#i want to stick to the schedule so badly but i work 40+ hours next week on top of my usual 20 hours of classes so idk where i would

[courtney-deserved-better]

finally wrote the beginning of chapter 26 of amicus curiae! still don't know if it'll be done in time to stick to my original schedule but minor progress has been made

[cc-pdf]

What’s It Like In New York City?

Katsuki Bakugou x reader

Quirkless rock band au

Based off of the song, Hey There Delilah

Word count: 2913

Warnings: Slight alcohol use. Nothing to be worried about though.

  After a long day at university you decided you deserved a night out on the town. Although you had piles of homework to do, you decided to put that all aside and just relax and have a few drinks. You grabbed your big winter coat and stepped out of campus into the swirling cold winter outside. L Street Tavern was one of the closest bars to your campus, so you decided to settle down there. Plus, they always have live music there, even better.

  After a short walk through the blistering cold air you had finally arrived at the historic bar. You noticed a flyer on the window it read,

  "Sex Bob Omb playing tonight."

  You had never heard of them before. It was probably just some local band. You stepped through the bars creaking door and took a seat on one of the oak stools. There were only a few other people at the bar. Most of them were probably in their mid 40s or 50s. You had given them a slight wave when you sat down just to be friendly. They had waved back, but then quickly returned back to their conversations. You weren't really looking for people to talk to, you just wanted to relax after the stressful day.

  After a couple of drinks you heard the tuning of a guitar in the corner. You looked over to see a couple people in the corner. They were dressed like classic teenage band members. Black jeans, skate shoes, a random t-shirt they found in the back of their closet. You examined each member. A spiky blond seemed to be the lead. He was tuning his guitar and had a microphone stood in front of him. Behind him was a short black haired girl behind a microphone. She seemed to be the backup singer. The last person was a crazy red haired boy at the drums. It seemed like your typical band that probably practices in the garage. You loved those types of bands. Something about them just seemed so raw and authentic.

  A few moments later you jumped to the sound of the red hair banging his drum sticks together.

  "ONE TWO THREE GO!" He yelled signaling the band to start.

  You never really thought a band like this would be playing at a historic bar in the middle of a harsh Boston winter. But, bands really will play wherever they can nowadays. They have to try and get any recognition they can.

  "This is the beginning of the song." The blond muttered into the microphone with his raspy voice. "I'm hearing voices, animal voices. The creme da la creme. the feminine abyss. And I'm reaching my threshold. Staring at the truth till i'm blind." He began lazily singing with the sound of a rough, badly tuned guitar.

  The lyrics weren't too bad for just some random band. You actually thoroughly enjoyed the sound of such a band like this. You could see the the crazy red hair banging at the broken down set of drums releasing all of his anger. It made you giggle a bit.

  "My body's stupid, stereo putrid. Spilling out music into raw sewage." The girl jumped into sing. She surprisingly had a pretty good voice, although it didn't really suit the vibe of the band.

  "Reaching my threshold. Staring at the truth till I'm blind." They all sang together. They repeated the same verses a couple more times. When the song had ended you could tell they were all out of breath from the loud performance. They were panting like dogs on a hot summer day.

  "WE ARE SEX BOB OMB!!!" The girl yelled out to the bar while raising her hands in the air.

  "I hope you guys enjoyed, but we've lost all of our breath for tonight, peace." The blond said while walking into the back room. Most people started clapping and cheering, some people were booing them at the fact they only played one song, but you just returned to your bitter cold beer in front of you. The cold alcohol entering your stomach calmed you from your hard day.

  A few moments later the band members took a seat at the bar near you. It seemed they just wanted a few drinks after that harsh performance.

  "Miller Lite, please." The spiky blond said to the bar tender under his raspy tone.

  "Same here." The other two members said. The bar tender poured the three drinks and slid them across the bar to them.

  "You like the show?" The blond looked over and asked to you, as you sipped your cold drink.

  "Yeah, wasn't expecting such a lame band to go this hard." You said looking over to him.

  "Hey, we try our best to look professional here." He snapped back at you.

  "I'm just teasing." You said focusing back on your drink.

  "So, you from around here?" He said with his masculine tone.

  "I go to university near here, but I'm originally from New York City." You said fiddling with the rim of your drink.

  "The big apple, huh? Must've been rough living there." He responded.

  "Not really..." You said taking a sip of your beer.

  "We're from around here. Cambridge to be exact. We spend a lot of time over in Boston though. Trying to get a good gig." He explained while taking another sip of his Miller Lite.

  "I'm sure you'll get a gig. You're pretty good." You said trying to sound nice.

  "Thanks. Maybe you can come watch us here again sometime." He said passing you a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket with their schedule printed on it.

  "Thanks, but I'm leaving the city for a few weeks to visit family back in New York. Maybe I'll see you after. My names y/n, by the way." You said looking into his bright crimson eyes while grabbing the schedule. You could see the disappointment in his eyes.

  "Oh, well that's a downer. You must be pretty busy with school too..." He said trailing off.

  "Damnit Bakugou, stop flirting with the poor girl." The red hair chipped in. The girl laughed along.

  "Shut up you prick, at least she's not a whore. I'm not even flirting." He snapped at them while getting up to go to the bathroom.

  After he had came back things were pretty quiet after the remark the red hair had made.

  About a half hour later you decided you should start heading back to campus. It was 12:30 and you needed some rest.

  "Hey, I'll try and come see your band when I come back." You said waving to them as you walked out the door.

  "See ya!" The blond said with that tired voice of his.

  "Yeah, see ya." The other two trailed along.

  You knew you probably wouldn't see them again because you're always so hung up with school. It didn't really matter to you anyways, they were just some random band at the bar.

  Little did you know, the ash blond, Katsuki Bakugou, thought you were absolutely stunning. With that perfect h/l, h/c hair of yours, your big, e/c eyes, and your little smile, you were nothing but perfect to him. You were stuck in his mind for the next few weeks. You weren't some crazy little fake fan girl looking to fuck for once. You seemed genuine.

  You had pinned the schedule he gave you onto the cork board in your dorm. Although you didn't really care too much to go and see them again, maybe it would be nice to check and see if they're still playing at L Street Tavern when you get back.

  Only a couple days later you got on the bus to New York. It was a long ride, but it was worth it all in the end. You desperately wanted to see your family after 4 long months of living alone at school.

~

  A couple weeks after your encounter with Katsuki Bakugou you still hadn't left his mind. Your beautiful name was glued to his brain. He decided to tune up his guitar and start a song about you. He liked to get his thoughts out by writing songs. It calmed him. He started with a simple,

  "Hey there y/n, what's it like in New York City? I'm a thousand miles away, but, girl, tonight you look so pretty." He thought it sounded cheesy, but he continued writing it anyways. He enjoyed the sound of a rough acoustic guitar against a sweet love song. He had never written a song like this before, it was all so new to him. He usually wrote songs about his anger or hate for people, usually engaging in more of a hard rock, or head bangers.

  A couple days later he decided to find an open mic to play the song at. He was pretty proud of the new tune and couldn't help but share it. He found an open mic session at a small family owned restaurant right around the corner from L Street Tavern. He was worried you might show up and hear the song, but he remembered, you were staying in New York for a pretty long time.

  The night of the open mic had come. He stepped into the tiny restaurant and sat down at a table with his guitar. There was quite a few people at the restaurant that night. He hoped they would like his newly crafted love song.

  Eventually, he stepped into the space with the cheap microphone and pulled his guitar strap over his shoulder.

  "I wrote this song for a girl that's been stuck in my mind for the past few weeks. I hope you enjoy." He said into the microphone.

  Authors note - Hey, I would suggest maybe listening to Hey There Delilah by Plain White Ts during this part :) okay back to the story.

  He started gently strumming his guitar to a rhythm.

  "Hey there y/n what's it like in New York City? I'm a thousand miles away, but, girl, tonight you look so pretty. Yes you do. Times square can't shine as bright as you. I swear, it's true." He began the song with his lazy guitar playing. He continued the song. He could tell most of the people in the restaurant enjoyed the honesty behind the lyrics. It made him happy someone was enjoying his work.

  "Hey there, y/n. Don't you worry about the distance. I'm right there if you get lonely. Give this song another listen. Close your eyes. Listen to my voice, it's my disguise. I'm by your side." He sang under his gruff voice.

  "Oh, it's what you do to me. Oh, it's what you do to me. Oh, it's what you do to me. Oh, it's what you do to me. What you do to me." He led on with the catchy bridge.

  "Hey there, y/n. I know times are gettin' hard. But just believe me, girl. Someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar. We'll have it good. We'll have the life we knew we would. My word is good." Bakugou carried on.

  "Hey there, y/n. I've got so much left to say. If every simple song I wrote to you. Would take your breath away. I'd write it all. Even more in love with me you'd fall. We'd have it all." He went on, after that singing the bridge again.

  "A thousand miles seems pretty far. But they've got planes and trains and cars. I'd walk to you if I had no other way. Our friends would all make fun of us. And we'll just laugh along because we'd know. That none of them have felt this way. Y/n, I can promise you. That by the time that we get through. The world will never ever be the same. And you're to blame." He sang emotionally while strumming along.

  "Hey there, y/n. You be good, and don't you miss me. Two more years and you'll be done with school. And I'll be makin' history like I do. You know it's all because of you. We can do whatever we want to. Hey there, y/n, here's to you. This one's for you." After this he slowly ended the lovely song with the bridge,

  "Oh, it's what you do to me. Oh, it's what you do to me. Oh, it's what you do to me. Oh, it's what you do to me. What you do to me, oh oh, woah, woah. Oh woah, oh. Oh." He sang softly, ending the song by strumming all of the strings on his beat up guitar.

  After he had finished the sweet tune someone came up to him.

  "Hey kid, that song you played was actually pretty good. The lyrics and rhythm were amazingly catchy. No one can ever go wrong with a classic love song. Maybe I can help you get big. I know some people in the industry. I came here to find some new musicians, actually." The mysterious figure said to him.

  Bakugou was in shock. He knew people liked his music. But not to the point where somebody like this would notice him. Especially this song. It was just some overly cheesy love song.

  "Thanks." He said not knowing what to say. He was speechless.

  "Here, give me a call." He said while slipping his business card over to the blond.

  Of course later that night he couldn't help but call the guy. He had never heard anything like this from someone.

~

  Y/n was nearing the end of her trip. She was sitting in her Mother's car on the way to the bus station back to Boston. She couldn't help but over hear the radio.

  "Hey we have a new love song from this band called Sex Bob Omb. I thought it was pretty good, how about we give it a play." You couldn't believe what you just heard, so you immediately turned up the volume on the radio. You could hear that spiky blond's classic voice over the sound of a relaxed, acoustic guitar. It seemed very unlike the band to have a song like this, or even be on the radio.

  "Hey there y/n, what's it like in New York City? I'm a thousand miles away, but, girl, tonight you look so pretty. Yes you do." The song started out gently. You jumped at these lyrics. You thought you were dreaming. But you weren't...

  "Mom, I think this song is about me..." You said trying not to sound insane.

  "Sweetie, it's just some song on the radio I'm sure you're over thinking it." She said calmly.

  "No, Mom, I saw this band at the tavern a few weeks ago. The lead singer was talking to me at the bar." You denied her.

  "I'm sure it's just a coincidence." She said keeping her eye on the road.

  "Times Square can't shine as bright as you. I swear, it's true." You softened at these lyrics. The way he wrote them... It made you feel like you were the only girl in the world that mattered.

  "Hey there, y/n. Don't you worry about the distance. I'm right there if you get lonely. Give this song another listen. Close your eyes. Listen to my voice, it's my disguise. I'm by your side." You couldn't help but feel like he was actually by your side, like he stated. You wished he could sing this to you, with that guitar of his, while looking you in the eyes. You really were falling for some mysterious guy. You would have never thought you would fall for some rebellious band member... or someone that you barely even knew. Music had never moved you in a way like this, it was so connecting, yet unexpected.

  Finally, You had made it back to your campus. You rushed up to your dorm to see that schedule he gave you. You wanted to see him again. The lyrics of the song made you melt. It warmed your heart. Making you fall for the random blond even more. Thankfully, the band was booked pretty far ahead on the schedule.

  A few nights later you caught yourself back at L Street Tavern hoping to see them there. You were sure they wouldn't be there now that they had made it on the radio. But it didn't hurt to try and see if they would be there.

  Unexpectedly you heard the sweet voice of the girl scream,

  "WE ARE SEX BOB OMB!"

  You turned around and made eye contact with the blond. His face flourished red. You couldn't stop staring into his glistening crimson eyes.

  "Wait, it's y/n." He said walking over to you, stopping the other band members.

  "The girl you wrote the song about? I thought that was just a made up name." The red hair said furrowing his eyebrows.

  "You came..." He said looking into your love struck eyes.

I really wanted to make a story inspired by this song so I hope you liked it. :)

Please comment some more songs you would like me to write stories about.

Also yes I got the name Sex Bob Omb and the song they sang is from Scott Pilgrim vs. The World hehe. Also, L Street Tavern is a real bar in Boston!

[isobel-thorm]

All evens and vowels for my wide son in law? 🙏

2) How easy is it for your character to laugh? In “canon”, it’s next to impossible to make Grant laugh. You have to try extremely hard, catch him when he’s in a rare good mood, make sure the planets are aligned, the whole nine yards. Unless you’re Nic, then you’re mostly home free and just Have That Effect. In the Gatthew verse, it’s way easier. He’s a lot more fun-loving so he’ll laugh at anything. 

4) How easy is it to earn their trust? Kind of same as above. In canon, it’s not that he doesn’t want to trust you, it’s just that he doesn’t care enough, and there’ll be a general base line of trust no matter what. In the Gatthew verse, he’s a little more lenient, but protective over himself and his friends, so if you make a move to enter their circle, so it takes a bit longer, but the trust is deeper.

6) Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable? He tries to stick by them, but figures they’re slightly bendable- especially if the occasion calls for it or the circumstances are dire enough. 

8)  What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child: Answered here

10)  What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them? In canon, “I’m okay” any time he’s asked about his welfare. As far as regretting it/it haunting him, it depends on the day. In the Gatthew verse, “yeah babe, this dinner tastes fantastic.” ;)

12)  How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach? Doorway corner will do just fine.

14)  What animal do they fear most? Jacob Seed, Cobbler and Peaches, because what the fuck was Nic thinking taking in actual mountain lions to rehabilitate them, why did John let her, why did the local authorities let her- wait a second- 

16)  What makes their stomach turn? Seeing his friends being belittled or hurt in any way

18)  What embarrasses them? Getting too much attention/feeling all eyes on him. He gets super self-conscious. 

