to me. What I partook in for way too long, a game I knew I wanted to escape. An entanglement I knew I wanted to end but the more involved I got, the more I prolonged the ending. The more I wanted to prove to others that the were wrong, even though I knew from the beginning this isn't what I wanted for myself, and not just because of you, but because of where I was in my own life. So much had happened and made me feel like I had to stay, I had to help, or I had to be a woman I didn't want to be. Another persons woman. Not a woman of my own. You stripped me of me. You stripped me of the woman I was so fiercely proud of being. You raped me from my true self. Abused me with your words everyday until I felt the lifetime of anger you obtained and absorbed it into my own. I let you take so much of me until there was nothing left to take, and once that was so, you left. Left me empty. Soulless, lifeless, loveless, a shell of a human. Barely with a beating heart. Barely with any dignity or pride. Above nothing or no one. One could not have viewed themselves any lower. Weak, alone, beaten and battered, I was free. A freedom I did not see right away or appreciate until I was able to set myself apart from the darkness I was buried in. At first I did not see you leaving as a new beginning. I saw it as the worst nightmare possible. I had lost a long game that I was not ready to end. For so long, I wanted it to end on my terms but I was not ready, or I would make up excuses. Made up reasons, give myself deadlines or expiration dates. Until the day I found out I was pregnant with your child. I knew from there I had lost all my opportunities to leave. I knew then that I was simply in way deeper than I ever wanted. My meaningless fun suddenly turned into a person who would forever change my life. I wanted it to be for the better. I wanted to turn things around. After awhile, I thought, that if I can keep things on my terms, things would be fine. He would obey, and we would continue. Like a game. Like a contestant. He isn't one to be treated like a real man. You had no choice but to set rules, guidelines, awards, like a fucking game. He was no real man. Any human that can leave you empty for their own satisfaction, is no real man. For me to let someone so torturous in my life, it was almost deserved to be left so cold after his removal. Like, what did you expect? If you did not guide him, he would lose sight of what was right. If you did not give him rules, the relationship would perish, if you did not hold his hand through life, day by day, he would fail. And somehow, I felt obligated to make his life, his everyday duties as a man, his achievements, my own personal project. A real project for a real bored person. I felt obligated to take in the man and take care of him like a child. And then I began to feel guilt because I knew deep down inside, I was just trying to prove something to myself. It wasn't for him or the love or care I had for him. It was for me. I never truly loved or cared for this person. I had no respect for him. He was a project. The foundation was boredom. I then simply felt bad for him and just wanted him to want to be better on his own. I knew I would feel too bad if I left this persons side. But I also knew that the more I helped him, the more he took from me. The more I saw myself change. Almost change into the person that he was. I tried to match his levels of childish games, his pettiness, his madness, I never wanted him to win. And in so many instances, me winning was actually me losing. I beat him by letting myself be as low of a human as he was. And by this time, it was too late, he has ultimately won. He had made me just as angry and evil inside as he was, and if there was no fixing him, I couldn't find a way to fix myself too. I was doomed in his world. A world I let myself be put into and didn't know how to escape. And then the moment came when I figured out i was pregnant. I was happy. But once again I was stripped of that happiness because I was going to have his child. And then the stress overcame that happiness. I was so distressed, I made myself sick, I cried so hard, I couldn't breathe. I felt like someone twice my size was stomping on my chest. I was lost, and called the man I told myself I loved, and gave him the news. He was thrilled. I didn't understand why. We hated each other so much. How could you be happy? I began to wonder if he did this to me on purpose. So I could never leave him. He was in rehab when we found out. He was vulnerable. I tried leaving him about a week before. Then I felt too guilty because I couldn't break up with someone in rehab. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. His happiness assured me that everything was going to be okay. I then too became more comfortable with the idea of him and I having a baby. Thinking maybe this is what he needed. Maybe he needs a child in his life to grow up and really change. Suddenly, I had hope. Hope in him that I had never had before. An expectation for him to get it all together, really man up for the first time in his life and actually take initiative. I began to feel different towards him because I put him up on a pedestal based off the happiness he had obtained from my pregnancy. Wrongly doing so of course. You cannot expect a man to change because he is going to be a father. Especially someone like him. Someone who has never done anything for himself in his life beside destroy. He is destructive. My daughters life only became something else meaningless to him. Like everything else. I actually grew a deep love for him after the news because I now viewed him as the father or my child. My project was over. I was in deeper and deeper. This was now a lifetime commitment and a lifetime of me having to prove to others that they were wrong. That was more important to me then my own happiness, and the more I proved to others that they were wrong, the more it did make me happy. I feel like I had the upper hand. To show people that this would work. But only because they didn't want it to. Not because I wanted it to. The more hate I received, the more it fed me to make things last. And once my baby was involved, the more driven i was to make things perfect. The more that stretched, the more I actually convinced myself that I was in love. Everything I said to persuade others, I was persuading myself. I didn't see anything wrong with it either because I needed something to believe in. I was so tired of being the back bone in our relationship, I truly relied on him to now be our backbone. To change his behavior, the way he treated me, spoke to me, the way he lived his life. Everything. Sooner than later, I found out that I was so wrong. So disappointingly wrong in this new mentality I had. He is not one to change for anything. Not even his own daughter. He left us to save himself. Or at least what he thought saving is. He left me with nothing. He went back to what he knew. So far removed from all that went through. He didn't even say good bye. He didn't even fight. He didn't even hesitate. He gave me half a kiss, walked away, and left. Never saw him again. And now I never want to see him again. I never want to look into those eyes that can watch me cry and beg and still walk away. The eye of a truly empty human. No remorse. No empathy. No compassion. Never do i want to look into those eyes again. The only time I will see him is when I look at my daughter. She is my blessing. She is my world, she is my reason for living. She is the only good thing that can ever come from him. Her and only her. I will make her everything he is not. She will be perfect. And he will never know. He chose to walk away and for that, I will never forgive him. I have let go of everything else he has done to me. All the agony and abuse, physical and verbal. I have escaped from the dark world he put me in. Six feet under, I have buried myself out of. And now I am free. And though I am free, I can never come to forgive him for leaving. Because not only did he leave me, he left her. He made a decision to not be better. Not grow up, not be a father. That to me is the most despicable thing a person can to. More despicable than feeling his skinny strong fingers wrapped around my throat, making every breath harder to breathe, feeling my face get hotter, filled with blood, thinking if I don't get away, this man will kill me. I rather have a lifetime of him choking me, trying to kill me, than him leave his daughter without a father. A bastard. You truly are not man if you can comfortably live with yourself knowing you did nothing to fight for your child. Your life has no meaning. You can work everyday of your life trying to prove something to yourself, but you have a daughter out in this world and you are not there by her side, you are nothing. Every second after you left that I felt that nothingness, that emptiness , is a lifetime more magnified as to what you should be feeling daily knowing that you walked away from your daughter. It's not my job for you to feel this pain, this emptiness that you deserve. But one day she will be learning how to walk, and you won't be there, she will be going to school for the first time, and you won't be there, she will be walking down the isle and you won't be there. In those moment, if you've grown any sense of compassion at all, that emptiness and regret will hit you like a truck. I am now the true winner. The games have ended long ago. This is real life now. She is the prize. She is the most amazing thing that could have happened to me. All the suffering is over because I have her. She is my light. Everything I ever wanted and more. Having her is more than winning. This is no game to me. This is no learning lesson to me. This is nothing that I could ever walk away from so easily, like you did. I will always stand by her side. I will never leave her no matter how hard the circumstances may ever be. Nothing could ever keep me away from her. I will protect her from people like you. I will never let anyone harm her the way I let you harm me. I will not let her ever be in a place in her life that I was in when I met you. There will be no opportunity for her to feel the way I did when I was trying to fill those voids and use people for my own personal boredom. She will be brilliant, she will be strong, she will be vibrant and caring. She will know the true meaning of love and all because she will not have you as a father. She will not know hate, not know what it's like to be beaten. I will never let you near her for as long as I live. I will not allow people like you in her life because she will not know evil. She will always be free. She will always be mine and only mine. You have lost at life. Before her you had the potential to be better and become a better person, now you are forever doomed in your own sad world. I have broken free from your world. A cold, dark place. I have been given back myself. I am who I always have been and will only get better because of my daughter. I am proud of who I am as I woman. The woman without you. The woman of many achievements and positive attributes I cannot wait to teach my daughter. I am generous, loving and caring. I am not any woman you would recognize. A life without you is a life of freedom and beauty. It is possible to break free from an abusive relationships. Men who break you down and beat you, is not a man at all. Men who are evil, only want you to be evil with them. They destroy everything they touch. These are people you need to stray away from. I am forever grateful for you walking out on me that sunny September afternoon. I am free because of that day. Never will I let you hurt me again.

