#i have a couple friends who have been witnesses to the abuse ive gone through

[desolatehands]

Hi! I hate to have to make a post like this, but I am in some need of assistance. I'm a disabled individual living on VERY limited income and most of my income has been going towards moving expenses as I am leaving this current housing situation in two months. I have already spent most of my paycheck on mailing off valuables to my next location. The next step is to get my furbaby the things he needs to travel comfortably with me.

The goal is to have him with me in the cabin to help not only him, but myself too with my anxiety. It's difficult traveling alone as an autistic individual, so my cat is my best bet in keeping cool without turning to opiates as a one day prescription.

Here is the amazon list, if anyone feels like helping.

And here are a couple photos of Steven hard as a rock Stone. He's a very sweet and loving cat. But, I am in a very poor state financially.

My roommate is not the best and has 'forgotten' about the cash I have given her to purchase specific things for the cats in the house. Instead using that money to buy cigarettes.

While I don't feel comfortable talking about too many details, I can comfortably say I live with a hoarder, that I am blamed for things out of my control ( like the bills she should be paying w my rent ), so on and so forth.

I'm incredibly sorry to ask for this help, but my hands are kind of tied. It's been insanely difficult to get out of an abusive situation while being disabled.

[kenzieam]

Save My Life - Chapter One

@jewels2876​ ​​​​​ @moonbeambucky​ ​​​​​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​ ​​​​​ @iammarylastar​@captstefanbrandt​ ​​​​​ @badassbaker​ ​​​​​ @pinknerdpanda​ ​​​​​

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

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Warnings: Definitely M. Language, violence, adult situations, graphic mentions of horrible things, traumatic death and descriptions.

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!!!!!TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!!!

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Paramedic Bucky Barnes has seen it all and it’s definitely taken a toll on his mind and body, witnessing senseless death, all but wading through it at times as he is the first responder to so many ghastly accidents and mishaps. The widow of one of his former patients haunts him long after his brief, chaotic contact with her and destiny conspires to cross their paths again. Can the broken man and grieving woman find peace together?

Feedback is life, y’all.

***********************************************************************

EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER

With a growl and a groan, Bucky rolled over onto his back and threw his arm over his eyes. His body throbbed in a way that, while unwelcome, was far from unpleasant and he reached down, palmed his aching cock through the plain black boxer briefs he usually slept in.

It was so much easier to stumble to the shower if he only had to tangle with briefs, not try to pull a t-shirt off his muscular frame, it wasted precious seconds that could be better spent gasping for breath under the spray, hands pressed to the wall and bowed forwards, water washing away the nightmares that had torn him from uneasy sleep to begin with.

The dichotomy wore at him, even as he relived the horrors of her husband’s messy final moments of life, his body yearned for her, his cock hardening while his mind played the reel over and over, the sightless eyes, the crunching of the man’s ribcage beneath his hands.

There was no use fighting it, he’d tried so many times, only to lose every battle.

His pleasure crested, peaked and he groaned in release, his cock pulsing thick ropes of his seed onto his heaving stomach but the physical gratification didn’t touch the emotional turmoil and he dropped his hand with another groan, squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth until the sensations faded, both the ecstasy and the guilt.

Finally, he moved, hauling himself off the bed, off the tangled, soaked sheets and grimaced; the evidence of his twisted mind drying on his belly. Stumbling over last night’s jeans he shuffled into the bathroom and turned the water to scalding, scowling at his face in the mirror, scrubbing a hand over his stubble.

Would he finally get his shit together today? What compelled him, day after day, to continue like this? Sure, not every call ended the way that one had, but the good ones had long stopped overpowering the bad, their shadows too dark to chase away.

His phone jangled, clashing with his already raw nerves. Would such a simple sound ever stop eliciting such a heart-stopping response in him? He reached for the receiver, his seed still painting his belly, pulling at the downy hair there as it dried and silently held it to his ear. The voice on the other end knew he was there.

“Hey.” Steve said quietly.

“Hey.”

“Is today the day?” The day you stop this, quit the job that’s slowly killing you and start putting yourself back together again?

Bucky exhaled, a harsh yet anemic sound. “No, not today.”

Steve, his partner of eleven years, the man who usually drove the ambulance while Bucky worked so hard in the back, sighed quietly. Closer than brothers, he could read Bucky like an open book, but it went both ways and Bucky could hear the small smile on his face too. Although it was slowly killing both of them, there was nobody they’d rather die beside.

“See you at the station?”

“Yeah, an hour.”

“Coffee.”

“Your turn.” Bucky grunted, slamming the receiver down. Their shorthand baffled most, pissed off others, but you couldn’t be stripped bare emotionally in front of someone for over a decade and not connect like that.

One last lingering glance in the mirror, a brief grimace at the haunted cast in his blue eyes, then he continued into the shower, letting the water wash away both the sweat and the tears.

**********************************************************************

“Still having nightmares?” Steve asked, glancing Bucky’s way before returning his attention to the road. On their way to a frequent flyer found semi-conscious and, no doubt, more than semi-intoxicated, sprawled on the ground outside a local McDonald’s, there was a mild sense of urgency but an even larger sense of ‘same-old, same-old’ weary acceptance.

“Never stop.” Bucky replied shortly, barely looking up from poking listlessly at the computer screen mounted on the dash.

“About her?”

Bucky exhaled, eyes falling closed until the pain, while by no means gone, diminished enough to allow him to draw the next breath. “Yeah.”

“Man, that was over a year ago and you haven’t seen her since. What gives?” Steve demanded, slapping the steering wheel with the palm of his hand before cursing under his breath and hitting the sirens again to persuade a stubborn car out of their lane.

Bucky mused that he’d probably hear those god-damned sirens in hell.

“I don’t know-”

“Her husband died-”

“I know!”

“And I’m sure the last person she wants to see is the guy who was covered in his blood literally crushing the man’s ribs!”

“I know!” Bucky bellowed, slamming his fist on the dash then pulling it back with a grunt to cradle against his muscular chest. He’d need the full use of his hands, both massive paws that somehow could be so gentle and precise while intubating or placing an IV line, to deal with the patient they were now pulling up on.

“You using again?” Steve asked, voice low, bordering on a mix of angry and disappointed.

Bucky turned away, opening the door and jumping out before the bus had come to a full stop.

************************************************************

Lev glanced around briefly before dropping her eyes again. She felt supremely uncomfortable here, despite the fact that she was one of the more in-control attendees; she wasn’t weeping ceaselessly into a handkerchief, or burying her face in her hands while her shoulders shook, or muffling her wails on the shoulder of the person beside her. She was keeping it together.

Wasn’t she?

Eighteen months since Clint’s violent and unexpected death and this was her first meeting for grieving survivors, held in an aging school gymnasium that smelled like old socks and even older sweat, the wood floor marked and scarred with years of abuse.

Her friend Wanda had finally put her foot down, after a year and a half of back and forth, of, ‘I’m fine, just tired’ excuses and tearful limbo and all but dragged Lev to her doctor, where the kindly soul who may or may not be hiding pain just as visceral as hers and therefore knew what he was talking about had suggested this place, as an alternative to the pharmaceutical option that had been the first choice, and rejected so vehemently by Lev to warrant it’s proposal.

She glanced around. The middle-aged woman who’d lost her husband when he’d choked to death right in front of her during their weekly Sunday brunch, three chairs over in the large circle; the man who’d suffered through agonizing minutes of his wife pleading for help over her phone, then her final screams of terror as her car’s throttle had malfunctioned on the freeway and she’d careened at top speed into an embankment, instantly dying but taking with her his unborn son as well, five chairs over; then…. Him.

Lev startled slightly, dropping her gaze before it could be returned. Her memories of that time were so scattered and chaotic, stained with Clint’s blood and the sound of that goddamn siren, but she remembered him, or more accurately, the pain in his supernatural blue eyes.

Built like a marine, massive and muscled, shoulder-length hair pulled back into a loose bun, clad not in his uniform but a simple red long-sleeved Henley and jeans, hulking and intimidating until you looked closer and saw the anguish, was the paramedic that had tried so hard to save her husband’s life that lifetime ago.

Her heart sped up and she focussed obsessively on her cuticles. She wished suddenly for Wanda, but she’d insisted on attending tonight by herself and consequently was now alone as a tsunami of memories crashed over her. The incongruity of smells: bitter antiseptic, raw panic and body expulsions, warm male musk and blood; the duelling opposites that had all but torn her in half: frightening, in-your-face reality as Clint’s blood dried on her face coupled with the dream-like quality of the whole drawn-out nightmare.

How did that man cope? Dealing with that life and ugly death daily? Was that why he was here now, slumped in his chair and listening to other lambs to the slaughter open their veins in wretched attempts to assuage the pain?

She was called gently upon to speak, to give her name and reason why she was here; what screaming banshee howled unending torment in her ears, but she shook her head, burrowing further in on herself and muttering a vow to make herself talk next time, no matter how uncomfortable.

An eternity and an eye-blink later, the meeting ended, and Lev stood stiffly, her body raw and pulsating with fresh grief. For lack of anything else to do, she wandered to the refreshment table, knowing she was far too shaky yet to attempt to drive herself home and picked up a pre-poured paper cup of juice and pack of generic cookies. She’d just sat at an empty table and touched the cup to her lips when a quiet, tentative voice washed over her.

“Hi.”

She glanced at him, quickly back down again. “Hi.” Her voice was stronger than she felt, and she was grateful for the support of the table and chair.

“May I sit?” There was a puzzling hesitancy in his voice, as if he expected screaming rejection, but Lev was too tired to push someone else away, it was too wearying keeping her own mind and body quiet.

At her nod, he sat, picking at his own pack of cookies, seeming to be warring with himself about something.

“I remember who you are, you know.” Lev added, watched his shoulder slump with mingled relief and trepidation.

“I didn’t know… if you…. did or not-” He mumbled, trailing off uncomfortably.

“Hard to forget that day.” Lev whispered. She hesitated before adding. “I never got a chance but… thank you… for trying.”

He nodded, jaw tight, not lifting his eyes from the table.

“How do….” She didn’t want to ask, but God, she did too. “How do you manage to do that… as a job I mean?”

He smirke humorlessly, gesturing with one massive hand to the assembly around them.

“Does it help?”

He shrugged. “More than the company counselling. A friend of mine suggested it a couple years ago; I try to come when I can but….” He cleared his throat. “What about you?”

Lev dropped her eyes again, puzzlingly embarrassed. “My first time. My friend… she made me see a doctor-”

He held up a large hand. Say no more.

“How are you sleeping?” He asked quietly, lifting his hypnotizing gaze to hers again, which she quickly averted, in parts shocked and soothed by the tractor-pull that seemed to emanate from his supernatural blue eyes.

The question stung somehow, and it was so much easier to bite at that then lay bare the devastation beneath. “How do you?” Even as the question left her lips she recoiled, horrified with herself and pressed her hand to her mouth.

He flinched, barely perceptively, but the dark rings under his eyes answered her.

“God, I’m sorry-”

He shook his head, held up a massive hand again. “It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not!” What was wrong with her, biting the first hand that extended any type of friendliness? “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“This place… feeling this way… it makes you raw.” He replied, glancing up at her before looking away and gesturing with a chin jerk to a nearby table. “Sweetest old lady you’ll ever meet over there, but once she comes here and starts remembering her husband’s death again, turns into an old hag.” He twisted the paper cup in his hands, completely engulfing it before taking a sip. “Later, she’ll sit there with a stunned look on her face, like she’s waking up from a black-out.”

“I don’t want to be an old hag.”

A faint smile touched his full lips, temporarily lighting up his unbelievably handsome face. “You’d never be.” A faint pink flush and he looked away again.

Lev suddenly couldn’t breathe. The room, the man across from her, were taking all the air and she stumbled to her feet. “I have to go.”

He watched her, face falling and tried to stand but Lev lifted her hand, an emotional traffic cop, and shook her head. “I’m fine.”

It was a lie, and both knew it, but he only watched sadly as she hurried out the gymnasium doors to the darkness outside, head bowed.

**************************************************

“You never answered me.” Steve spoke suddenly, breaking the silence in the bus as they took a rare break between calls, sitting in the parking lot of a local coffee-shop, trying to wolf down their breakfast sandwiches before the radio blared and re-established reality.

Bucky grunted, knowing what his partner was referring to but hoping that he’d drop it if he played silly buggers.

“James.” Shit, he was serious, using Bucky’s given name.

Bucky sighed, staring out the windshield. “It’s under control.”

“Is it?” Steve all but shouted. “Shooting H? Seriously, man. How do you have that ‘under control’?! What the fuck, James!”

“I don’t do it all the time-”

“Once is too many!”

“Fuck you. You got someone to come home to-”

“DO NOT put that on me, asshole. You’ve had plenty of women hoping for your last name, what the hell are you always waiting for?”

“I’m-”

“Stop thinking about that girl, it’s never going to happen!”

A bitter retort stung Bucky’s tongue and he knew if he spit it out it would poison their enduring friendship, weaken it just when he needed it the most but he was saved from sabotaging himself by the damned radio itself, the dispatcher’s efficient voice relaying maximum information with minimal syllables.

Glaring daggers at Bucky, obviously having a damn good idea what he had been about to say, Steve snorted angrily and grabbed the microphone, snapping an affirmative before slamming the vehicle in gear and hitting the sirens.

************************************************************************

Levi was not at the next meeting and Bucky felt a curious mix of relief and disappointment. Steve was right, this was never going to happen and, even if it did, he had no right dragging this girl down into his shit, not when she was still trying to dig herself out of her own. But still, he was disappointed; she was the rare light in his darkness, had been since the moment he’d first seen her, even with all the chaos and horror around her, cradling her dying husband’s head in her lap, pleading with someone, anyone to help. When their eyes had locked, a visceral, physical jolt had shot through him, almost painful in its intensity and he’d become personally invested in doing all he could to help, if not the patient he’d been dispatched for, then her.

Anything for her.

He was a sad fuck.

He’d barely heard the meeting going on around him, the others whispering their shame and pain, the answering murmurs from fellow sufferers. He rarely spoke at these, was rarely called on anyway because the overseer, a thin, bantam rooster of a man named Tony, who still lost all confidence and swagger when remembering his dear wife, Pepper, who’d passed suddenly from an aneurysm a few years previous, knew who Bucky was and why he was here.

He had no personal stories of loss to tell, but shared the pain of every single death he witnessed, every patient he tried to save and usually ended up only managing to usher into the afterlife with some semblance of comfort anyway.

He left the meeting that night alone, curled up on the floor at the end of his bed and found a vein.

[cannotgiveafuck]

Billy Batson & Captain Marvel identity analysis (long post ahead)

Alrighty then! So I contemplated posting this bc it's so closely tied to the wip fic, buuuut here it is. Ive never been really satisfied with how some media portray this character bc they either lean too far towards childish or angry, or divide the identities too much. And whilst writing the fic I thought about how I wanted to portray him and what that entailed. A long semi comprehensive ramble of headcanons and character analysis based on the individual and combined identities of Billy and Marvel!

First, we have Billy. This kid who's parents died on a work trip, was left in the care of a greedy/selfish old man that did not care for him at all, has bounced through foster homes for a plethora of reasons (some of which are behavioral or abusive), and ultimately decided trying to make it on the streets was his best option (before being picked up by Dudley).

Now, backstory wise, it's all very obvious that Billy would have trust issues, especially towards adults (and double towards adults who try to control him). His learned attitude towards those that set their eyes on him (both before and especially after becoming Marvel) is guarded and aggressively defensive, he's snarky and sarcastic, ready to flee at a moments notice, and scared of being once again used, abused, and tossed aside if he were to trust someone. But at his soft core he desperately wants to be cared for, he wants affection and love and family, he wants a safe and secure home, he wants to believe in good.