20)  If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so? Romantic/platonic love is conditional but you make the conditions, it’s deeper more desirable for him. Familial love is an obligation but it’s unyielding unless it’s too toxic, and you’re lucky if you have a decent enough family to partake in it with. 

22)  How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)? Thankfully he doesn’t really have it in him to be jealous. He’s lived a life where he got everything he wanted and it turned out pretty awful, so he’s learned to appreciate what he’s got because it’s all on his terms. 

24)  Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom? Depends on the person and the ‘verse. In canon, he’d probably only ever talk about it to Nic (because she bullied him into it), and maybe eventually John but only after the relationship is solidified platonically and romantically. In Gatthew he’s a little more open to talking about it, he’ll crack a few jokes about it too- but only to his main circle of friends. 

26)  What is their preferred mode of transportation? Car. He’s got a beaten down rust-orange pickup truck,  you have to crank down the windows and the A.C only works half the time, but he loves it. 

28)  Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth? Depends on what it is. A little white lie, fine. If it’s a monumental, could-ruin-lives truth, yeah, lie away. Definitely a “lesser of two evils” deal.

30)  Who do they most regret meeting? In canon, Jacob. Funnily enough in the Gatthew ‘verse Jacob’s one of his “Top 5″ for ‘loved meeting.’ In Gatthew ‘verse, Matthew’s in-laws- the ones that don’t try/are straight up rude to Matt, anyway. He could care less about them being rude to him. 

32)  Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke? “So when I first got here and joined the Police, Nic came over asking me a lot of questions, and apparently didn’t get the ‘please go away’ vibe I was sending her way. Anyway, she talked my ear off for like, two hours [...] letting her talk was the best worst thing to ever happen to me.”

34)  How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt? In canon, it’s physically impossible. The guy’s got a case of survivor’s guilt the size of the Empire State Building, which leeks out into all his other guilt about anything. In Gatthew it’s a lot more easy, considering he’s Miller in Jacob’s scenario and the pair of them managed to get out of danger, no cannibalism required, so there’s nothing to be guilty of. In that case, smaller cases of guilt get shrugged off unless a personal relationship is damaged severely. 

36)  Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap? In canon he doesn’t think he deserves romance, in Gatthew he’s not overly interested in sex, so he definitely waits until it falls into his lap - without the waiting. How does that Rascal Flatt’s song go? “It hit me in the face, ‘cause that’s where I’m at” - that’s a decent summary. He wasn’t looking or expecting but he still got it. 

38)  What memory do they revisit the most often? In canon, the Ambush. In Gatthew- the stuff that came after getting discharged. Jacob and him bonding more, Nic basically adopting him as a friend, Matt and his first patrol together- the much happier things. 

40)  How sensitive are they to their own flaws? Canon- hypersensitive, Gatthew- fairly sensitive but can be easily distracted away from focusing on them. 

42) How badly do they want to reach their end goal? In canon, it’s... not exactly a great, desirable goal, very much the most toxic goal you can have, if you catch my drift, and he was determined, but then the whole thing with Joseph and subsequently John gave him a fighting chance at wanting the opposite, so it worked out. In Gatthew, he wants to settle, get married, raise a bunch of dogs and he’s eager to get to it - as long as it’s what his husband or wife would want, and he’d be willing to do it on their desired schedule, too. It definitely helped that Matt was 0-60 real quick on all of those same goals. 

A) Why are you excited about this character? Can I admit I wasn’t that excited about him initially? He was just kind of there as a worldbuilding thing, and then he became a meme on Discord, and then I got my Angst Lord wings with his backstory so I ended up loving him. And I’m excited about a lot of his stuff in theory - except continuing Blood on My Name, because figuring out what comes next is a damn nightmare. 

E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you? He probably would be someone I would get along with, if my empathy didn’t super kick in. We’re both so quiet I think getting us to talk and bond with each other would be like pulling teeth. 

I) Do you prefer to keep them in their canon universe? I mean, if you made it this far, you read all the answers. Would you want to keep him in ‘canon’ vs Gatthew or any of the other AUs he’s in? HELL NO. Or if yes, shame on you. Come here, choke yourself. 

[prisonrose]

Mea Culpa || 24 Hour Journal

01:00

A guard inadvertently wakes me up by shining a flashlight in my cell to make sure Craig and I are still present. 

After a brief pause to make sure the figure above me is truly asleep and not dead or a sack of potatoes serving as a decoy, he moves on.

I fall asleep shortly afterwards.

05:45

I force myself to wake up at this time every morning, about 10-15 minutes before the cells unlock. It was hard to get the timing just right since I don’t have an alarm at first, but most days I manage it based on my biological clock alone.

I relieve myself on the loo while Craig is still asleep, trying to be as quiet as possible. 

I brush my teeth, splash water on my face, and sit on my bed, waiting for the doors to open.

06:00

The cell doors finally unlock, and I make a beeline for the kitchen area of our cell block. Usually I’m the first to get there, but sometimes I’m unlucky. 

Today I have the first go at the microwave and heat up some oatmeal with peanut butter and instant coffee to take back to my cell.

I manage to get in and get out without being caught or harassed by anyone. Craig is gone by the time I get back. Likely at the chow hall or showers. I get to have a relaxing meal alone.

07:00

I show up for work in the laundry facility. A few of the driers are down for scheduled repairs.

I spend most of the day lubricating roller bearings, adjusting pulleys, and replacing drum rollers and dryer glides.

This is probably the most relaxing part of my day. It always feels good to be working with machines again.

Still, I can’t believe I only get paid 200 Pokedollars for this shit. Guess I’ll splurge and spend a whole day’s pay on some Fresh Water from a vending machine one day.

11:30

Wrap up work in time for count. Try to make it back to my cell without bumping into anyone.

Craig is already there in the room by the time I come in. I say a quick greeting to him and reuse the bowl I used for oatmeal earlier for a bowl of cereal and a box of UHT milk.

I rather miss having cold beverages.

11:55

“Five minutes til count time, boys. Be on your bunks and be visible! I repeat, be on your bunks and be visible for 12:00 count or you will get a ticket!”

There’s never any telling how long these things will last, so I get comfortable on my bed with a science fiction novel I used to read a lot as a child.

A guard comes by with a Boltund to check to see if we’re where we need to be. 

12:25

Count is mercifully short today. The doors unlock again, and most guys begin shuffling over to the Chow Hall for lunch. I say goodbye to Craig.

I wait until it’s relatively quiet in the halls before donning my shower shoes and taking my little plastic bucket of shower supplies down to our cell block’s communal showers.

Privacy is important during this vulnerable time. Most guys wash off either in the morning or just before lockup, but I prefer going in midday when most guys are either having lunch or out in the yard working out.

12:40

It’s never completely empty though. I try my best to creep to the other end of the showers opposite a loose group of men that probably had the same idea as me.

The showers are always disgusting. The floors are usually covered in a thick layer of grime, shaved body hair, and bodily fluids. The holes in the shower head I initially chose are so clogged in one that I have to go to another slightly closer to the other men.

This one works, at least, but the hot water is used up. Oh well. It really is a lottery most days. 

I hate these annoying timed press buttons. I hate everything about these damn showers. Showering used to be the most relaxing part of my day. I miss my flat so badly just for this alone.

12:46

I try to get in and out as quickly as possible since I have company. Maybe if I’m in and out before they realize who I am, I can avoid a scene.

No such luck. I’m small but not small enough to not be seen past the half-assed dividers supposed to offer a shred of privacy. 

They intercept me in the changing room. Thankfully, I still have my towel on.

The big guy says he’s heard of me. He asks if it’s true that I ████ █ █████ ████ █ █████.

I confirm that it is true. He’ll find out the truth either way, so there’s really no need to lie.

He ███ ██ ██ ███ ███ ██ ███ ███ █████ ███████. His buddies ████ ████ ██ █████ ██.

█████’█ ██ █████ ██ █████████ ███ ████ ██ ████ █████. ██████ ██ ████ ████ ██ ██████. █ █████. 

█ ████ ██ ██ ███ ███ ███ ██ ███. ████ ██████████ ███’█ ███ ██ ████ ██. ██’█ ███████ ████ ████ █████ ███ █ █████’█ █████.

I guess that’s the only thing I’m good for anymore. 

13:05

I get back to my cell.

Decide to take a nap since I’m not feeling so well.

14:55

Get woken up by a guard with a Growlithe banging on the cell door. Apparently I have a visitor and need to get processed for that. Time to put on my game face. 

15:01

Getting strip searched in front of the guards is the most humiliating thing ever. Probably even worse than getting undressed in front of other inmates. 

The female guard’s Espeon stares at me the entire time, its forked tail twitching slightly, possibly scanning the near future to see if I was a threat. The whole process of undressing, getting searched, getting redressed takes about 15 minutes. I’m led to the Non Contact visit area so that I can talk with whoever this is.

15:16

Another journalist trying to get the big scoop on my fall from grace. I’m exhausted by now by how many interviews these people keep subjecting me to, but I understand the appeal.

I smile politely and answer all of her questions, no matter how asinine. When she asks me how a well-to-do businessman is fairing in a maximum security prison, I tell her that I’m doing just fine. Part of me wants to believe it, too.

15:46

Visit is officially concluded. I thank the journalist for her time and go back to get searched a second time.

I take off each article of clothing individually and shake them out, then spread every fold and orifice of myself that might be hiding contraband as the guards search my clothes.

The Espeon is still staring at me. Part of me wishes I could have seen into the future for what was in store for me years ago when I begged for the harshest punishment possible.

16:02

Time for tea. Also the last time to get something from the Chow Hall before Lockdown in 2 hours.

My hunger gets the best of me, and I make a visit, despite how terrible the food is and how dangerous it is for someone like me. This place and the Yard are the sites of most stabbings and riots.

Today it’s what I assume to be some sort of beef (I think?) stew with tons of soggy, mealy potatoes and white rice. It looks like something already eaten, but that was par for the course.

I take my little tin of food and try to desperately find a seat at a table not already occupied. No such luck, so I sit at the opposite end of the table of two gents with my approximate skintone. 

Thankfully, they ignore me. I eat in peace. 

16:38

Go to the rec center to see if there’s anything worth watching on the telly. Maybe I can even catch a match.

My appearance prompts from jeers from a couple of men playing pool, but they leave me alone pretty quickly when I try to pay them no mind. 

No League matches are showing today, so I instead turn it to the news.

Apparently there’s some sort of catastrophic Dynamaxing incident playing out in multiple cities at once. I hope that some madman didn’t get news of my own experiment and try to do something similar…

17:45

Lockdown in 15 minutes. Head back to my cell, but Craig is busy on the loo. Walk back out again and respectfully wait as long as I can for him to finish up.

17:55

“Five minutes til count time and lockdown, boys. Be on your bunks and be visible! I repeat, be on your bunks and be visible for 18:00 count or you will get a ticket!”

I have to go in at this point. Luckily, Craig is now washing up. He nods at me and climbs back on his bunk for count.

When the cell doors close, there’s no opening them again until 6 the next morning, unless there’s some sort of emergency. So it’s best to get as comfortable as you can.

I begin reading my book again. There’s nothing else to do, really.

20:00

Last state sanctioned meal of the day. The small slot in our cell door is opened, and two paper bags are fed through. 

It’s a ham and cheese sandwich, a bag of crisps, and a box of milk for each of us. 

As per our agreement, I hand Craig my ham sandwich and my bag of crisps over to him as well. It’s hard not to feel hungry in here, but it’s a small price to pay for peace.

He hands over his box of milk, and I instead have my last bowl of cereal for the night. The extra box of milk is tucked away somewhere safe, and the bowl cleaned and ready for the next morning.

Back to my book. 

21:00

The lights in our cell unceremoniously turn off. “LIGHTS OUT!” the voice over the intercom booms. “QUIET IN THE CELLS!”

I sigh, sticking a popsicle stick into the pages as a makeshift bookmark, and stretch out to place it back on the desk for tomorrow. 

I lay down, staring blankly out of the bars, feeling more empty than I ever have in my life.

I’ve long since stopped wondering if my sacrifice was worth it, if this is the fate I deserved, if there’s any hope I’ll be remembered fondly in the future, or at all, even in the present day.

This is my life now. It’ll be my life until the day I die. As unhappy as I am about the notion, I’ve made my peace with it, and have adjusted accordingly.

I wipe away the hot tears rolling down my face with a soft sniffle, and roll back over to try to rest up and gather my strength to face this hell the next day.