[footballghana]

FEATURE: 'The man of Marseille' - why late Pape Diouf meant so much to one city

Ever since the tragic death of Pape Diouf due to Covid 19, on 31 March 2020 in Senegal's capital Dakar, a tide of tributes has flooded from all over Africa, France - and especially Marseille. BBC Africa Sport's Victoire Eyoum gives her personal assessment of the life and career of the journalist-turned-agent-turned chairman.

Ask someone who they are, and they would probably answer to you with their profession after they have told you their name.

Ask who loves that person who that person is, and you would get a completely different answer.

Pape Diouf was a journalist who wrote for La Marseillaise; the first African football agent to succeed internationally; and the first African President of a top league European football club, Marseille.

He was also a businessman and politician who was a candidate to become Marseille's mayor.

But those who knew him closely - and even those who did not know him that well - describe him as "a father, a grand-father, a god-father, a brother, an uncle, a legal guardian" as well as "a friend, a model, a mentor, a pioneer, an entrepreneur, and a maverick."

A widely-respected man, he was fiercely intelligent, and to those in his care, a good advisor: humble, wise, competent, experienced. Some saw him as a legend for what he achieved - the pride of Africa.

Some of the tributes have mentioned his love of people. Others described him as an African football lover, or the Man of Marseille (he moved their in his teens).

Abedi Ayew Pele, one of Diouf's many clients as an agent, said "there is no amount of words to describe Pape."

Former Marseille and Cameroon goalkeeper Joseph-Antoine Bell, who was the man who first persuaded Diouf to make the switch from journalist to agent, called Diouf "The One and Only."

The journalist

Born from Senegalese parents on 18 December 1951 in Abéché, Chad, where his father was working for the French military under the colonial system, Papa Mababa Diouf - named after his grandfather - was sent to France aged 18 to follow a military career.

The young man thought he would only be joining a military school for three years before going back to Senegal. But he soon realised his father had actually signed him to join the forces based in Avignon after a stop in Marseille.

He had experienced enough already to know a military life was not for him. So he began to try to find a way to escape his father's design for his life, which is when the love story with Marseille started.

For a few years he went through several odd jobs and casual work.

But one of them, at the Post, led him to an encounter with a freelance journalist at La Marseillaise who would often discuss sports results with him.

Soon, Pape was introduced to the newspaper to start as a freelancer, and he worked there for more than a decade.

As a sport fan, and especially of basketball - his first article - handball and football, it was not long before Diouf became the newspaper's full-time reporter, dedicated to covering Olympique Marseille.

That was how he developed a special relationship with the players, the club fans, and the whole city.

"Pape arrived in Marseille young - he was a youth from the suburban neighbourhoods - and was as fully from Marseille as he was fully African and Senegalese," Bell recalled.

"So here you have this youth from Marseille's suburban neighbourhoods who goes from the young man who followed the club from afar, through being a student who became a journalist covering the daily football team training, and then becomes a close friend of the club's captain.

"So he was very much into the intimate circle of the club, more than any other journalist."

Abedi Ayew Pelé also remembers his first encounter with Diouf.

"In the nineties, when I got to Marseille, Pape was a journalist, writing for one of the biggest newspapers in Marseille. So, he was somebody who was respected across the board. And he was always very close to the Marseille team."

This closeness would later be the key for a new career pathway, as Diouf was convinced by Bell and Basile Boli to become their agent.

The common values Bell had found in Diouf were "first honesty and integrity but also - I wouldn't say the rejection of money, but the refusal of letting himself be influenced by money.

"As we know, many people change because of money. So the fact that he would consider that money had some worth but was not a value itself was something that united us.

"That encouraged me to recommend him to other players, because I knew he would not disappoint them."

The agent

At the end of the 1980s, African players were paid less than their European counterparts - often substantially less.

There were only few agents in France, and the profession had some bad reputation. That's when Pape embraced his new career and founded in 1989 his firm Mondial Promotion.

"At that time, it would have never occurred to anyone to have a black agent, because there were not many agents and no-one would have thought it could happen," Bell recalled.

"So that tells you how much of an achievement it was."

Former Ghanaian defender Anthony Baffoe - also a client - added: "He was a pioneer in terms of player management. I'm talking about real player management, especially coming out of Africa.

"For him, the interest of the players was always on position one, before he might even consider negotiating his own interest."

Word of mouth spread.

Over the years that followed, after Bell and Boli, Diouf's client list read like a who's who of the cream of African and African-origin players: Abedi Ayew Pelé, François Omam-Biyik, Rigobert Song, Marc-Vivien Foé, Marcel Desailly, Titi Camara, Habib Bèye, Frédéric Kanouté, Peguy Luyindula, Didier Drogba, William Gallas, Samir Nasri, Andre and Jordan Ayew.

But he was not exclusively about players from that background - he also took on Robert Pirès, Laurent Blanc and Grégory Coupet, for example.

"He came out to be someone who foresee my career and managed me to success," Abedi Pele said.

"He managed my children, he took them to Marseille at the age of 14… Everybody is saying that I've got wonderful children. They are well respected and disciplined in the society, but it was not me - it was Pape."

Former Guinean Liverpool striker Titi Camara remembered: "The first time I met him I was playing with Saint-Étienne in the early '90s. Pape helped us to understand there is a life after football.

"He advised us to invest our money in order to have revenues after our football careers."

Players are not the only ones to remember the impact Pape Diouf made on them and on that profession.

For agent Bernard Collignon, Diouf was "the one who opened the door to Africans in terms of entrepreneurship. He showed the way", while fellow agent Yves Sawadogo said his own desire to follow that career "came from the respect and esteem I had for this man."

"Still today, I am deeply influenced by the advices I've received from Pape. Pape knew how to read situations and more than anything he had a really deep knowledge of human beings," Sawadogo added.

In 2012, Pape Diouf was invited to the launch of La Nuit du Football Africain, a Pan-African event that rewards African football performances, as well as African initiatives and achievements. The trophy, which rewards strong action with a large-scale impact, will now be renamed the Pape Diouf Award.

The President

After 15 years as an agent, and having twice rebuffed approaches from the club, in 2004 Pape Diouf took a post at Marseille - first as general manager and then a year later becoming president.

"When you are at Olympique Marseille you are at the centre of Marseille - and this was a youth from Marseille's suburban neighbourhoods who had reached the very top in the city," Bell said.

"So it's not a surprise that today the city of Marseille pays him such a tribute. From the suburban neighbourhoods, he became the Man of Marseille. Everybody knew him."

Once in such a high-profile post - Diouf was the first black president of any top division club in elite European football - his aura began to transcend his sport.

Amadou Gallo Fall, vice-president of the NBA and Basketball Africa League president, described him as a "huge source of inspiration."

"To dare to dream, lead and execute big projects on the global stage, using the transformative power of sport to impact positive social change in our Africa, is a testament to his trailblazing efforts," he added.

Diouf himself saw his status as "a painful assessment if you look at the European society and especially the French society that excludes ethnic minorities."

He did not seek to make things about him, no matter what he achieved.

Once coronavirus is over, there will be a commemoration celebrating Diouf life and legacy.

Abedi Pele said it will be an important event for him, and for Marseille.

"I think people will see all of us there and people will see how Pape is loved all over the world. He crosses and above race, colour, religion, whatever you can name. Pape is respected across board. Pape is a big, a big, big, big personality".