All of this bleeds into his attitude towards his peers, too. Before becoming Marvel, he's a bit jaded and lost - his wrecked home life creating the chasm that keeps him from opening up and relating to others, from making real friends (the few exceptions being friends he considers family, and whom he is very loyal and protective of). After Marvel, Billy doesn't even try to associate with kids his own age. He stops going to school and is so focused on trying to be a good hero, he has distanced himself even more. But also, all the situations that he is exposed to really matures him. He still enjoys video games and sports, but he's also worrying about keeping Fawcett City and the world safe and working with JL - he doesn't have time nor patience for naive and clueless kids. But since he still is a kid and wants to have fun, those he let's in he holds onto and divulges everything to.

However, despite his hard outer shell, I do believe Billy is good and tries to be good and wants to see the good in those around him. A prominent and reoccurring memory of his parents is them telling him to be a good kid. That very much shapes Billy's views and ideologies. He wants to be a good person, which means he needs to help others (however he sees fit, from stopping bullies to carrying an old ladys groceries), but also realize that there is good all around him in everyone else, too. He has kind neighbors, and a community that helps each other, he knows everyone has their own struggles and they may direct negative emotions outward but may just need a helping hand in return. Billy knows suffering and cruelty and does not want to cause that, he wants to end it. So, theres this conflict inside him that he views as being smart vs being good. His true sunshine and trusting demeanor is boosted when he is chosen by Shazam, because now he has this divine and worldly responsibility to do and be good. And while he does not hold value in himself (abandoned and abused orphan does not hold a high confidence or self esteem level), he also wants to prove that he is worthy of inheriting this power, that there is good in this world and in him.

Now, second we have Captain Marvel. This is where identities become...complicated. The way I see it, Marvel is a mesh of 'Billy Batson', 'The Potential Adult Billy Could Be', and 'The Vessel of The Greek Gods Powers'. Since I've gone over Billy's identity, it transfers onto Marvel pretty seamlessly. So as The Adult Billy, he is still Billy Batson, but the grown up version, comfortable in his skin and in social standings with others, he is without the limiting physiological responses and capabilities of being a child. Despite all his experiences, Billy is still a kid - a bit awkward in his growing body, he's impulsive with his emotional responses, he jumps to conclusions and is very one track minded, has a hard time putting words to thoughts or instincts and understanding certain things and intentions (situations being very black and white). But as Adult Billy who is Marvel, he still sees through the same eyes, but he can filter distractions and pause to think through reflexive emotions, and he has a better understanding on just how morally grey the world can be, a gained clarity on other intentions and livelihoods, and he can empathize and read other's emotions in more detail than just the basic happy/mad/sad. Basically, Billy's brain has physically grown to that of an adult.

On the other hand, there is also what I like to believe is a...sort of third will in what makes Captain Marvel. He is, for all intents and purposes, a vessel or an avatar of sorts. He is a Chosen Champion by the Wizard Shazam to wield the powers of the Greek Gods (specifically the Greek gods, bc...well, that's a whole other post to ramble on), hes the mortal connection between them and the human world, their gift to the humans as a protector, as the guiding light of good. He is a symbol and title beyond one person. It is much like the mantle of Batman being passed on, except instead of all the gadgets and tech and databases...it's experiences and memories and wisdom gained by the previous Marvels, and available when properly called upon. Captain Marvel is like a reincarnation every time there is a new chosen champion. Billy is himself, but there were also others before him, other Marvels that existed and lived that can be remembered.

There is, however, a weird side effect to this being that the more in touch and immersed with these previous Marvel's he becomes, the more he slips away from himself - less Billy and human, more ancient and disconnected. He loses Billy's mannerisms and speech pattern and warm empathy, he still follows the ideology of good, but the charisma is gone, he's distant and cold.

All of this makes for a very interesting and fun way of writing Marvel and Billy - in how they each think through situations, how they each interact with the same people, how they each react to everything. And that's including how the same people react and treat each of them differently. Someone may see and treat Billy as a kid, but with Marvel they interact with and see an adult, a peer. When someone knows who Marvel really is, they need to consciously remind themselves that Marvel is Billy is a kid, because literally everything about Marvel screams at their senses that he's an adult (sunshine naivety aside). He still walks and talks and looks and is capable of thinking like an adult. It's not a situation of a couple of kids standing on top of each other in a trenchcoat or a kid dressing and doing their makeup like an adult. Magic has made him an adult, sort of.

At the core of it, the one experiencing and remembering and feeling everything is a child. There is no separating that, he is a different face of the same coin. So while Marvel can handle the emotional and mental exhaustion and stress of the situations he is put in, Billy Batson is going to suffer through the replays when everything is done. Because superheroing is not all saving lives and being praised, it's seeing people be hurt and bleed, interacting with the worst of humanity and others, witnessing tragedies and death in small intimate encounters and in large numbers. He is the one that will have nightmares and trouble sleeping, he is the one that will bear the brunt of the trauma and remorse, navigating detailed memories of violence and how it felt to hurt, wondering why there are phantom pains and aches when his body is not damaged, all with no trusted support system to turn to (because if he does, will the JL just see him as a child who cannot handle being a hero? will they turn him away?). Billy is the one having his childhood and innocence ripped away from him for the sake of the world. There are consequences of being the chosen champion, and while Billy is willing to accept them, will continue to fight and uphold his divine duties, will put others before himself every time, it wont make be easy.

The potential of how complicated Billy and Marvel can be, and how other heroes cannot fully comprehend it without a trusted in depth discussion (only Black Adam can understand and lemme tell you, that's a hot mess) - that's what makes him and his situation so interesting and fun to write.

[affectionatespy626]

Title: Welcome Home (part 1)

Type: AU Fan-Fic

Origin: Mystic Messenger

Genre: Angst (trigger warning: sense of self loathing), Remorse & Reconciliation (?)

Words: 2211 (?)

Prompt: After-endings | Forgiveness

Day 6 Entry for @saeranchoiweek

______________________________

One winter of three years ago, the chaotic controversy regarding the prime minister and his rumored illegitimate sons was finally dying down slowly as the prime minister was forced to step down his pedestal as he was rumored to be arrested for multiple charges of embezzlement. This event soon led to the reports of the safe rescue of the missing agent and a member of the RFA, namely Luciel Choi, with the help of C&R’s intelligence team and string of network. Finally, one could say the storm has come to a pass, but for one particular person, it was still one phase out of few that he needed to undergo.

His snowy colored hair blended rather well with the season yet his usually cold minty colored eyes soften like snow as he quietly gazed upon a sleeping figure, life support and IV drip attached, lying motionless across a hospital bed, putting his heart into a conflicted state. He knew he had always wished for his brother to perish from his life, but now, witnessing the dreary state of his other half, he felt unspeakable worry rather than despicable spite. It’s been days ever since they had successfully retrieved and rescued the kidnapped agent, but he never would have dreamt to find him in such a dreadful state. Dehydrated and thin, bruises and cuts decorating his entire skin and body from head to toe, these evident signs of violent abuse and misuse of authority left a devastating shock to the younger twin, almost leading him to another series of self-loathing. But he knew full well, that even if he blamed himself over and over for the older twin’s state, it won’t be able to fix or solve anything. He hated his brother for so long, but his love for him which he thought he has long forgotten, unexpectedly resurfaces itself as he stubbornly refused to leave his brother’s bedside

.“Saeyoung…..I’m… Sorry….” His quiet apology was barely a whisper to himself, drowned by the steady beat of the device that sustained his brother’s life. “If… If only I could have found you sooner… this wouldn’t have happened….It’s…. It’s my fault…” His voice was laced with remorse, the corner of his eyes heating up with budding tears. He knew full well that it wasn’t his fault, but he couldn’t help but partly blame himself deep down inside for such an outcome. He wished he could have prevented this, but it was too late to regret what has already happened. His heart was trembling painfully, and his mind was slowly infested with unpleasant thoughts. Simply watching his brother’s miserable state sends him a wave of fear all over his body, and he couldn’t help but clutch at the sleeping lad’s hand, desperately hoping for those bruised eyelids to flutter open soon.

‘God… If you do really exist like how I was taught back when I was young… Please… Please allow me a chance to be with my brother once again. I know I said I hated him for everything that he’s done… For leaving me behind… for abandoning me… for all those times he made me think he was gone… But as of this moment, I only wish for him to live on. Please allow him to live on…. And I promise…. I will never make any selfish request ever again…’

He solemnly prayed with all his heart as he clasped his brother’s hand between his own grasp, hoping that his prayers will find its answer.

For two whole weeks, the younger twin has been constantly visiting his brother at the hospital, hoping for any signs of improvement, hoping for his desperate wish to be granted. Sometimes, he’d find other RFA member paying his brother a visit, and when he hears their words of encouragement and well wishes, he couldn’t help but learn to slowly warm up to them. One of the constant visitors was the youngest member of the RFA, Yoosung Kim. As he and the blonde chap exchange small conversations, he comes to learn how Yoosung seems to be quite close with the agent and regards him as a close friend. Another constant visitor was the C&R director he came to end up working with eventually. The lad was genuinely thankful for the corporate heir’s assistance with everything, from his brother’s search and rescue operation, up to this point where the stern fellow provided a couple bodyguards to stand watch outside the hospital room, preventing shady and suspicious figures from setting foot into the room or cause any havoc.

“How is he?” Deep monotonous voice convey his concern, dark color irises gazing steadily at the sleeping individual.

“Not much improvements aside from his bruises slowly fading and cuts gradually healing.” His meek voice was rippled with worry, his gaze upon his brother growing ever weary. “It’s been two whole weeks, yet I didn’t get much of a report about him gaining consciousness….” His voice grew weaker and feeble as he heaves a downhearted sigh. And honestly, he was slowly losing faith over his wishes coming true.

“I see.” Turning his nonchalant gaze toward the younger twin who appeared quite ragged and exhausted, leaving him concerned. His emotions doesn’t usually reflect on his face, and most people would regard his poker face as a mechanical imprint, but to be honest, deep down, he is one of those who values family and friends and deeply cares for them greatly. And at that moment, he has already thought of the younger hacker as part of his second family, that being the RFA. “Don’t lose hope, Saeran. I believe your brother will surely come back to you.” He gave the younger twin a pat on the shoulder as he turned for the door and was preparing to leave. “Oh, right. Please don’t worry about your request. I have sent some of my bodyguards to patrol the area you’ve given us so rest assured, the child will be safe.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jumin Han.”  As he heard the other’s statement, another breath of sigh escaped his lips, feeling relieved that the the child would be protected from harm’s way, hoping that this would also reassure his beloved that her child will be safe no matter what. Upon hearing the door open then closing, noting the corporate heir’s exit, he was once again left alone with his slumbering twin, his gaze drift from him then out towards the grey painted skies. Snow has started to fall for the first time, watching each flake fall one by one as he strode down towards the window. His mint colored irises gaze upon the gloomy clouds, reminding him that this season has always been unforgiving for the both him and his brother. Only painful memories could be remembered during this season, and the most painful one being left alone in that dark and stuffy room, shivering, starving and crying himself to sleep. It was the season where memories of watching people rejoiced and enjoyed holidays with their families from a dark curtained window, while he and his brother, would only share a blanket and a bottle of water, hoping to survive a horrid quarter of chilly winter. Ultimately, it was a season where his brother’s absence caused him so much grief and emptiness deep within.

He’d wished to make new memories for this once awful season, hoping to spend merry holidays with his beloved muse, experience the kind of event he’d only bare witness through curtain cracks. And despite not truly believing that Santa  Claus or his merry entourage ever existing, his inner self dares cling to that spec of hope that even someone like him could find a place in this seasonal cheer and be granted the only present he’d currently wanted: A new life with Saeyoung.

“Sae…ran…?”

“?!?!”

He wasn’t sure if his mind was playing tricks with him from delving too much into deep thoughts that he’s now hearing things, but he swore he heard a weak voice calling his name that almost sounded like–

“Sae….ran… is… is that… you?”

Hearing the voice again, his eyes sprang round and wide in surprise, his heart pounded painfully in a course of anticipation. Was he yet hearing another hymn from his conscience? But it sounded all too real, and he was almost certain the voice was definitely-

“Saeyongung?” Shakily, he shuffled to turn towards where his brother was supposed to be, afraid that his imagination was pulling awful tricks on him, but his minty gaze found two pairs of sad golden eyes, tears beading in them. “Sae…. Saeyoung?” 

“Saeran… what…. What happened to you?” Golden pair of irises quiver as they became misted with tears, shaky voice breaking in obvious devastation at the sight of the drastic changes he found in his dearest younger twin. “What… what have they done… to you? I…” 

“Saeyoung…” Biting his lower lip as he desperately held back tears of his own, his hands clenched into balls of fists as they tremble, watching his older half break into massive tears caused him to finally let his own stream of tears loose as well. “I hate you…. I hate you so much, Saeyoung!” He screamed his heart out, frustrated and aggravated and its recipient could only remain sobbing audibly. 

“Did you know how worried I was?! HUH?!”  He raged on, his tears bearing no signs of stopping themselves as his heart thumped like roaring thunder. “You…. I can’t believe you left me behind all alone back there and allowed me to think you were gone! For all those years…. All those painful and awful years, I blindly believed that you got tired of me because I was weak, helpless, useless without worth!” 

“Saeran… That’s not true! I-” 

“I was worried about you. I was waiting for you to come back home. I waited, and waited, and waited all over and again! I spent years of my life thinking our father…. That despicable man… has finally gotten rid of you… but then you!” 

“I’m sorry, Saeran. I know I shouldn’t have left you back there. I’m really sorry! But I didn’t know what else to do! I had no choice!” 

“Of course you had a choice! You could have just stayed with me! Then maybe both of us wouldn’t have had to go through deep pits of hell at the expense of idiotic vengeance or one-sided protection!” 

The bedridden agent fell voiceless as he simply allowed his brother to throw all agitation at him, and despite having just woken up, he was slowly feeling like he was sinking into a corner of nightmares. 

“Saeyoung… I know you’d openly sacrifice yourself for me, but you didn’t have to go that far… “ His voice finally mellowed down into a weakened whimper as he crumbled to the ground, his fingers roughly brushing through his hair. “I hated myself so much thinking I was the reason why you were gone…. I hated myself for depending on you too much and yet could not make myself reliable enough… and hated myself because no matter what I do, I couldn’t do anything for you….I…” His lips quivered as faint stain of red and teeth marks painted on his lower lip, a mark left by his aggravation. “I hated myself because I allowed myself to fall prisoner to all my doubts of you, to my hatred towards you, to the words of a false prophet that made me believe you were someone I had to eliminate from my life, for allowing them to use me as a tool to wreak havoc and seek my vengeance. And I…. Hated myself that even now.. I couldn’t even protect you… And now you…”

Silence befell within the room with the only noises being their quiet sobs and the constant beat of the monitor. The agent remained laid in his bed, the back of his arm hiding his eyes, his cheeks drenched with tears and his chest rising and falling in an irregular fashion. The younger twin still seated on the floor, his back resting against the hospital bed leg, his head sunk between his palms as he also continued to weep. Both of them were unable to speak out anymore and simply allowed themselves to cry, together for the first time in a certainly long while.

 I knew I said those words thoughtlessly but deep inside my heart I knew I had to say them all out, thinking it’ll provide an opportunity for our reconciliation. Still, I may have said I hated him, hated him so much that it hurts, but now I understand. I never really hated him… I hated what he’s done, but not him. Not my brother… I… I could never ever hate my one and only brother.

‘Saeyoung… It’s not too late, is it? It’s not too late to regain what we both had lost from all the years we’ve been apart, right?’ 

‘And if you’d let me…. I will do anything and everything in my power just to get back your trust in me, brother. I'll make sure this time, I’ll never leave your side and recover lost times with you, Saeran.’ 

‘Because there’s no other place I’d truly call home but by your side, brother.’

[recentanimenews]

10 Western Media That Would Make Great Anime

When we anime fans tire of lamenting for the adaptation of manga after manga, or light novel after light novel, we tend to turn our imaginations away from Japan. After all, anime is no stranger to adapting western media. Many books, shows and movies have been adapted from western media into anime form, including Deltora Quest, Spider Riders, Witchblade, Howl’s Moving Castle, Highlander, and Supernatural just to name a few.

This got me thinking of my own wishlist of western media that would make great anime. Here are 10 shows, books, and movies that would make awesome anime adaptations.