And the day after that and the day after that and the day after that…

[miriyos]

a long rant.

so even prior to covid i really started to hate my job and i was really struggling mentally with it. i’m / was an rbt (behavioral therapist) who worked with autistic kids during early intervention. most of our clients were in the 2-5 yr/old range. around month 5 or so working there, my cousin passed away suddenly and that made the job even harder because little things, all of a sudden, could just remind me of her and set me off into a crying fit without meaning to. and like most things, the more you don’t wanna think about a thing and the harder you try not to think about the thing, the more you think about the thing.

anyway, now i'm trying to imagine what's next after covid, and i really can't go back. and the thing about that is that i understand not going back to work is not the best option to choose. but i also was starting to get increased anxiety and was starting to feel depressed again - because i hated myself for how much i hated a job that actually did treat me well, pay me well, and give me good benefits. i felt terrible knowing that i found a good place to be and wanted to walk away from it - since, overall, i did really like it there but the type of work that i had to do as an rbt just isn't something i have the overall passion for. 

and so obviously my intent, a couple months ago was to find another job and then give my two weeks. that way i would go from one job to the other directly without having to really worry about a lapse in medical insurance and payment. and i got a few emails back or calls back that i was being considered, but then all hiring processes for the places that i was looking for suspended hiring because of covid.

and it kills me knowing that my mom would much prefer that i go back - and really, i understand and i wish i could go back too, but i just don't think i can last another 6-8 uncertain months, depending on the job market. it really drained me having to work with kids who i have to worry about hitting, kicking, spitting, biting, and cleaning up pee. which - i loved the kids. really. but i didn't love those sides about the job which are inevitable when you work with autistic kids on the early intervention phase. 

and so i'm trying to tell her this - and it makes me cry because that's how conflicted i am about knowing i don't want to go back this badly, and how much this job - even the thought of it - stresses me out, and she tells me to stop being emotional. and yeah there are probably some things that i could have talked to them at work about to see if improvements could have been made, but those things are just part of the job. and some of the things that drive me crazy and make me anxious aren't necessarily their fault. and i know that to an extent my anxiety is irrational, but not all anxiety comes from a rational place.

my job can't predict when parents won't call out or call out their kids 5 minutes before their appointment. and they can't totally be for blame for their disorganization when they need a bigger office and they don't have the staff. they worked on getting a secretary but of course that was right before covid. and i just really hate and it makes me even more upset that some of the things she says - even if it isn't intended - are phrased like i don't understand. like i just plan on hopping job to job every six months whenever something i don't like happens. and the worst model is that i did quit my first job.

it was bare minimum wage, and i was supposed to be part time, but we were so short handed at some point that i was working 40+ hours - that weren't even scheduled. i'd be on the clock, they'd see they were short handed, and have me stay later. then i was being asked to come in earlier and earlier. and it was a mess. i wasn't getting my mandated break until a half hour before i had to leave to go home sometimes because the morning shift manager wouldn't tell the afternoon shift manager that i wasn't breaked yet. 

it was absolutely terrible, and i felt really torn up about leaving that job too. because i don't like to quit, i wasn't raised with the mentality or privilege to just quit, and i understand the consequences of my actions. but i did quit, because that was really running me ragged too - but for different reasons. 

and when she brings that up in an argument as if i don't get it - as if i don't remember it drives  me crazy. especially in the context that a professional job and my first job while in college are equal.

plus her mentioning that it seemed like i wasn't taking looking for a job seriously after i got home from college. i tried my best. there's only so many places you can apply to that are professional within the field i wanted, and even then, if i was denied the first time - most places have a three month period before you can apply there again. 

so no. i wasn't just slacking. maybe i could've driven myself all around and dropped off my resume, but people give a lot of conflicting advice on whether that's actually a good idea. people tend to air on the side of "it interrupts their day, so probably don't." so a lot of the time i didn't. but i tried to follow up with them electronically, at least.

so she can apologize all she wants, but i just hate that i don't think she gets that even if i can say easily that i want to quit - it isn't the same as me accepting easily that this is what i'm going to do, or what i want to do. there's still a part of me that dreadfully is willing to go back because i know that that will erase this entire conversation 

and this wasn't a recent decision either. i've been thinking about leaving my job since prior to covid. since maybe early march, when things weren't so bad. we heard that some people were going crazy over hoarding toilet paper, and back then it was kinda comical because it was hard to understand how people thought 2 weeks in self-quarantine could warrant that much tp. 

and maybe even prior to march i wanted to leave, but i was still going in with the mentality of sticking it out for an entire year - or as close as i could get to it before my certification had to be renewed. because i definitely went into it knowing that it would be a difficult job, and i knew there were certain parts that mentally and physically exhausted me, but i liked the people there and overall, i liked the kids - but it got to a certain point where mentally, the rewards i got from it weren't enough to refresh the parts of me that were tired. 

and if i did wanna leave prior to march, i definitely didn't say anything about it. because i didn't want my parents to know that i was contemplating leaving an otherwise good company. i didn't want to hear arguments or hear that they were disappointed or hear that they wanted me to stay - because obviously those were things i was feeling about myself, and i didn't need an extra voice to tell me to stick it out when that was what a strong part of me already intended on doing.

but it gets to the point where mentally i see myself getting in an exhausted place again. where i pass out as soon as i get home at 6pm and i hate the thought of even going in. and then it becomes a very cyclical dark place that's hard to escape. 

i hate my job, but i need my job, so i go in. something bad happens, makes me hate my job even more. i think about how much i need my job, and i hate myself for wanting to leave it, then i go home. i wake up in the morning, need to go to work. but i hate work. i go to work, feel numb for being there. maybe something good happens, but then something bad happens. i get through work, go home, feel tired. pass out, maybe. tell myself i still need my job, it's not that bad. the company is nice, the people are nice. i can make it another six months. go to bed, get up for work again, rinse and repeat. 

i can't do that for another six months. and i don't get how people can continue working at a place that clearly makes them miserable for a paycheck. i wanted to find another job but where i want to work for experience are places that are currently closed. 

if i wanted an easily acquirable job - i could've found one, but i didn't want another bare minimum, minimum wage food service job. and my parents didn't want me working at one of those jobs either - so i looked for something professional and it took me six months. that didn't make me happy either. made me feel depressed. made me think about how stupid i was for not taking the gre earlier and going into grad school despite not knowing what i wanted to go into grad school for - but at least it would've been something, and i wouldn't have been sitting around at home for so long thinking that i just wasted 4 years of my time not knowing what i wanted to do immediately after getting out.

am i actually mad? no. 

but i do wish that to a greater extent it would feel like her saying that she supported my decision felt more genuine. because i've never been raised with the mentality of just quitting whenever - and i've never been told that i can just do what i want, to hell with consequences or responsibility. 

and it's one thing to say that she never intended for me to worry about certain financial things - but by saying it repeatedly, i am going to worry about it at some point. and frankly, one reason why i thought i was going to try to stick it out until i found another job to replace my current one was for medical insurance reasons. because even though bill-wise she would never have me really pay for anything, i still know that that's one less bill she would have to worry about, and me having my own insurance helped a lot even if it was one thing. 

but i was getting to the point of being more anxious and more depressed while employed than when i was when i was sitting at home for six months hoping someone would call me back. because having a job was ultimately making me hate myself so much more than i ever did hate myself - because i had it really good and i wanted to walk away from it

[littlefearsdoodles]

Further lessons in collaborations

Some further lessons, thoughts and misc wotsits on the Little Fears Sunday collabs. It’s a long, but maybe an educational post for any bloggers wanting to collaborate with each other. Some links to start with, for reference.

Little Fears Sunday collaborations Guidelines & initial email

Tracking collaborations

Straight up, I screwed this up so badly. On the initial posting, I had over 100 people email me. I reckon about 20 will follow through, but I got lost in the first barrages of emails. I know of at least three people that I’ve left hanging that I need to speak too. Liz, I was meant to send a story. Anonyole and Willow I was meant to send an image for approval. One of them has been waiting for two weeks. I just keep forgetting to do it because my I took on too much. I tried noting names on pen and paper. That only worked for so long.

This was confounded because I initially said, hit me up on social media or email. So I had messages coming from every direction. It wasn’t like I could just search my emails because I had DMs everywhere. Doh!

I’ve come to the conclusion I should use a spreadsheet. Four columns, name, email, website and collab progress. I can’t do that on previous collab contacts because then I’m collecting data. To do that I’d have to include a GDPR notice in the initial email stating what data I’m collecting, what I will do with it and how will I protect it. That’s something I’ll definitely do going forward.

Usernames, pen names and real names

My focus on always referring to peoples pen names has confused a few folks. It’s another thing I need to add to the initial email.

People post under pen names for a variety of reasons. The embarrassment that they write fan-fics. Not wanting family or friends to see their art. Hiding from a nutty ex-partner. Or sometimes, they just want to be identified as someone else. An imaginary online-persona. All valid reasons to respect someone’s username.

Privacy is darn near non-existent, online and real life, nowadays. What little control we have over privacy we should try to respect.

So if someone leaves comments on my website under the username AlphaDog345 but emails me under the name Robert, I’ll do my best to refer to them as AlphaDog345 unless corrected.

WordPress scheduling

I was asked by Nobbin how we could synchronize posts and link to each other’s stories ahead of time. Well, in WordPress Gutenberg, when you make a post you get a little link icon next to the post name. Click on that, and you can copy the URL of scheduled posts.

Videos pre-schedule

I’ve explained why I’m sticking with WordPress Gutenberg before, despite my straight up hate for it. But one issue that’s been noticed is that I can’t schedule videos that haven’t been published on YouTube already without resorting to classic blocks. There is no workaround in current Gutenberg because it’s crap. So I end up with classic blocks in my HTML or I leave it until 9 am, then post everything.

This has meant, when one collaborator copy pasted my entire post it came out janky as heck on their own site. It’s also meant most of my posts are never bang on 9 am.

#PeterHatesWordPress5.0GutenbergEditor

I think in future I’ll change my initial email to read “around 9 am,” unless someone wants to sync posts. Then I’ll pre-post the video so the URL is usable in WordPress.

Story length

Oh man, haha. Yeah. We had a laugh there. I’m flexible on the 512 character limit. I just didn’t want people writing essay-length stories. Not only would they not fit or work on the Little Fears, but I want the collaborations to be fast and fun. Not tireless hours of work.

This was taken to an extreme by an ex-subscriber, who sent me a chapter of a book he claimed was a short story. Some back and forth and he ended up saying he was trialling me to narrate his entire novel. For free. In the spirit of collaboration.

Yeah… No…

Got a bit pissy when I said I’d have to charge for that amount of work. Anyone who’s ever done audio work will tell you, it takes a staggering amount of time to record, edit, re-record and check through even short stories. A novel would take me a full working week. At least!

I find a lot of folks are up collaborations when asked. But try to be respectful of others time, aye?

Already published stories

I was asked by Ederren on the briefs post if I’d do stories that were already published. Eventually, yes. I’d love to narrate some of the funny stories and creepypastas I’ve read. Especially if they fit well.

Right now though, I’m getting my feet with collaborations. As you can see from this post, I still have refining to do. The initial email explosions died down now, but I got a lot of people submitting any old random story. Out of 40 stories sent to me without an email convo/brief first, maybe 5 worked for the Fears.

Taking submissions for pre-written poetry and fiction is something I need to work into the initial email. It all comes down being specific from the start. Otherwise writings sending submissions and I are just wasting each others time.

So, pre-written stories. In the future, yes, but not yet.

Some collaborations, already published

Knife Skill by Silk

Iron Nick by Peter

The Swing by Alex

Olivia’s Tree by Layne

Masked Sin by Jay

Conference art by Dee

Beau by Sue

Bad Karma by Tre

Conquest by Jessica

Saved by Aimer

Dark Paths by Lauren

I think that’s everyone…

Want to collaborate?

As you can see, I’m still refining my process. If you’re interested in collaborating with me, drop me an email to Peter at fears@gmx.co.uk

Want to support me in some way?

In the mean tie, if you love what I do, and fancy supporting me in some way, you can buy me a cuppa on Ko-Fi. Nobble one of my tees on Threadless. Buy one of my books on Amazon. Grab an original art or a print on my Etsy. Or, hit me up on Patreon for as little as $1 a month.

Thanks as always to Warren for the continued $10 Patronage.

[thisismyjourney2022]

“We are all born so beautiful. The greatest tragedy is being convinced we are not.”

So I was going to wait until the 21st, my one month mark to make a new post, but needed to hop on and talk about what happened today. 

(Also please now that as I am typing this, I am watching my 600 lb life on TLC and crying)

So I am what people would call blessed with my chest size(blessed, cursed, whatever.) I have in the past, two years ago actually, made an appointment to see a surgeon regarding getting a reduction surgery. The constant pain that I feel, the always feeling slouched, not being able to fully stand up straight without feeling immense pain was just getting to me. So I went and saw someone. Awesome doctor, made me feel super comfortable. He told me that he wanted me to lose 40 lbs in order to make sure that the surgery and recovery process went as smoothly as possible.

So fast forward 2 years and I am back at square 1. I called last week to make an appointment to see him just to catch up and see what our next plan of action was. That appointment was today. 

So he walked in the room, and we start chatting. We talk about work and family and little things like that. And now here comes the big question, the one I was desperately hoping(but knew) was coming.

“So, tell me how has everything been going?”

“Well, to be honest, not too great. I started a new weightloss journey in January. I lost weight and then got it back and then ya know, once you fall off, it’s really hard to get back on.”

We talked about my eating habits, and he gave me suggestions on things that I could be doing in regards to that. I then say to him, “I’ve called a few nutritionist to make an appointment but the only way they would see me was if I had a diagnosis of either diabetes or morbid obesity, which I don’t.”

“Well Chrissie, I’m not trying to be mean, or hurt your feelings, but according to the weight that you gave me, your BMI level actually is in Category 3 obesity.”

Morbid obesity? I had to play a staring contest with him to prevent my tears from falling down.

“I’m going to need you to lose 70 lbs in order for the surgery to occur. I know last time it was 40, but you were also not as heavy 2 years ago. The weight loss is for your safety. Complications are more likely to occur the heavier you are.”

70 lbs?! How on earth am I going to lose 70 lbs? I’ve been wanting this surgery so badly for the last 2 years, and now I feel like I’ve fallen in a hole that I can’t seem to get out of. 

He wrote me a script for a nutritionist because now I fit one of their requirements. Sigh, I will be giving them a call tomorrow. 

I thanked him, scheduled my next appointment for 2 months so that we can see my progress(hopefully) and so we can catch up. 

I got to my car and cried. 

I texted my friend Nick and told him what happened. He told me I could do anything I put my mind to. I told him,this is the time where self doubt enters my mind and settles.

He texted me about an hour later and offered to help me by being my weight loss buddy. Every Monday we are going to weigh ourselves and our goal is to just keep moving forward with the weight loss. He said he’s only a text away if I have any bad cravings and he will help talk me through them. I thanked him and he said “I know how much this means to you.” and cue my tears. (Nick, if you’re reading this, thank you.”

I went to the gym, and tried to work out but honestly, my heart wasn’t in it today. My alarm is set for 6:15 and hopefully, I won’t snooze it for an hour and actually get up and go to the gym.

BUT

with the bad comes the good right?

2 major things(good things) that occurred:

I was home today because of my appointment and home alone. Month ago typical Chrissie would call the pizza place, have a small pepperoni pizza with a side of mozzarella sticks and a soda delivered to the house. I would eat it all and drink the soda and I’d be happy. 

Today, I had 2 hard boiled eggs instead.

I also weighed myself..... down another 3lbs. Total of 6 lbs from January 21st. If you saw me you would have thought I was crazy. I stepped on and off the scale 3x just to make sure that it said the same number each time. I even took a picture of it just so I knew I wasn’t going crazy and seeing what I wanted to see.

So that’s that. Sorry for the super long post. 

Thanks to everyone who is and continues to be #teamchrissie <3

Love to all

[keywestlou]

TRUMP WINS.....FOR NOW.....THERE IS ALWAYS LAS VEGAS

Trump won for the second time yesterday. The man is unimpeachable! He has one problem, however. People such as he get their just due at some later time.

So it will be with Trump. He has too many criminal and civil matters hanging over his head. In due course, he will be litigating them. Probably more than one at a time. Justice delayed will not be justice denied in his instance. He always has Las Vegas!