Source: bbc.com

source: https://footballghana.com/

[garyh2628]

Chairman and Managing Operational CEO (Global Legal Authority)

(Finance, planning, industry and foreign trade portfolios) Private

Head of Human Resources Finance and People and Global Head of Corporate Responsibility

 Investments/Contracts/Superior/Technically Competent and Right-Hand Men

NGO - (Finance, planning, industry and foreign trade portfolios) Private

 The good news is they haven’t dished out a profit warning. Although retail has been tough, it has not been quite as terrible as people thought.” Confidence in the Global Structure today got the backing of a few heavyweights and as a result grippe. The department store chain’s longer-term outlook is no longer tricky the implementation of my strategy and my values and taking the strict stance have augured well and as a result those issues including expensive long-term leases, a historic lack of investment and years of falling like-for-like sales have disappeared.  Team, Partners, Institutions and my Private CEOs, we’ve done it.  We got some good results today.  For those in South America and the Eastern Caribbean and Africa, we pulled it off. Developers have carved out an underground energy centre which will produce energy for the Global Structure and out network and further to facilitate all the plans in the pipeline both small, medium, large and Extra Large.  Together we will achieve and succeed.  The sector is poised and position to do great and wonderful things under my leadership. It’s forecast to be given a new 21st century spin utilising the methods, fundamentals and guidance that will come from my office Globally.

Within the Network and in all the different Companies up and down the world, my strategy and my values and my leadership is a star on the sector stage and our Intellectual people World Tour got the requisite approval needed to move forward. I saw the show last Saturday and would go again tomorrow if I could: that’s how good it is. It’s not often reality exceeds the hype, but geewa this is one of those rare moments: the musical is a sensational feast of rap, hip-hop, song and dance for all the senses and uplifting for the soul.  It’s across sector, across industry.  We are a natural producer, and this is where your future lies.  Intellectuals everywhere, this is the year of science and technology and Innovation and Mathematics and that of Education and Intellect.  I am the only Global Legal Authority on Intellect and that can never change.  I’m looking forward in the delivery of the Offices and thank God all of the directives and particulars both private and Business is earthquake proof and Legally full proof cross border.  We are set to dominate the world, Intellect and not mediocrity.

So, a curtsey from me to the brilliant Gary for having the vision to bring the Global Network into the Gold Standard, the strategy, the methods and the guidelines and policy framework written and conceived by the genius that is Gary and his intellectuals up and down the world. Analysis of their public remarks, and he’s (Gary)is not stopping. I love you, I love you, I love. Tell them. Even bigger thanks should go to the whole Structure (Network) for his magical transformation, created in London by architect this Mr St John Adams and the Team and his CEOs, Partners, Institutions, Technically Competent Men, his Right-Hand Men and more so his Influential Adviser Council. Let’s Invest, Let’s Invest, Let’s Invest. It’s no surprise to discover he overran his budget — he is famed for his obsession with every detail of Gary and that of the Network. I love you, I love you, I love you.

However, you look at it, the Team, his CEOs, Partners, Institutions, Intellectuals, the hinterland, the Global Structure, and more so the sector is enjoying a golden age and Gary for the dozens of awards and investment be ploughed into making those great and indelible plans a reality. This sector is big bucks but often underestimated by policy-makers: as well as the homegrown income and employment created.  As their Global Ambassador, both sector and non-sector and we will achieve and succeed.  Global Legal Authority. This added value was the highest since records began, thanks to our Legal Authority Gary and Intellectuals across the Globe. If Gary continues to beguile the Global intellectual community and audiences, the sector and Gary will have another Les Mis record-breaker hit on his hands.

The fact that the story Intellectuals is that this new motivated is being hailed on a London stage is extraordinary. “The whole thing is built on efficiency. “I wear these presents with great pride to show my gratitude” 😊 oK now team, CEO, Technically Competent Men, Partners and Institutions. While rebuffing his critics at home, my Influential Advisers Council threw their support behind the me and the Global Network, a move which will only strengthen my already strong relationship with my additions and Global Structure.  Their doomsday and Armageddon reporting and failure never came.  Only investment, after Investment in our ideals, strategy and method.   Tell Them, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you! It’s mad money, it’s real money, we are in bear territory.  Hardcore, do you want more?  Yes.

Chairman and Managing Operational CEO (Global Legal Authority)

(Finance, planning, industry and foreign trade portfolios) Private

Head of Human Resources Finance and People and Global Head of Corporate Responsibility

[cubereach-blog]

I BET YOU WANT TO ROCK TITLES WITH MR MAHANDRA SINGH DHONI... THIS IS HOW YOU START.

Across the globe, there are over 7.6 billion humans, 7-9% of this population plays cricket and a much lesser percentage of the same figure plays professionally. Making headlines, winning trophies and medals, making money from allowances and endorsements on regular basis.

           That's a big achievement in life regardless of your nationality, race or continent. People admire you and the 7-9% percentage of the game players wants to be you. So the big question you want to ask is where do you start? How do you gain entrance to the elite clique and start identifying with the big birds in the game, the Sachin Tendulkar of the cricket world?

          How can you stand out among the growing millions of cricket players where everyone wants a taste of the fame bud and become a celebrity? 

          Personal branding is a big factor only bested by your skills and dreams. This article drives you around your future audiences' community, gives you glimpse at what they expect from you aside your prowess with the cricket ball and tells you what you have not done so far.

            Sometimes personal branding can suppress performances and keep you afloat even when your career as a cricketer is taking a slight fall, it can actually happen to any career artist, player or business person. The Nigerian superstar and business mogul D'banj had a similar scenario in his career when he newly left his label but luckily for him, he had a brand to fall back to, he had endorsements, he had koko garri and so many business brands that defined him outside the music scenery, 

            An unknown quote had it that cricket branding is about the cricketers playing cricket, it certainly has nothing to do with the old men in suits making statements so you see cricketing reward is almost, entirely about you as a person and not the game itself and it surely supersedes what you do out there while you play. While it is very important to point out that your skills and performances are the first definition of you as a cricket player, creating a brand for yourself, defining your persona to your growing fans and making an impact and impression to the society looking up to you and your ability to stand out among the increasing number of players are factors that can never be over emphasized. 

         HOW TO BRAND YOURSELF AS A CRICKETER

 Consciously or otherwise, from the way we talk, the way we chat, we spend, we have induced a branding system to our life routine but having that awareness that you have personally branded yourself makes it different in a way that prepares you for it and keeps you in check. Like one who made a list for shopping in a grocery store, you know what you are going for and you are not biased some tempting items you see that are not in your list, you have a goal and you work endlessly towards fulfilling those goals without distractions from the many factors are skills around you.

Define your visions and GET IT OUT! Okay you are a player now, you     certainly have long term visions. Well? Get it out! Put it in play! Your     brand cannot thrive in your room and media account. Go out there, do     things, impress your fans and train to be what you long to be.

Work Smart, then work hard. It's a known fact that you don't have     to be a jackal to be successful. Whilst hard work pays, being smart pays     even better. Brand names like Ronaldinho De Assis of Brazil and Austin Jay     Jay Okocha of Nigeria were mostly known for their dribbling skills. They     weren't exactly running around the field and doing daily push up to stay     fit, they were simply smart, they knew what they were good at, put some     energy to it and their fans were loving it, Something made you tell     yourself you are a cricketer and that very item or skill is what will turn     your career around because whence you have recognized you are a golden     shell in the midst of number of similar colored eggs, you work on that     hint and develop it to a point where it becomes your personality in the     cricket game.

Create a personal media fan base. If you don't manage your brand, the     media and the less informed will manage it for you and you may not be     pleased with the end result. This factor gives you the opportunity to go     above the traditional media way and of interact with your growing number     of fans personally and, like opposition parties in government, their     honest and loving critics helps in remoulding a better YOU so you don't     sit and relax while you still have tons of work to do out there. 

Stay true to your brand and don't stop performing. There is no end     point to careers even after retirement. You don't want your brand to die     when you cease to breathe. Let the visions you have created be up and     running, you have an image you can never daunt, you have young people you     are grooming to survive your name and position. Keep the hustle running     and don't stop performing, only good can come out of this gesture.