  Mortal Engines by Philip Reeve Book Series - Dream Studio: Production I.G. - Dream Format: TV Anime

If you’ve never heard of Mortal Engines, no sweat. It’ll be your new favorite thing in no time. This YA quartet from British author Philip Reeve follows Tom, an apprentice historian atop the city of London. When he’s thrown out of the city, he sides with Hester Shaw, an assassin with the resistance after the life of his master, Thaddeus Valentine, who she blames for the death of her mother.

Sounds pretty run of the mill YA right? My bad. I forgot to mention all of the cities run on tractor wheels. Oh, and the cities eat other cities for resources. Oh, and there’s this huge conspiracy surrounding the city-eating cities, and this huge plot to destroy them. It’s cool that Peter Jackson’s directing a film adaptation of the series, which is due out this December, but just imagine this as an anime...

Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling Book Series - Dream Studio: A-1 Pictures - Dream Format: TV Anime

Does Harry Potter really need an introduction? I feel like we all know about the boy who lived and his battle with he-who-shall-not-be-named. The cliffnotes version of Harry Potter is that an abused orphan turns out to have an incredible magical gift required to stop some of the wizarding world’s most malevolent forces. In addition to his studies, he must juggle fighting the dark forces, and maintaining the friendships he makes at Hogwarts.

  Harry Potter is essentially fantasy shonen in book format. It has the magical boarding school. It has the perfect shonen protagonist and sidekicks. The duels would be incredible to see animated. Hagrid would be moe AF. The mythical creatures would be a sight for sore eyes. But most importantly? QUIDDITCH EPISODES!

Railsea by China Miéville Novel - Dream Studio: Madhouse - Dream Format: Movie

China Mieville’s Railsea is an interesting reimagining of Moby Dick. Except instead of a sea, it’s a giant desert covered in endless, winding train tracks – the titular railsea. And there’s no whales. Only giant moles. The story follows Sham Yes ap Soorap, a young assistant doctor on a train that hunts giant moles for meat (think whaling but with moles). Her journey among the pirates, monsters, and salvagers alike kicks off when she comes across a series of photographs aboard a trainwreck that hint at the impossible existing.

The history behind the now-derelict world of Railsea, coupled with the mixture of gripping drama and havoc reminiscent of kaiju films, would make for a solid animated feature, the visuals of which I’d only trust to Madhouse.

A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin Book Series - Dream Studio: MAPPA - Dream Format: Movies

Okay, so it’s Game of Thrones, but all the characters are moe idols. That’s it. That’s the show.

More seriously though, A Song of Ice and Fire would make a downright wicked fantasy anime. This large-scale fantasy epic has such an incredible assortment of characters, rich history, and gratuitous violence that would be a treat to see in anime form. It’s tough to really pinpoint the plot, since so much is going on, but A Song of Ice and Fire centers on a number of noble families – such as the Starks or Lannisters – vying to claim the throne of Westeros.

If there’s one studio out there that could handle A Song of Ice and Fire, it would be MAPPA. MAPPA’s history with dark fantasy anime series such as Rage of Bahamut or Garo only strengthens my confidence in their ability to breathe some animated life into the franchise.

A Scanner Darkly by Philip K. Dick Novel - Dream Studio: SHAFT - Dream Format: TV Anime

You may know A Scanner Darkly from that weird rotoscoped movie where Keanu Reeves, Robert Downey Jr., and Woody Harrelson play a rag-tag group of friendly drug addicts. The movie itself was based on the Philip K. Dick book of the same name. It follows Bob Arctor, who lives parallel lives as both a drug addict and undercover police agent. Undercover agents report to their superiors in scramble suits, which scramble their identities. The kicker here is that Bob Arctor’s undercover gig? Spy on Bob Arctor.

The drug-addled, paranoia-fueled philosophy behind the day-to-day of drug addicts living in a world where the war on drugs was lost makes for an interesting dynamic, especially with the sci-fi enhanced police work behind it. The only studio I’d trust visually with this would be Shaft, if only to see drug-addict head tilts.

  Peep Show British Comedy Series - Dream Studio: Kyoto Animation - Dream Format: TV Anime

I know this sounds like a weird one, but stick with me. Peep Show is a British sitcom that follows mismatched flatmates Mark and Jeremy – Mark being the uptight 9-5er and Jeremy being the easy-going partier. They don’t always see eye to eye, but sometimes friendships need that. Sometimes Mark needs to loosen up a little. Sometimes Jeremy needs to grow up a bit. As long as they have each other, nothing bad can really go wrong, right? Well, as human nature would have it, things tend to go wrong – quite often, rather quickly.

KyoAni’s bread and butter tends to be slow-paced slice-of-life shows, so if any anime studio would revel in adapting a sitcom, it’d be them. The gimmick of Peep Show is that the camera angles don’t tend to be traditional, and often are shot from the direct view of Mark or Jeremy. It would be interesting to see how that worked in anime form.

Kitchen Nightmares Reality TV Series - Dream Studio: David Production - Dream Format: TV Anime

If Kitchen Nightmares were adapted into an anime, I think it’d probably be a lot like Food Wars!, but Gordon Ramsay yells at Soma every 5 minutes. More realistically, it would follow a rather manly Gordon Ramsay on his trek across Japan in search of crestfallen restaurants in desperate need of an upgrade. Now throw in some Jojo-styled manliness – the likes of which only David Production could replicate – and we have ourselves a recipe for the perfect anime.

The translation of Ramsay’s infamous potty mouth would be a peculiar one, but seeing a muscle-clad Gordon Ramsay faffing about a kitchen screaming oi, teme at the sous chefs would be a treat we could all sink our teeth into.

The Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham Novel - Dream Studio: Wit Studio - Dream Format: Movie

There’s always room for more horror and suspense anime, ones about sentient walking plants doubly so. The book follows Bill Masen, a scientist who specializes in the care, study, and cultivation of triffids – towering venomous carnivores cultivated for their oils. After waking up from temporary blindness following a triffid strike, he finds everyone is now blind from green flashes brought on by comets the night prior. Now Bill must make his way through the streets of London in search of safety.

  While horticulture itself usually isn’t scary, there’s something eerily unsettling about the fact that poisonous man-eating plants walk the streets. Wit Studio would probably be the only studio which could replicate that suspense and terror, having done it perfectly in Attack on Titan and Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress.

  Star Wars Sci-Fi Media Franchise - Dream Studio: Ufotable - Dream Format: TV Anime

With Ufotable’s success at adapting large scale media franchises such as Fate, this sci-fi space opera could be in no better hands. Anime is no stranger to the world’s 2nd largest media franchise either. There are loads of references to the movies in various anime and manga, including Daicon IV, Berserk, Gintama, Doraemon, and Princess Jellyfish, just to name a few. Some fans have gone as far as to draw parallels between the Jedi of Star Wars and Newtypes of Gundam (whether that’s intentional or a coincidence being how close the two were to releasing).

  The coming-of-age rebellion story, coupled with the gratuitous tie-fighter dogfights and lightsaber battles, would make for one show you’d be on the edge of your seat for week after week. I think each trilogy could probably be adapted in one cour, but at this point, I’d even take seeing Clone Wars reanimated in its entirety as long as Ufotable got their hands on it.

  The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams Book Series - Dream Studio: Bones - Dream Format: Movies

From spaceship-stealing presidents to poetry-loving aliens, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy has a special charm that boys, girls, and little green people across the universe can love. It follows the incredibly British Arthur Dent, who in attempting to stop the demolition of his house, learns from his best friend Ford Prefect that the Earth is about to be demolished. After a few pints at the pub, the two hitch a ride on a ship and proceed on a journey through the stars in search of answers to life, the universe, and everything.

Anime has the unique marketability to sell just about anything. Look at Dr. Pepper sales after the first series of Steins;Gate aired back in 2011 after all. If the Japanese towel industry ever finds itself in a slump, anime studios know just what British science fiction series to adapt.

BONUS: King of the Hill Animated TV Series - Dream Studio: P.A. Works - Dream Format: TV Anime

You got that right: we’re doing a meme entry! King of the Hill has already claimed some notoriety in anime fandom as being one of the greatest anime of all time (if only second to Cory in the House).

King of the Hill follows the Hank Hill, his family, and their dysfunctional band of friends and neighbors as they navigate the challenges of daily life, propane, diminished glutes, lawnmowers, and more. Sometimes Hank’s modest sensibilities are challenged, but as a man of his word and a man of character, he never stands down.

While the closest we’ll probably ever get to a King of the Hill anime was the 1-hour episode where they went to Japan, we can only hope that one day, you’ll get a Crunchyroll notification that says “Release: King of the Hill - Episode 1”.

What about you folks? Got a favorite book, comic, TV series, or movie you want to see in anime form? Sound off in the comments below!

  ---

  Zach Godin writes about the manga he reads and collects over at his website, Rusted Culture. Feel free to say hi on Twitter: @zachjgodin

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[jessicaingo]

“He Hit Me & It Felt Like A Kiss”

“He hurt me but it felt like true love, Loving him was never enough”

December 13th,2020

When I first heard these Lana Del Ray lyrics, I felt like I had written them myself. It opened my eyes to how I really wasn't the only person who's ever dealt with a toxic relationship before. Unless you've experienced one yourself, You can never truly understand. Ive lost countless amounts of friends due to the fact I chose to continue to be manipulated & never give up on the “true love” I thought I had for my sons father. In their eyes, I was stupid. “All you do is complain! We have told you time & time again” I understood their position then, just like I do now. I get it. BUT I couldn't help my heart. My love for my sons father was like a DRUG. It was an ADDICTION & I WAS OBSESSED. Just like any addiction, you aren't ready to quit until YOU choose to. You can realize the issue is present but sometimes that's not enough. You can't make a life change until YOU & ONLY YOU are ready to. No ones opinion or good advice can help. What DID help me were the friends who were CONSTANTLY there. Supporting me & loving me with no questions asked. Not the ones who gave me ultimatums. “You choose our friendship or him. I’m sorry but I just can't stand by your side with all this drama & you never taking my advice. I don't want to see you hurt anymore” All valid statements.. but It wasn't what helped me get through the abuse. All it did was make me feel like more of a failure. Like I was disappointing everyone in my life who I cared about the most. So I’m grateful for the ones who actually stayed though out the years ALWAYS being a shoulder for me to cry on while I tried to make sense of it all. I know my children & my happiness now days truly make my loved ones FULL of joy. My success & happiness is not just my own, its because of my dear loved ones who helped give me strength. 

But lets go back to the beginning. Back to the start when this abuse all started. Keep in mind, this is the short version. I’ll be going into further detail in my future posts.

I met my sons father in 2015 when I started dating him. Through out the years, I’ve seen all his sides. The good, the bad & everything in between. 

The first time he physically abused me was in Oregon December 2016 at his parents home while celebrating the holidays. His brother & parents witnessed the attack. During that visit, I had become pregnant. In these months awaiting for our first to be born, he did nothing to change his way of life. I gave birth to our first child in October, 2017. Only a couple weeks later, I got a call late at night from an officer who arrested him for a DUI. I had to put my 3 week old son in the car & pick him up from jail. At that time, we both had our own apartments & were not living together. 

After picking him up from jail, I dropped him off at his place. He verbally abused me the entire ride. Never gave me apologizes for having to wake up our baby to come get him. Instead he blamed ME. Blamed me for being the reason why he was driving under the influence. In reality, I had no idea where he was that night. The last text he sent me was he was working late. Keep in mind, he never was around to help me with our son. (I’ll be going into details in a separate post)       I should’ve opened my eyes that night to the fact he was not sympathetic & probably would never change his ways. Instead, I gave him an ultimatum. I told him if he wanted to be a father, he needed to start acting like one. Enough of the cheating, the lies, the alcohol, the drugs. My sons father made a promise he had no intentions on keeping to me as we moved in together. 

Only a couple short weeks after moving in, was the second physically abusive incident. December 2017, This one was the worst. It resulted in me getting the police involved because I was locked away from our two month old son. When the officers arrived, they noticed marks around my neck. I gave them a short statement of what happened but only begged for someone to go into the home to get my son. I never wanted to press charges against him however, the state realized how terrible this behavior was & got involved. This is the case that resulted him being on probation currently. He still blames his probation on me for being the one who got the police involved that night. He never once apologized, even when he saw all the marks & bruises. To this day, he denies ever putting his hands on me in an aggressive way that caused me to loose consciousness.

After getting his DUI, My sons father had to get a Breathalyzer in his car. All that stopped him from doing was from driving HIS car. On nights he wouldn’t come home, I would wake up the next day to see he had taken MY car in the middle of the night so he could continue to drive under the influence. Sometimes he would not bring back my car for days. Once when he did this & I noticed my car was gone, I started to text as well as call him. I tried to explain exactly why I needed my car back so badly. I only had enough formula for the baby to get me through the night & I was planing on going to the store to buy more in the morning. Him taking my car that night kept me from easily being able to provide for our child. He didn’t care. Told me to “Go Puff” deliver some formula & he blocked my number. The next day, he arrived back wasted with my car & holding a bag of mccdonalds. This was when incident three happened. I was vivid. I start yelling, trying to get him to understand why I was so upset. I wanted him to understand how his behavior was poorly effecting not just my life emotionally but his sons as well. He laughed, called me dramatic & threw the bag of mcdonalds at me. As I was angry, I threw it back & told him I didn’t want mcdonalds. I wanted formula for our son... That upset him. His eyes filled with rage & I knew it was too late for me to back down or give him an apology. He grabbed me, started punching me in the head repeating the words “Why won’t you just die already? JUST DIE”. I started to crawl away from him, stood up, woke my son up who was still asleep in his crib. I put my shoes on & left for the store to buy formula. As I’m driving in tears I realized how dizzy I was. I noticed an urgent care next to the grocery store. I went inside & that incident was reported with a doctor. The Scottsdale Police showed up at our home. My sons father automatically thought I had called them. As soon as they left, so did he & I didn’t see him again for weeks. (This is what sparked my first post in October 2018)

After him having little contact with me over those weeks, he showed up at 7:00am on October 5th 2018. It was our sons first birthday & our baby was still asleep in his crib. When he arrived, it scared me. I was not expecting him. I explained I had made plans & was taking our son to go to the zoo for his birthday. I then got up to get ready for the day, as he grabbed me. He told me since our son was still sleeping, we had time... he then forced himself on me while I screamed & cried... A couple weeks later, I found out I was pregnant with our second. My sons father disappeared once again. He had found comfort in a young girl who is born in 2001. At the time, it was just an affair. He eventually came back home December 2018 giving me the same false promises, yet I gave him another chance. I wanted to give him one last opportunity to be a father to my children.

I gave birth to our second in 2019. Brad never changed his ways. I went into labor one week early due to stress. On June 22nd at 2am, I called him trying to let him know I wasn’t feeling well. Brad was out partying, he answered telling me I was “Annoying him & to F- off”... a couple hours later, he finally came home. I went into labor almost immediately after his arrival. Since he was still intoxicated & I had to drive myself while having contractions to the hospital.

A couple months after our second son was born, “we” bought a house & moved into our “Forever Home”. This is when incident four happened. I found out that he in fact, never ended his relationship with his young companion. I should’ve known what his reaction would be if I confronted him. He got aggressive, grabbed me & threw me out of the house. I snuck back inside to get our children. He told me to leave, take the children & go live with my mom in Atlanta, GA. I had to leave everything I ever owned behind, only taking our children & whatever was in my diaper bag.. This was truly the most traumatizing abuse of them all... but it was also the LAST TIME he ever physically touched me. Now days, I find a lot of comfort in knowing that was the LAST TIME. Everyone knows I would've stuck by my sons father through out anything, until the day I died. If he didn't kick me out, I would've never left. 

In my first post back in 2018 I even said “I’ll give him a big THANK YOU. THANK YOU for LEAVING ME. THANK YOU FOR FINALLY DOING WHAT I NEVER HAD THE STRENGTH TO DO.” When I said that, I really had thought he left us for good.. but I took him back always praying one day he would love me like I loved him. I now stand by that statement & truly give him a BIG THANK YOU FOR KICKING ME OUT!