Recall O.J. Simpson. Many thought he was guilty of killing his wife and her boy friend. Yet he was acquitted. Thirteen years later Simpson was tried on criminal charges in a separate matter in Las Vegas. He was found guilty and sentenced to 33 years. He was paroled after 9.

Trump will get his.

Trump has his guardian angel. The one that comes from below. He played his most devoted supporters for suckers and insulted the intelligence of the rest of the American people.

Trump support by Senators and Representatives was nothing less than an abdication of responsibility.  Such abdication invites more lawlessness from Trump or those who follow who are of his ilk.

This episode in U.S. history carries a clear message. We cannot sit on our asses and turn our backs on national terrorism. It has come out of the shadows. It must now be defeated.

Fire should be fought with fire. The country cannot sit idly back and do nothing or very little. All out war is required.

Or, what happened January 6 will occur again. At a time when the terrorists will be successful in overturning the government.

No negotiation with terrorists. The necessary must be done. Intelligence and force the weapons. Wipe them out! Otherwise the Cruzes, Grahams, Hawleys, and Rubios will become America’s leaders.

Poor Ashley Judd. The movie actress and activist. She is going through an experience that would be even too much for a movie.

Judd almost lost her leg in the Congo. At the moment, she is in an ICU unit in South Africa.

Judd’s leg was “shattered” when she tripped on a fallen tree on a pathway in the jungle. She was walking fast and did not see it.

It took 55 hours to get her from the jungle to an operating table in South Africa.

She initially was stuck on the ground where she had fallen for 5 hours. Her leg was “badly misshapened.” Those with her had Judd biting on a stick. In between “howling like an animal.”

She was eventually taken to a trauma unit on a motorcycle while holding the top part of her broken tibia together.

Judd says during these times: “I was at the edge of my edge.”

Florida is a Covid nightmare. Governor DeSantis’ fault. He is inept and at the moment out of control. He is opening some places where the vaccine can be given. Supermarkets and drug stores. However, few if any have the vaccine.

The Governor speaks with pride when he tells of the many sites where one can be inoculated. He forgets to share there is little or no vaccine available.

All at a time when Florida’s coronavirus numbers are skyrocketing.

Syracuse beat Boston College yesterday 75-67. Syracuse’s record now 12-6.

March Madness is around the corner. I doubt Syracuse will play in the big tournament. Unfortunate since Syracuse had the manpower this year. Exceptional players. They rarely were able to come together for a whole game.

Day 2 in Mykonos is my report for today. I changed my mind from yesterday. I began liking Mykonos on Day 2.

DAY 19…..Greece the First Time

Posted on June 15, 2012 by Key West Lou

What a difference a day makes!

My first night on Mikonos I went to the action area. The Chora. Old Mykonos by the waterfront.

My first night was two nights ago.

I reported yesterday that I did not like Mykonos. Too many people. Too much hustle and bustle.

I went back to Chora. Deserted compared to the evening before. Small crowds. Easy to get around. Restaurants basically empty. No one rushing you.

Why the change? I asked around. A simple reason. The night before there were three large cruise ships dumping their passengers off. Last night, no cruise ships.

I sat at an outside cafe the first night by the water. A large place. Expensive. Just watching the people and drinking. Not eating. All the tables were full with cruise ship people eating. Spending big dollars. Last night I was the only person sitting at the same outside cafe. Still only drinking. The owner and staff fell all over me. Glad you returned, anything you want, etc.

Business is tough. It is the euro situation. A major election Sunday that will determine the economic future of Greece for the next 20 years. It could also determine the subsequent rise and fall of the euro.

The local merchants were available to talk with me last night. One retailer told me his business was down 70 per cent in the last five years. The restaurant owner where I was taking up space said his business was down 40 per cent.

They all speak with fear in their eyes. They all hate Germany and Merkel. For two reasons. Germany is the only nation eating big time under the euro. Greece hurting the worst. The other reason is World War II and the Nazi domination of Greece.

After last evening, I started liking Mykonos. So much so that I may be staying a few extra days. Fourni comes into the decision making process, also.

Again, the difference a day makes. Fourni excites me. I wanted so to visit Fourni and spend some time there. Like a couple of weeks. That is how good I thought it would be.

I have no firm schedule. I was told that Fourni was a short 2 hour speed boat ride from Mykonos.

I went to buy my speed boat ticket yesterday. No boat to Fourni. They discontinued the run a couple of months ago.

Alternative ways. I could fly to Athens. From there fly to Somos. Stay overnight in Somos. Take the morning boat from Somos to Fourni.

I want to see Fourni badly, but not that bad. Too much time and too expensive.

There are no flights to Fourni from Mykonos.

I took a walk down to the waterfront. Chatted with several fisherman. Small boat owners. Would they take me to Fourni with their boat. About a 4-5 hour trip in a small boat. All said no. Too dangerous and too long. We never even got to money.

So it is Mykonos for a few days.

The electric power goes off occasionally in Key West. Yesterday the water went off in Mykonos. A frequent occurrence I was told. No water for six hours! Key West power is never off that long.

Apparently a pipe broke somewhere. I, and I assume most other vacationers on the island, were all greased up from sunbathing and no way to remove it. When the water did come back on after six hours, it was rusty for another half hour.

I was not upset. Only sticky. Happenings such as water breaks come with island living.

I finally found Terri White’s old stomping grounds last night. The piano bar she worked in several years ago. I tripped upon it. A small two foot long sign over a door on one of the alleys said Piano Bar. In I went. The place opened up into a large bar and dining room. Overlooking the water.

I met Nikki, Terri’s friend who owns the bar. I met his partner. If his family was there, I would have met each and every one of them. That is how it is in Mykonos and the rest of Greece.

It was 7. I wanted to hear Bobby Peaco play. Not till 10. Said I would return. Doubting that I would as that generally is my bed time.

Nikki was obviously pleased with Terri’s successes over the past few years. He spoke of her and it constantly.

Mykonos has to be dengue fever paradise. The mosquitoes got in my room last night. I finished the evening with at least a dozen bites.

Super Paradise Beach was my destination yesterday. I never made it. I lay by the hotel pool. It was quiet and soothing. The breeze perfect. The water the right temperature. Why leave.

Perhaps today.

I enjoy doing this blog daily and the other things I do. Yesterday, I published a new article on Amazon Kindle. Title: Unpaid Taxes. A portion of the article deals with the Greek unpaid tax problem. No one likes to pay taxes period. No one pays taxes if they can help it in Greece. This is one of the problems affecting the euro in Greece.

When there is an election, no one is pursued or prosecuted for unpaid taxes. The vote is more important than the tax dollar! When finally apprehended and charged, the individual still is not too concerned. Tax Court cases take 7-10 years to finalize.

I will try again for Super Paradise Beach today. Tonight, I have no idea.

Enjoy your day!

TRUMP WINS…..FOR NOW…..THERE IS ALWAYS LAS VEGAS was originally published on Key West Lou

[thehikingnerd]

Day 111.

I woke up and got off to a bit of a rough start.  My newly purchased wall charger, not having worked overnight, had left my phone dead. It was always a real bummer to wake up and find that your phone or battery pack hadn’t charged right before you are planning to head out.  It is a major inconvenience and in some cases on the trail could even put you in a tight spot where you might even need to stay an extra day to recharge your device since it was your maps and communication and emergency everything. Fortunately, this was not a perilous section of trail we were looking at, and Butt’rs also had a phone.  So it wasn’t the end of the world, but I let it charge on a borrowed charger while we finished getting ready and just was annoyed since I had just bought a new charger that wasn’t going to work for me. Also, a few days earlier my glasses had a screw come loose and one of the arms wasn’t functional.  So, being in a home I thought to ask Deidra if she had a tiny screw driver.  She did, and I was ultimately successful in fixing my glasses, but it was a long and very frustrating task to complete, near blindly working with just small parts. Finally, we were packed up and ready to head out; complete with supplies and clean laundry.  We said our good-byes and back off down the road we went.  It was, unfortunately, too far down the road before I realized that through all the conversation and catching up and preparations, I had forgotten to get even a single picture with them before leaving. I could have kicked myself for forgetting to do so, but there was no going back by that point, especially with my ankle still in such bad condition.  We had breakfast at Jimmy John’s (I generally avoid the place, but you don’t have as many choices when you are relegated to 2 miles per hour and have to walk everywhere) and then passed by a little drive thru/walk up coffee place.  We talked to the workers for a second and they told us they were running a promotion where if it was our first time as a customer there, we could get a free drink. So we each got a large iced mocha and left a nice tip before continuing down the road.  We passed by a second hand store and I glanced in real quick hoping to see a used scooter: the kind that people with broken legs use to get a round.  My ankle was in such bad shape that I wanted to buy a used one for the road walking we had ahead for the next few days. I debated whether this was cheating, but to be honest, if I had found one, I wouldn’t have cared. My ankle hurt badly enough that I didn’t want to continue, but didn’t have any other choice.  Time (overall trail-wise) was already running short at this point and we had to push on.  At some point we started to see dusty cars rolling past, going southbound on the road. I smiled. I knew what they were. They were burners returning from their week at Burning Man.  I remembered that before starting, I had delusions of maybe taking a week long break from the trail and going back to Burning Man for the 3rd time if I were ahead of schedule.  Well, I certainly was not ahead of schedule and I knew I wouldn’t be able to attend long before the festival was to start.  But it was fun to see everyone rolling back into town in their playa covered vehicles and to know that they had just had one hell of a week. As we walked, it was always fun to entertain ourselves with all of the bizarre things we found by the side of the road.  On this day I had found a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses and an American flag. I felt free and happy even if I was walking along a roadside with cars flying past, but it was a good feeling overall. So, I wore both that day as I walked down the road.  I realized that we were quickly approaching was should have been the 2000 mile marker on the trail.  A milestone I had been looking forward to since the half-way point in California. Since there wasn’t a marker on the side of the road outside of Bend, we were forced to improvise and fashion one of our own.  I made two actually: one I just drew in the dirt with really big numbers with a stick and we both took pictures for one another to remember to occasion, and another, smaller one made from metal and washers I had found along the side of the road which just seemed so appropriate that day. At some point, we passed by and stopped in at a place called Maragas Winery to cool off and get a cold drink before pressing on.  We even saw a weight station and walked on the scale as we went and it read fairly accurately I thought with me and my pack coming in at around 200lbs. Finally, at just before 9pm, we made our way to our next town called Madras and found a Burger King that was about to close. We managed to get a meal just in time.  It was getting late and we needed to figure out our plans for the night.  We stopped into a small motel to ask the price for the cheapest room for a night. We both wanted to be conservative with our money and decided if it were around $50, we would go for it and split the room.  But the cheapest we could get was more than that and we walked on.  Just up the way was a city park and we figured we might give it a try.  I mean what you have to realize is that it takes thousands upon thousands of dollars to buy your food, new equipment, and hotels along the way on the PCT, and the vast majority of people have a fairly tight budget and you are budgeting on about a hotel room only once every week or so and saving by sleeping in your tent most nights.  Since we were on a major detour, going through towns that had no place for us to camp, we didn’t have any real options other than getting hotel rooms. But if we did that every night we would blow through a months’ worth of hotel budget in a few days and not really need all of those comforts each night.  So… yeah… we decided to sleep in the town park.  It scared us because we didn’t know if it was legal or if anyone like the police or even random other people would attempt to harm or maybe even rob us, we just didn’t know with neither of us ever having to sleep in a town park before.  By all accounts at this point we felt like we were homeless and were being perceived as such by people in these towns.  So, we saw a pavilion type shelter and set up to cowboy camp under it.  I was excited to even find an electrical outlet there too, and decided to sleep next to it while my phone charged and hoped that I would hear and wake up if anyone tried to steal my phone while I was asleep. Having gone to meet Angie in Portland for that week off, I had drank a 40 from a brown paper bag behind a dumpster at a train station… I thought that would have been the peak of my hobo experience on the trail, but this was a whole ‘nother level here. I kept thinking we are no longer going “nobo”, but were instead now officially going “hobo” on the PCT, lol.  But it was what it was and we set up and went to sleep.  At some point I heard noise and felt something and woke up.  Butt’rs and I had both picked spots that were now getting hit with sprinklers.  I rotated to miss most of the water and only was barely getting some spray, enough that I could ignore and go back to sleep, you really get used to the elements and don’t let things get in the way of your ever-so-crucial sleep.  I had noticed also that in the night we had a 3rd homeless person come up and sleep under the same sheltered area, but he was obviously more experienced than us as he’d chosen the perfect spot that avoided all the sprinklers.   Butt’rs also relocated a bit and promptly went back to sleep.

[chroniclesofawkwardness]

Hurricane

I.

For years, I was a night owl. When I started my second stint with the company I work for today, I worked a 1:30 PM to 10 PM shift as one of many people answering the phone if you called the number on the back of your debit card. I didn’t much care for the constant what-happened-this-time beep in my ear that meant another call had come through, but some days were better than others. 

I enjoyed helping customers as long as what they asked me to do was within my power, but there were times I didn��t feel like listening to strangers’ life stories or treating their self-inflicted financial wounds. My schedule wasn’t ideal because I had to work one weekend day. Having a day off during the week wasn’t without its advantages, but it also meant trouble might find me at an unexpected time or place.

The first time I saw Kathy, I thought she looked like life had taken a lot out of her from behind the counter of the Circle K, but she was easy to talk to. She was blonde, thin but not sickly, and wore shoes that suggested she was accustomed to being on her feet most of the time. I guessed she was in her mid-forties. She was a nice departure from a lot of the women I saw at work every day. Of course, I couldn’t know exactly what was going on in a given woman’s life just by looking at her any more than she could know what was going on in mine. Still, it was hard to appreciate an individual woman’s beauty when most of them I saw towered over me in their high heels, flaunted legs that kept going until next Tuesday, and looked like they had trained with a Bloodsport-era, badass Jean-Claude van Damme, not the one content with starring in Tostitos commercials breaking chips instead of bones, and taking your place in your circle of friends. Kathy was different. 

Maybe we got along because we were both night owls. Maybe it was because we both found ourselves doing things we never imagined doing when our parents asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up. Kathy told me she’d previously been a waitress at the Olive Garden. I told her how I was rebuilding my life and had had a literal pregnant pause between jobs once I’d come back from overseas. 

Some nights, we’d talk long after she’d rang up my Combos and/or beef jerky. I’d offer general descriptions of the craziest recent customer interactions I’d experienced: 

While working overtime one Saturday (a day I wasn’t even supposed to be there), I heard the beep of an incoming call in my ear, introduced myself, and offered to help, as was standard procedure. The guy on the other end of the line immediately started pulling his cheek back and forth. I could tell he’d moistened the inside of his cheek with spit (probably while listening to the preceding hold music) as an act of premeditation. His vagina song was broadcast directly into my ears and left no doubt he’d been watching too much porn and studying how to replicate the anatomical musical score with himself. Why he decided to share his concert with me, I’ll never know. Some things are best left unsaid. 