Do what the average cricketer doesn't do. Remember that part where     personal branding means standing out in a crowd, well, it’s not as easy as     eating candy and chocolate bars. To stand out in an environment where     waking up at a particular time is seen as a challenge, you have to up your     regular routine and make a finer YOU. Something made the big wigs stand     out, a certain professional culture, a certain principle, a certain     mind-set. Go outside your comfort zone and take the hard bones while the     rest of the players are taking the softer ones, hard work still pays. Most     successful professional Kenyan runners will make your heart skip when they     tell you how many hills they run every day and don't stop even when     breathing is becoming a challenge. Uniqueness in the sports arena is not     something handed over to you from family, it’s something you harness and     earn.

Know your idols. Even Micheal Jackson had a model he looked up to,     he had looked up to James Brown before becoming a music god himself.     Uniqueness doesn't mean pride and being complete. Sometimes being unique     might simply be an idea so unless you are Sir Don Bradman or the inventor     of cricket game himself, visualize the boss of your destiny and work your     arse off. Someone argued that if cricket is a game, it will certainly have     many gods. This quote is in the sense that so many players with different     skills have made their debut in the great game and you cannot be all at     once, some players with certain brands matches your ideas of a better YOU     tomorrow. Read exclusive interviews on those people, follow their media     account, read about them and start by walking in their shoes. You can only     do better than your idol when you get to the level he attained and do     better than him so till you get to his level, take his exact steps. 

BENEFITS OF PERSONAL BRANDING IN CRICKET

            Like every other thing in life with Dos' and Effects', Personal branding in cricketing has a long list of advantages to the career of every player.

Having a brand helps define your career objectives. Fame is not     made in the stadium and left at its mercy inside the walls of your pitch.     Fame is made in the point of victory and watered to blossom outside the     walls of your arena.  Imagine winning a golden ball of the year and     the moment you step out of the award hall you become an arse, that will be     so lame, the silly award you got only got as far as the instant applause, recognition     and the entitlements you got in the merit hall but a branded cricketer     with objectives knows he has a lot of expectations to fill, he has many     people looking up to him and expecting from him, he tries to fulfil all     those objectives he branded himself with, like empowering upcoming     cricketers, doing one project for your neighbourhood, you barely have time     for yourself and that leaves the issue of becoming a stupid fellow outside     your agenda.

It distinguishes you from your competitors and make you stand out     among the rest cricketers. You are no longer one of the players playing     for one of the teams, you are no longer 'just the Kim Kardashian' doing TV     shows, you are the controversial Kim Kardashian brand behind it and     everyday people Google your name on the internet. This exercise draws     certain emotions and traffic to you as a person, you are now being     identified with a certain quality. Personal Branding does that to you as a     cricketer, brand yourself with something and survive even a dying career.

It also have a spiritual satisfaction and acknowledgment. Once you     have set your objectives and start working nonstop towards those goals,     you will no longer notice the competition around because then you have     started getting contented with your achievements so far. This consolidates     your belief in yourself and also help you in reaching out and attracting     your desired fan and excel in your profession as a cricketer.

Personal Branding is your promise to your audience. It informs them     on what to expect from you and this serves as a reminder to you that you     can never get tired and stop working.

Personal branding throws you into the public square and allows you     to be appreciated. The reward of any celebrity is acceptance. When you are     branded, you have added some set of morals and obligations to your skills     as a player and these qualities which you display in the public....     charity, donations, friendliness with fans, investments and good use of     money, it all counts. This is like a magnet. Emotions are bought with     actions, when you are pushing out these displays, you are drawing people's     interest in you as a person and there is no better way to score yourself     as a public figure without people’s judgement. A bad behaviour or public     display can kill your career, so many examples are googled daily on racial     nollywood superstars whose beautiful careers went extinct because of one     careless statement or attitude. When people love you as a person, they     manufacture an excuse for your poor performance in the pitch even when you     have not made a statement to defend yourself. 

Personal Branding sometimes help in tuning and encouraging a dying     career to not give up. The celebrated S Tendulkar is a human like us, he     has his strength and weakness like everyone else not minding the fact that     the entire human race expects nothing short of good representations from     super stars always, it still doesn't change the fact that they make     mistakes like is. Imagine the same S Tendulkar evading tax and running     into problems with the government, having some charges against him and     maybe spending some time in jail and in the process becoming unpopular in     the pitch because one good player already took his place and when he is     finally out, his career starts taking some serious hits, it’s the brand he     managed to create for himself in the rainy days that will salvage his     reputation and guide him back to his feet. He had a brand, he had     something to fall back to, and that, is called saving grace and good use     of Tools of fame.

HOW PERSONAL BRANDING HELPS YOU STAY RELEVANT IN THE CRICKET GAME

When you have branded yourself, you are consequently being charged     with high expectations and delivery. At this point you know there is no     going back, you know you want to do better than your previous results and     this keeps your relevance alive in the game. The south Korean born PSY     sadly said after his Gangnam style hit topped charts in many countries     that he fears he might not be able to break the history he made with that     single again but nevertheless, he kept pushing his limits and with his     sophomore debut, though less successful, kept him in the game. Keep your     limits so high that you fear to dream about it.

Consistency. Like the PSY example i made above, he did not retire after     his wonder hit because he has set a world record. He remained in the game     and kept pushing it. You don't relax after that wonder score you made.     Keep the wheels rolling, there are so many records yet unset and also you     don't sit back and sulk because after so many years of working yourself to     exhaustion point, you have yet to make headlines as a super star. Personal     branding reminds you it’s no longer about scoring alone, that you have     other brands to live for and represent.

A good brand attracts good people and endorsements. You are known     for shouldering financial burdens of less privileged, it’s a brand     and companies that wants to be seen in a similar sight as you, will make     moves and put you on their pay rolls as an ambassador. Scandals and news     are catalysts to celebrities surviving time and the daily influx of young     talents in the industry. A good news such as endorsements will as     well keep you on the front pages of daily news and updates, thus people     will always for one reason or the other, talk about you and in a positive     view.

Be aware of the consequences of defaming your brand. As relevance     slowly slide away from you, you are jerked back to reality that in place     of the applause you received after scoring or defending in a tournament,     you are receiving backlash and judgments even when it’s not entirely your     fault. You buckle up and try to improve, that in place of the love you got     when you sponsored a local competition, you will receive hate tweets and     messages and even death threats for stamping on someone’s right because he     or she can’t win against you. You are guided and you try to do only the     things that promote your reputation.

Personal branding helps you to define success in your own words and     standards. It is no longer the public expectation from you, it can only be     success in your own creation and heights. Success is what we define it to     be in our very own expectations. You are only as high as you dare dream.     Money is not entirely the long end dream of stars, it’s what the money can     buy instead and you are only successful by your definition when you start     affording those luxuries and life. It could be building a local stadium     with your name, empowering some schemes, funding scholarships, personal     life provisions. Success and goals as a cricketer may mean breaking     records and setting new ones and nothing will stand in your way till you     have completed those goals. It doesn't come any better, you are as     relevant as those projects are being given life.

 Personal branding drills a certain level of discipline in     your day to day activities. Personal branding is not necessarily a     self-promo campaign that advertises you to the public, it defines who you     are and who you hope to become, it gives promises to increasing number of     fans and hints them what your upgraded version will be like when you are     fully loaded. You are now living by your rules, and your rules can never     go against ideas and principles that keeps you running and pushing to the     top of your game. Your relevance is assured by this factor.

                 As a cricketer, having a brand is a defined way to connect your soul, skills, your future YOU and what you represent as a person to your audience and a very important step in moving your career to a whole new level.

                 Was this article really helpful? Kindly share your ideas on the comment box below.

[miamibeerscene]

Your Guide to Michigan’s Independent Breweries and Beer

July 7, 2017

Michigan breweries sit at the heart of the Midwest craft beer world says Scott Graham, executive director of the Michigan Brewers Guild. The organization began 2017 with 223 brewery members, up 15 percent from 2016. The increase is part of an industry-wide boom that has occurred of late, much to the delight of beer drinkers across the state,

“If you look back just a couple years ago, I bet we had 100 breweries in the state,” Graham says.