Over a year since this incident, I can TRULY say I’VE NEVER BEEN HAPPIER.

This was my path all along. My children & I are EXACTLY where we are supposed to be & so is my sons father.

xoxo 

[unproduciblesmackdown]

yall ive had some shit this shift...i got lectured and vaguely threatened for having to pee a lot which was coz i drink stuff thruout the day like coffee and tea which is Pee City and since ive been on deliveries steadily all day ill be gone on that for ages and have to pee when i get back as well as the other shit i do. like i was literally this afternoon joking w coworkers who are actually cool to me abt how i can be at work for hours before people who have been in the store the whole tkme will realize im even there coz im a) out on deliveries most of the time, like for real if its a busy lunch period i can be at work for 2-3 hrs and actually be in the store 10-20 min and b) when im here im moving around actually doing shit and people have always been saying how its hard to get ahold of me coz im always going around doing shit and thats another reason people dont realize im here and c) people just dont notice me so like today my freakin bad i had to pee a lot coz my only comforting routine in this place besides constant disassociation is working my way thru a drink and i happen to like both coffee and tea even tho it does make me pee and sometimes i get the coffee dumps, truth. so today since ive been in and out on deliveries the whole time and i havent been talking to anyone since none of the people who notice me were much here and since ive been moving around the store since im actually doing shit, i get yelled at for using the bathroom too much.... like i get the issue of people who give themselves Bathroom Breaks which realistically we all do but sometimes people do it too long or whatever and like yeah while im taking a shit i will check my twitter or make a shitpost or something, like we all use our phones throughout the day including the managers and im not gonna feel bad for doing that but i am not thrilled w being accused of using the bathroom needlessly when im using it coz i need to use it....and like not like i can prove im peeing every time coz i'd be glad to give you a urine sample every time but they prob dont want that.... anyways whats real good is how i was just talking the other day about how this one delivery driver who's been here forever and was just given like acknowledgement for being a good employee, i was talking w someone about how like he doesn't actually do shit, and i was like i try desperately to ignore him but now that you mention it i never see him doing anything really? and like if you ask him to do some basic shit we're Supposed to do he wont or he'll ask someone else to do it. and today he was here and when we were slow and i was like washing tables and taking dishes and making coffee I actually paid attention to him and he definitely would just like stand by the computer even tho we had no new orders and then walk to a different spot and then go back to the computer and then walk energetically somewhere else and i think a couple times i saw him carry a few dishes to the sinks. and he's fine and im doing shit and getting lectured for causing issue for not doing my work like granted this was from the same manager who once made me mad for getting on me for Slacking Off coz i was leaning on the bread slicer, which i was leaning on coz i was trying to read the order info on the computer next to it, and was also happy about because i was doing a lot of work that day more than even usual. and another driver complained about her doing that exact same thing aka complaining about Leaning when the driver had been working hard and i was like yep ive had that happen too like now i essentially cant use the bathroom because the fact that i keep myself busy means that most people, who have a tendency to not notice my presence even if i AM standing right there, legit dont know im there and nobody sees me doing any work coz they dont see me coz im doing god damn work........ im annoyed coz like i can think of maybe seven other employees who distinctly notice me and are cool with me and im cool with them, and most other employees are fine and decent to me and stuff but theres a couple people who are shitty including this one guy who just now was talking with this dude who i thought was a decent guy? and they were kind of making fun of me and i went up to the decent guy like hey i was actually right over there and totally heard you guys, coz i was not in the mood, and he just brushed me off and i was like fantastic. plus for some reason the manager who fussed at me decided to do it all formally right before i had to go on a delivery, and so i didnt get enough time to say everything on my mind about my Problems with the fact that this was occurring which i was absolutely going to do in full on account of i think its bullshit and im no longer in the mood in my general life to act like i think that kind of bs is warranted, but before i could talk about it long enough i felt like id said everything i wanted to, she was like ok u gotta go on the delivery and im like you still havent given me that $60 you forgot to cash me out and you're allowed to say what you want and i cant respond? i get that mgmt is bullshit and i had just been talkingn about how mgmt is bs a couple days ago but i just dont care for me personally i am going to answer back. and because of being abused all my life a lot of times i have an automatic response to these kind of situations where i try to speak back and the stress just naturally makes me cry and then i gotta be like sorry im crying its a physiological reflex i earned for being alive. and now that you rushed me out to make a delivery i have to be trying not to cry at work, and extend my cryish period by having to try holding it back, and also extend it on account of im still got damnt pissed about it like god knows im not one to praise myself beyond reason but im a good worker here and ironically that means people might not ever notice it and I've definitely never heard a good word from management about anything i do since i dont even know when and instead i get in trouble coz one day i have to pee, coz other days i also have to pee coz i have established one comforting habit to get through customer service bs where i get weird treatment from other coworkers at least once a day usually and sometimes dont even have a work friend around and so my fucking bad i have coffee i guess like apparently my fuckin problem is that im both quiet almost all the time and keep to myself but also sometimes joke with people or say something to them at all just to be nice coz other coworkers are quiet and dont get shit from people or are always in a less than warm mood and dont get shit about it. i close tomorrow aka there for 10-11 hrs but at least a coworker im work friends with and who has a similar demeanor is around for most of it or i swear to christ. hopefully i ever deliver to someplace with a fucking bathroom coz i guess i cant god damn use ours anymore without being monitored coz im not a good enough worker natcho like i just dont know how im supposed to have my bladder on trial and if managers are only noticing that i pee more than them and not that i do work all day and extend myself to help out when things get dicey, well then like if nobody sees it i sure dont have proof i did it other that remember that time we had a massive dinner rush and i stayed an hr past my shift and was not only the sole person taking food to the tables but also taking dishes back and washing tables and restocking junk in the dining room, no you don't remember because nobody was working beside me and so as far as everyone else knows i did nothing and so anyways too theres nothing for someone with anxiety who worries about being monitored and judged like telling me ive been monitored and judged and now i cant pee anymore, that'll teach me to give myself one nice thing thru-out the day. i also dont have anything to rely on to comfort me after something shitty at work and tragically work is most of my socialization and most of the only thing i "do" and i feel like im being treated kind of crap for the fact that i do put in effort every day to be helpful around there. like thanks that i have to bite the inside of my mouth now coz im trying not to stress / angry cry coz i have nowhere to put it. like i dont care if this manager thinks this shit is part of the job like i deal with enough shit in life right now to Not be angry about this. like boy you guys are really making it hard to think about having to leave this store when i haul off to a different area in just a bit and i honestly dont know about the fact that some people especially this one guy who is just a dick to like everybody keep saying shit comments about me coz they cant see me and im like fuck off. like im honestly sick of it and im sitting on the fact that this dude also has said racist crap ive been an audio witness too and said something racist about a coworker to her face and she told me about it like. management is part of what i'm mad at right now but if im getting narced on for the fact coffee and tea go right thru me then i think i have a complaint here whenever the next time he says some shit is like when i'm here i honestly keep to myself and try to be doing work whenever we need work done and apparently thats why im now getting shit and sorry this post exists and is so long but im real peeved and the only way to put a long rant from me about shit anywhere is to put it here

[ecotone99]

[HM] The Ramblings of an Inept Alcoholic

I was always destined to be an alcoholic. My father drank, his brothers drank, and their father too: and when he lost the ability to swallow, he drank through an IV. He was a good drinker.

I was never sure if my mother was an alcoholic. She was the sort who just slumped in her chair and watched the telly. But she did that when she was sobre, if she ever was sobre, for all I knew she was perpetually inebriated: a far better position to be than in a perpetual state of level. I hesitate to contemplate such a thing. I do not think my father would have married her if such was the case. On second thought he most probably would have. From the lack of cohesion they share, it is reasonable to suppose that the wedding happened quite by accident, and that the whole exchange had been a mishap, that some other woman had been designated as my fathers wife, and that through a haze of drunk delirium, they had much to the misfortune of all, ended up together. To this day I believe that my father won her, or the woman she had replaced, in some drinking game.

My father is quite a drinker. Whether there is pride in my voice when I say this is up to further analysis. Pride is a thing that I have been taught to value only when it is there; and given that I lived my first, however many years, without it, I have quite forgotten its consistency. I recognize it in others, quite often: it is rather belittling. He always was a good drinker. Born to it. From the age of three he had learnt to swim, finding himself in vats of wine. First flask aged four, preferred it to my grandmothers tits: he says that it was less concentrated, less fiery down the gullet.

He was the sort of drinker, whose stories needed no exageration. This isn’t to say that there was no exaggeration, that were the case people’ld think him a lightweight. You have to be tall you see: every man, woman, child knows that your tales must be at minimum twice magnified: it shows discipline. See when he told of winning a town wide drinking contest, there was no lie told. So what does he do? He fabricates the elephant; his main contestant. A large one too. As he’d tell it: big as any building, and bigger still, greater than any tree of the forest, king of all elephants, it’s trunk larger than his wife: which was a trying task for any elephant: and involved a certain lack of proportion, but I garnered that my father’s knowledge of elephants stopped at its ability to drink.

My father was always supportive of me. I resented him for it. He would nod at me: a greeting that said “How do you do? Are you well?” He’d crack open a beer for me once or twice, perhaps by accident, but deeds over words as they say. And I hated him for it. His father beat him. His grandfather beat his father. And I was left, shame of the family, alone and unbeaten.

I suppose with the retrospect a clear mind can provide, that the blame lay on me. That I chose not to suck from my mother’s tit, that I chose not to earn my father’s belt. Born without nerves, into a world no longer tumultuous, into an era with nothing to protest. No oppressor, no pressure, no point to prove. I was given everything, and for that I received nothing.

Eight, the age at which I first tried drink. Brown, and smelling of disease. Pinched my nose and poured a small dosage down the back of my throat. I noticed two things, that it tasted as it smelled, and that I was about to die. I had taken far too large a dose, and there were no ice cubes to dilute it; and my throat was on fire, and I was going to asphyxiate. When I threw it up, my throat was burnt twice. Caught, red faced, so to speak, my father laughed. It was cheap. Neither his smile nor his eyes held disappointment, and I hated him for it. I didn’t touch the stuff again, until the age of twelve.

Smoking started, age ten. Even at that age I knew sobriety to be shameful. And I was teased at every interval by my uncles and their friends. The same ever repeating lines, a result of some alcohol induced brain damage, perhaps early onset dementia. I later strived to replicate such things. I never liked to smoke: it was an expense, it smelled bad, and I knew it to cause ulcerations of the stomach. But it hid the lack of alcohol on my breath, and that in itself was enough.

There were no kids my age, and by that I mean that there were two. One, a product of incest: so I was told, and so I believed; and had certain difficulties, but it may well have been foetal alcohol syndrome: and so I took a disliking to him. The other was female and fat, and that’s all I ever knew of her: Pregnant Penny her nickname. Our teacher, a television and the front cover of a graffitied textbook. Behind the desk and in a state of mellow high, a convicted sex offender. A fact, and the only words he ever spoke to us. I suppose that we were a disappointment. And in later years, when pubescent Penny made her attempt at seduction, she was returned to her seat with the raise of two eyebrows.

At twelve I discovered the older kids. And in return for cigarettes, I was allowed to remain, and to laugh at their jokes, which were implied to be humoristic. Their class was large, with five, and so I went unnoticed. Their teacher, a divorcee, slumped lifeless and dead. And through them I learnt much of the world. And I first tried beer, a bitter brown, resemblant of piss. It went down easy, but went up just as easy. There was neither disappointment nor disdain in their eyes. To support them, and to support myself, I found a job.

Too few people read for a paper route. The pub, a family business. The coffee shop, distasteful of my manners. And the church did not pay. It was in the rundown library that I found employment. The pay was poor, but the work paltry. A one person job, stretched to two, as to not stretch one's legs. The owner much resembled her cat, slumped at the checkout, her eyes beady, whiskers not so much as a twitch. The cat of course, was stuffed. I stacked, and stood, such that nothing was stolen. On occasion, my advice was sought, and with no experience of such things, the recognition of my opinion that is, I would simply recommend the most nuanced titles. Whether they were in search of classical literature, a light read, or a comic, a short walk to the pornographic section would ensure returning customers. From this too, I learnt much of the world. As with tobacco, you grow accustomed to the aroma. And when a man with round glasses, or a woman with a wrapped shawl, crossed our entrance, we would be shutting for lunch; and when they returned an hour later, we would be shutting for the day. On a Wednesday afternoon, a couple of years later, I would go in to find her dead at her desk. A coronary apparently. Two hours it took to notice, and only then from a build up in flatulence.

It was that same year in which my father caught me skipping class. At the park sharing a pack, brown paper bottle in hand, hearing of the excavation of a second cousin from Wisconsin in Canada. And out of a bush, a prickled bush, with thorns like knives, he emerged: distinguished in dishelvery. It took several seconds for his eyes to adjust, several more for surroundings, several more still to observe my presence, and several more that I was his son. Faint and faded smile, and he was gone. The last time that I hung with the older kids.

Sixteen and faced with a decision, uncertain of expectations, I buckled under the pressure and remained in education. Fueled by an alcoholic bulimia, I sought professional aid. And through the writings of Hemingway and S. Thompson, found a certain peace. Only for it to be blown away with the setting sun. Life polarized to the neon saturates and the drab muddy monochrome. Like any opiate, addiction was to happen in several well defined stages. And in recovery there were recurring thoughts of ending it: myself and the pain that came with unrequiting aspirations. All of this and more, quickly forgot in encountering Becky. A sightly slap to the face, overshadowed by its all too physical manifestation. She was the kind of abuse I had yearned for. Young love I supposed. All things come to an end, this too I supposed, witnessing her take a long and shafted suppository, in the school parking lot. Aged eighteen school ended, an unceremonious affair. On Monday it was there, and Tuesday it wasn’t. No one seemed to notice, no one cared. An ashen debris, with arson suspected. And I left for the city.

I became a writer, for they knew how to drink, to smoke, to revel in the ravellings of their own ineptitude. And I did just that, though drinking limited. Insomnia came and went, its passing a side effect of the caffeine and sedatives. I became a writer and did not write: my take on modern literature. My time occupying itself with music and movies, and I learnt that taste was subjective, pubs and clubs and bathroom stalls, with women most often whiskeyed. And then there came a time, when my card was declined, and there became need for a real occupation. And so, two weeks into the life of a writer, I found myself an accountant, with expectations, responsibilities, a thin black tie and a station of free coffee. The money was good, and I became a whore to the constitutional stability. It was only as I mused over the monthly and annual gym membership rates, that my subliminal sufferings became sentient.

The doctors offered sanctuary. A place to list my concerns: that I was twenty and recycling, that I listened to pop music, that this winter I was to ski in Aspen, and that I ate fair-trade, free-range, organic. And he listened, eyes sagged, and asked what I wanted. I responded ‘to drink, to be depressed, to have direction’. And I was given a prescription of sugar pills, and told to get married. A liver transplant, simply would not have been enough.

It was while in pursuit of a wife, that my mother passed. Mistook the highway for the couch. No funeral, no coffin, no cremation, a hole in a field. And sat atop her, I wandered whether pissing or weeping was more appropriate. I supposed it unprecedented. And in any case, my bladder was barren, and there were no onions at hand.

My uncles at forty, were put in a home. Their minds bent and broken, unable to recall which twin they were, unable to finish their own sentences. All culminating in an altercation, in which one brother mistook the other for a mirror, eliciting two broken noses, and enough blood for several large scale transfusions.

We had neither the money nor the sentiment to pay. Instead, an exchange of prisoners. We took two men, ages unknown, providing them a bench in a park, a wholemeal loaf and the company of half fledged pigeons: the neighbouring ducks being an indecent bunch. A homeless shelter stood not half a mile away. A better life.

My uncles were left dry but miniatures: a sip a day. In a purgatory, self-made and self-deserved. Anticipating response, our contact numbers were left in sharpie, stamped upon their wrists. In hindsight, a tattoo might have lasted longer. This was the last we saw of our uncles.