When I asked Kathy what the strangest thing she’d ever sold someone was, she replied without hesitation: “I once had a guy come in here at three o’clock in the morning who bought condoms and bleach.” 

I was left wondering why I’d even asked. 

As much as I enjoyed conversations with Kathy, much briefer exchanges were the norm. The place was usually dead when I’d get there around 10:30 PM, but my arrival always seemed to trigger an avalanche of customers who urgently needed gas, cigarettes, or lottery tickets. I usually took the onslaught of humanity as my cue to exit stage right. 

That’s how it went for us. That was our routine.

The first time I saw Ashley, she was telling Kathy about how much she missed. Kayla. Kathy introduced us and told me she used to work at the Olive Garden with Ashley. I was instantly glad I hadn’t earlier ridiculed the wardrobe of white shirts and solid, brightly-colored ties that waitstaff of the Olive Garden in required to wear, though I’d wanted to badly. Ashley talked about how she’d recently had an argument with her mother, whom she hated, and how her son’s father, then serving in the U.S. Navy aboard a ship somewhere off the coast of Greece, was an asshole. 

I’m not sure if Ashley interpreted the fact that I asked her questions as a sign of genuine interest, or if I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. As luck would have it, this was not one those nights when we were interrupted by strangers seeking swizzle sticks. She went on and on about how she missed Kayla. I just kept nodding, unsure of what else to do. I could have left at any time, but I was overcome with curiosity, as if I’d passed a really bad car accident, one that when you see it, you instantly ask yourself if somebody died. You feel bad for staring, but you can’t look away. 

This carnage involved conversation instead of cars. 

After an eternity of my unanswered prayers to be interrupted by a customer, Ashley suggested I join her for a drink. It was a Friday night and I didn’t have to work the next day, so against my better judgement, I agreed to go with her. She must have had to use the bathroom before we left; once Ashley was out of earshot, Kathy leaned over the counter and told me to be careful because Ashley may have already been drunk, high, or both. When we finally got into her car and pulled away from Circle K, I caught a glimpse of Kathy through the window, motioning to me with her hands as if putting on a seatbelt, reminding to me to do the same. She was trying to keep me safe with (or from) a woman I’d known for all of three hours.

Our first stop was a sports bar called The Crown, merely feet away from Circle K. Ashley ordered a Blue Mojito. I don’t remember drinking anything, but I do remember her taking my tie off without really asking if she could, and putting it around her neck as she continued to drone on about Kayla, her bitch of a mother, and her son. 

Next, we went to a bar called the Keystone Pub and Patio. It had to have been around 2 AM; chairs were already turned upside down on top of tables when we walked in. Ashley must have known the bartender, who poured us shots of something that looked like Fireball. I don’t remember either one of us paying for them. 

We were supposed to go to Waffle House after this, but that’s when shit got really weird. Ashley drove us there, but we sat in the parking lot for what felt like forever. We never made it inside. At one point, she just lost it:

Her: ”I miss KAYYYYYYLLLLLLAAAAAAAAA!!!!”

Me: “Um…. I’m sorry for your loss. I can tell she meant a lot to you.

Her: “I wish I could just crawl down into her grave any lie beside HEEEEEERRRR!!!! Oh Gawd!!!”

Me: “Okay.”

Her: “Put your hand on my chest and feel me sing.”

Me: “Ashley, I don’t know if that’s such a good…”

Before I could finish my sentence, she grabbed one of my hands, placed it just above her breasts and held it there. The next song was I Believe You Liar by Australian singer/songwriter Washington. It started with a hauntingly beautiful piano intro, the kind that made me stop (despite the awkward position of my hand) and listen. The first verse is:

All the things you've said And things you've done I remember, in memoriam You said that you did But you did not Oh, you ache for something God knows what

I’d never heard the song before. Even now, I still can’t listen to it without thinking of that moment in Ashley’s car. The piano part still gives me goosebumps, the kind you get when a song truly captures your attention, the kind that form long before you’ve heard a song 500 times thanks to Top-40 radio, TV dramas, and being a resident of planet Earth. I haven’t heard I Believe You Liar anywhere near 500 times. I don’t want to. For some reason, I don’t want to spoil it despite the ridiculousness surrounding when I first heard it. 

Once it became clear that we wouldn’t be going inside Waffle House, I was slightly pissed off. I was hungry, dammit. We'd been drinking, so the conditions were perfect; I’d heard most people only go there when they’re drunk anyway. But I wonder now if listening to Washington’s song wasn’t a better fit than intoxicated waffle consumption for what Ashley was going through. It’s easy for me to describe the absurdity of our encounter, but there may have been more to it. However demonstratively, Ashley was grieving, aching. for her friend who died unexpectedly. I just happened to meet her that night.

Ashley had been in my life for about eight hours when we pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex. The sky was starting to change color, signaling the beginning of a new day. I thought of a video game I used to play as a kid, Castlevania II: Simon’s Quest. One of the most annoying aspects of which is that you never knew when night was going to transition to day or vice versa. 

If you were in a town when a transition to night happened, all the townspeople vanished, and you were faced with zombies that moved like rejects from Michael Jackson’s Thriller, plus bats you couldn’t even see coming because they blended in almost perfectly with the nighttime screen. When the lights went down in the city, you, Simon Belmont, the next in a long line of heroic vampire slayers, were reduced to jumping around whipping at shit in your 8-bit leotard while a soundtrack played that didn’t exactly inspire fear in, or of the undead. 

Whether you were in town or out and about in the blocky wilderness, your only salvation from the darkness was another seemingly randomly timed pop-up box like this, which meant it was about to be daytime again:

I hated not knowing when day or night would come next. Even as a ten-year-old, the unpredictability made me nervous. You might say it was my first encounter with a pop-up ad, long before the modern incarnation those annoying little fuckers (or the option to skip ads) existed. This might be why I hate most ads to this day. Still, that night with Ashley, I actually prayed for the first time in my life that a Castlevania II pop-up would appear in the sky overhead, vanquish the horrible night, and send her back to wherever she’d come from.

Only that’s not what happened

II.

“Do you mind if I stay here tonight,” she asked. 

“Not at all (this night couldn’t possibly get any weirder),” I said.

We went upstairs and went straight to bed. I couldn’t sleep, and my occasional attempts to kiss Ashley didn’t escalate into anything more. I just tossed and turned, unable to sleep thanks to the alcohol and the stranger in my bed. Ashley didn't have any such problems. 

After hours of restlessness, I gave up trying to sleep and decided to go about my normal Saturday routine, beginning with doing laundry. I tiptoed around to avoid waking Ashley, but this didn’t stop me from checking on her every few minutes to make sure she was still breathing. After she'd spoken so agonizingly about missing Kayla, I seriously believed Ashley could kill herself right there in my bed without a second thought.

She finally woke up in the middle of the afternoon. We sat on the couch and talked about books and what we wanted to do with our lives. I agreed to let her borrow my copy of Notes from the Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky, and she said she let me borrow her copy of The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom. Notes from the Underground was one of those books I was supposed to read in college but never did. I was looking forward to reading it on my own time, when a requirement wasn’t hanging over my head. I’d read one of Mitch Albom’s other books, Tuesdays with Morrie, which heart-wrenching though it was, had been a fast read. I thought I could get through The Five People You Meet in Heaven quickly, and reasonably expect Ashley to finish Notes from the Underground in about the same amount of time. I figured we’d meet up after reading, give each other their book back, and that would be the end of it. 

That’s not what happened either. 

First, we drove to her mom’s house so she could pick up The Five People You Meet in Heaven. Ashley decided she was hungry, so we stopped at Wendy’s on the way back to my place. Eating fast food was a rare experience for me (but the whole night before had also been). Until 2017, I had no idea Wendy’s had a vanilla Frosty on their menu, an item that had already been around for more than a decade by the time I caught on. I’d had other things on my mind.

We went back to my place to exchange books and phone numbers. Ashley finally left at around 6:30 PM, capping a whirlwind twenty hours. I wasn’t sure what had just happened, or why, but it did happen.

I finished The Five People You Meet in Heaven in about a week, and texted Ashley to let her know I was looking forward to giving her back her book. I got a brief response like, “Hey” and something about her work schedule being crazy.  At first I didn’t mind having her book (and not having mine), but as time passed, it started to bother me. Not a lot gets on my nerves, but two things that do are owing people money and having something that doesn’t belong to me. Every time I’d see Ashley’s book on my shelf, I’d think: “Man... I really should get that back to her.” Then a more basic thought would creep into my brain: “I hope she hasn’t made good on her desire to crawl down into the grave with Kayla. Fuck... I hope she’s still alive.”

Over time, my texts and her replies became more and more infrequent. I’d joke with Kathy that I was reaching out to Ashley once every season, just to prove to myself that I was still trying to do the right thing by returning her book. As the months passed, I started to just want my damn book back, and to give her hers so I wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. 

That’s how it went for me. That was my routine. Until the day she just showed up in my parking lot. 

By September 2013, I’d found a job in fraud prevention. I jumped at the chance to learn something new without subjecting my ears to incoming vagina songs. I was still a night owl, but struggling to work at a pace that met the expectations of my new department. To help me acclimate, management had me do a few days of side-by-side training with a more experienced specialist. This meant I also got to temporarily change my schedule to a more traditional 9 AM to 6 PM.

For some reason, after working my temporary shift one day, I decided to walk through the rear parking lot of the complex instead of the front one. Then I saw her. She was in a car I didn’t recognize, but she was with two guys I did, from Circle K. The driver’s side door was open so she'd gotten a bit of a head start towards me before I realized what was happening. She ran into my arms and hugged me like I was someone she truly missed:

“Hiiiiiiiiiii!!!! I am SO sorry!!!!” She was practically squealing. 

You’d have thought it had been only a week instead of nearly a year since I’d wished for the morning sun to vanquish that horrible night. All I could think was, “Finally! Here’s my chance to return her book and be done with this shit once and for all.” I’d aged almost 365 days since the last time I saw her, but Ashley must have thought I was elderly and feeble. She took me by the arm and helped me up the stairs and into my apartment. Once inside, she helped me take off my shoes and put on house slippers though I never asked her to. 

“Ashley, what about your friends? Aren’t they still down there with the car running?” 

“Oh, they’ll be fine. They’re just down there smoking weed...”

’WHAAAAAAAAAA!?!?!?’

I have absolutely no problem with recreational marijuana use, but I also knew that if the cops showed up (seeing law enforcement officers driving up and down my street was not uncommon) and started asking Cheech and Chong questions about why they were there and who they were with, I wasn’t going down with them. Even in their intentionally altered state of consciousness, I was convinced they could still identify me. 

I case you’re wondering, Ashley left before I had a chance to bring up the books. I think I’d pissed her off by talking shit about her to one of my neighbors that night without realizing she was close enough to hear me. I should have whispered like Kathy had the year before when she was sure Ashley was out of earshot.

Still got it.

I never heard from Ashley again. I haven’t reread The Five People You Meet in Heaven, and the piano in I Believe You Liar still makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I’m okay with that. Why? Mitch’s book and Washington’s song make up the eye of Hurricane Ashley, a storm I won’t soon forget.

[my-name-iotadart]

Public Transportation

I made it to the bus today, unlike yesterday or the day before. Yesterday, not being because I missed it, but because I didn't have the courage to try again. And the day before? Well, I guess that's the story I'll vent about today.

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

So. I've started riding the bus recently. It's pretty convenient since I can't drive yet, but also nerve wracking af sometimes.

Here's a little context about how my bus works: I live in the sticks. Like, wayy out yonder. It's about a 45 minute drive to town, and even longer by bus. There are now 3 busses that go to my town. One in the morning, one in the afternoon, and one at night.

So, to set the scene: it was my day off, and I was excited to use my new found power of transportation. I scheduled breakfast with my friends. I would ride the bus to the mall where they would pick me up, we'd get breakfast and then return to the mall for some window shopping while I waited for the afternoon bus to my town. It was a solid plan.

..Exceeept for the fact that I missed the afternoon bus. I cried a little, overreacting as always, but it was fine. My friends were still in the area, and I got a ride to our school where I could wait for the night bus. . . except that that didn't work out too well either.

I was on time to catch the night bus as 4:50pm. The walk to it was 10min. It was 4:35. I started walking up the long rolling hill that our school just has to be next to. At about half-way up the hill, the bus stop becomes visible. However.. the bus stop wasn't the only thing visible. The bus was there too. Early.

I started walking quickly, wondering if they were stopped until the scheduled time. I must've looked like a maniac speed walking past a lady walking her dog. 100 more steps. 50. 40. 30. I was close. So close that I could hear as the doors to the bus hissed shut. I was so close as the bus pulled out quickly, leaving me behind. I was so close. But I'd missed it.

My legs and lungs were on fire as I stood staring off at the receding bus. My chest felt tight, probably from walking so quickly.. I turned around, looking at the long stretch back to the school. I don't want to cry. I started walking, if only to take my mind off the moment, to feel like I'm doing something instead standing stupidly. I don't want to cry. I called my mom, she picked up worried. She couldn't get me. But maybe, she said, my brother could. I hung up abruptly. I don't want to cry. I called my brother, he said he could get me but he'd be a few hours. We ended the call. It was fine. I was overreacting.. I don't want to cry. I was overreacting. But my chest was still tight. When I got to the school I stopped at the restrooms. I locked myself in a stall. And I cried. I heard someone come in, but it was ok. They couldn't see my ugly crying face. They couldn't see how badly I'd messed up. They didn't know that all this was an overreaction, yet that I couldn't stop myself from being overwhelmed. They didn't know. But I did.

[im-invisible-erased]

Very Old Story...

Misconceptions of Life

 By Ashley

Freak, loser, bitch, slut.  I’ve heard them all before and this school will be no different.  Every school I’ve been to tells the same story, just change the faces and the names.  This is my third high school, and I am only in the 10th grade.  I just hope I can lie low here.  I can’t take the treatment that I had at my last two schools.  Letting out a long drawn out sigh I shut off my beaten down, old 79 Chevy Silverado truck and slam the door.  The duct tape holding the mirror comes loose and falls on the pavement.  F my life, seriously?  Why did I get stuck with this piece of junk?  Mumbling a few choice curse words under my breath I gingerly pick up the side mirror and inspect it for cracks; it was fine.  I put the mirror in the bed of the truck and walked through the deserted student parking lot.  I was 45 minutes early; I walked in the school and looked around, nothing I hadn’t seen before.  I picked up my schedule and found my locker.  The combo didn’t work.  Letting out another sigh, I took a quick look to my right, then left, then at the ceiling. No teachers and no cameras, good. I fish in the back pocket of my skinny jeans and pull out a bobby pin.  I pick the lock to my locker and close it again.  