While people often consider the East and West Coasts to be on the cutting edge of all trends (music, tech, you name it), Larry Bell of Bell’s Brewery laughs off the notion when it comes to craft beer. Bell cites not only a strong brewing tradition but also Michigan’s wickedly loyal beer fan base.

(TRAVEL: Find Beercation Guides)

“I think it’s pretty funny,” Bell tells CraftBeer.com. “There’s this attitude that the coasts are cooler and hipper. Let me tell you, I’ve seen a lot of West Coast beers launch in the Midwest and Michigan and fall flat on their faces, because guess what, the beer really isn’t better than ours, and people here, especially in Michigan, are homers. There’s been just as many interesting things going on here as there is on the coasts.”

Bell says Michigan has a lot going for it in terms of differentiating its beer, especially when it comes to local ingredients. The four Great Lakes surrounding Michigan is an obvious advantage in terms of water. So is the region’s local grain.

Bell explains that while West Coast beers tend to be hop heavy and place an importance on its prominence, beers from Michigan proudly showcase a heavy dose of its home-grown malt, creating a distinct style for the region.

“We’re the bread box of the country and I think we’ve always liked malt,” Bell says. “I certainly believe in making all-malt beer. That’s what we got into the business to do.”

Michigan Beer Pioneers

Laura Bell is now CEO of Bell’s Brewery. (Credit: Bell’s Brewery)

Graham says the first “explosion” of craft breweries in Michigan was the mid-to-late 90s.

But before that, there were several pioneers who paved the way, he says. When Real Ale Co. in Chelsea opened in 1982, it was the Michigan’s first independently-owned brewery. It was only open a few years, closing in 1986 (as a side note, the then-head brewer, Ted Badgerow, is still rocking and opened Ypsi Alehouse in Ypsilanti last year). Still, Real Ale Co. made a significant contribution to craft beer’s future in many ways.

“I think [Real Ale Co.] gave people something to aspire to,” Graham said.

(VISIT: Find Michigan Breweries)

As the story goes, Larry Bell’s visit to Real Ale Co. helped inspire him to start his own brewery. He even bought a brew kettle (which he ended up never using to brew beer) and some other equipment from them to get started. In 1985, he launched Kalamazoo Brewing Co., and in 2005, he changed the name to Bell’s Brewery. Today, it is Michigan’s largest independent brewery.

A few more breweries started to trickle in during the early 90s, but the big highlight of that time was a legislature change that took place in 1992. Bell himself helped lawmakers craft a bill that would allow breweries to charge for beer by the glass and sell food – a brewery license, if you will – which had been previously prohibited. The law passed in late 1992, sparking investment and setting the table for the rush of breweries that would follow in the years to come — and that includes Founders. Since opening in 1997, Founders (no longer under the BA-defined craft brewer umbrella due to Mahou San Miguel’s 30 percent stake in the brewery) has also left an indelible mark on the state’s brewing scene.

Michigan’s Best Cities for Beer

Grand Rapids has become Michigan’s beer destination. It has earned national attention for its beer scene by finishing first in various reader’s choice polls over the past few years, and it has branded itself as “Beer City USA” in its tourism marketing. One of the main reasons is its Beer City Ale Trail, a walking route that connects dozens of downtown breweries. Notable independent craft breweries in the Grand Rapids area include Brewery Vivant, New Holland and Grand Rapids Brewing Co., among many others.

While not as properly branded and not as dense, Kalamazoo’s history and core of successful breweries makes it a strong hub for Michigan beer, anchored by Bell’s Brewery in nearby Comstock. Other strongholds include Dark Horse and Arcadia, as well as respected beer bars like Kalamazoo Beer Exchange.

Up and Coming Area(s) for Craft Beer in Michigan

There are three areas to keep an eye on in Michigan.

Ann Arbor: College towns have always been beer-drinking towns. But Ann Arbor has been enjoying an uptick in craft beer options over the years, and today it stands as its own scene, including some great beer bars (see below). One of the city’s pioneers is Arbor Brewing Company, which opened in 1995 and has received awards for its environmentally friendly practices. Another is Grizzly Peak and its best seller, the Steelhead Red, and don’t forget Jolly Pumpkin, known for its wild-aged sours and ales as well as its Belgian-influenced brews, like the Noel de Calabaza. Also, as mentioned above, the Ypsi Alehouse in nearby Ypsilanti was started by the former head brewer of Real Ale Co. Ann Arbor’s location just 40-some miles from Detroit makes it an easy side trip from the Motor City.

(READ: The Evolving Role of Women’s Contribution to Brewing Beer)

Detroit: It was one of the largest cities in U.S. for a long time. Now, it’s an up and coming area again. Detroit is on the rebound and coming back with a vengeance, placing an emphasis on local neighborhood pubs. “Detroit had a hard time because the city had a bad reputation, but the city’s believers are turning it around and many beer venues are now embracing the Motor City,” said Rex Halfpenny, publisher of Michigan Beer Guide. “This turnaround is without a doubt the most exciting thing about Michigan beers’ influence on the economy.” Check out bars like M-Brew and Ale Mary’s Beer Hall, and breweries such as Brew Detroit, Motor City Brewing Works, Batch Brewing Company and Atwater Beer.

Traverse City and the Lakeshore: The attention that this region gets because of its natural beauty and its position as a vacation destination has done wonders for its beer scene. Great beer bars like 7 Monks (see below) and a handful of breweries in the greater Lakeshore area are making things interesting, like Short’s Brewing Co. in Bellaire, Stormcloud Brewing Co. in Frankfort, and Mackinaw Brewing Co. in Traverse City.

Michigan Beers to Know About

Bell’s has two flagship beers in particular that have represented Michigan on a national scale, the Oberon Ale and the Two Hearted Ale. Oberon is an American Wheat Ale with that ultra-recognizable bright blue and yellow label. Its packaging screams summer, as does its smooth, malty wheat flavor. Two Hearted Ale (American IPA) carries the Midwest malt backbone Bell spoke of, enshrining it as one of the state’s iconic IPAs. It was voted 2017’s Best Beer in America by readers of Zymurgy Magazine.

Bell says that, for him, one of the iconic breweries of the state is Short’s Brewing in Bellaire, just north of Traverse City. “It made Michigan-only (beer) and they hung their hat on that for a long time,” Bell explains. “I think Short’s achieved national status as a brewery of Michigan, because they kind of owned a space here as far as representing Michigan with a large portfolio of beers made with Michigan ingredients.”

(READ: 7 Offbeat Places for People Who Like Craft Beer)

Another beer that’s making its way around and outside the Midwest, Bell says, is New Holland Dragon’s Milk, a bourbon barrel stout. You can find it up and down both coasts now.

Speaking of stouts, keep an eye out for Dark Horse Brewery, who has a distribution range that reaches the East Coast into New York and down to Pennsylvania right on through to South Carolina. Its “Stout Series,” made up of five stouts including Plead the 5th, has been a well-received line both in Michigan and outside the state.

Michigan Beer Bars to Know About

Brown Iron Brewhouse is a beer bar in Washington, Michigan. (Credit: Brown Iron)

Going directly to the brewery is the best way to support local craft beer, but you can also find a locally-focused beer bar that puts the area’s best beers in front of you.

Ashley’s in Ann Arbor – When Graham says that Ashley’s was “on to craft beer before it was cool,” he’s not exaggerating. This craft beer pub has been rocking and rolling since 1983, and it has more than 100 taps that highlight local and regional craft beer.

Grand Trunk Pub (Detroit) – If the beautiful architecture of the old railway building and the fierce “Made in Michigan” approach of the Grand Trunk Pub doesn’t hook you, perhaps this thoughtful, reflective account from the owner on its opening will punch your ticket. The Grand Trunk has 24 Michigan beers on tap and takes pride in its Detroit grit.