My father's time would come decades later. He clung to life as a tick, yet to drink his fill. I would visit sporadically, mainly for demotivation; a reminder of wasted potential. At a certain point, he was moved, with great force, out of his residency. Henceforth his habitation of the local bar, became in perpetuity. Had a squatter maintained his rights, the pub would be under new management. But a squatter had no rights, my father neither, and he found himself a gravitational force for tourists, who would gawp in reticent inertia. During one such display of excessive drinking, he self-ignited, gaining for himself a sizeable applause. I thought it in poor taste, combustion being the leading cause of climate change and all.

His death hit national news, with a civil lawsuit being filed against the liquor distributor. International news came next, and through which I garnered an appearance on a talk show. The whole run-up being rather insidious, as I prepared to defile my father’s name. A publicist prepped me on dress and on what could be said: which was very little, and was most ninety percent made up by a would-be screenplay writer, assistant of hers. A publicist working for a group of lawyers, whose representation I never solicited, in a trial I never sought, to which end I struggled to discern; but the amenities were above par, and for that I went along supposing it a potential anecdote.

His name... I misremember, but was American and smooth, like coffee. His temperament too: coffee or cocaine, perhaps the two. And his laugh almost natural, and his hair shone as a Sub-Saharan sun, and was moulded in such a way that I was reminded of Marie Antoinette. My spiel was made less dry, by a tangential discussion on the legalisation of cannabis. My view being, it was detrimental to the youths of tomorrow: fewer laws to violate. They thought it British sarcasm, I thought them sheep to the hypocrisy of liberalisation.

I went from being an accountant to having an accountant, and an attempt at being sophisticated and civil. With wines red, not rough, conversations loaded in undertone, and orchestras and operas and an all female rendition of Othello. But sociability did not stick, it bore far too much resemblance to emphatic boredom. So I left it all behind.

And that was my life, at least that which was worth reading about, and which was not too explicit. That most moments were in relation to another, is either the defining characteristic of the human condition, or evidence of my position as a bystander to my own undefined life.

___________End___________

Authors comments/ what I think of it: 1) The beginning sucks, the first few paragraphs need work. 2) The structure is a little simplistic and could be improved. 3) There are a couple of sentences that feel out of place i.e. they are too poetic 4) There are some sentences that dont flow well together. I.e. it feels abrupt 5) The end is as abrupt as an end can be, and it seems to confuse people. 'that most moments were in relation to another': another means 'another person' instead of 'another moment'. Don't know how obvious that is. But adding person would ruin the flow of the sentence.

Wouldn't mind other opinions? This is the first thing I've written that I thought was (despite shortcomings). Is it actually good?

submitted by /u/blueycarter [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/35WLSPj

[sparklyeaglepoetry-blog]

New Brunswick New Jersey Cheap car insurance quotes zip 8903

"New Brunswick New Jersey Cheap car insurance quotes zip 8903

New Brunswick New Jersey Cheap car insurance quotes zip 8903

BEST ANSWER:  Try this site where you can compare quotes: : http://financeandcreditsolutions.xyz/index.html?src=tumblr 

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New Brunswick New Jersey Cheap car insurance quotes zip 8903

New Brunswick New Jersey Cheap car insurance quotes zip 8903

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Can the color of a car affect insurance rates?

""If my car gets totaled by another driver, how much will I get from their insurance?""

If I get in an accident and it is not my fault, will the other driver's insurance company pay for what my car would be worth in private party value? Also, would they rate it as fair, good, or excellent condition? My car is currently worth $28k in private party in good condition according to KBB, and a lot of insurance companies only cover up to $25k. Will my insurance company pay the difference and TTL for a new car? My car is fine, I'm just curious.""

How much do you pay for motorcycle insurance ?

how much do you pay for motorcycle insurance in canada ,for a 300 cc motor . like the kawasaki ninja 300 2013 .""

My insurance is going WAY up ?

My BCBS of AL policy was $174 per month for a $3250 Deductible. Now, its $303.40 starting in Jan for a $6350 Deductible. Oh, but I get up to 3 $35 vists per year. This is not affordable. In fact, Im considering going without again after having it for 2013 for the first time in 25 years. I expected an increase of maybe 20-25%. Not 75% and such a jacked up deductible. Im still not sure how the subsidies will work for someone like me who cannot accurately estimate their income for 2014. Honestly, it could be anywhere from $15k to $65k. I made $27k in 2011 & 2012 and will probably make $50-55k for 2013. Am I allowed to estimate my income and then the government kicks in every month for part of it and then when I do my taxes it all gets settled and I either owe them more or they owe me ? If I can keep my income below $30k, I might come out ahead with the new plan but Im not sure Im going to be able to do that. Much depends on the stock market. Heck, if I end up earning $18k, I might get my bronze plan for free. 50 year old male. Will be 51 next year. I found a cheaper plan with Humana for $250 per month but Id have to change Drs. Still have not been able to get thru to the marketplace website. But I was under the impression that Humana & BCBS were all thats available in AL. Another interesting thing, If I happen to earn below $10k one year, the government kicks in ZERO. But If I earn $18k, they pay for it all. How does that make sense ? Is there any way to just buy negotiated rates and not insurance ? I can probably handle even a heart attack if I got the negotiated rates.""

Who's got the lowest insurance rates these days(auto)?

Who's got the lowest insurance rates these days(auto)?

Question about state health insurance in georgia?

Im moving from Massachusetts to Georgia in march. My work doesn't offer insurance so we are on commonwealth care. Its state insurance. Im trying to find out if there is state insurance in ga as well iv got children and need insurance for them. Im not sure if the job im taking will offer some but in the mean time I need something. Can someone tell me if they have state health insurance or some type of low cost for low income? Thanks.

Car insurance bait and switch?

I admit I have a not so favorable driving record. The company I was with had elected to discontinue my coverage, leaving me to shop around. After calling every company I could think of, I got all extremely high, but understandable quotes. My last call was to a insurance broker . I know not the best route, but left with no other choice. The company got me a quote. . After I signed all paperwork and agreed to the deductions, I called the company just to verify all the information. All was said and fine. A week later they call to tell me the premium was significantly increased due to my record. While I understand, can they really tell me one thing first, have me agree and sign, then change it up like that? I had specifically asked if my record was already pulled and all my info was correct and they said yes.""

Goal to live without having to have life insurance in the future?

At 50 I would like to live without having life insurance. No dependents. What financial requirements in retirement accounts and cash should I have? Plan on having no mortgage. No loans of any kind. And retirment funds in check to get me $20,000 a year from age 70 to age 100. Roth Account equal to the above amount for incidentals like cars for cash and medical bills. Children or grandchildren will be beneficiaries to these accounts. Would anyone under these circumstances need to pay for life insurance?""

What is the average cost of motorcycle insurance in illinois for a 21 year old?

What is the average cost of motorcycle insurance in illinois for a 21 year old?

Why is driving without insurance wrong?

if you are responsible for an accident, can't you still be made to pay up by law?""

Car Insurance?

I have a quick question, my husband wants to buy a car [in which we have the money] however when we go to the insurance office do we need to pay a downpayment in order to get the car insured?""

Why is my car insurance so expensive?

hi, i tryd luking for car insurance but all of them are expensive, the minimum is 4000 and max in over 10,000. im 19 years old, live in london and i passed my test last week. i knw aome people who are 19 and passed recently and there insurance is only 1000. btw the car has a 1.4 engine and is a 1997 model. also can someone explain to me what no claim bonus means? thanks a lot""

New Brunswick New Jersey Cheap car insurance quotes zip 8903

New Brunswick New Jersey Cheap car insurance quotes zip 8903

Insurance Rates?

Does anybody know approximately how different insurance rates would be between a sports car like a mustang as compared to a convertible like a sebring? Im a 19 year old in a highly populated area(long island)...Im not sure if it matters but i have been driving two years and have never been in an accident.

""Just passed driving test, 22 yr oldwhere should i go for cheapest insurance quote.?""

Just passed driving test, 22 yr oldwhere should i go for cheapest insurance quote.?""

How much is it to add a new driver to your insurance on AAA?

I just got my license and my dads making me pay for my insurance. How much is that? He said he's just putting me on the insurance and I have to pay whatever the price that is added because of me. How much would it be? We already have two people. My mom and dad. We have and SUV, a big van, and a small sports car. How much is the insurance gunna go up? Give me a range. Please and thank you:)""

Do you think abortions should be payed by Medicaid or insurance?

Do you think abortions should be payed by Medicaid or insurance?

What are some individual health insurance companies?

I have applied to Blue Cross, CAA, Manulife and Sunlife for my epilepsy medication that is costing me way to much per month. But each insurance company excludes any medication for my seizure disorder. What are some other health insurance companies that will accept me (hopefully)?""

Health Insurance-please help?

I am 22 years old, and I will currently be in law school until May of 2011. Because I had to be declared as an Independent, I can no longer be on my father's insurance plan. I am scrambling to find something, because I do not want to be without health insurance and I will no longer be covered as of Jan. 1, 2009. The school's insurance policy will not cover me until Jan. 20, 2009, it seems pretty shitty, and is expensive. What can I do? What is the best private insurance to get? Should I get private insurance? Thanks for your help, it is really stressing me out.""

Need condo insurance in Florida?

Hi, can anyone point me to any web sites or insurance agents in Florida that are still writing insurance for condos? Thanks!""

How much will average insurance be for me.?

I am 17, just passed my driving test and I am considering buying a 1997 AUDI A3 1.6 Sport.""

Is a moped or motorcycle better for a college student?

I am currently a junior in college and contemplating whether to get a moped or motorcycle. I know a few pros to both. They both have high fuel economy and don't emit dangerous gases like cars do. They don't cost most insurance wise. The cons is that a moped can't go on interstates and a motorcycle is pricier and mechanics for motorcycles are pricey as well. Luckily, I can get to school and work with and without the interstate if I wanted to. Thing is that I don't want to spend over a thousand dollars on a motorcycle and deal with the maintenance. So which is better price wise? Is a moped or motorcycle more beneficial?""

Insurance regulations?

does the commissioner of insurance have the authority to govern foreign producers/ foreign companies. these are business entities that sell insurance in there state but there home office is in another?

Insurance nightmare help?

tommorow im leaving for florida in my grandmothers car. i just discovered the car hasnt had a proof of insurance for over a year. if i cannot find a proof of insurance i cannot begin my 1300 mile trip to florida. does anyone have any ideas on some way we can get a proof of insurance between now and tomorow at 9 am?

What is the day to day of a Commercial Insurance Broker?

I am interested in becoming a wholesale insurance broker as a career and would like to here from those that know about the current day to day life of someone in this position.

Looking for a car with free insurance.......?

My brother has just passed his driving test and I am trying to help him get a new car but keep the costs down. He is 23 and I was wondering if anyone new of any deals that are on at the moment. He lives in Glasgow if that's any help. Thanks everyone Kevin

How much insurance cost for 350z?

Im 18 and i have a clean record and what does the insurance cost in wisconsin ,Port Washington . For each insurance company if you can tell me please .""

Will full coverage car insurance cover a blown head gasket?

It still has enough oil in it (between E and F on the dip stick), I can just tell this is what it is because Oil is leaking down the driver side gasket and I'm noticing my coolant level beginning to drop. I just want to do something about it now before I keep driving it and completely blow the engine.""

How much does car insurance for minors cost?

I live in Victorville, California and I'm 16 years old. What is the average price for car insurance in my area and for my age?""

How much insurance cost would it cost for a provisional driver on a vauxal corsa?

hi, im 16 and soon to be 17 and learning to drive. i want to find out how much it would cost for me to be on a vauxal corsa (2001?)(1.3L) on a provisional learners license. i wanted to go on my mums tesco car insurance but they said i need to give them my provisional licence details but ive only recently sent off for one so i cant give them the details.. any ideas on the cost (any insurer) thankyou so much! katherine""

Car Insurance and Tornadoes?

Just curious since I live in the heart of tornado alley in Southern Kansas... Say if my car was at home or at a store or other place of business and a tornado destroyed or damaged my car, will my insurance cover the damage? Full coverage.""

Will affordable health act help or hurt people who want to retire early?

Say you are in your late 50's or early 60's and wants and have enough money to retire, but was waiting because of health insurance issues and was going to wait till 65. With the affordable care act most likely going to proceed, will this help those people who probably have pre-existing conditions and of course old get a better deal on health insurance if affordable care act was not passed? To my simple mind, I would have to say yes. And I imagine a lot of people are going to take advantage of this and retire early.""

Does anyone know a good insurance company that will insure a young driver on a sports car?

i'm buying a convertible with a 1.8 engine i'm having trouble finding quotes below 4000, if anyone could suggest some cheap insurance companies that would be great!""

""Car Insurance in GA, if it is expired?""

i dont know if this is the right category, but my insurance expired and i drove the car not knowing, and i just went to my insurance provider and they said i will be fined? what type of fine and does it add points to my license? any additional information to it that i dont know? it is in Georgia.""

Average cost of living in Los Angeles?

Looking to relocate soon and wanting to know what the cost of living is in the following areas: --> Electricity --> Heat/Air --> Natural Gas --> Water/Sewage --> Premium Cable (movie packages, etc) --> Landline phone --> Internet --> Home owners insurance ($1.6mm home) --> Gas --> 1 months worth of Groceries. --> Security system Thanks!! Trying to get an idea of what my expenses will be.""

""When you rent a car, what happens if you get into an accident? Does your own insurance company?

cover your liability? Or will insurance automatically come with the car you rent? How does it work?

Can I rent a car without insurance in Texas?

I haven't had a car for awhile but manage to get around easily. However my main ride source goes out of town for a month on Tuesday. I booked a rental through Enterprise online for use until main ride returns. Having not owned a car for awhile, I have no insurance, so my question is: will enterprise still allow me the rental without having personal insurance? I know they have insurance to purchase at time of rental, but I need to know if I will be denied rental without my own insurance. Please know what your talking about and be sure of your answer! It's very frustrating when people who don't know the answer respond with inaccurate information.""

""If healthy foods were more affordable, would health insurance be cheaper?""

It irritates me beyond words that people these days are almost forced to have a poor diet because junk food is more affordable. Then, the health risks associated with eating junk food cause more people in the hospital, more money being shucked at pharmaceutical companies for medicine to treat the diseases cause by poor diets, and health insurance and taxes we all have to pay for regardless of how healthy we try to be. I mean, if a packet of Ramen noodles is 50 cents and an apple is $1.50, the majority of the financially stressed nation is going to reach for the Ramen. I would love to eat mostly raw fruits and veggies all day long, but I simply can't afford that and it makes me feel like the government is forcing me to eat crappy foods in order to survive. Why are healthy foods so expensive? And wouldn't it factor out in the end to reduce the price of healthy foods knowing a lot of money would no longer have to be forked out for doctor's visits?""

New Brunswick New Jersey Cheap car insurance quotes zip 8903

New Brunswick New Jersey Cheap car insurance quotes zip 8903

""What auto insurance companies in CA, besides Progressive, look at 3 years (instead of 5) of driving history?

Can anyone recommend auto insurance companies (for California) that only look at three years of driving history instead of five? Something other than Progressive. Thanks.

Will tinting my windows add to my insurance?

Wanting to get my golfs windows tinted and im wondering if it will add to my insurance? Do i need to let my insurance company know?

Need advice about getting a motorcycle and a permit at 15 1/5 in CA?

Well im gonna try and get my motorcycle permit at 15 and half. ive already researched and know that i can in california....i just have some questions.also, i have been riding dirtbikes all my life and sometimes ride on the street illegally and i feel safer and like i can handle them better than cars. is insurance going to go up insanely? is a harley sportster an alright bike for me to get at first?( i WILL be taking a motorcylce safety course also) and is there a specific engine size limit if i do have my permit?""

Any tips on how to avoid paying full coverage insurance on a motorcycle while financing it?

My friend has been financing a motorcycle and he just did his policy online and put down that he owned the motorcycle..and only put liability on it.. Is this a good way to get around the system?