The day goes by without anything else going wrong.  Boring syllabi and those dumb get to know everybody’s name games which are totally pointless.  I’m the only new person to this school in seven years!  I drive home, unlock the front door, and go straight to my room.  I shut the door quietly behind me.  Finally, a connection to a cell phone tower.  That entire school is one giant black hole for cell phones.  I had learned quickly that the school had put up a cell phone jammer.  It was said to increase the productivity of the students; less distractions or something.  It was the dumbest thing I’d ever heard.  I didn’t even know cell phone blockers existed until today.  I checked my phone for the first time since last night.  The scratched up black flip phone with the pink-stripped case started to vibrate on my desk.  4 new messages.  

Katie-1:42 AM Hey, don’t get too down about going to a new school sometimes being the unknown is the better option, and from what you told me about your last schools (which is terrible BTW) that you could use being the unknown.  Cheer up, I hate seeing you this way T~T. Katie-1:52 AM Alli…You there? Katie-2:14 AM you better not be doing what I think you are, I absolutely HATE when you do that to yourself. :/ Katie-2:24 AM

Night, talk to you tomorrow after school.

I finish reading the texts from last night when my phone gets another text. Katie-3:42PM

-Massive Hugs-. How was your first day at the new school? Alli-3:44 PM

Not terrible… I guess but the first week or so is always the same, ya know what I mean?

Katie-3:45 PM Yea it pretty much is, so are you out of this god awful town now since you switched schools?

Alli-3:47 PM

Nope, I just drive further to and from school now. Katie-3:48 PM

That sucks.  I’m sorry :( Alli-3:50 PM It’s fine.  I was able to keep my job and Nick said he would be giving me more hours to help out my gas bill. Katie-3:50 PM You’re lucky that your boyfriend is also your boss ;) Alli-3:53 PM He’s NOT my boyfriend!  He is just my neighbor. Katie-3:54 PM Suurre he’s not :P Alli-3:59 PM If I didn’t have to be at work soon I would drive over there and show you what I think of your sarcasm. ♥

I was only kidding of course, but Kate knew me well; I had known her since we were in our little Sunday dresses as kids.  She still keeps a picture from that day and always says, “Look how cute you used to be, what happened to that?”  She knew I hated those dresses ever since I was forced into them by Momma, back when we went to church.  I checked my email before I left for work.  4 junk emails and 30 hate emails that I sent to the delete folder.  I shut down the computer and grabbed my keys and locked the house behind me.  5:55 PM, I was early.  The daytime hostess got off at 6:00, which was when my shift started. I assumed my position and spent the next 5 hours greeting people and showing them to their tables in my sing-song work voice.  Work is, well, work; a means of surviving.  Chef Chang gave me some sweet and sour pork and the left over rice from that night’s batch.  Night shifts are terrible, but I get free food.  I love working at Sakura but it can be hectic at times.  I left my uniform in my locker and went out to my car. He was there leaning up against the hood of my car smoking a cigarette.   “What are you doing here?” “Oh I just wanted to see how my favorite neighbor was doing.”  He gave me one of his I have other intentions smiles.  

“Your driver side mirror is missing.  You know that right?” “I know,” I mumbled.  I let out a sigh of relief and put my head on his shoulder. He looked at me, flicks the burnt end of his cigarette, and gives me a deep kiss.  We break apart and he smiles at me.  

“Love you Alli.”  

“I love you too.”  He gives me another kiss and a quick squeeze.  

“You want me to escort you home, Milady?  ‘Cause your mother is going to be furious about that mirror.”  He’s such a goofball sometimes, but he’s right.  

“Nah, I’m fine.  See you tomorrow?”  

“Yea, love ya.”  

“Love you too.”

 I got out of the car and walked toward the front door, hours pass before I hear the screams of Momma coming from the living room rousing me from my sleep.

“Allison!  Get in here right now young lady!”

“Yes Momma?”

“What the hell happened to the truck, you’re always so careless!”  She raised her hand up to strike me; I winced and covered my face with my arms.  Three thuds and a whimper could be heard through the house.  Back in my room I check my phone for the time.  1:40 AM.  I had to be up for school in 5 hours.  I took out the razor I kept in my pocket.  

I wake up to the sound of my alarm clock.  It’s only the third week of school and I’m already wishing it was summer. I roll out of bed and check my phone. 1 new message. Cole- 5:50 AM Check your email as soon as you read this. It’s urgent.

I turn on the computer and wait for it to boot up.  This thing was ancient it still had Windows 97.  I open the email from Cole once the computer has gotten a chance to work.  I pull out my phone a minute later.  There are only two people to call in a situation such as this and since one is probably asleep, we just got back from work not too long ago I’ll let him sleep and tell him later.  The only other person I knew that would listen was Katie.   Alli-7:00 AM

Hey!  You got some time to chat?!!

Katie-7:02 AM

Sure what’s up? Alli-7:05 AM something terrible…

Katie-7:07 AM why terrible? :( Alli-7:07 AM My reputation has followed me; the rumors will be starting again. Katie-7:08 AM are you serious?  How?  You’re like going to school two towns over.  

I sent the link to the page that was the end of my quiet restart of my school life.  It was a link to a picture of my Mom at her work.  Next to it was a small caption that read.  “Doesn’t this look a lot like Allison Green the 10th grader at our school?”  Underneath were several pages of comments. Katie-7:25 AM

…Oh god…I’m so sorry. Alli-7:25 AM I don’t know what will be worse facing everybody at school or skipping and facing Mamma T-T Katie-7:26 AM I’m not sure either.  Pick the lesser of the two evils?            I check the time.  I had 25 minutes left before I had to be out the door.  Might as well get ready for the absolute hell that awaited me at school. Alli-7:27 AM I’ll TTYL. I got to get ready for school. Katie-7:28 AM Bye-Bye, Love ya ♥ Good luck.

I shutdown the computer and got ready for school.  I pulled into the parking lot and sat in the truck, my hands shaking, playing with my lip ring.  I sat there trying to calm my nerves for several minutes.  I eventually got out and entered the school.  I kept my head down and walked quickly through the halls but it couldn’t stop the whispers and the pointing.  Nothing would.  

“You see that girl?  You know her mother is a whore.”  

“I heard she left her last school because her father sold her into prostitution to feed his heroin addiction.”  Lies, lies, all ridiculous lies.  I wanted to scream at them to get my story straight, but it wouldn’t do anything.  Most people are ignorant idiots who, when even with the facts sitting right in their face don’t accept them.  And do they bother to find out the truth?  No, they just believe the outlandish rumors and don’t even second guess any of it.  The sound of my own name roused me from my swirling emotions and thoughts.  

“Hey Allison, will you give me a discount on the mother daughter special if I help you with math?” it was the smart-aleck, know it all guy that sits in front of me in my math class.  He saw my test scores and how I struggled in math.  I flipped him the bird and stuck out my tongue.

“Why you little bitch…” The rest of his words were drowned out by the warning bell.  I ran off to the bathroom.  I checked in the stalls to make sure I was alone.  I went into the first stall and started sobbing.  I can’t deal with this abuse again, I just can’t.  Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words can never hurt you.  What a load of crap.  Words are the things that cut you the deepest they penetrate the mind and wage psychological warfare.  I pull out the razor I had put in my bag, rolled up my sleeves.  

I walk into history class late.  I get a tardy but nothing more.  I block out the whispers and peoples’ stares.  Thank God for my MP3 player and decent headphones.  By the end of the day, I’m ready to leave so badly.  I stop by my locker.  Somebody has put a sign up that says: You already have a career why bother staying around for an education. Leave! I crumple up the paper and leave the prison that my school life has become yet again.

           Work, school, home, the vicious cycle continues for the next six weeks. The only times I’m actually not depressed now are when I’m with him, and even then the time is so short that it doesn’t even seem worth it now.  I’m a terrible secret girlfriend.  He could do better than me.  Maybe I should just break it off with him.  I’ll talk to him after this shift is over.  I send him a quick text while there are no customers coming in.  

Alli-10:45 PM

Same time same place, kay?

Nick-10:55 PM Alright.

           I’m sitting in the bed of my truck waiting for him to show up.  He’s late.  

“Hey, really sorry I’m late I had to do some last minute things.”  

“It’s fine,” I say starting to play with my lip ring. He looks at me with concern.  

“What’s wrong?  School again?”  I nod looking down at the pavement.  He puts his arm around my shoulder and kisses the top of my head.  “So wanna get going?  Don’t your finals start next week?”  I nod again not wanting to move or say what had to be done next.  He hops down from the bed of my truck and offers me a hand. I just sit there, on the verge of tears. “Okay Allison, seriously what’s the matter?” he frowns at me.  

“I have to break up with you.  You can do so much better then some high school girl like me. I’m sorry”.  Tears start running down my face, and I jump off the bed of the truck, get in, and start the ignition.  He’s just standing there dumbfounded.  I speed off towards my house, wiping my eyes.  I arrive home.  Momma won’t be home for another hour.  I go to my room, slamming the door behind me, and collapse on my bed crying. I didn’t want to break up with him, but it had to be done.  I’m not good enough for him.  I’m ugly, stupid, and a complete failure.  Plus he’s 3 years older then I am.  He should be dating people his own age.  The sound of my phone vibrating breaks my chain of thought.  He’s calling.  I take out the battery to my phone and curl up into a ball hugging myself crying softly.

I’m jarred awake to the sounds of screaming. I can hear Momma yelling at someone on the other side of a phone.  I fall back asleep.

           Fifth period lunch, I’m sitting in my usual corner, headphones on, music up full blast.  I hate lunch period.  It’s full of people doing idiotic things.  At least nobody has come up to me today.  Just as I finish my optimistic thought, nameless upperclassman jerk with his band of idiots stands in front of me.  I look up at them.  Their lips are moving, but I can’t hear them.  I remove my headphones and give them a piercing stare.  

“Hey, what’s up slut? How’s your mother doing in that stripper bar of hers?”  I ignore the comment and mouth the words “Leave me alone.”  

“So I was thinking this should be enough for one night of fun for me and the boys, right?”  He tossed a roll of cash in my lap.  I stare at the bills, a hundred dollars wrapped in a bunch of singles probably. I let out a sigh and hand the idiot back his money.  

“Sorry, I don’t do that.”  I turn to walk away but the nameless idiot grabs me by the shoulders.  

“Hey, now not so fast.  Now I promised the guys here a good time, and since you already have so much experience doing things for cash, I figured you would oblige.”  

“I said I don’t do that.  Are you hearing impaired?” I mumbled.  His face shoots with rage at my comment.  Great.  Good job Alli, your smart mouth has gotten you in a sticky situation.  He whispers into my ear.  

“You should be a good little girl and keep that mouth of yours shut.”  

“Let me go, or you will be in a world of pain.” I growled menacingly.  He laughed at my comment.  I let out a sigh; I warned him.  I scream at the top of my lungs.  “Get off me you deranged pervert!”  The lunch room got deathly quiet, and teachers who had been completely oblivious until that moment spotted the group of boys surrounding me.  The guys scatter like rats from a flashlight.  I ran out of the lunch room and hid in the bathroom. I can’t deal with this crap anymore.  I just can’t. Why me?  What did I ever do to deserve this?  Can I help it that everyone is an ignorant fool?  Can I control who my parents are and what they choose to do with their lives?  Why am I constantly tortured by other peoples’ vices and peoples’ misconceptions.  It just isn’t fair, this world isn’t fair.  I never did anything to deserve this kind of treatment, and yet here I am living each day for no reason at all.  My life has no purpose.  I would be doing the world a favor if I just disappeared.  

           It’s past midnight, and I can’t sleep.  I quit my job after that idiot at school tried to pay for a...  A shiver runs up my spine at the thought. I would be doing the world a favor if I just disappeared...      The next day Momma was angry that I had quit my job.  She yelled at me for over three hours saying that I was just dropping out of society and that I was overreacting and that I should go to Mr. Chang and beg him to hire me again.  I just couldn’t face “Him” again.  That was why I didn’t want to go back to work and why I quit.  I wasn’t worth his time or effort.  I’m just not good enough for him.  People say it constantly when they think I can’t hear them, that I’ll never amount to anything and that I’m going to end up worse off than Mama working as a prostitute for the rest of my life.  Maybe they’re right.  Maybe I will amount to nothing and that I’m just a worthless piece of trash that is a drain on society.  I lazed around most of Saturday morning; I didn't know what I was going to do with myself anymore.  School wasn’t an option.  I was passing, yes, but it had become a living nightmare that I couldn't keep returning to.  Home, well it’s mostly quiet until nighttime. But home is no better than school.  Where else is there to go?  What other options did I really have?  I can’t survive in the world with only a 9th grade education and the little money that I have saved up won’t last very long either.  I just don’t know what to do anymore.  

The doorbell rings.  It’s Kate, she drags me outside and we get in her car.  We end up at the mall, walking around, people and mostly window shopping.  Trying on clothes and just having a girl’s day out.  Kate really cheered me up and it was nice to be away from all the worries of the world, I was genuinely happy for the first time, in a long time.  It was a good day.

I return home exhausted and go straight to bed.  A crash breaks my light sleep, and I sit up in my bed.  Someone is yelling at Mama over the phone and she’s yelling back, I get up and sit in the hallway to hear her better. “I wish we never would have been so foolish back in the day, I regret ever dating you, I didn’t want this for my life.  I had to drop everything that I had going for me and take care of the baby.  I wake up every day and work a shitty job to provide for my family that I wish I had never made.  I told you back then that we should have waited.  We weren’t ready for a child and the second I told you I was pregnant you up and leave like the cowardly son of a bitch you are!  Oh, you’ve changed huh?  Want to come back into your daughters’ life after 15 years?  I've managed to survive for 16 years on my own I’m sure we can survive two more until she graduates.  We’ll be fine.  And after that it’s her decision whither she wants you to be a part of her life or not.”