7 Monks (Traverse City): This is the new standard for beer bars in the up and coming Traverse City. With dozens of taps across a range of styles, including wild ales, sours, European and Belgian styles, and IPAs, American lagers, stouts, and porters, you’ll have plenty of excuses to stay inside on a summer day in Northern Michigan.

(LEARN: Beer 101 Online Course)

Hop Cat opened in Grand Rapids in 2008. It is now a chain, with locations across the state and the Midwest. Don’t let that scare you off. It didn’t open its second location until 2013, and its credibility as a dedicated beer bar remains despite its expansion. It’s a great stop for those looking to try a bunch of different Michigan beers.

Brown Iron Brewhouse (Washington Twp): Brown Iron was the reader’s choice for Michigan in our Great American Beer Bars 2017 rundown, beloved for its 70 beers on tap, educated staff, and “Cheers-like” feel, where the staff tries to know you by name. For travelers and out-of-towners, this is the perfect type of place to meet and mingle with local beer lovers, and worth the 45-minute trip from downtown Detroit.

Resources

Those looking to explore Michigan’s beer scene can utilize the Michigan Brewers Guild for intel. You can find a list of breweries, events and contact info on their website. Several towns provide their own beer maps, like this Kalamazoo beer map or this printable beer map of Grand Rapids. If you’re checking out Grand Rapids, consider getting an overview with one of these beer tours.

The Michigan Beer Guide comes out every two months and is available online. You can read through to get some inspiration for your trip and/or find new beers and breweries.

Larry Bell wrote the introduction to the book Michigan’s Holy Hops: The Great Lakes Beer Bible by Rick Sigsby. It covers the rise of craft beer and its personalities in the state, and is a good way to get an overview of its history.

Will McGough

Will is a nomad-at-large and travel columnist, penning profiles, features and dispatches from afar. His wake and wander philosophy is inspired by the spectrum of ways in which people live their lives in the different parts of the world. He enjoys the idea of waking up every day to new opportunities, new landscapes and the new feelings that the former inevitably evoke. Read more by this author

The post Your Guide to Michigan’s Independent Breweries and Beer appeared first on Miami Beer Scene.

from Your Guide to Michigan’s Independent Breweries and Beer

[lalobalives]

*An essay a week in 2017*

On Sunday I finally landed from my last of 4 trips over 5 weeks: Minneapolis where I helped run VONA’s regional program on the ground in conjunction with The Loft Literary Center; Newport Beach, Oregon for a Tin House NonFiction workshop with Lidia Yuknavitch; AWP in DC where I was on a panel; & finally a gig at The Center for Women Writers in North Carolina this past weekend. 

I was out on my deck looking at the night sky when it hit me: this swelling in my chest that felt like a lightening; a pulling in my cheeks that made a toothless smile appear and soon I was giggling at myself. I sat with this strange feeling when it hit me: it was pride I was feeling. I told my partner. She said: “You should be proud, babe. And this is just the beginning.”

Then came the discomfort. Pride feels self-lauding and congratulatory. The shame set in quickly. The who the fuck do you think you are? The: you have no right to be proud. You shouldn’t be proud. Pride ain’t ever a good thing, girl. Como te atrevez? Te crees gran mierda pero no lo eres. Bring yourself down a few notches, girl. Stop being so full of yourself.

***

Google defines pride as:

noun

a feeling or deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one’s own achievements, the achievements of those with whom one is closely associated, or from qualities or possessions that are widely admired. “the team was bursting with pride after recording a sensational victory” Synonyms include: pleasure, joy, delight, gratification, fulfillment, satisfaction, a sense of achievement, “take pride in a good job well done”

a group of lions forming a social unit.

verb

be especially proud of a particular quality or skill. “she’d always prided herself on her ability to deal with a crisis” — synonyms: be proud of, be proud of oneself for, take pride in, take satisfaction in, congratulate oneself on, pat oneself on the back for, “Lucas prides himself on his knowledge of wine”

***

Where does pride live in your body? It lives in my chest. It feels light. Like the weight of never feeling like I’m enough is lifted. It feels like accomplishment. It feels like I finally feel worthy and capable. It is so damn fleeting.

***

I used to imagine this life. I used to wish for it: the travel, the meeting people, the writing and learning and sharing love and heart and stories. I used to wish for it so hard. The wishing make me work my ass off. I quit the safety net of a full time editing job to live this life. I risked so much: financial security, knowing where my next check was coming from, how I was going to pay the bills, the rent, the light, money to fill the fridge. There were days when I had to decide whether to pay the light or buy food for me and my little girl. I’ve gotten eviction notices. I’ve defaulted on my student loans. There were so many times when I couldn’t afford to go anywhere that required money so we spent a lot of time in the park, on the grass, sandwiches and fruit in my knapsack. That’s how much, how bad I wanted this. For me. For us. Me and baby girl. 

People have called me irresponsible. What do I see? I see a woman who showed her daughter what it takes to live your dreams. I showed my daughter that she too can live her dreams if she is willing to work for it. She has learned some valuable lessons from her mama.

I know this life isn’t meant for everyone. It’s taken me a long time and a lot of talking to folks to realize just how risky it was.

At AWP, a friend whose memoir was recently released told me how much she sacrificed to make this life happen for herself. When she got her book deal, she was months behind on her mortgage payments. She was near foreclosure. But she knew she had to write this book. She just had to. It was a burning inside of her that would turn her into ash if she didn’t. So she did, and she got a fantastic two-book deal to make it happen. “You’re doing everything you need to do, Vanessa.” she said, outside of a bar where we had just rubbed elbows with agents and publishers, some who were interested in seeing my work and some who were dismissive and gross. (Let’s just say I walked out of there knowing the type of person I want to represent me and the type I don’t.) “Keep going. You’re on your way. You will have all of this. All of it,” my friend said. My eyes welled. I let the tears fall as I stared at the traffic on that downtown D.C. avenue. I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear those words. I know now that I did.

I thought of this as I felt the mixture of pride and shame that made my stomach turn sour. I wondered: Why can’t I be proud of myself? Why can’t I say “I did this” and it not feel like I need to bring myself down a notch? Is that the internalized outside gaze? Whose gaze? Who made me feel this shame? And how can I convert it into action? What can I generate from this? Can I turn it into an acceptance of this pride that I know I deserve and have earned?

***

Christian theology says pride is one of the deadly sins. St. Augustine wrote: “It was Pride that changed angels into devils; it is humility that makes men as angels.”  

According to DeadlySins.com:

“The sin of Pride is said by some to be the foremost of the Seven Deadly Sins. Hubris is the gateway through all other sins enters the mortal soul.”

What it is: “Pride is excessive belief in one’s own abilities, that interferes with the individual’s recognition of the grace of God. It has been called the sin from which all others arise. Pride is also known as Vanity.”

The punishment in Hell: “You’ll be broken on the wheel.”

Woah. That’s some heavy shit right there.

***

I write about the human experience. As such, when thinking about pride this week, I started digging into my own life and the moments I was robbed of my pride. I started a list that I’m sure will grow as I continue to dig into this wound.

1.

At my graduation dinner from Columbia University, while still draped in my graduation gown, the Columbia crown stitched into the lapel, my mother told me she knew I wasn’t going to do shit with my life (“Yo sabía que no ibas a ser ni mierda con tu vida”) when I told her I wasn’t going to law school. She slammed her fork down on the table so hard, it shook.

I have never regretted that decision.

2.

In 8th grade, I came home excited from a dance performance. I’d finally earned a solo in an interpretive dance piece we did for the Black History Month celebration. I remember the poem started: “What shall I tell my children who are black…” (Thanks to google, I now know it’s a poem by Dr. Margaret Burroughs.)

Within minutes of arriving, my sister reminded me that I was “retarded” and “still ain’t shit.” I remember her curled lip and how she looked down at me from her top bunk. My sister has always been quick to be the needle to burst my bubble whenever I’ve felt good about myself or something I’d accomplished. 