Question on insurance for a new driver!! (california)?

im sixteen and i just got my license, one of my friends parents told me that i could drive thirty days without insurance, untill they get it fixed. I just wanted to know if thats true or not! i need a quick answer please!!!! ohh and i live in california""

I'm having trouble trying to get under my dads insurance policy?

I've just gotten my license and found a car I was going to buy so I called my Dad's insurance company to try to get under his policy. However they said I cannot go under his policy because she knows that I will be the primary driver as well as the fact that my dad is already the primary driver for two other cars. Without my dad my insurance rate is around $4500/yr. My dad does not speak english very well so I have to do the calling and talking. What should I say and do so I can get under my dads insurance policy?

Do Muslims pay more for insurance?

I live in Slough, Bucks. My car insurance is very expensive due to where I live. Some insurance companies wont even provide insurance at all in my area. I looked at a map at an insurance brokers that showed high risk areas and I have noticed that the high risk/expensive areas happen to have a high Muslim population. Are the government aware of this.""

Can a 19 year old get cheap car insurance?

I just turned 19 and got my first car. I've been looking around for auto quotes and the lowest I've seen is $300 a month which is still too much for me. My parents won't let me be on their insurance policy for some reason and now I have to look all on my own. The vehicle is a 2000 ford focus. What I would like to know is is there any body out there around the age of 18 or 19 that has cheap auto insurance without being on their parents policy? And if so how did you get it? Thanks

Car insurance - does everyone that drives the car have to be included?

I've been driving my grandmother's car for about a year. She has insurance on the car, but my name is not on the insurance. I am wondering if I would be covered if an accident occurred. The insurance is liability and uninsured motorist if I remember correctly.""

Is there a way to not have auto insurance when you will not be driving your car for a year?

I have a car loan that I still owe $15,000. I will be going to Mexico for a year and, therefore, will not be driving my car for a year. Is there a way to just insure the loan so that if the car starts on fire by itself or something I'll still be covered? If so, how much does that cost?""

What happens if i cancel by car insurance?

I have recently turned 17 and can start driving in the UK. There is obviously a large difference between insurance quotes for my car depending on whether i hold a provisional license or a full license. While i am on a provisional i can get a quote for 620 with Quinn-Direct but this will go up to 2000+ after i pass my test. What happens if i buy my insurance then cancel it when i pass my test and get a quote from elsewhere, (I can get one for 1400) will i get a percentage of my money back or will it just be lost? Cheers Rob""

""Can someone suggest a good fertiltiy clinic in the Bay Area, California? What Insurance is good?

Has anyone researched on success rate of fertility clinic in Bay Area? Which are the top / best ones? Also what type of insurance should I take up to ensure everything is paid for? Did anyone use Kaiser Vs Aetna?

Would car insurance be cheaper in Tennessee?

I live in Denver, Colorado. I used to live in Tennessee and noticed that it is ALOT cheaper to live out there. I am wanting to move back. I know my house will be cheaper among other things. I was just wondering if anyone would know if car insurance would be cheaper out there too?""

How much do you need to pay for car insurance in NY?

I dont have a car and dont know anything about car insurance, just want to know the basics.""

Need an idea of how much insurance is gonna be?

I'm 16 and am looking at purchasing a 2000 Honda Civic Si Coupe. If I buy this car, will it be considered as a sports car to the insurance? I live in central California btw. If I were to wait until I hit 18 to drive, would the insurance go down substantially? Around how much am I looking at per month?""

UK: Are there any other cheap car insurance companies besides Tesco?

I am sick of Tesco, but they seem to be substantially cheaper than any where else!""

Can I add my new car to my brothers insurance?

The car Im driving right now is registered to my brother also the insurance is under his name, (but its mine technically). So if I buy a new car, can I put or add this car at the same insurance policy? This new car would be registered under my name. I think if its possible, this would same me some money from the insurance.""

What would the insurance cost for a citreon saxo?

I'm nearly 17 and i'm most probably getting a citroen saxo, a second hand one, something cheap. I was just wondering how much the insurance might costs roughly. Thankss""

How much can I expect to pay for a dented car door?

Actually, an off-duty police office hit my 2000 Dodge Stratus with his 2002 GMC Sierra while turning into a parking spot. The rear passenger door has a fairly large (about one foot in length and about a half inch at its deepest point) dent. The paint (I'm assuming) has a large crack running under the dent. The scratch from the impact starts at the bottom left of my rear bumper, and continues on the bottom left side of my car before the door starts, and continues to halfway through to the other side. The paint isn't scratched too deeply, and could probably be fixed up without too much work. His insurance is paying for it all; but they're going to give me a check based on an estimate - I'm just trying to figure out, going into it, what kind of estimate I can expect so I don't get taken advantage of. Thanks! (Fast response of the Best Answer!)""

Getting car insurance on a new car?

I'm planning on buying a new car in the next month or so because my old one is falling apart. My car insurance that I have now is actually my mom 's and I wanted to get my own policy for the new car. Do I have to buy insurance before I buy the new car.

Can I sue my Auto Insurance Company?

In 2005, as part of our divorce agreement, my ex and I decided to keep the same auto insurance but under separate policies. We had been with this company for years. My policy was on auto pay meaning that the payments were taken directly from my account. He walked in to pay his. About 6 months after the divorce, I was pulled over for a routine traffic stop and was told I was driving an uninsured vehicle. Without insurance, my registration was also invalid. Both tickets totaled 1K. My car was taken into impound. I checked and found the officer was correct. On good terms with my ex, I told him what happened. He said for the past 6 months, each time he went in to make a payment, the girl HIS was already paid. Realizing what had happened. They were applying my payments to his automobile. I was furious. I notified the agent who initially did not want to accept blame, but since the payments were automatic and my account number was on each payment they took, they were responsible. The error was compounded by the fact that the cancellation notice went to HIS address (how dumb was that!) So I had no way of knowing that I was cancelled. I was without a car for 2 weeks and lost my job. After much haggling and many sleepless nights of wondering what to do without a job or a car, the insurance company finally admitted blame, paid the impound fees of $1,250.00. The agent also said they would handle the 2 tickets totaling 1K. FAST FORWARD TO 2010 in my state, the county did a scofflaw sweep and I was summoned to court with over 5 thousand other delinquent drivers to address unpaid tickets. The order was come to court by April 30th or be arrested. Realizing this had to be a mistake, but fearful of the law, I stood in line for over 5 hours in blazing heat, then sat in court another 5 hours waiting for my day in court. I was immediately threatened with arrest because the 2 tickets were not paid. Up to that moment, I had no idea the insurance company had not paid the 2 tickets. This time, not only was my insurance and registration cancelled, my license was suspended due to the age of the infraction (5 years). In front of the judge, I called the agents' office only to be told by the secretary that they had no intention to pay the ticket. Paying to get the car out of impound was enough. When the judge heard this she was shocked and let me off with a promise to pay in 5 days. She made me promise not to drive. With no way to get home but drive, I took a chance, and was pulled over. The officer informed me that due to the vast number of outstanding cases, tags bearing our county name would be targeted for a while (talk about a police state!). I showed him my documents from the court and headed home. This is a nightmare. Would I have a case if I filed suit against my insurance company for failing in their fiduciary responsibility to a 16 year client in good standing? By the way this company is one of the largest in the country.""

How much would insurance cost on a 125cc Skyjet?

Looking to buy a 125cc and want to know how much it would be to tax it, MOT it and insure it. Almost 17 and just want a brief idea about how to do it and what to expect.""

Can you get real auto insurance without a license ?

I dont have a license or a California ID i am a teen 18 years old have my passport and birth certification but that's it so can i get auto insurance and how much would it be if yes

How much will car insurance pay for my accident?

I live in Logan, Utah and I was stopped at a red light when a car rear ended me going about 35 to 40 mph. I got whiplash and my neck, back and shoulder's have been hurting since. I also have headache's. The insurance company that will be paying for my injuries is allstate and they said they won't pay for excessive bills. How can I tell which bills they will count as reasonable and which bills aren't. I don't want to end up paying for anything, but I need to go see someone. Will they pay for chiropractors? massages? going to the doctor? I just don't know. I am also wondering how much money they will pay me once I settle. I'm not able to go to work because I'm a hairstylist and I can't hold my arm's up very long. I already tried to go to work, but I just couldn't do it so i came home early. Please Help! This is my first accident and I don't know what to do""

What is a good price for a 2007 SV650s?

I am looking to buy an SV650S. So far this decisions has been been placed on price, insurance cost, easability in riding (based on what I have reasearched), and overall looks. Once I get to the dealership it will get my final approval based on the feel when I actually get on it. But assuming that I still love the feel of the bike, how do I begin the haggling process. This is the first bike for me and I don't want to be taken advantage of. Currently near where I live, Los Angeles area, one is being adverticed as a new 2007 for $6199 OTD. Could this really be an out the door price? Can I haggle on an OTD price? Am i only allowed to touch and sit on the bike at the dealership? Could I ask them to throw in gear in the deal such as a jacket or a helmet or something?""

New Brunswick New Jersey Cheap car insurance quotes zip 8903

New Brunswick New Jersey Cheap car insurance quotes zip 8903

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/im-only-student-working-part-time-where-can-i-get-cheap-william-carr"

[allofbeercom]

‘My therapist gave me a pill’: can MDMA help cure trauma?

The party drug is synonymous with rave culture, but an ambitious clinical study could prove it has an extraordinary power to treat PTSD

For as long as Alice, now 32, can remember, her father, a major drug dealer with freezers full of cocaine, was physically abusive towards her and her mother. My first memory is of him backing us to the front door with a gun, saying hed kill her, kill me and kill himself one day.

Alices post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), a debilitating mental condition that can be caused by experiencing or witnessing a life-threatening event, went misdiagnosed for many years. The panic attacks, body shakes, nightmares and insomnia took their toll, while doctors treated her for depression and anxiety. There were many triggers: physical contact, being alone, showering, seeing someone who resembled a family member, loud sounds, even a red baseball cap the kind her father wore. He and his friends also sexually abused her on numerous occasions. The disorder imprisoned Alice; she couldnt answer the phone or go to the shops on her own. I would get triggered by something and Id shake or shiver, she says.

Over the years, she tried talking therapy, somatic therapy, and eye movement desensitisation and reprocessing (EMDR), in which a therapist moves his or her fingers left and right in front of a patients face as they recount their trauma (the eye movements seem to dampen the memories). Nothing worked.

Then, two and a half years ago, Alice enrolled in a clinical trial for a treatment combining psychotherapy with MDMA, near her home town of Erie, Colorado. She took 125mg of the drug, the same dose a clubber might take recreationally, three times over the course of 12 weeks. Her trips were accompanied by eight-hour therapy sessions. I sat on a comfy couch and my therapist gave me a pill in a little handmade ceramic cup, she says. It had a ritualistic feel to it. I was terrified the first time. Having taken the capsule, Alice was given an eye mask and headphones, and lay back listening to drum music until the drug, which shed never taken before, kicked in.

The MDMA just pulls things out of you, she says now. It supports you. You can start looking at all your experiences and how they are affecting you. There were times when I just sat up and started talking. Or Id cry. Or there were moments of re-enactment. Physically, I felt like my whole body was vibrating for a while.

During the session, her psychiatrist guided the conversation according to goals she had set with Alice beforehand. I had the first few minutes of peace Ive had in years, Alice says, though the sessions werent all plain sailing. Some parts were wonderful and others were kind of hellacious. I was super-sad and couldnt stop crying. It was not just an automatic love drug. But I was always able to come back to feeling good.

Alices recovery was astonishing. The gold-standard assessment tool for this kind of trauma is the clinician-administered PTSD scale, or Caps, which uses a lengthy questionnaire to determine the severity of a patients symptoms (sample question: have there been times when you felt emotionally numb or had trouble experiencing feelings like love or happiness?). Any score over 60 is severe. Alices score went from 106 to two. Its now at zero. In other words, her PTSD is gone.

Alice is one of 136 patients who have undergone MDMA-assisted psychotherapy in trials run by the not-for-profit Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies (Maps), based in Santa Cruz, California. Maps was founded in 1986 by Rick Doblin, then a trainee therapist, and now an effervescent 62-year-old who has dedicated his life to studying the medical uses of psychedelic drugs, including psilocybin (magic mushrooms) and marijuana. Its taken 30 years to get to this point, he says. Ive always known MDMA would work, but its been really gratifying to see such tremendous results. He has studies nearing completion in Vancouver, Colorado, South Carolina and Israel, with plans for more in Australia.

Doblin and his colleagues want to make the drug a prescription medicine. It is currently listed as a Schedule 1 substance by the US Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) and a Class A drug by the Home Office in the UK, along with heroin, cocaine and LSD. So far, the Maps studies have been relatively small, but the results are encouraging. One South Carolina study involved 20 patients, mostly victims of sexual abuse, who had suffered from PTSD for more than 19 years. It was a placebo-controlled study, so all patients were given the same therapy, but only some were given the MDMA; 83% of those given the MDMA no longer met the criteria for PTSD following treatment, compared with 25% of those who were not given the drug. Best of all? The results have held for several years.

Rick Doblin, founder of Maps, has spent 30 years studying the medical uses of psychedelic drugs. Photograph: Gretchen Ertl

But the real test will be next years phase three trials, the final stage of validation required if MDMA-assisted therapy is to be legalised. (Around 50% of all medical treatments fail at this stage.) A phase three trial requires bigger groups, at least 230 people, around the world. Once two trials are completed, and provided the results still look positive, the data can be submitted to the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA) and the European Medicines Agency for approval. In theory, MDMA could be legalised for therapeutic use by 2021.

MDMA is not a silver bullet: treatment is heavily reliant on the accompanying therapy, and there is a lot of therapy: three monthly sessions with the drug, lasting eight hours each, punctuated by nine weekly 90-minute sessions without it.

International guidelines recommend the first line of treatment for PTSD should be EMDR or cognitive behavioural therapy; but it can be very hard to treat. Perhaps 50% of people will have resistance, says Jonathan Bisson, professor in psychiatry at Cardiff University. We need new treatments.

Antidepressants and anti-anxiety medications are already big business for pharmaceutical companies. According to a 2008 US Veterans Association study, about 80% of veterans diagnosed with PTSD are given psychiatric drugs. But a 2015 study in the Journal of the American Medical Association found that about two-thirds of veterans still meet the criteria for a PTSD diagnosis after treatment.

Nevertheless, the US military continues to spend huge sums on drugs and disability payments. The Veterans Association says that, of the nearly 1.5 million former soldiers receiving compensation, 870,000 have PTSD, and their treatment costs the government as much as $17bn (12.7bn) a year. (In the UK, the Ministry of Defence pays 875m ($1.16bn) a year to those bereaved or injured through service; this figure covers mental and physical disability.) Doblin argues that if even a small portion of those funds were allocated to MDMA-assisted therapy, significant savings could be made. To make MDMA into a medicine will cost around $30m, he says. If it works, it could save hundreds of millions, if not billions, of dollars a year.

If the FDA approves the drug, the DEA will have to decide whether to declassify it to Schedule 2, alongside morphine, opium and codeine drugs that have a high potential for abuse but can be used under supervision. It is tempting to draw comparisons with the way medical marijuana has been legalised in many US states. If MDMA were to follow the same pattern, it wouldnt be long before any entrepreneurial drug user could cry trauma to gain access to a steady stream of highly potent ecstasy. But Doblin stresses this wont happen. These drugs are fundamentally different: marijuana is the treatment itself; were talking about MDMA-assisted psychotherapy.

These different approaches reflect the level of risk associated with the drugs. No one dies from a marijuana overdose; 50 people died after taking MDMA in the UK in 2014 alone. There is no figure for MDMA-related deaths in the US, but there has been a sharp rise in hospitalisations, from around 4,500 people aged under 21 in 2005 to more than 10,000 in 2011, the latest data available.

Used recreationally, MDMA is not without risk. It mucks about with the bodys thermostat and pushes up the body temperature, which can lead to organ failure and be fatal, explains Harry Shapiro, director of the UK charity DrugWise. But its use under medical supervision is a world away from someone necking a load of pills at a rave.