Mama was just saying that to make herself look stronger than she really is.  We weren’t gonna be fine, and I knew that she was just telling him what he wanted to hear, so he would leave her alone.  We barely scrape by every month.  I didn't think that my paycheck made any difference most of it was spent on gas money and the rest I put in the bank.  A sudden realization hit me, Mama must have been stealing the money from my account to help pay for the bills.  “Allison! Get in here now.”  

“Umm, yes Mama?” I stood in the doorway.  “What were you doing in the hallway?  Eavesdropping, how many times have I told you not to listen to my conversations?”

“I’m sorry, I couldn't fall back asleep and I heard you two talking.”

“How dense are you, I’ve told you over and over to not eavesdrop do you learn from anything that I tell you?  How many times do we have to have this same conversation?”  I stood there blankly staring at the ground messing with my lip ring, I could tell that she hadn’t calmed down from the phone call.  Mama took a deep breath, “So, why did you quit your job?”  I was silent.  “You aren’t pregnant are you?”  I shook my head no.  “If I find out that you’re lying you won’t be welcome in this house, now please go to bed.”  I couldn’t tell if that was a serious threat.  I froze for a second trying to figure out the words that she had just said would she really kick me out just like that?  “I said go to bed!”  I returned to my room and lay there on the bed staring at the ceiling my heart racing.

           Another week passed and there was no point to anything anymore I showed up to school out of fear and returned home for lack of a better place to be.  Everything had become pointless and monotonous.  I feel numb every second of every minute of everyday I want this feeling to end.  I just want to disappear.  I start crying softly as I pull out my phone and a piece of paper.

Alli-12:48 AM

To my best friend, what can I say?  It’s been an interesting life and you’ve always made me smile when I was sad. I’m glad that I met you all those years ago.  But this is it for me I can’t take living in this world anymore.  I’m sorry about everything.  This is my last farewell.  

I turned off my phone and turn my attention to the piece of paper on the desk.  

      Dear Everyone,

I’m sorry for everything that has gone wrong on my account.  I’m sorry that I was the daughter that you never wanted and that I ruined your life by being born.  I’m sorry that I forced you to work at the bar again as a waitress Momma.  I’m sorry that I’m such a worthless soul and a nuisance on everyone that I come in contact with.  But that will all be solved tonight.  I’m fixing your mistake that you made when you were no older than me. I’m a nobody, and honestly nobody will miss me after today.  I was a mistake, and there is no other way out of this world of sorrow...Goodbye, Your welcome.  You weren’t always the best parent, but I loved you more than you will ever know, even though you never showed me any in return.

Sincerely,

Allison

I picked up the razorblade and started to make a deep cut in the tenants in my right wrist.  I continued until there were three very deep cuts in my wrist and anywhere else I could see a vein.  Blood was dripping from the wounds.  I passed out shortly after that.

           I woke up with a sharp pain shooting from all over my body.  Katie was sitting next to me crying hysterically saying.  “Please don’t die, please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.”  Over and over crying on the bed in the unknown room I was now laying in.  I made a faint whimpering sound and she looked up.  She looked at me and started crying more.  I sat up slowly and she hugged me tightly.      

I was in the hospital for a week getting “help.” Katie visited me everyday for those seven days.  She was the high point of my day inside that terrible place.  I was released after I had been claimed, “not a threat to my own self anymore.”  I went to live with Katie after being released her mom had talked with my mom and they agreed to the deal.  Maybe life would be better away from my house and school for a while.

[katieblooming]

march updates

where do I even begin? things have been pretty nuts in all aspects of my life recently.

my parents found out that they have to be out of our apartment by the end of the month (it’s not anything they did, the landlord has been trying to move in and he’s been pretty patient up until now. mum’s place was supposed to be done by now but she had a blowout with her contractors and it’s not liveable yet). luckily my aunt has room for them for a bit, and my cousins have this tiny guest house so they’re not entirely screwed.

this means that I will probably get Allie (Dad’s favourite child/ the cat) in the interim. i don’t know if my apartment is technically pet-friendly, but she’s an indoor cat, and quiet and clean and it would only be for a week or so. I feel badly about putting her into my tiny studio apartment, but I also really miss her.

work has also been absolute chaos (what else is new?) and I’m in the middle of a six-day, 40+ hour workweek because the owners decided to close on Monday for 8.5 hours of inventory after our manager had already made the schedule. 

speaking of the manager, she told me on Monday (I think) that she was interviewing for the manager position at the IKEA that’s opening up here in the fall. she also told me if she got the job, there would be a job there for me if ever I wanted one. long story short, she found out she got the job on Tuesday, and they expected her to be on a plane Friday for training.  her last day was Wednesday. 

it happened so fast my head is honestly still spinning, and because she went out for coffee with our old manager on Wednesday afternoon, I left before she got back, so I never got a chance to say goodbye. I thought she was going to be in yesterday, but nope.

I am so incredibly grateful she managed to get me a raise, and was working on our DM for benefits. ugh, I’m going to miss her so much, but I’m so happy for her. 

the owners were in yesterday, and straight-up told me that getting us a new manager is not a priority for them right now, because they’re too busy trying to figure out management for our Charlottetown store, where their manager is leaving after Christmas.

the owners also very sweetly offered to open the store this morning so I didn’t have to work seven days in a row (bless) but my anxiety was a lil high because they aren’t in our store often and don’t know where anything is and barely know how to use our new POS system. but not my circus, not my monkeys, ya know? Mike’s going to have to handle it to the best of his ability.

speaking of all the crazy with work, I’ve been operating under pretty high stress levels for the last three months. things have been in a constant state of flux ever since Pauline told us she was leaving after three years post-Christmas. just when I think things are starting to settle down, something happens, and the ground gets ripped out from under our feet. 

it feels like I’m always waiting for something. waiting for the boys to go on tour so I can get more hours, waiting for Carrie to be trained, waiting for Lightspeed to get launched and settle in, waiting for inventory to be done, waiting for Carrie to start working regularly at our other store. always waiting. Mike and I are both burnt out, exhausted, and frustrated. Wednesday was the first day I’ve ever seriously thought about leaving.

here’s the thing, though, for all its BS, I love my job. I’m damn good at it. I have a good relationship with the owners and my coworkers, all two of them. I’ll be heartbroken to go, when I decide to, but I don’t know how much longer I can deal with never knowing what’s happening from one week to the next. 

I got to sleep in this morning, made pancakes, and chucked a cinnamon stick into my coffee. I’m going on a long run soon, and going home to help my parents sort through stuff tonight. I have an early bus to catch tomorrow morning for a long day at our other location, but for today, I’m going to be happy. 

holy moly, this has been a heck of a ramble. onwards and upwards, right?

[therealwriterinblack]

Wrote this last night after my first visit to Black Circle Brewing Company and it’s “Sins of the Flesh, Goth Night at Black Circle Brewing Company“.

Even since finding my “inner Goth” I’ve been looking into getting involved in the Goth Scene.  As I described elsewhere, when I first started looking I could only find one event, a “Goth night” in Broadripple (a neighborhood in Indianapolis with a cluster of entertainment establishments including clubs, bars, and restaurants).  This Goth Night was on Thursday nights and…well, at my age an “all nighter” when I have work the next day isn’t a challenge, it’s a mistake.  As the years creep up, you really start to appreciate a full night’s sleep.

For a long time I stopped looking in large part because I was married to someone who just plain did not understand.  I don’t intend to go into that here–nobody needs the blow-by-blow down-and-dirty on that–but that’s only a small part of why I’m single now.  So, I started looking again and this is one of the two events–both on Saturdays–I found going on in the Indianapolis area.

Kept it short that first night. Stayed just under an hour.  Wanted to leave while I was still having a good time and well before I “ran out of spoons“. I’d checked out the music of the performer they had scheduled and it was…different.  Folk who’ve been following this blog (or search “Musical Interlude” in the search box to the right) know what I like   This was decidedly different but interesting enough that I was willing to give it a chance.  The music did grow on me as I listened at the event. I’ll be honest.  It’s nothing I’d want a steady diet of, but it’s an interesting change of pace. All told and fantasies aside, I accomplished everything I set out to accomplish.

I was the most “dressed up” person there. It was billed as a “Goth night” and some people did sport a goth look. Others not so much. Again, I was the most “dressed up”: black dress shirt and tie. Black slacks. My boots (some of you have seen them at LibertyCon). The purple tail coat. A black top hat. And a walking stick with a large “glass” (actually acrylic plastic) knob on the end. Very “Victorian Goth”.

This is a pretty big step in my dressing up and I was a bit nervous to start–I mean, I liked the look and thought the outfit looked pretty good, but being in public… Remember “crippling social anxiety.” By the end of the time I was there, I was quite comfortable with it. To be honest, nobody really paid much attention, positive or negative. For a guy with the issues I have, this was a big plus.

It wasn’t a very large group there…enough to put me out of my comfort zone but not enough to send my social anxiety into screaming fits.

I did not get much of a “mingle and meet new people” vibe at this event.  I could be wrong (see “doesn’t get social cues” once again) but from what I saw people were present in small clusters and I didn’t really see any crossing between the groups.  While “exceeding my comfort zone” was one of my goals, trying to introduce myself into an established group where I don’t know anybody and may or may not be welcome was definitely a bridge too far.  It was a dozen bridges too far.  So “have a drink, listen to the music, and people watch”.  Mission accomplished.

Beverage choice was limited. I had asked ahead of time and and so I knew that going in.  I asked about a dry wine but the only ones they had to hand were sweet. I am aggressively low carb because I’m diabetic and trying to control as much with diet as possible.  Every gram of digestible carbohydrate turns into sugar in my body and I have to crank out gallons of insulin before my body says “oh, we need to do something with this” (Type II–Insulin resistant).

The place is a brewery so of course their main emphasis is on beer. I was not going to do light beer–as “Fuzzy Pink Niven’s Law” put it, “Never waste calories” (I.e. don’t eat soggy potato chips and the like; if you’re going to imbibe calories, imbibe the good stuff). I tried a cider they had and figured if I sipped it slowly it probably wouldn’t spike my blood sugar too badly. It was tasty and I made the glass (guessing about 12 oz) last 40 minutes. And, indeed, when I got home just under an hour after I finished, my blood glucose was 117 so it looks like we’re okay.

Goth Night at Black Circle Brewing Company Wrote this last night after my first visit to Black Circle Brewing Company and it's "

[chriscoleman]

Pinned on the Green

Mistakes were made…

Julia and I recently bought a 17’ Clipper Tripper canoe. We’ve been on about 8 trips with it and our confidence has been growing. The Puget Sound taught us to avoid big boats. The Chehalis River taught us to pay attention to wind direction and speed. The Black River forced us to learn shallow water exit/entry repeatedly. Plus, a variety of other lessons as we’ve jumped into the deep end of the boating world.

However… nothing prepared us for what happened on the Green River between Auburn and Tukwila, just south of Seattle, WA, on Saturday, October 6th, 2018.

Early Saturday the 6th we headed out for a 15-mile paddle on a section of the Green we’ve never seen. It was a rather last-minute plan, as our weekend was open and the weather looked clear. It’s one of the many ‘urban’ rivers near Seattle that we have been exploring.

The day started out badly, possibly an omen of what was to come. We drove 2 cars to the put-in. That’s bad, because you need to drive both vehicles to the TAKE OUT first, so that 1 can be left there. We quickly realized our mistake and took the extra 40 minutes to drive to the proper take-out spot and leave my Jeep. We had another mini-adventure here because the take-out was not optimal. We scouted up and down the river for another close option, but ultimately stuck with the Van Doren’s Landing spot.

The put-in was another ordeal. The first spot we began to unload at was not possible to use. The gate was just enough for a person, not wide enough for a boat. A kind neighborhood homeowner asked us about our plans as we were unloading. He had never seen someone try to get a boat into the water via his street. He kindly gave us directions to a spot we could get through a wider fence just around the corner. This was probably red flag #1 (limited boat activity from a guy who looks to have lived there a long time). Immediately followed by red flag #2 when another friendly neighborhood homeowner at our next put-in spot also knew very little of boating on the river right behind her house.

We charged ahead, already past noon, two hours behind schedule. We instantly saw another canoe on the river. 2 guys in a red boat just like ours. Cool! We aren’t alone. This must be legit, someone else is doing it. A classic heuristic trap we learned from backcountry skiing avalanche training (just because someone else is doing it doesn’t mean it’s safe).

The first hour of floating was amazing. Perfect in every way. The water was flowing well, making our paddle strokes easy. We were making great time with little effort. This was the fastest water we’ve been in with our new canoe. The salmon were jumping left and right. One scared a scream out of Julia it jumped so close to our boat. There were fishermen on every bank. We probably passed 50 anglers in 10 miles of river travel.

The red flags began to stack up as the fishermen asked us if “it was safe” and “what do you do about the trees”. We shrugged it off with a laugh and kept going – everything was great!

Then we saw it. About 30 seconds after a fisherman said “there is a blockage ahead” - we came upon our first major hurdle.

A tree was blocking the entire river. Shore to shore, no way around in a boat. The left bank had eroded dumping the recently live tree exactly perpendicular to our path. I pointed our boat left, towards the base.

This is one of the most dangerous situations for boats of all types. The water is rushing under this obstruction. The flow wants to pull you under with it. The problem is that there is a mess of branches and other junk under the water. If you were to get pulled under – it’s very likely that you will get stuck – unable to swim upstream against the current and unable to swim downstream because of the branches/rocks. This is called a ‘strainer’ in the river community. Extremely deadly.

Luckily we handled the situation well. We balanced the boat, leaning into the tree. Julia scrambled out onto the huge trunk / muddy roots. I stabilized the boat as Skye made it towards the front of the boat. Julia pulled her on the tree by the scruff of the neck. Then I scrambled out too.

At this point our lives were relatively safe. The boat was still in a bad position though. We began to form a plan of squeezing the boat through the splintered base of this enormous tree. The water did not allow us to get the boat in line with the hole the tree provided. We pulled with all our might and eventually got the canoe wedged into the tree, out of the water. Some of our gear had floated away during this maneuver, but nothing irreplaceable (water bottles and booties).

Nothing worked. We could not get our canoe over/through the tree. The next plan was to go up the steep bank. It was nearly straight up – through blackberry bushes. I held the boat at Julia forged a path up the loose dirt into a thorny mess. 10 minutes later she returns with a story about the farmer. The farmer rode his 4x4 to the edge of the field, then kept on going. She screamed for help but no reaction.