On Christmas, the last time I spoke to her, she told me my writing was bullshit and my followers are bullshit. When I told her that she is so much the reason for why I’m a writer because as a kid all I wanted was to be like her, she said: “I don’t give a fuck why you’re a writer, Vanessa.” I’ve saved the textument. I am quoting her verbatim. 

3.

A college professor once gave us the assignment of writing about someone we knew growing up. I wrote about Teresa, the neighborhood crackhead, and how fragile and beautiful she was. I was proud of that piece. I was so young, just 18 or 19, trying my hand at writing, and I was looking for support, encouragement. When the professor handed back the piece, he told me “this isn’t writing,” and he didn’t have the cojones to look at me when he said it.

***

Aristotle considered pride to be a virtue. Neel Burton writes on his blog:

A person is proud if he both is and thinks himself to be worthy of great things. If he both is and thinks himself to be worthy of small things he is not proud but temperate, for pride implies greatness. In terms of the vices, a person who thinks himself worthy of great things when he is unworthy of them is vain, whereas a person who thinks himself worthy of less than he is worthy of is pusillanimous. Compared to vanity, pusillanimity is both commoner and worse, and so more opposed to pride.

***

It’s often so easy to write about the difficult things we’ve experienced in life. But what about the joy? What about the times my pride was reinforced? What about the times that I was encouraged to be proud of myself and all that I’d accomplished? I think of my brother…

A few years ago, I was flown down to Atlanta when a book I co-wrote won an award. I called my brother from the veranda of the posh hotel I was put up in by the organizers of the Decatur Book Festival. It was right across the road from Emory College, and every morning I sat outside under the sun to eat a custom made omelet. I called my brother on one of those mornings. “I’m having breakfast on a veranda, bro! This is some All My Children shit.” He laughed: “What the fuck is a veranda?” Me: “I don’t know but I’m sitting on one.” We laughed so hard. Before we hung up, he said: “I’m proud of you, sis. You doing it.” He always told me he was proud of me. When I came home with good grades. When I got into boarding school and Columbia. When I wrote my first book. When I went to my first VONA and the four times I attended after. He was always the first one to say it and often the only one.

***

From what I can tell, there is a difference between the pride deemed a sin in Christian texts and the pride Aristotle called a virtue. The former is more about vanity; the arrogant, megalomaniac type, where the person is obsessed with himself and his power. The pride Aristotle refers to is earned pride in oneself and one’s work. A pride that is not all consuming but connected to self-worth and the work one does out in the world. A pride that encourages the person to continue producing.

In my research on pride, I found a fascinating article on Psychology Today called Pride and Creativity: How pride is pride related to creative achievement?

When Lisa Williams and David DeSteno told this to their participants, they noticed a significant increase in perseverance on a difficult cognitive task. This intrigued them, so they fiddled with the dials to see what was going on. When they took out the “Great job” part and just told the participants they performed exceptional, they saw no increase in perseverance. When they put people in a generally positive mood by having them look at pleasant pictures, such as a wedding and a tropical landscape—again, no increase in perseverance. What was it about this particular phrasing that increased motivation?

The winning phrasing was effective because it activated one of our most deeply-rooted emotions: pride. Pride is receiving a lot of research attention these days, as researchers are increasingly realizing its potency. In a recent study, David Matsumoto and Hyi Sung Hwang distinguish pride from triumph, another deeply-rooted human emotion. Participants were in strong agreement about what pride looks like:

Pride may have evolved to motivate people to achieve social status in a socially valued domain. This emotion emotion is not just any feel-good emotion though. Pride particularly makes people feel good about themselves. Children are quick to associate pride with domains in which they feel competent, and are driven to further pursue those domains. In contrast, those who continually receive negative feedback in a domain quickly lose their motivation for achieving in that domain.

But here’s the paradox: pride is correlated with both positive and negative social consequences. Pride has always received mixed reviews. The ancient Greeks viewed pride as “the crown of the virtues” whereas the early Christian philosophers viewed pride as the “deadliest of the Seven Deadly Sins”. Pride is quite the polarizing emotion!

To reconcile these different conceptualizations of pride, researchers have found it useful distinguishing between two different shades of pride: authentic and hubristic.

Authentic pride is fueled by the emotional rush of accomplishment, confidence, and success, and is associated with prosocial and achievement-oriented behaviors, extraversion, agreeableness, conscientiousness, satisfying interpersonal relationships, and positive mental health. Authentic pride is also associated with genuine self-esteem, which is high self-esteem controlling for narcissism. Authentic pride, and its associated subjective feelings of confidence and accomplishment may facilitate behaviors that are associated with attaining prestige. People who are confident, agreeable, hard-working, energetic, kind, empathic, non-dogmatic, and high in genuine self-esteem would draw inspiration from others and would want to be emulated by others.

Hubristic pride, on the other hand, is fueled by arrogance and conceit, and is associated with anti-social behaviors, rocky relationships, low levels of conscientiousness and high levels of disagreableness, neuroticism, narcissism, and poor mental health outcomes. Hubristic pride, and its associated subjective feelings of superiority and arrogance, may facilitate dominance by motivating behaviors such as aggression, hostility, and manipulation…

No one said creativity is simple, or has a single cause. People may take different paths to the same outcome. At any rate, one thing is clear: pride plays an important role in fueling creativity.

***

Why can’t you be proud of what you’ve accomplished and the work you do without someone calling you arrogant or saying you should temper it? What’s wrong with feeling pride when you’ve struggled so much to get where you are, to create a life for yourself in spite of the odds and numerous obstacles? And what’s with this shaming when you say you’re proud? What’s this shame we impose on ourselves? Where does it come from? How can we push back on it and remind ourselves that pride in one’s work is a beautiful thing? You should be proud of what you do and how you exist in the world. I’m talking about a healthy dose of pride, whatever that means to you. Not the pride that makes you think you’re better than people. Not the pride that keeps you from helping others. Not the pride that makes you think people owe you something or should look up to you. Nah. I’m talking about pride in what you do, in your grind, in your accomplishments. Pride that will keep you doing the necessary, important work that will hopefully make this world a better place. That kind of pride.

***

During her lecture at AWP, Jacqueline Woodson said that even today, after having written 32 books and receiving countless accolades in the form of awards and prizes, she still wakes up some days amazed that she’s a writer. She said she can hardly believe it sometimes.

This begs the question: can you be humble and also be proud of the work you do and know its importance in the world? I think so. The thing is, we often have teach ourselves how to be. We’ve been taught as women, especially as women of color, to be humble to the point of self-deprecation, but if I can’t be proud of what I’ve accomplished, of having created this life for myself, then how can I teach my students to be proud of the work they do, of how they push themselves to dig deeper into themselves and their stories? How can I teach my daughter to be proud of her fabulousness, of being so talented and compassionate and such a hard worker, if I don’t show her that I am of her? That I am proud of myself? Our kids learn by impersonation.  

***

This is my promise to myself: I will work on being proud of how far I’ve gotten, as an unmothered woman who had to learn to become a woman and mother through trial and error. A woman who lives and loves in resistance to the way she was taught in her formative years. I will work on being able to take compliments and being gracious when they come in instead of cringing and wanting to run and hide. I will work on opening my heart to receiving the beautiful recognitions people gift me via notes and emails and face to face gushing that makes me blush. I will work on being a better, more accepting of love, Vanessa. Why do I say this? Because I realize that this is love that is coming my way. People show their love in so many ways. They do it when they see me and run over and want to meet me. They do it by sending me notes telling me how much my work has influenced them. They do it by sending emails to the Director of the center that brought me on to facilitate a talk and generative class, telling her to please bring me back, that I’m one of the best facilitators they’ve ever worked with, that I gave so much of myself, with no ego, with vulnerability and heart.

I don’t want to be the one to slap the hand of love away. I’ve done that so much in my life already. This was me functioning from a place of trauma. I am working on being a better Vanessa. One who can accept and be open to love in all its forms…especially now, when I have to teach myself how to be. Word.