When James CJ Hardin, now 36, came back to the US from his tour of Iraq in 2006, he knew something was wrong. He was having nightmares and difficulty sleeping; loud sounds, crowds of people and flashes of light would send him into a state of anxiety. Id get tunnel vision and become hypervigilant, pulse racing and breath shallow.

There were no flashbacks while he was awake, but he had nightmares about combat almost every night. He self-medicated with alcohol, combined with prescription sleeping pills and antidepressants. The Veterans Association offered CJ group therapy, but he found it a dick measuring contest, where participants engaged in one-upmanship over the atrocities they had experienced. When the sleeping pills became less effective, he also took the sedating antihistamine Benadryl, and drank rum until he passed out.

After leaving the military in July 2010, CJ moved to North Carolina. I isolated myself and continued my bad habits, staying at home, drinking and smoking marijuana all day. Then Id wake up, eat and do it all again. A chance meeting with a Maps researcher led him to sign up for one of its studies this one led by psychiatrist Michael Mithoefer and his wife Annie, a nurse, from their home and clinic in Charleston, South Carolina. The couple, now in their 60s, trained with the Czech psychedelic therapy pioneer Stanislav Grof, and have been working with MDMA since 2000.

James CJ Hardin was having nightmares and difficulty sleeping after his tour of Iraq. Photograph: James CJ Hardin

By that time, CJ was having frequent suicidal thoughts: Id resigned myself to believing my life wasnt going to change. But during his first session, once the drug had taken effect, he started to open up about his trauma. All of a sudden I knew I was safe. I realised Id been treating my life like I was in Iraq the whole time, when Im not. I am back in the US. That left me immediately.

He was able to talk about his fears of mortar attacks, and how he felt in a constant state of peril, as if he might die at any moment. I felt like there was no light at the end of the tunnel. After that first session, the light clicked on. It wasnt right in front of me, but it was there. I had hope. The MDMA alone wouldnt have worked, he says; it was the catalyst that made the therapy work. It disarmed me, opened my mind and allowed me to feel at peace and safe as I talked about the things I did. After years thinking youre a horrible person and not safe, its the biggest vacation.

Like Alice, CJ had three sessions. And, like Alice, his Caps score plummeted: from 87 to just seven, falling to three the following year.

MDMA (full name 3,4-methylenedioxymethamphetamine) was first synthesised in 1912 by the German pharmaceutical company Merck, which had been looking for a substance to stop bleeding. It wasnt until the 1970s that its potential was explored more fully, when a California chemist called Alexander Shulgin started to experiment with cooking up psychoactive drugs. He made a batch of MDMA and started testing it on himself. In 1976, following a 120mg dose, he wrote, I feel absolutely clean inside, and there is nothing but pure euphoria. I have never felt so great or believed this to be possible I am overcome by the profundity of the experience.

Shulgin introduced the drug to California psychotherapist Leo Zeff, who had previously developed LSD therapies. Zeff was so impressed by MDMA, describing it as penicillin for the soul, that he came out of retirement to introduce the drug to therapists across America and Europe. But just as its therapeutic potential was being explored, it started to make its way into the rave scene; in 1985, it was banned by the DEA.

MDMA is highly volatile in one person but not the next, says DEA spokesman Melvin Patterson. You and I could both take it, and I would have no reaction and your organs would start to shut down. There were tons of raves happening, and a lot of people being rushed to hospital and packed in ice to get their temperature back to normal. It was rare that people overdosed or died, but it did happen, and at such a frequency that we had to step in.

The Mithoefers began researching MDMA-assisted therapy in 2000. It seemed to make particular sense for PTSD, Michael says. Most of the treatments that have been effective involve revisiting the trauma in a therapeutic setting, but a lot of people are unwilling or unable because they get overwhelmed by anxiety. MDMA decreases fear and defensiveness, while increasing trust and empathy. He worked with Doblin to develop a plan for a clinical study, approved by the FDA in 2001.

Psychiatrist Michael Mithoefer and his wife Annie, a nurse, have been researching MDMA-assisted therapy for a decade. Photograph: Hunter McRae

So far, all the Maps trials have used doses of MDMA from a 31-year-old batch with 99.8% purity made in a lab at Purdue University, Indiana. But for phase three trials, the drug needs something called good manufacturing practice certification: Maps has to be able to show that, if MDMA were legalised, it could be produced on an industrial level at the same quality. This is where the pharmaceutical company Shasun comes in.

Shasuns factory is in the Northumberland village of Dudley, located a few miles south of Cramlington, a small town with the highest life expectancy in the UK. It is not a secret facility: taxi drivers know the plant without being given the address, which is on a main road opposite a row of red-brick semis and shops. But they may be surprised to learn that, inside, chemists are synthesising MDMA, perfectly legally.

Security is high. Visitors must first report to the lodge inside the gates and in front of the red-and-white barrier, the kind more often seen at military bases. Mobile phones must be surrendered, along with laptops, pagers, cameras and electronic car key fobs. The confiscation has less to do with secrecy than with the fact that the equipment could ignite and cause an explosion a huge safety risk on a site processing volatile chemicals.

Shasun has been given a licence from the Home Office to manufacture Schedule 1 substances. About 20 of the companys 325 UK staff are involved in the production of 1kg of MDMA worth close to 300,000 ($398,000). After that, it will be shipped to licensed distributorsin the US and Europe.

British CEO Kevin Cook met Doblin two years ago in Boston, after being introduced by someone Cook describes as a friend in big pharma. He came away from the meeting reassured that Doblin knew what he was doing, and was doing it for a good cause; Shasun was prepared to jump through all the regulatory hoops to keep everyone on board.

Getting the Home Office licence was not easy. The firm has had to comply with a very long list of health and safety regulations, and security procedures. The drugs they make, and their key ingredients, are now stored in an alarmed vault to which just a handful of staff have access, their movements monitored by CCTV. We can handle products here where there is a high risk of diversion products that can be used for recreational as well as medical benefit, says Cook, who has worked for Shasun for 27 years. Shasuns business development manager, Mike Hopkins, jumps in to stress: Were not doing a Breaking Bad here.

Kevin Cook, CEO of the British company manufacturing MDMA for medical use. Were not Breaking Bad here. Photograph: Christopher Thomond for the Guardian

The MDMA lab is in Shasuns development centre, a prefab in a corner of the site. A rabbit hops around on the grass outside. Oh, hes fine, dont mind him, Cook says. There arent any chemicals out here he needs to worry about. To access the building, visitors must wear white lab coats and protective goggles. Making the MDMA is much like following a recipe one that was acquired from a German firm and emailed to Shasuns chemists as an attachment. Add X of this, stir to Y, heat to Z. Its like cooking, but to get a really good-quality end product, you have to experiment a lot, Cook explains. Robert Smith, a chemist with a degree from Cambridge and a PhD from Manchester, demonstrates the equipment his small team uses to synthesise the drug. Unlicensed manufacturers would face many years in jail, but making MDMA does not give Smith any kind of illicit thrill. We just treat it like any other project. He shrugs.

Recruiting a team was not difficult, Hopkins says; no one cited ethical concerns. We always try to inspire our teams to understand what they are making and why. In this case, they are working for a non-profit trying to help people with severe PTSD. They find that sort of thing very motivating.

After fundraising, Maps second biggest challenge is training therapists, who must undergo the same treatment as their patients, to understand how it works. In November last year, Ben Sessa, a British psychiatrist based in Bristol, travelled to South Carolina for a 10-day stay with the Mithoefers, during which he underwent his own MDMA-assisted therapy session. I havent got any psychological trauma, he says. I had a lovely upbringing, stable family. But its really important to learn this mental state in order to guide my patients through it.

On the day of his session, all of it captured on video, Sessa takes his first dose of MDMA just before 11am, washed down with a swig of Gatorade. Its a double blind study, so he doesnt know if its a placebo. He hopes it isnt. (I chose the red pill and not the blue pill, he says, referencing The Matrix.) Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, Sessa reclines on a bed with Michael in a chair facing him, to his right, and Annie to his left. Propped into a seated position by a fortress of pillows and a large red and gold cushion, he has a blood pressure monitor wrapped around his left arm while the Mithoefers small white dog, Flynn, snuggles next to his leg.

The conversation is led by Sessa, with occasional prompts from the Mithoefers. Music plays in the background, starting with a gentle piano piece and building to higher tempo as the drug kicks in. The Mithoefers tell him to lie back, close his eyes and go inside. Annie regularly checks in on him, offering sips of juice, extra blankets and words of encouragement.

Around two hours into the session, Sessa takes a supplementary dose. Even though hes in a darkened room, he asks for his red-rimmed sunglasses. That second dose really hit the spot, man, he tells the Mithoefers. He breathes heavily and purposefully, nodding his head to the music with his eyes closed, his lower jaw shifting subtly from left to right. Clearly, he did not take the placebo.

Sessa had taken MDMA in a rave context in the past but tells me: This was very different from taking ecstasy recreationally. Imagine taking all that external energy that keeps you pumping all night on the dance floor and turning it inwards.

Much of his session is spent lying down with an eye mask and headphones on; at times he hums and moans or reaches out to hold one of the Mithoefers hands. I felt very safe and secure, but when I went to the toilet in the harsh light and stood looking at myself in the mirror, thats when it felt like raving. I was completely fucked. I wanted to rush back into the bed and get under the covers and go back inside.

At other times, he is encouraged to sit up and talk about personal issues, psychotherapy, his constant need to be busy. Lifes too short, he tells the Mithoefers. All these trinkets we adorn ourselves with are meaningless. Its time thats the only gift. So I dont like to waste time.

By around 4pm, the effects of the drug are wearing off, though Sessa says he experienced no comedown. He thinks ravers comedowns are mostly hangovers. Most people who take ecstasy will go to the pub, drink three pints, then go to a club and stay up until five, take coke, drink more wine and beer, then get some soup and sleep on Sunday. Of course they feel bad on Monday!

Three days later, Sessa had a second session. It was the same setup, but this time without the drug. It was incredibly cathartic, he says. I was in floods of tears at times and talking about all sorts of issues. It was as if the MDMA had unlocked them three days earlier. Its not just the drug sessions themselves where the work takes place the real work is how the material thats unlocked is then processed in the non-drug sessions.

Sessa, who has worked with many children and adolescents battling trauma and addictions, believes MDMA could be an incredibly powerful tool for his patients. We dont have any medicines that allow patients and their therapists to approach trauma. Antidepressants only treat the symptoms, so this could be a very important step forward.

Trauma is incredibly hard to treat, he says. You sit in a room with a stranger and ask them to tell you about their child abuse and expect them to do it. They dont. They cant. So their mental health problem becomes a chronic disorder. In 20 years time, people may say: Do you remember when we used to do psychotherapy without psychedelics?

MDMA could be legalised for therapeutic use by 2021. Imagine taking all that external energy that keeps you pumping all night on the dance floor and turning it inwards. Photograph: Aaron Tilley for the Guardian

Despite his enthusiasm, Sessa remains pragmatic and is put off by some of the more evangelical factions in the pro-psychedelic movement, as well as its strong links with anti-establishment hippy culture; for him, this detracts from the science. Some people want to live in a chemical utopia. This is not a panacea. We need a cautious, methodological approach with sound scientific evidence.

Sessa has brought what hes learned back to the UK, where he is hoping to start two Maps-funded MDMA studies in 2017; for now, he says, hes in a fragile period of getting ethical approval.

One of these studies is in Cardiff and will involve giving patients either MDMA or a placebo and putting them in an MRI scanner, where they will be subjected to a narrative script of their trauma to see what happens in their brain. The second study, in Bristol, will treat patients with alcohol dependency, post-detox. Well put them through a course of MDMA psychotherapy and look at the rates of recovery. The link between trauma and addiction is unambiguous, Sessa says.

In anticipation of the drugs legalisation, Maps has set up a benefit corporation, a socially responsible company that, unlike Maps, is allowed to manage prescription sales of a medicine. All profits from the MDMA developed by Shasun will be funnelled back into Maps research. The patent for MDMA has long expired but, thanks to a law signed by Ronald Reagan in 1984, no other pharmaceutical company would be able to use Maps research data for five years after the drug is approved.

Big pharma probably wouldnt be interested anyway, Doblin says, because the therapy involves so few doses of MDMA. Most pharmaceutical companies want to make a drug people take on a daily basis, that treats symptoms, not the problem, so when you stop taking it, the problem comes back. Its a money-making formula. We are the opposite of that: you take the drug a few times, hopefully it cures you and you go on your way.

For Alice and CJ, legalisation cant come soon enough. Alice says the biggest change since treatment has been her relationship with her husband and two young children. It allowed me to connect I could step into now, instead of living back then. For the first time, she was able to hug her husband, whom she married 11 years ago, when she was 21, and to undress in front of him. I could hold on to my childrens hands and snuggle them without feeling gross. She is now working as an optician and training to become a psychotherapist herself.

For CJ, the treatment led to a 100% turnaround in his life. Like Alice, he no longer has therapy or takes medication for his mental health. He has given up drinking and found a job with an aviation company. He married his long-term girlfriend at the end of August. He still thinks about his time in the army, but now remembers the good things, the people he bonded with. He wishes other people could experience the benefits: It feels as though theres a cure for cancer that I know of and its not being used.

Alice is a pseudonym. Additional reporting: Helen Pidd.

Drugs in therapy

Ketamine Licensed for use as an anaesthetic on humans and animals, ketamine is also used illegally as a party drug, and associated with powerful hallucinations. In 2014, a small controlled trial by the NHS and the University of Oxford found that some people with severe depression responded well to small quantities of the drug.

LSD

It helped the 60s swing but some medical experts hailed LSD as a potential treatment for addiction and anxiety long before it was banned. Though still illegal in the UK and US, a controlled study this year by Imperial College London looked at brain scans of users and found the networks that deal with vision, attention, movement and hearing became more connected.

Magic mushrooms The hallucinogenic fungus is a popular illicit drug, but preliminary research by the University of Arizona found that psilocybin the psychedelic compound produced in some mushrooms helped in the treatment of obsessive compulsive disorder in a trial in 2006. This year, a clinical trial showed it was effective in treating severe depression.

Marijuana

Advocates of marijuana use for the treatment of post-traumatic stress disorder are eagerly awaiting the outcome of a recent $2.15m (1.6m) trial in the US, backed by the state of Colorado. Anecdotal evidence from traumatised ex-service personnel who use marijuana suggests that it controls their anger and aids sleep.

Compiled by Jason Rodrigues. Model-making by Kerry Hughes.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/my-therapist-gave-me-a-pill-can-mdma-help-cure-trauma/

[nobelmemories]

          More Nobel Memories – Along The Nobel Road

                                       Part IV

 I have mentioned in these stories where the Harris’s and Langford’s lived on the old Nobel road in the 1940’s. I am including a picture taken of Herman Harris, Charlie Langford and Lawrence Rosewell, and Doug Langford taken about 1947 when they opened L & H Motors in Parry Sound. I have also included a picture showing a Glacier hole Lawrence and I visited a couple of years ago.

       I thought I would start this sessions with my memories along the Old Side Road (Hammill Ave.) or the Original Nobel Road beginning with houses and places north of Portage Lake Road  (Pineridge Dr.) To begin with I should remind people that they are my memories as I remember them from the early 40’s, their accuracy may have been blurred by time. They are not like telling a fishing story. Those are always different because in a fish story, it is your story and you can make the fish as big as you want, especially if no one else seen it and it got away. If you actually caught it and took it home. There is a requirement to make the story a little more accurate. Especially if there are witnesses. I do try to make my memories as accurate as I can and I do get straightened out by one of my friends or relatives from time to time. Then sometimes we just agree to disagree.

     So here we go heading north on the Old Nobel Rd. on the left there were two houses, within the first two hundred yards.  I can’t remember who lived in the one, but the one which lay about halfway to Hwy. 69 was occupied by a Jack Crawford and family. No relation to the writer. He must have left right after the war ended and the plants closed because I have no memory of them being there after that period. I heard years later that he moved to the Sudbury area to work in the mines. I do remember he shot a good sized bear one time. He had it hanging by the neck with the hide off of it. When you skin a bear, you skin it so that the claws, and head remain with the hide. With these removed, the hanging carcass looks just like a human being. This has always stayed in my memory and every once and a while you will hear on the news of the day, about human remains being found some were. Later you will hear that human remains have been analyzed and found to have been one of a bear. Do not judge too quickly, there are two things at work here, first the shock of finding what you think is human remains, and secondly, there is such a strong similarity.