I pushed while Julia pulled. 1… 2… 3… GO. 1… 2… 3… GO. 1… 2… 3… GO. 1… 2… 3… GO over-and-over. Sometimes I only heard the number 3. Sometimes I had no strength, so just held the canoe from falling back into the water. We eventually got it balanced where I could climb up myself and help from the other end. Climbing was one of the hardest things of the trip. There was a crux where I could not get my leg up another inch and there were no hand holds other than thorny blackberry vines and loose dirt. I eventually pushed in a faithful move, successfully. Skye bounded up easily.

Julia’s legs were bloody with scrapes by the time we got into the farmers field. We could finally rest. It was about an hour from the time we hit the tree to the time we laid in the field. Collard greens everywhere.

“Our friends are out picking pumpkins with their kids. We are bloody & sweaty sitting next to our canoe in a field of collard greens with our dog in a life vest.” Sounds about right.

At this point we had 2 options. #1 – call uber. They would take me to my car, I would return for Julia/Skye/canoe, and we’d be home with our tail between our legs. #2 – find another put-in downstream of the tree and keep paddling. We really were 50/50 on this until we found a relatively safe access back to the river. We both agreed we wanted to continue. The farmer has a pipe to pull water from the river where we scampered down to re-launch the adventure.

Back on the water, it felt good. I was still a bit shaky from adrenaline and fatigue. We were happy. It should have been another 30 minutes of paddling until the takeout. Then we hit major incident #2…

We rounded a bend in the river and saw a handful of wood obstacles. The majority of the river was running left so we naturally decided to stick with the flow. We zigged past 1, zagged for number 2, and hit 3 hard. This big log twisted us sideways, Julia’s bow end pointed directly at the left shore. We leaned into the log downstream, but it was too much force. We began to take on water as our upriver side dipped into the water. In seconds we were all tossed from the boat. Julia stayed next to the boat, standing almost immediately. Skye somehow ended up in the eddy behind the boat, frantically trying to climb onto the now sideways canoe. I floated into the next obstacle of wood. My head began to go under and my mouth filled with water. This was the closest I came to dying, which says a lot after our previous experience. I was quickly able to roll out of the tree, float away, and get my footing. I quickly returned to the boat to rescue Skye. I helped her to the shore where we all regrouped.

Once again – our lives were safe, but the boat was not.

The next hour was spent pulling on the boat in freezing cold rushing water. No progress was made. We could not budge the boat, even using rocks/logs as levers. Eventually we pulled the gear we could reach out of the boat.

Getting out of the river from this location wasn’t very easy. One bank had massive blackberry thorns. There was fast moving deep water between us and the other bank. We made the command decision to go for the easier exit (thorns are bad). We scouted an area that allowed us to walk without getting swept away. I pulled Skye using her life vest handle. It was cute how she tried to still doggy paddle as I pulled her across. After much effort we made it up to a bike path at Foster Park in Kent, WA.

The boat was pinned in the river, but all 3 of us were uninjured on shore. Cold.

I called for Uber. Sat on my rain jacket as we drove to my Jeep. 15 minutes later I was back to Julia to load up the few pieces of gear we owned. Drove home without a boat.

7pm we arrived home in Seattle. Started making plans to rescue our canoe first thing Sunday. Crazy decision – I went to play ultimate at 8pm. Hip Hop had a hard game vs. Huck Butters. I had been nursing an achilles injury the past 3 weeks. I was really looking forward to playing, plus getting to hang out with my good friends for a few hours was a valuable respite from the day’s incidents. We won 15-13!!

Back home at 10:30pm Julia was pulling the cat in a laundry basket with ropes and carabiners. This was a scaled down version of the pully system we were planning to execute. It worked on the 15 pound cat, it should work on our 1000 pound boat.

Sunday morning we were back in action. Sore, but moving by 8am. We staged everything in the garage to begin the rescue mission. Our friend Jared offered to lend equipment. I originally planned to buy everything necessary, but accepting help is often the smart thing to do.

REI was still our first stop. We needed rope to make a temporary ladder into the water from the steep bank. We also got a 200’ rope to use as a ‘safety line’, to prevent the canoe from going downstream further, potentially into the next obstacle, after we release it. Plus some carabiners, prusiks, and a wet suit top for Julia.

Jared lived only 4 miles from where our canoe was stuck. It was great to stop for gear + advice. Shortly after we were parked back at the scene of the incident.

The first activity was to verify the boat was still there. It was. Not folded in half or yanked out by some other crazy people with ropes. We could begin the operation.

We tied the ladder rope, lowered all the gear down, and setup shop on a small island near the boat. The first anchor was in the water – a sturdy stump about 50’ upstream of our canoe. I laid out the rope while Julia walked to the canoe to attach the 2 lines (1 primary pull and 1 safety backup).

Unfortunately the come-along we brought was not functional. We were unable to get the cable extended out. It was fully coiled, jammed shut. Luckily we had the pully system as backup.

The 3-to-1 mechanical system we setup with the pulleys worked well. It was the first time we’ve done this. I’d like to think we did it flawlessly, although I’m sure if any experts were around they would have found mistakes. The Z shape gave us triple the pull power, which was 100% necessary for the situation.

Pull. Pull. Pull. Pull. The boat barely budged. Although we were making small progress. We changed anchors to a spot more equal with the boat. Then a spot slightly downstream. We also moved the boat anchor from wrapped around the stern to the bow handle. My hands hurt. Pull. Pull. Pull. Pull.

I’m not one to ask for help hastily. If that tells you anything about the situation we were in – I called for help. Jared and his wife were quick to accept. They suited up and headed towards our location.

Julia and I waited for reinforcements. We got cold as this was the first break after getting soaking wet. We decided to setup the anchor system in preparation for help, mainly to stay busy. We secured the most durable anchor upstream and tightened all the prusiks. Then we decided to give it one last yank.

HOLY HOLY it’s moving! We saw the most action in this final yank. We started to pull hard then release. It was rocking free. We pulled then the river pulled. It was just like in the videos! The safety line worked as expected, preventing the boat from getting away downstream. We pulled towards our little island, eventually getting the boat in a safe location. High fives all around.

Throughout the day there were people walking on the path above the river. A few asked us if we needed help or simply took pictures. I’m sure they thought we were crazy. The sad part was that when we got the boat free – no one was watching. Julia yelled out in happiness. We got out of the situation just as we had arrived into it – alone.

I quickly texted Jared about our success. He was already en route. We began to clean up our equipment to prepare for the final stage of the rescue. The boat was not out of the river yet. We didn’t bring paddles or have any desire to continue paddling this river. The plan was to pull the boat up the bank and onto the Jeep.

Jared also asked a river friend of his to come help. Together we all pulled the boat up the bank and onto the bike path. I laid next to it completely exhausted 4 hours after we arrived at the river – about 4pm.

The boat looks to be in great shape. A minor bend in the gunnel. Slight discoloration in some of the Kevlar, but no real damage. We loaded it to the top of my vehicle, changed into dry clothes, and enjoyed warm cider with Jared and Lyss. A great ending to a crazy weekend.

Now we are home. The garage is full of wet gear. My online shopping cart is full of river rescue equipment. Skye has no idea how much danger we were in, she just wants to go on another adventure. Overall – life is good. Long list of lessons learned on this one. Julia and I survived an adventure together – handling the stress extremely well throughout. I’m proud of us.

A river rescue course is next on the list. Official training will be helpful the next time we get ourselves into a situation like this (I mean – so we can avoid another situation like this).

We almost died, then we didn’t. Yay.

-Chris

[gaiatheorist]

“Yes”, and “No.”

When I was 15, a very kind, and slightly goofy 21-year-old man offered to sit with me in the doctor’s and claim responsibility for what might be happening in my uterus. As it turned out, there wasn’t anything happening, it was stress, and nerves, and being very underweight that had delayed my period, not the actions of the other man, the older man, who wouldn’t take ‘No.’ for an answer. 

I’m in England, I was seven months shy of my 16th birthday, and the legal age of consent, it would have been a toss-up, then, as to whether my GP would accept my competence to consent. Many, many years later, having worked in safeguarding children for over a decade, I know what a messy minefield that is. A child, under the age of 16, cannot consent to sexual intercourse, but it’s widely acknowledged that teenagers will experiment.  Various background-clutter here, but I didn’t need the abortion when I was 15, and the doctor dispensed the contraceptive pill with minimal questioning just before my 16th birthday. (I didn’t even have to lie about painful periods, or any of the other ‘tricks’ the rest of my peer group claimed, we just walked into the surgery, asked for the pill, and came out with a prescription. Top-up condoms available from the nurse, too.) 

I had that choice, I’ve always had that choice, from the couple of slip-up slip-ins in my teens, requiring the ‘morning after pill’, to that time in my thirties when I woke up with wet thighs, and realised that the ex had been less-drunk than I had. That one was awkward, I knew I wouldn’t be able to get a GP appointment within the 72 hours for the morning after pill, can’t quite remember why I didn’t just buy it at a pharmacy, other than the possibility of the ex questioning what I’d spent the £20 on. I had a meeting in the Town Centre on the Wednesday, as that particular incident had occurred on the Saturday night/Sunday morning, that fell within the 5-day limit for an ‘emergency’ coil fitting. Yes, I said ‘coil’ not IUS, hormonal contraception has never suited me, and the ex didn’t like barrier methods. Poor lamb. I didn’t particularly like him trying to stick his penis in me on his terms, at times of his choosing, but I’m getting my ‘yes’ and ‘no’ crossed over too soon. 

Was that an abortion? There’s no way to know. I assured the doctor carrying out the procedure that I was in a long-term, monogamous relationship, and that I understood the potential risks of perforation, complications and infections of having a piece of plastic shoved into my womb, with nylon ‘threads’ trailing through my cervix, into my vagina. “It’s like a ladder for infection.”, the doctor said, Yeah, OK, love, I do wash. There was a vague “What does your partner think?” question, not much of anything, really, I don’t suppose the coercive/abusive flags go up until you’ve presented repeatedly for emergency contraception. “He thinks that the contraception is my department, and doesn’t like condoms. That coil can stay in for 5 years, by which time I’ll be nearly 40, and can be sterilised, I’m saving the NHS money on pills and check-ups.”   

I was exceptionally careful. The ex, apparently, wanted more children than the one we had, but didn’t communicate with me like a human about that until the kid was about 8 years old, and I’d already established something like a career for myself. I was ‘acting on last instruction given’, which was him saying “What are you going to do about it?” when I showed him the positive pregnancy test 21 years ago. Life would have been different if I’d taken the telephone directory he’d shoved towards me to look for ‘a clinic.’ He wouldn’t have been disgusted by my pregnant body, the birth process, and the breast-milk. He wouldn’t have felt displaced by the baby, and perhaps he might have been more involved with a ‘planned’ child. Things might have been very different if the pregnancy had been his choice, rather than his choice having been to assume I would ‘take care of things.’ I did take care of things, I took care of his son, his house, him, his annoying-intrusive family, I didn’t take very much care of myself, but, I was careful not to conceive again, wary of having the phone-book shoved at me again. I took away his choice, 21 years ago, and carried that child to term, that child is now a man, an absolutely amazing human being, it remains to be seen whether he’ll find a cure for cancer, or be the next Hitler, but I carried him carefully, I was a vessel for nine months and three weeks, then I raised him. I had the choice, I had the option to abort. I was very young, and not in secure employment. The timing of the pregnancy was all wrong, but I didn’t know if I’d ever conceive again, so I made the most of that cluster of cells. I don’t think I did too badly.

I would vote ‘Yes’ to repeal the 8th amendment. For all the times my period has been late-or-missed, and I’ve been beyond-terrified that I’d be cornered-coerced by the ex into continuing to carry. My vote would be ‘Yes’, because my ex had a problem with ‘No.’ 

I don’t know if he’d class himself an ‘Incel’, but there’s a fair chance he’s joked with his blokey-mates about the ‘enforced monogamy’ line being spun out of that camp, or, at least he might do, when the story eventually makes it to Facebook. “Haha, yeah, free wives for everyone, a chef in the kitchen, and all that!” (The poor force-wife would struggle, his oven broke nearly two years ago, and he hasn’t fixed it, he just bought another microwave, grown man, with two functional hob-rings, a Lidl Raclette-grill thing, and two microwaves. Not my problem.) 

The ‘no’ thing, with the incels, and their strange assortment of hangers-on. The Toronto case, where the young man had been rejected, and, due to his affiliation with the incels, decided to express his displeasure by killing people, referencing another of his ilk as ‘the supreme gentleman.’  As much as the #MeToo movement has raised awareness amongst the more sentient members of the human race, it appears to have pushed the Troglodytes further back. From “Smile, love!” to “Grab them by the pussy.” and “How to talk to a woman wearing headphones.”, a small, but significantly dangerous proportion of the population still have an inflated sense of their own entitlement. The incels have taken a worrying lurch into the ridiculous, with dire consequences. I had thought, working with adolescents for almost 15 years, that we were coming out of the Dad/Lad/banter rubbish, that my generation ‘Grrrl-powered’ our way through. Elegant as pissed flamingoes, but most of the 40+ males have had enough slapped faces, and slung drinks, to know that ‘we’ won’t giggle coyly at their harassment like their Dads say their Mums did. The try-ers are the minority, and the majority of us just aren’t having it any more. It’s a very small minority of people who think that ‘no’ means ‘not yet, keep trying’, and an even smaller proportion that thinks women are prizes, chattel, property, an automatic right. 

That’s where the yes/no issue is taking me, that some people believe that abortion is murder, and are posting the most disturbing pictures in plain sight, claiming the moral high ground, and traumatising vulnerable individuals, and those who may have experienced miscarriage. There’s a ludicrous view being spouted that women WANT to have abortions, that we’d prefer chemical or surgical procedures to, you know, not being compelled to carry the children of rapists, family members, babies with fatal abnormalities that will never be born breathing. Nobody schedules an abortion on a whim, or because they just can’t be bothered to use contraception. Making abortion free, safe, and legal isn’t going to create a flurry of women throwing caution, and condoms to the wind, we’re not suddenly going to be at it like rabbits, with no regard for the consequence, because the regard for the consequence has always fallen disproportionately on the female. Off the top of my head, I can think of ten different temporary/reversible methods of contraception for females. For men? One, and then there’s the whole ‘stealthing’ unpleasantness, where men are reported to have started intercourse with a condom on, and then removed it. Not. All. Men. 

Not all men are the established churches. Not all men believe they’re entitled to a sexual partner. The rest of us, the more moderate and balanced examples of humanity (stop laughing, I *am* balanced, I’m just balanced differently to some folk.) are floating in the middle, the bubble in the spirit level, between the ones who don’t want us to say ‘Yes.’, and the ones who don’t want us to say ‘No.’