  Relentless Files — Week 59 (#52essays2017 Week 6) *An essay a week in 2017* On Sunday I finally landed from my last of 4 trips over 5 weeks: Minneapolis where I helped run VONA's regional program on the ground in conjunction with The Loft Literary Center; Newport Beach, Oregon for a Tin House NonFiction workshop with Lidia Yuknavitch; AWP in DC where I was on a panel; & finally a gig at The Center for Women Writers in North Carolina this past weekend. 

[pendragon50]

A Teacher’s Love (Pendragon fanfic)

Chapter 1: A Teacher’s Past (part 3)

As he grew older and entered his teenage years, he was met with the realization that the Patrick Mac he'd known as a child had yet to fade. Instead of throwing fists of anger and participating in the typical truth-or-dare events, or attending parties and experimenting with drugs, sex or alcohol, he remained outside the circle. He'd hear the stories of violent fights that would arise at these gatherings, where the police would occasionally end up becoming involved. That alone was enough to convince him that no matter how much others would persuade him into joining, it was better to stay true to who he was.

Unfortunately, that meant questions would get thrown at him, to which he would give the same answers to, time and time again.

"I don't get it, Patrick," one guy would say, shrugging his shoulders in confusion. "Don't you want to get out and…have some fun?"

"I-I just don't really do parties," he'd reply awkwardly, keeping his eyes on the floor.

He knew his friends weren't trying to make him feel bad, but there was no denying that he was recognizing more and more each day how different he really was. Compared with the rest of Madderson High, he just didn't have that same sense of "party" in him that seemed so prevalent in the teenage population.

It was one of the reasons he felt himself growing apart from who he'd thought had become his friends. But it was all too obvious their interests had changed with age, and Patrick just wasn't changing in the same manner that so many others were.

"Why not?" another girl would ask, only adding to the increasing awkwardness closing in on Patrick. "Everyone loves a party."

Not knowing how to respond, all he could do was start to answer, but the words would get so tangled up that all he would manage to get out was, "Uhh…" He could never find it in himself to come right out and speak the truth without feeling that weight of awkwardness pressing down on him.

"Come on, man!" he'd hear a voice say, and feel a hand giving him a light clap on the shoulder. "Get out and have some fun! What's holding you back?"

Finally, Patrick would find his voice once more to tell them while working hard not to let that awkward feeling take over, "Thanks, guys, but…you go on without me, really." After pausing briefly, he'd then add while shifting his gaze uncomfortably, "I-I think I'll just stay home and study."

"Don't you wanna get out of the house though?" a guy would ask. With a little grin, he'd then nudge him in the arm while saying with a wink, "Who knows? Might meet a girl…" Patrick had a pretty good idea as to what the guy was really suggesting; he knew how the minds of so many guys operated.

The truth was, Patrick felt so occupied with his academic life that he really didn't spend much time dwelling on the fact that he didn't have a girlfriend...and never had. Nor had he ever kissed a girl, danced with a girl, or even held a girl's hand. It occurred to him that perhaps girls just didn't care for a shy, geeky guy who spent hours huddled over books instead of attending the latest parties and keeping up with the social world. Maybe to them, he was all but a boring teenage guy who just didn't know how to have a great time.

I'm just not like other guys, Patrick would think. Where he liked learning, studying, reading as much as he possibly could and challenging his own mind, the majority of guys found school tedious and didn't care to study and read. Their distracted minds were spent elsewhere.

What he didn't understand was why such a vast majority felt so pressured into needing a girlfriend or boyfriend while in high school. Too frequently, he'd seen students hooking up solely due to physical attraction and naturally, such relationships just didn't last. Of course, he knew the raging hormones played quite the role in all of that, but regardless, he just didn't feel that same need to jump right into a relationship.

Besides, what was wrong with waiting till he was older anyway? At sixteen, he had to focus on completing high school and earning the best grades he could if he hoped on being accepted into university. That was only the second stepping-stone in his academic life. He'd then need to strive in working towards finding the one career that would be calling to him.

No, he knew there was no rush for love. He might not have been familiar with the immense world of love, but he did know enough from what he'd observed so far in life that it could be a pretty complicated thing. Based on that, he didn't mind waiting to see what life would have to offer. Not only that, but he knew there were all sorts of love, but the one that seemed most special of all was what they called true love. He knew it was real, as he saw it every day from his parents. When it was alive and strong, there was no mistaking it for anything else in the world.

As for him, he kept reminding himself that if he were meant to find true love, then it would be found.

"I think I'll just do some studying," Patrick would repeat, finding it hard to look them all in the eye.

"Studying?" a girl exclaimed. "Why? I mean, why spend the whole weekend studying? That's no fun! You'll go stir crazy."

"Just come with us. You know you want to."

"Come on, Patrick!"

"It's fine, guys," Patrick would say, refraining from biting his lip. "I-I really do have stuff to do this weekend."

They knew there was no changing Patrick's mind. When he had hid mind set on something, it was practically impossible to talk him out of it.

After staring at him with odd expressions for a moment longer, the small group exchanged looks, then turned and left for class.

"Well…have fun studying then," Patrick would hear them say.

Glancing back at them, once more he was struck with the recognition of the unmistakable differences between he and his friends. That…and the fact that he just didn't quite belong in this realm that was High School. All the drama, rumours, parties and thrill-seekers just wasn't what Patrick Mac was looking for.

Because of that, he often felt rather alone. Small and insignificant even.

I'm just not like anyone else, I guess, he'd think, lost in his ocean of thoughts. Just a guy named Patrick Mac.

So for the four years while he was advancing through Madderson High, he continued being Patrick Mac. He spent much of his time in the library completing assignments, research projects and studying for end-of-the-term examinations. Ever since he'd been shown the amazing complexity of the online world of computers, he'd been hooked. The technologically advanced system they had with computers in the forty-ninth century was all but astounding. Every bit of information was at their very fingertips with a press of some buttons and some verbal commands. It hadn't taken Patrick long at till he was searching away and interfacing with the computers as if it were second nature to him.

It was during his time in high school that he learned something very important about himself.

It was while he was at the library – any library – that he experienced a sense of belonging.

It was a place he felt truly confident in. It was where all doubts and insecurities could be washed away so his inner confidence could shine through.

It was a place he could call…home.

As he expected, his high school years flew by in a speeding blur. One moment he was in the tenth grade, and the next it was graduation day, and he was leaving his high school life. It came as no surprise to anyone that Patrick graduated at the top of his class in each subject, achieved high honours in every year, earned the highest overall academic average of 95% and would be awarded with a scholarship of twenty-five hundred dollars in recognition of his academic excellence.

When his name was called and he made his way across the stage wearing his gown and cap to receive his diploma, his parents couldn't have been any prouder.

"He works so hard," his mother uttered softly to her husband, her voice swelling with pride. "He always has."

Her husband met her gaze, smiled with equal pride and answered, "Yeah, he does. I can't think of a single day where he wasn't working away at something. I've never seen anyone so dedicated. He's got a passion for learning, that's for sure."

"He's grown up so fast," she commented, tears welling in her eyes. They were tears filled with a mixture of emotions – pride, joy and a bit of sadness. "Seems like just yesterday he was reading his first book, or getting on the bus for the first time….now he's off to university."

"Hey, are those tears?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her.

She chuckled, and pressed her head against her husband's. "Yes, it's expected that a mother's going to cry at her only son's graduation, dear."

"I suppose so," he smiled, kissing her lightly on the forehead. "Don't worry, though. He's growing up, but he'll always be your little boy. He'll venture off and find his place in the world, but he'll never be gone."

"My little Pat," she said, recalling all the precious memories of her son when he'd been young.

"It's funny," she heard her husband say. "He never liked being called Pat but he didn't seem to mind when you called him it."

"Yeah, you're right," she answered, then went on, "It's crazy."

"What is?"

"How fast time goes."

"It is. One minute we're celebrating his first birthday, the next…he's done high school. Hard to believe, really."

He watched his now graduated son walk off the stage, diploma in hand and a big smile on his face. When he turned and looked to the right, he stopped for a moment when he noticed his parents sitting in the front row. He broke out in an even bigger smile and gave them a little wave as he went and took his seat amongst the other students.

Now that Patrick would be putting his high school days behind him, he knew where his next stop would take him.

University.