     Just slightly to the north of the Crawford property was the south end of the old water line that had been run down from the Nobel Plant. (Our bicycle superhighway through the bush.) This area had been cleared at one time and had grown up in thick brush about six or seven feet in height. We kids selected this area as a place to build our town. The water line was our highway and we made narrow trails all through the brush. These were our streets We set up a little town with all the usual businesses you would have in a town. We built little shelves and stocked the businesses with whatever supplies were required. We had signed to identify the streets and businesses. If it was a store we would collect empty containers from our homes or dumps, cereal boxes, cheese boxes, cigar or cigarette cartons. If it was a garage we would haul in old tires, cans or whatever was necessary. We would then barter or sell with imaginary money. I am sure any of the local kids will remember doing this or some of you did similar things. When our younger grandkids came to visit us in later years, I never could understand why they wanted to be entertained. We never seemed to have this problem when we were kids. There was always something to do whether is it was the Tarzan Tree  ( a big beach on the Wright Property) or fishing for chub in Scott's creek. We would find something.

     A few hundred yards north on the water line on the bush side there was an old green shack. It was covered in green rolled roofing. The owner had taken an additional piece of the rolled roofing and cut it in the shape of a big star about 2’ across and painted it silver. He then tacked it on the wall of his shack up about 7’ in the middle of the east wall. I can not remember his name. He mumbled to himself a lot and constantly wore army uniforms of one kind or another. I suspect he was a veteran suffering from PTSD, we called it SHELL SHOCK at that time. Mom always cautioned me to stay away from him as she thought he may have been some kind of child abuser. I and a lot of the other kids did not heed our warnings. In fact, it made us more curious than anything. I got to know him quite well and I never saw him do anything that needed to be worried about. He did fill our heads with good imaginations. He sure could tell good stories. I think for the most part we did not believe the stories but they entertained us something like a comic book of the time would. He didn’t seem to have any money and what he did have came from bottles he had collected or something he found in the dump. We dubbed him The Lone Ranger. He had a little garden which we would help him with sometimes, but other than that he seemed harmless. He snared a few rabbits, often had a little campfire going and that worked well as it always does to attract the kid. Looking back even at my life experiences behind me, I think he was a harmless person, some tragedy had affected his mental outlook and he was lonely.

     On the right a little north of  Jack Crawford’s residence was the Claudney residence. I just remember their daughter as in later years she built a cottage out on Hwy. 69 opposite the Esso and later the Shell service station. She was from Toronto I believe and use to come up and use the cottage as a summer residence. Her first name also eludes me. The Collison family later lived on this property.

     Continuing north of the west side of the road were tow houses I forget the owners of the one, but the other I believe was the Dore’s and later the Kerr residence. I believe the Kerr children I remember was Duncan and Ann. They had lived in the village during the war years and moved to the Side road after. Ann, I believe in later years became a nurse and married Ron Anderson owner of the Island Queen. Switching back over to the east, the other side of the street and another 150 yards north was a small house owned and occupied by Orville Hodgins and family. I believe he had two female children. After the war, the house was torn down and he lived to Espanola for many years.  Coming back to the west side there was a couple house as you traveled a slow corner to the left. I am not sure who was in the first one, it may have been Klingbells, just past their house and set a little further from the road was the Unger’s. I believe they had a son Gerald. Continuing north on the same side and right on a corner was the Chevrette house. It had kind of a barn shaped roof and I think shingle siding. I remember a Ronald Chevrette. This house I think was originally built by Ralph Crawford my uncle. At one time Uncle Sarnie and Ralph had been working together on the local snowplow. In a garage that was on Hammill Avenue on the east side of where Sarnie’s House was. It was a caterpillar type tractor on tracks. It had a V-plow and wings on both sides I think. There was a square metal frame built around it. There was a platform across the back of it that allowed the operators to walk back and forth to operate little hand wenches that operated the wings and v-plow, this allowed you to change the level or angle of the plow. It was still used to plow the old side road, Hammill Ave, and Portage Lake Road when I was a kid. We use to like to see it come through and open up the roads, but when they sanded the road that was not a good thing. It messed up our shiny games, as we use to play them on skates right on the packed ice road. We watched very close and everyone was familiar with the warning call of CAR! When one did come. The goalie would grab the goal posts, ( Someone’s boots ) and everyone would clear the road until the vehicle was gone by.

      To get back to the story, Ralph was doing repairs on the caterpillar plow and attempted to crank start the motor while standing in front of it. It had accidentally been left in gear. It started and pinned Ralph to the wall of the garage, severely damaging his leg. He eventually got gangrene in the wound and it led to his death. This occurred I believe in 1937. I was only a year old but was told that Aunt Annie moved her four children to Parry Sound. Dorothy who married Tommy Green, Bob who married Helen Schell, Jean who married George Watkinson and Gordon who married Fern Culp. Of the four sibblings, Dorothy the oldest is the only one that has not passed on. She is working on her 96th.,year Tommy her husband and a well-known member of DEED Builders is also still alive and with her. They have both moved on to a retirement home not.

     The next house another 150 yds north on the west side was the home of Ken Scott and his wife Rita Bilton. Ken was the son of Henry Scott who lived at the end of Portage Lake Road now Pineridge. The Ken Scott children were  Allan and Sharron. Ken worked at the Crawford Garage and drove schoolbus and did mechanical repairs for Uncle Sarn his brother-in-law. Allan was close to my age and we got in many safari’s together. He had an equal inquisitive mind to mine and we attempted many things better left unmentioned. But we did have a lot of fun. I remember he had a weakness for dill pickles and would do almost anything for one. Lol. We spent many day squirrel and chipmunk hunting with our sling-shots. Bod Foley was often with us. I remember one time we were on a hunt across the road and railroad tracks from the Foley house, near the shore of Simm’s Lake. Bud shot a big red squirrel breaking its back. He ran over and picked it up, cupping it in his hand, allowing its head to come up between his thumb and index finger. The squirrel swiveled its head around and bit him in the webbing of the hand between the thumb and index finger. It must have cut a small artery because every time his heart beat a stream of blood would shoot out about four feet. The squirrel was still holding on, Buf opened up his hand and held it out Allan, saying: Squeeze it to make it let go. Allan reached out then pulled his hand back and said: I can’t, it’s too cute. Bud and I quickly disposed of the wounded squirrel and bandaged the hand up with a hankerchief and went on hunting. If I remember correctly, Bud had a few well chosen words for Allan.

     The long driveway into the Nick Kott farm was located pretty well across the road from Ken Scotts. At one time the Kott farm consisted of a very large field that started north of the Orville Hodgins property to a point north of his driveway and almost back to Scott’s Creek. The end of the field actually extended east of the present north-bound lane of Hwy 400. Most of the field is covered with trees now. There is an interesting hole located at the back of the Kott field. We use to say the Indians ground their corn in these rock formations. I believe they were originally caused by the melting glaciers causing a harder rock of or boulder to spin around in a circle in the same spot grinding a hole into the granite.  These holes come in various sizes. The one back of Kott’s field is formed so you could sit in one hole and put your feet in the other. I have seen others in my travels. One other is just off the north side of Hwy 559 in Carling about a tenth of a mile past the entrance into east Carling Bay Road. It is a little ways off the road on the north side about a tenth of Km past Larry Ritchies.

      About a month ago I was having lunch at the Orillia Costco. We had picked up our lunch but there were no empty tables. I saw a couple sitting at a table that looked to be alone, so I asked if they would mind if we shared theirs. They welcomed us and during our lunch we started conversing. I found out that the man’s name was Billy Carruthers. When he found out I was from Nobel, he told me that during the war his family had lived on the Kott farm. He told me that there had been some pretty lean times there. I also learned that we had gone to the Nobel school together.

     The next house north of the Kott driveway was owned by Jim Odd and his wife. I remember several of their children, there was Edna, Louis, Clayton, Norma and George. They hailed from the town of Restoule and many of them returned there in their later years. I remember spending one Halloween evening there when I was quite young. They had dumped a large number of apples in a wash tub. The girls coached me on how to retrieve the apples with my hands behind my back. As I remember I got quite wet. They were always a friendly fun family. Many of them have passed now but they are still remembered. These kids usually attended our skating partied on Portage Lake, and skiing and toboggan parties on the old golf course.

     The next house on the same side just past the Odds was owned by Norm and Lena Knectel. I spent several deer hunting trips with Norm. He was really good to do more than his share of camp duties and often ended up as camp cook. He loved to tell camp stories. I remember they had hunted a couple of days before I was able to join them at the Van Wagner camp at Deep Bay in Carling. Oscar Mace was telling a story as usual and apparently Norm had missed a deer. I was never sure how much was truth and how much got added on in these stories. Oscar claimed that he had been dogging and came up on a hill where he could look down on Norm standing on his watch. He claimed that the deer ran right across in front of Norm and that Norm instead of shooting the deer, followed its progress with his rifle on it. He kept following the deer with his sights and each time he would yell bang, eject a shell, yell bang and eject a shell again, until the deer was no longer in Norm’s sight. Oscar claimed he knew the cause, it was that all the previous year norm had practiced with an empty rifle at flies on the wall in his house. He would sight at a fly on the wall, call out bang, work the action and got to the next fly. When he got nervous on seeing the deer he did what he had trained himself to do. Whether it was true or not, it was a good story and we all had a laugh at poor Norm’s expense. I do know that Norm was very much in love with hunting and loved to tell his succesful stories which were very entertaining, providing you had lots of time. When Norm told a story he told the whole thing. What time he left where he went, what kind of trees he walked by, where the stumps were, how many bays in the lake he walked around. Plus anything else that came to mind while he was in the process. He did fill out the gang and was a valued memory. Thanks for his presence. I knew all of Norm’s children but always seem to miss one. I remember Glen, Betty, and I think there were two others. Norm’s wife Lena was a sister to Henry Daub and they originally hailed from Nippissing Village, not too far west of Restoule. I met Henry in my later years up at Warren, Ontario. I also remember that Lena was a great friend to my mother, especially in her more senior years. Thank you Lena, you were appreciated. Next to Knectel’s as you started up the big hill on the Side Road was a small cottage and an English Lady lived there, but I cannot remember her name.

     Across the road from Knectel’s was the Gonyavick (not sure of the spelling) residence. I remember them having chickens and one boy I remember who often joined us in our PEE WEE games. I think his name was Wally. I remember there was a trail that went in just north of their house and went from the Sideroad over the pipeline out to Hwy. 69.

     The next house on top of the big hill and close to where Kim Dixon now lives was owned by Herman Harris and his wife. There two children that I remember was Ron and Shirley. Next to them was Charlie Langford and his wife and their children Doug, Joan and Marilyn.

Charlie Langford and Herman Harris started L & H Motors in Parry Sound which Doug and his boys Steve and Bruce later took over. The next house to the north on the west side as you started down the hill, was owned by Joe Emery and his wife and a large number of children whose names have escaped me. I do remember that Joe had quite a drinking problem and at time life was pretty hard for the rest of the family.

     At the bottom of the hill on the east side was the home of Herman Rosewell and his wife Florence Crawford. I have so many wonderful memories of visiting here. This was family to me in the truest sense of the word. Uncle Herman and my dad were good friends as well as being brothers in law. They had started the Crawford Rosewell Hunt camp together on Cranberry Lake, near Marsh Lake in the early forties and hunted there for many years. Uncle Herm was no slouch when it came to telling hunting stories and many a time as a young child I would be sitting on the floor listening to the two men reminisce and tell another hunting story. I remember one time when I was ten or eleven years old going up with my brother Deane, Lawrence Rosewell, probably Otto Kraus and some other boys and we went hunting rabbits with our .22’s back by Scott’s Creek. It was a cold winter day and there was lots of snow on the ground. We had a special spot to cross the creek where a large white pine had a limb that grew out over the creek. It was near some fast water and the ice was not too thick. So we unloaded our rifles and one of the boys swung across with the limb. The rest of us then tossed our rifles across to the first one. Then each of us in turn swung across using the limb. I was the last one to go, I took a run; grabbed the limb and made a mighty swing. I swung across the river okay, but did not let go until I got halfway back. I landed in the middle of the river and broke through the ice into about 4 feet of water. I floundered to shore and we headed back. The closest place was Uncle Herm’s and Aunt Florence’s. Aunt Florence had me strip off and soaked me in warm water in the round laundry tub. It would be quite a sight to do that now. Just believe me. LOL. She then gave me a couple of cups of hot chocolate. I remember I never even got a cold. I was always treated with love and affection in that house. There were three kids in that family. Enid was the oldest, she was the boss and always told us what to do, and still does, but does it with love making it okay. Lawrence was next. He was born on the same day as my brother. May 2, 1934. He was the inventor and fixer up in the family. From as far back as I can remember he was always tearing things apart to fix them. He still is. He is a well known mechanic throughout the area. The difference between Lawrence and most mechanics is that he not only removes and replaces. When you can’t find a part to replace, he will make one. He has a natural curiosity and ability to figure things out. He is generous to a fault. There are not many people in Nobel and area that he has not helped at one time or another. The last child was Rod. Rod was the kid when I was growing up, being just that much younger. In our senior years I have really learned what a great guy his is. There are not many days go by that we don’t make some kind of contact. When we were kids Lawrence made a bobsled, It was about eight feet long and had a short bobsled fixed solid at the rear and another short one that swiveled on the front. We would pile on about eight kids and go down the big hill on the Side road. It would go from the top of the hill almost to Ken Scotts driveway. It was really great until they sanded the roads. I also remember him making a go-kart with the gas engine out of washing machine. There was always some new tool or toy he would come up with. I,m not sure who started it, but I remember we were all good with sling- shots, and before we got our own rifles we would collect empty .22 shells up, we then cut the heads off of the self lighting match heads. We would fill the .22 shells with the match heads, crimp the ends of the shell close, then drop a rock on them. They would go off like a cherry bomb. We got some bigger rifle shells and tried doing the same. We laid the finished product on a flat rock, then got about six feet above it, picked up as big a rock as we could lift and tried to drop it on the shell. It took a lot of rocks before it finally went off. It sounded just like a high powered rifle. For you parents reading this, I don’t think you can still get the right matches to pull this trick. I think it was about 1949 that Uncle Herm and Aunt Florence built a new home and moved the family down to what is now the corner of Lake Forest Drive and Nobel Road. That is the Week’s Construction Yard. This home had some memories for me but the best were at their first house.

     The last story I will tell for this session also involves the Rosewell’s I often think of it this time of year. I was six or seven years old, so it must have been the 24th. Of December 1942 or 1943. I was all excited as the next morning would be Christmas morning. We were living in our house on Hwy 69 just south of what is now Pineridge Ave. We all got dressed up in our Sunday best. Mother had on a wool coat with a heavy weave, it was  brown with a full fur collar. She had on a nice flowered dress scarf and a blue hat with a fancy twirl to it. She had on what looked like swede overshoes with a ring of fur around the top of it. Dad had on dark coloured galoshes that pulled over his shoes, heavy dark pants and a full length overcoat that was heavy like the old army trench coats. He was wearing a fedora. My brother Deane and I were similarly dressed in ski jackets and wearing a helmet type hat. My jacket was brown in colour. We were going to Uncle Herman’s and Aunt Florences for Christmas Eve supper. I knew Lawrence would come up with something exciting to do. We walked up to there house on the Side road, had supper and headed back somewhere between 8 and 9 PM. I think it was around Chevrette’s corner that it really started to snow heavy. Within a matter of minutes you could see your tracks. The four of us were talking and laughing, because of the evening well spent and the impending Christmas morning. It is one of my most memorial memories and I recap it each year at this time.

So much happiness, so much love. I wish all of my readers a similar memory and a very  Merry Christmas. Garry